The Scripps National Spelling Bee has been testing young minds since 1925. The first winner was 11-year-old Frank Neuhauser of Louisville, Kentucky, who correctly spelled “gladiolus” (a genus of perennial plant) to claim a prize of $500 and the chance to meet President Calvin Coolidge. Since then, the contest has been held almost every year, pausing only for World War II and the COVID-19 pandemic.

The winning words correctly spelled by these young scholars have, at times, been quite simple — especially in the early years. “Knack,” “torsion,” “intelligible,” and “canonical” were among the final words prior to World War II. The difficulty then began to increase, with more obscure words selected to challenge the knowledge of well-prepared teenagers. Here we take a look at some of the less common words that have won Scripps over the decades. 

“Abrogate” means “to abolish by authoritative action.”

Example: “The new government moved swiftly to abrogate the treaties signed by its predecessor.”

Meerschaum is a soft white or yellowish mineral that looks a bit like hardened clay. It is most commonly associated with meerschaum tobacco pipes, which have a bowl made of the mineral. The name comes from German, literally meaning “sea foam.” 

Example: “The old professor kept a carved meerschaum pipe on his desk, though he hadn’t smoked in years.”

If you want to add a little elegance to your vocabulary, you could do a lot worse than “insouciant.” It means “exhibiting or characterized by insouciance,” which is “lighthearted unconcern.”

Example: “Bruni and fellow icons like Jane Birkin and Françoise Hardy boast the sort of in-her-face fringe that oozes insouciance, a hallmark of the French aesthetic.” (Calin Van Paris, InStyle, 2026) 

Syllepsis is a rhetorical figure of speech in which a single word governs or modifies two others in different ways, often for comic effect — as in, “She lost her purse and her temper,” or “She blew my nose and then she blew my mind” (the latter from the Rolling Stones’ 1969 hit song “Honky Tonk Women”). 

Example: “The comedian’s use of syllepsis drew a laugh from the audience, which appreciated the double meaning.”

The “daemonic” in “eudaemonic” may be misleading, as the word is far from demonic. It actually refers to anything that is conducive to happiness. It comes from the Greek eudaimonikos, in which eu means “good” and daimōn means “guardian” or “genius.”

Example: “The philosopher argued that a eudaemonic life required not pleasure but purpose.” 

A ratoon is a new shoot or sprout growing from the root of a plant after it has been cropped. It is most commonly used when referring to the harvest of sugarcane. 

Example: “On the banks of the Essequebo, thirty crops of ratoon canes have been raised successively.” (W. Robertson, History of America, 1778)

“Elucubrate” is considered an obsolete word by the Oxford English Dictionary, but it’s worth reviving. It means “to work out or express by studious effort,” especially late into the night and, traditionally, by candlelight or lamplight. 

Example: “She elucubrated for months in her study, burning the midnight oil before finally finishing her first novel.”

This word refers to one who plunders, pillages, robs, or despoils. Genghis Khan is a prime example of a historic spoliator. 

Example: “It might be, that a successful spoliator thus deprived the possessors of the means of future defence.” (G. Petrie, Ecclesiastical Architecture of Ireland, 1845)

“Vivisepulture” is a rather grim word to include in a spelling competition for teens, but it won the day in 1996. It refers to the act or practice of burying someone alive.

Example: “They are a superstitious brood and have many cruel practices — human sacrifices and vivisepulture.” (Richard Francis Burton, City of Saints, 1861)

If you’ve ever thought that Usain Bolt has a very fitting name for an Olympic track star, there’s a word for that: “euonym.” It means “a name well suited to the person, place, or thing named.”

Example: “‘William Headline’ struck many as a remarkable euonym for CNN’s former Washington bureau chief.” 

Prospicience is the act of looking forward or having foresight. The word dates back to at least the 1500s but is rarely used today. 

Example: “The report praised the urban planners for their prospicience in preserving green space before the city expanded.”

Italian speakers will likely recognize this word, used to refer to a careless, indifferent, or nonchalant person. It comes from the Italian poco (“little”) and curante (“caring”).

Example: “He was such a pococurante that even news of the company’s collapse failed to provoke any real emotion.”

In the world of anthropology, “cymotrichous” simply describes having wavy hair — as opposed to having leiotrichous (smooth or straight) or ulotrichous (crisp or woolly) hair. Some humans can be described as cymotrichous, as can dog breeds such as spaniels and poodles, and a whole array of other wavy-haired mammals. 

Example: “The astronauts discovered a population of bipedal creatures that were predominantly cymotrichous, with green, wavy hair.”

“Nunatak” means “a hill or mountain completely surrounded by glacial ice.” The word comes from the Greenlandic Inuit nunataq. 

Example: “There are several nunataks at Graves, all peaks of the same mountain.” (Barry Lopez, Harper’s magazine, 2019)

“Cernuous” means “inclining or nodding.” It is primarily used in botany to describe the drooping heads of flowers. 

Example: “After the rain, the snowdrops appeared cernuous, their white heads hanging low with the weight of water.” 

This recent winning word from the Scripps National Spelling Bee is one of the most challenging in the history of the competition. A loanword from French, “éclaircissement” refers to a clarification or explanation — the clearing up of a misunderstanding or the revelation of something that was unknown. 

Example: “When the éclaircissement comes there will be a scene.” (William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair: A Novel Without a Hero, 1848)

The English language is full of surprises, including words that don’t mean what they seem at first glance. In fact, some terms actually mean the complete opposite of how they look. Thanks to misleading prefixes, historical quirks, and other etymological twists, these linguistic idiosyncrasies can leave readers feeling duped. Let’s explore 10 commonly misunderstood terms whose true meanings might change how you use them.

There are many ways to describe something that easily catches fire — “combustible,” “ignitable,” “flammable” — yet “inflammable,” the perceived opposite of “flammable,” means the same thing. The confusion stems from the prefix “in-,” which typically means “not,” “without,” “opposite of,” or “reverse of,” as in the pairings “active/inactive” and “correct/incorrect.”

Based on this pattern, many people label “flammable/inflammable” as antonyms, but they’re actually synonyms. Here, the prefix “in-” means “to cause to be,” as seen in “inject” and “include.” If you need a clear opposite for “flammable,” use “nonflammable.”

To describe someone as droll might sound negative — akin to “dull” or “drab.” In reality, it means the opposite: “amusing in a quirky or odd way.” For example, “The host had a droll personality that kept the whole room laughing.” Think of it as a descriptor for a class clown or a jester. 

“Droll” has had an interesting etymological evolution. It first entered English as the French loanword “drôle,” meaning “odd” or “comical,” which is related to the French noun drolle

(or draule) for “a merry fellow” or “a buffoon.” Early versions of the term point to two possible sources: the Middle Dutch drol, meaning “a fat little fellow” or “a goblin,” or the Middle High German trolle for “clown,” both far from boring.

If you describe a hike as enervating, it may sound like your adventure was invigorating or energizing — but in reality, it means the opposite. Saying, “The long, difficult hike to the summit left them completely enervated,” actually means the hikers were exhausted.

“Enervate” means “to drain someone’s energy, either physically or mentally.” The confusion likely comes from its resemblance to “energize,” but a look into the term’s etymology reveals its true meaning. It stems from the Latin enervatus, meaning “to weaken.”

Contrary to its appearance, the term “spendthrift” doesn’t refer to someone frugal or conservative with money. Instead, it’s someone who spends lavishly to the point of being wasteful — more Jay Gatsby than Ebenezer Scrooge. For example, “His spendthrift habits put him into debt.”

Here, “thrift” isn’t used in the sense of its most popular definition — “careful spending,” as seen in the term “thrift store.” Instead, it refers to savings, profit, or wealth, with “spend” tacked on at the beginning to denote a reckless manner of managing that wealth.

The adjective “restive” is anything but restful. Instead, it describes impatience or uneasiness, as in, “We grew restive after being stuck in the airport terminal for hours during a delay.” It comes from the Anglo-French verb rester, meaning “to resist.”

During the 15th century, “restive” initially meant “stubbornly resisting control or guidance,” and it was most often used in the context of horses and other animals. Over time, this evolved into other usages, such as “inflexible,” which became “impatient” by the 19th century.

The noun “firmament” may sound like solid ground, but it has a more fantastical definition — it refers to the sky. From the Latin firmamentum, meaning “support,” it means “the vault or arch of the sky,” synonymous with “the heavens.”

Historically, “firmament” was the eighth and outermost celestial sphere in ancient astronomy, and in biblical terms, it refers to a dome-like structure said to have been created by God to separate the waters above from those below.

“Gruntled” is an adjective that describes being in good humor. It’s synonymous with “happy” and “contented,” as in, “After returning from their vacation, they were thoroughly gruntled.” Dating to the early 20th century, this word is a back-formation of the older word “disgruntled,” used to describe someone who is unhappy or annoyed.

Often used humorously, “gruntled” is intended to mean the opposite of “disgruntled,” though the terms are sometimes confused because “gruntled” is unfamiliar to many.

Coined by American journalist Norman Mailer in his 1973 book, Marilyn, about Marilyn Monroe, “factoid” originally meant “a false statement presented as a fact.” He used the suffix “-oid” (meaning “appearance” or “form”) in the same way it is used in “humanoid” — to describe something that looks one way but isn’t actually that thing.

A classic example of a factoid is the claim that the Great Wall of China is visible from the moon — this is a myth. Today, the usage of “factoid” is changing. It now has a secondary definition, often used to mean “a trivial fact or a fun fact.”

“Fastidious” has nothing to do with speed. Instead, it describes someone who is extremely attentive to detail and even hard to please — qualities that generally call for slowing down, the opposite of fast. Consider this example: “The professor is known for her fastidious research on the subject.”

It may also describe someone or something that is excessively particular about accuracy, details, or neatness, as in a fastidiously clean home. The word comes from the Latin fastidium, meaning “aversion” or “disgust.”

“The rabbit disappeared, and the magician left the audience completely nonplussed.” To some, this statement may be confusing — why would a magician leave an audience unfazed? But the original definition of “nonplussed” is “confused” or even “bewildered.” This is the past participle of “nonplus,” meaning “a state of bafflement” or “to cause to be at a loss as to what to say.” It comes from the Latin non plus, meaning “no more” or “no further.”

However, this word has been misused so many times that it’s evolving. The dictionary now accepts the opposite as a valid secondary meaning — “unfazed.”It’s a nonstandard definition of “not bothered, surprised, or impressed by something,” as in, “She remained nonplussed about the harsh critique.”

Beauty is highly subjective, whether you’re talking about physical appearance, emotional resonance, or in this case, the world of linguistics. We’ve previously touched on the most beautiful English words according to linguists, but we wanted to ask the members of our editorial staff for their picks, too. Based on their replies, there are many traits that play a role in elevating a word’s beauty, but there’s a shared characteristic that seems to connect each word: the letter “l.” Here’s what our editorial team had to say.

Interesting Facts editor Brooke Robinson was the first to point out that all of our team’s answers included a lilting “l” sound. Her choice was the word “soliloquy,” defined as “the act of talking to oneself.” Soliloquies are often used in dramatic productions — they are similar to monologues, although other characters cannot hear the contents of a soliloquy. “I think the ‘l’ sound is the most beautiful one in the alphabet,” Robinson said of her choice. “It rolls off the tongue so nicely, and I’m also a big fan of theater and literature, so it evokes a lot of images I’m fond of anyway.”

As the editor of Better Report, Erin McCarthy knows what makes articles flow smoothly. So it’s no surprise that her choice for the most beautiful word is “mellifluous,” meaning “having a smooth rich flow.” As McCarthy said, “It’s fun to say and, even better, it sounds like what it means.”

Assistant photo editor Rachel Callahan selected the term “lyrical” as one that stands out from the pack for its pleasing nature. In fact, this word’s pulchritude is baked right into its definition: “having an artistically beautiful or expressive quality suggestive of song.” Callahan concurred, saying that it “invokes music, song, and art, and I find it pleasing to say!”

From family treasures to juicy tomatoes, the word “heirloom” can be used in a variety of ways. Movie Brief editor Michael Nordine finds it beautiful in any context: “It has an ethereal quality that likewise speaks to its meaning.” As for its definition, it can mean “something of special value handed down from one generation to another,” or alternatively, “a variety of plant that has originated under cultivation and that has survived for several generations.”

Word Smarts editor Jennifer Freeman selected the word “lustrous” as her choice, saying, “The sounds match the soft glow it evokes.” It’s defined as “radiant in character or reputation,” or “reflecting light evenly and efficiently without glitter or sparkle.” You may use the term “lustrous” to describe freshly polished metal, a varnished table, or an elegant satin gown whose beauty is enhanced by the light bouncing off of it.

House Outlook editor Kelsey Morrison turned to a trusted muse: “Did I look to Taylor Swift lyrics for inspiration for this prompt? Yes, I did.” Morrison chose the word “clandestine” (used in the lyrics of the song “Illicit Affairs” from Swift’s Folklore album). This term means “marked by, held in, or conducted with secrecy.” Coincidentally, Morrison noted that she thinks “illicit” (meaning “not permitted”) is another beautiful word.

Having seen each one of my colleagues choose a word with the letter “l,” I didn’t want to feel like the odd one out. So I embraced “ephemeral” — a term that means “lasting a very short time.” I find the word to flow off the tongue quite nicely and enjoy how the “ph” makes that soft “f” sound at the start. This term could describe fleeting memories of days gone by, beautiful plants that blossom for merely a brief period each year, or morning dew that dissolves from the grass as the sun rises.

Whether through the hard work of chefs or a random craving that leads to a new recipe, food innovation is a constant. The favorite cake of a ruler can become a well-known representation of a city or country, while a restaurant that invents a specific dish may become a hot spot for that pasta. 

Chefs and rulers are common sources of inspiration for naming dishes, but we can also credit botanists and hobbyists for naming grocery store staples. (Have you purchased a “Hass” avocado?) Knowing where our food came from provides us with connection to history. No matter how different cuisine was 10, 100, or even 300 years ago, there are some things that last. 

Pizza Margherita

This pizza notably replicates the colors of the Italian flag with red tomatoes, white mozzarella cheese, and green basil. Though many claim to have created it, the most reputable story is that chef and tavern owner Raffaele Esposito took a stab at it in 1889. He presented it to the new wife of King Umberto I, Queen Margherita of Savoy, when she was visiting Naples. Esposito is credited as creating the modern version of pizza, and Naples is still the place to go to get authentic Margherita pizza. 

Princess Cake

Many people were introduced to this confection through an episode of The Great British Bake Off, but the cake is of Swedish origin. The prinsesstårta is a layer cake with vanilla custard cream, vanilla cake, raspberry jam, and whipped cream, all covered in green marzipan and decorated with a delicate pink candied flower. Jenny Åkerström, teacher and headmistress at a Swedish home economics school, published a cookbook in 1948 called Prinsessornas kokbok (The Princess’ Cookbook), which collected this and many other recipes inspired by princesses, including Crown Princess Ingrid of Denmark, Princess Margaretha of Denmark, Crown Princess Märtha of Norway, and Crown Princess Astrid of Belgium (who were all born as Swedish princesses).

Victoria Sponge

Queen Victoria follows only Queen Elizabeth II in terms of the length of their reigns over the United Kingdom, so it was inevitable that she would leave her stamp on some beloved foods of the country. The Victoria sponge, or Victoria sandwich cake, consists of two layers of pound cake with jam slathered between them, topped with powdered sugar. It was one of Queen Victoria’s preferred cakes to have with tea. Contemporary versions usually include cream alongside the jam. 

Kung Pao Chicken

A staple of American Chinese restaurants, this chicken dish is rumored to date back to the Qing dynasty, which reigned from the 1600s until 1912. Ding Baozhen, governor of the Sichuan province from 1876 to 1886, is the inspiration for the name. He held the title Gōng Bǎo (宮保), meaning “palace guardian,” which was Americanized into “Kung Pao.”

Beef Wellington

The Duke of Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, of notable Battle of Waterloo fame, is thought to be the inspiration for the name of this dish featuring beef wrapped in a puff pastry. However, food historians claim they can’t find a similar recipe in British or French cookbooks before the 20th century. The dish became popular in America in the 1960s and 1970s.  

Bibb Lettuce

The leaves of Bibb lettuce, a type of butter lettuce, are soft to the touch and have a light color on the inside. The greens are named for John Bibb, a lawyer in Frankfort, Kentucky, who grew new vegetable varietals in his backyard. Though he invented and grew the lettuce in the 1860s, it wasn’t commercially produced or available until a few decades later. 

Russet Burbank Potato

You’ve definitely eaten this type of potato, also known as the Idaho potato, as it’s the base for many fast-food french fries around the United States. Self-taught plant breeder Luther Burbank unlocked this discovery in 1871. The potato was so hearty and resistant to disease that shipments of it were exported to Ireland, which was still reeling from the recent potato famine in the 1840s. 

Hass Avocado

This particular type of avocado makes up 75% of avocado production in the United States. A postman named Rudolph Hass started experimenting on avocados in California in 1926. He successfully grew a new type of avocado tree that produced more fruit than the Fuerte varietal he started with, and he got a patent for the breed in 1935. We have him and his backyard to thank for the popularity of avocado toast. 

Fettuccine Alfredo 

The original recipe for fettuccine Alfredo was much simpler than the current version. There’s a 16th-century recipe called “Roman macaroni” that includes pasta, butter, and “good cheese.” However, the recipe was perfected in 1908 by restaurant owner Alfredo Di Lelio at Ristorante Alfredo alla Scrofa in Rome. 

Nachos 

This sports bar staple originated in Mexico in 1943. Ignacio “Nacho” Anaya García was a maître d’ at Club Victoria in Piedras Negras, which hosted American soldiers from Fort Duncan, just over the border in Texas. One day, Ignacio had to serve a group of military wives, but the cook was out, so he quickly whipped up a simple dish: He cut tortillas into triangles, covered them in cheese and jalapenos, and served them to the group to share. Game-day parties are forever in debt to Nacho. 

Eggs Benedict 

There are a few competing stories for the invention of eggs Benedict. Lemuel Benedict, a stockbroker, claimed that while nursing a hangover he spontaneously ordered poached eggs on an English muffin with hollandaise and bacon at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in 1894, and the dish was so popular that it was added to the hotel’s permanent menu. However, Charles Ranhofer, then the head chef of the famed New York steakhouse Delmonico’s, laid claim to the recipe as his, dating back to the 1860s. He published it officially in 1894, called Eggs la Benedick, named in honor of a frequent guest of the restaurant, Mrs. LeGrand Benedict.

Caesar Salad

Some people mistakenly peg the name of this salad to the Roman emperor Julius Caesar. However, it actually came out of 20th-century Mexico. Caesar Cardini was an Italian restaurateur living in Tijuana in the 1920s. The recipe was reportedly invented on July 4, 1924, when hungry (and thirsty) Americans came across the border to dine without Prohibition restrictions. Rosa Cardini, the restaurateur’s daughter, claims they were running low on ingredients that busy night and the recipe for Caesar salad came out of necessity. Cardini’s restaurant is still in business, and it continues to make more than 300 Caesar salads daily.  

Reuben Sandwich

This hearty sandwich is an undertaking to eat. It’s made of  rye bread topped with corned beef, Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing. In what could be a case of parallel thinking, a few people claim to be the inventors of the sandwich. Reuben Kolakofsky claimed he attended a poker game at a hotel in Omaha, Nebraska, in the 1920s and asked for this exact sandwich. However, Arnold Reuben owned Reuben’s Delicatessen and claimed the sandwich originated with his “Reuben special” in 1914.