There is a debate going on about whether or not cursive
handwriting should continue to be taught in schools. Some teachers say that knowing how to type is
more important these days. Okay – I
understand that. At times, I am a “mad
texter” myself. I have always loved to
type, and I do love the email! But I do
hope the teaching of cursive will not be discarded. I believe penmanship is something that is
part of our identity. The way our handwriting looks tells a story about us – how we go about doing things….
In elementary school, just learning to write in cursive, we
called it REAL writing. If the teacher
wanted sentences, a paragraph, or an essay, the question always came, “Do you
want it in “real writing”?
I can remember the handwriting of some of my school chums
from so many years ago! I watched my
left-handed friend hunched over her desk, carefully copying something from a
textbook. I was mesmerized by the
careful movement and the perfect letters that came out of the awkward way she
held her hand and pencil. And the way
the little boy I had a crush on crunched up his face as he wrote. Looking over at his paper, I fancied I could
see his facial expression in his handwriting!
When I helped the teacher, I knew whose test paper I held, without
looking at the name.
Oh how I loved to watch my husband write his name! The movements were as unique as he was. The handwriting of my children makes me happy! I remember my Mother’s small neat script…my
Father’s scrawl. I remember the
handwriting of some of my teachers on the blackboard. One teacher stood very close to the board and
wrote hard and slowly - as though the chalk were going to jump out of his hand
at any moment. Then he went back to dot
all the I’s and cross all the T’s as a final job. He performed this task as though he were mad at the
letters for needing something extra.
Another teacher wrote with a flourish and used lots of exclamation
points after her flowing writing. The
handwriting style said so much about who they were…
I recently helped some
elderly people shop for groceries. I
watched, as each person slowly and carefully signed their name in the electronic box
at the check-out counter – in cursive. I
sensed that they wanted to write their names perfectly – it was as if they were
positive their signature would be seen by everyone. “This is who I am,” their slow, spidery,
crawling penmanship said to the electronic box on the counter.
I love to write letters and receive letters. But what is a handwritten letter unless it is
in “real writing”?
What will happen if they stop teaching cursive writing in
public schools? Will this technique
only be taught in college under a “Special Studies” curriculum? Will we slowly become a culture that uses
only electronic devices to communicate?
(Gee – I think I already know the answer to that.)
Will the love notes that I used to put in my husband’s lunch bag be
unearthed and put in a museum someday, as a rare item – perhaps called a
hieroglyphic? (Uh – I hope not….blush)
Cursive penmanship makes me happy! Perhaps something in real writing will be in the mailbox today!
