In the world of academic competition – where test scores, essays and speeches determine glory – fun can be hard to come by. But for the North Atlanta High School Academic Decathlon team, joy came in the most unexpected form: a board game where the smartest students in the room had to sound, well… not so smart.
Poetry for Neanderthals, a word-guessing board game that forces players to speak in single-syllable “caveman talk,” became the team’s go-to ritual during both their state and national competitions.
This custom began at the Georgia state finals, when the pressure of cramming for interviews and essays began to dull the team’s energy. Morgan Herb, the team’s lead motivator, unpacked a box covered in cartoonish cavemen wielding clubs. Within minutes, the team’s quiet hotel room had turned into a prehistoric performance stage. “We spend all day trying to sound articulate,” joked Joi Gonzalez, one of the team’s captains. “But this game rewards the exact opposite.”
The rules are simple but comically restrictive: one player must get their teammates to guess a word or phrase using only one-syllable words. If they slip and use a longer word, another player bonks them with an inflatable club. Suddenly, honor students who could analyze transcendentalist literature or solve complex combinatorics questions were grunting like Stone Age poets. “Good word! You know... sky wet fall!” someone shouted, desperately trying to describe “rain.”
At first, the NAHS decathletes struggled with the limits of their newfound linguistic asphyxiation. Yet that struggle revealed something deeper. “We realized how much we rely on complex vocabulary to express ideas,” said one competitor. “But when that’s stripped away, it’s about creativity and plain ol’ laughter.” For a team that thrives on intellect, the game became an exercise in humility and human connection.
When the team traveled to the national competition in Iowa, the tradition continued. After long days filled with academic rigor and competitive nerves, Poetry for Neanderthals became their nightly decompression ritual. The halls of their hotel echoed with laughter and the rhythmic thuds of the inflatable “No!” stick. It was chaotic, cathartic and strangely unifying. “It reminded us why we love learning in the first place,” said their student coach. “Play isn’t the opposite of intelligence – it’s part of it.”
What made the game so fitting for this group was the irony. Here were some of the nation's brightest students, capable of dissecting literature and memorizing historical minutiae, bonding over the inability to use big words. It stripped away hierarchy. The team’s MVP was just as lost as the alternate players when “refrigerator” became “cold food cave box.”
In a world obsessed with achievement, Poetry for Neanderthals offered a lesson in simplicity. It reminded a group of brilliant students that communication isn’t just about words – it’s about shared joy, a touch of creativity and a dash of courage to look a little ridiculous.
For the NAHS Academic Decathlon team, the smartest move they made all season wasn’t onstage, but around a board game table, speaking like cavemen and finding connection in laughter.
Meet the team
Andres Gonzalez-Sanabria, Skye Kelley, Juana Han, Sophia Sethi, John Henry Collins, Zach Wilson, Joi Gonzalez, Triston Willis, Ava Youd, Morgan Herb, Jordan Watters, Ryan Conley
Morgan Herb, the team’s lead motivator, unpacked a box covered in cartoonish cavemen wielding clubs.