Whew, I'm either humiliated or respected after today. Today was the high school's Academic Olympics
, held in the small Auditorium, a trivia competition for Spirit week
. Simply put, there are four teams, for freshmen
, and Senior
s, each with 4 players from that class. The faculty
reads the questions from a card at a podium, and the first team to buzz in answers, yadda, yadda, yadda
Since I am Vice President of the school's varsity Trivia Team, (sounds like such a figurehead) role, I had to choose who would be on the team. Nobody offered to be on the Juniors team, costing some Spirit Points for their apathy. Anyway, I managed to bring a friend and sit in for the Juniors team. There was one problem, we were only 2 people versus teams of four, but my friend said that she'd rather I answered most, too shy, and only really good at English, she told me.
Well, we sat down on the stage and started the match. The first was Seniors vs Juniors. Originally the Seniors took the lead, going for the Math and calculus questions. I managed to answer some tricky science questions, which suprised some buddies in the audience. Once the category of Math ran out, and my team was behind, they chose a Biology question (but the hardest to put us out of reach of an answer). An important question like this could swing control over to our team, where my Literature major friend could outanswer anyone for her category. Hands on the buzzers, just needed one correct answer right now.
What does a polyorchid man have more than t---"
I buzzed in, then instantly regretted it. I knew the answer, but I had to heasitate. You see, the answer is Testicles
, but I had some reservations at yelling it out in a crowded room, right answer or not. Wait, what if it's wrong? God, how mortifying
! Who put this question in the pile?
After making absolutely sure in my head twice that it was the right answer, even struggling to find the root word in Latin, I cringed, and said
It seemed to take an eternity for the teacher slowly flip over the card, register a suprised look, and say "...That's correct." Whew.
I slumped back in my chair, as everyone in the audience gave me this look of "How the hell did he know that?" followed by a standing ovation of my friends in the 2nd row. I want to say it was gratifying, but I was too releived thinking of whether I'd live something like that down if I was wrong.
After we had control of the board, the topic moved to English Literature. There were a number of tough ones that my companion answered, some the Seniors just knew better than we.
Then, another question popped up:
What Russian author was famous for writing Crime and Punishment?
Nobody buzzes in. Seven seconds go by. Just before the timer runs out, I reluctantly buzz in. I'm pretty sure I know the guy, but how am I going to pronounce this guy's name? Know it, anyone? Fydor Doystevsky
Of course the room goes quiet when I speak (does wonders for my ego), and I pronounce "Fye-odor...Dos-toy-ev-esky?"
An even longer pause, as the announcer turns over the card, and registers an even bigger look of suprise than the previous one. "Correct!"
The audience, mostly freshmen and a few teachers, all emit a collective "Whoah." In case you didn't know, you never hear of this guy until college, which is why the name boggled all the 14-year-olds' minds.
And that was the game. We lost by about 3 points for the Opening lead the Seniors had. But let me tell you, when I got off that stage, I got applause from everyone. Not only because of the questions, but the fact that I managed to nearly tie with 4 seniors. Not to steal the spotlight, but my companion only answered 2 literature questions, relying on me for the rest. People asked me the rest of the day how I knew such really farfetched answers. That made my day.