Today someone came in who was pleasant and chatty like the majority of the people I meet. As she was sitting at my desk across from me, I couldn’t help but feel her staring right at me…for about 5 minutes. The I’m-sitting-three-feet-from-you-but-can’t-find-anything-else-to-focus-on stare. Then I notice she’s watching me write, pretty intently, and then asks if I had taken handwriting lessons (??!??) It was a compliment for sure, so I say thanks and try to turn the conversation from awkward back to normal, and find something else to talk about. She then goes on about how she hates her handwriting and she wishes she could type everything, blah blah.
There are all sorts of handwriting analysis quizzes and explanations out there. We all have the same foundation of elementary school writing lessons. That annoying lined paper with the dotted line for lowercase guidance- hated it! The entire time we learned printing and then cursive, I felt my creative expression was oppressed by these evil classroom teachers. Why couldn’t I write my hybrid of printing and cursive? I couldn’t understand at 6yrs old why I wasn't permitted to write things exactly the way I wanted. Why my writing, the physical manifestation of my thoughts to paper, had to be the same as the other 20 kids? I was also insistent on writing in pen- for everything- and couldn’t stand anything written in that No2 pencil. These were two reasons (out of many) I couldn’t wait to get older and have the freedom to do what I wanted! I’m really happy public school had no uniform policy. That would have killed me.
No real reason behind this post. Just some life observations to throw on the blog… and if you have really great or really bad handwriting… someone is bound to notice and call you on it (hopefully on the complimentary side!)
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