maybe my dad *did* have the right idea
School shuns tech, teaches fountain pen.
Principal believes pens help boost academic performance, self-esteem
When I was in the 5th grade, I had to write a report on a US state.
And by write, I mean by hand, in pen. With neatness a part of the grade.
It was a really long report - there were 25 or 30 questions we were supposed to answer, and each had to be a separate "chapter" of the report, starting on a new page. Some were answered in as little as two sentences, some took 6 or 8 pages.
We had a computer - had been the first in my class to get one, in fact. I was a reasonably accomplished typist (although not touch-typing yet) after working on my dad's masters' thesis the summer before. And back then, 11-year-olds weren't expected to be able to type. In fact, my dad and my teacher had an argument, because she didn't believe 11-year-olds could type.
One of the ongoing arguments of my childhood was my handwriting. My dad has terrible handwriting, which I suspect comes in part from being left handed, and learning to write in the late 50's when left-handedness was seen as....a problem to be overcome, and in part because of some of his own issues with dealing with the world in general. And because his handwriting is so bad that he sometimes can't read it himself, he was very keen on me having good handwriting.
Which I didn't.
Not that I couldn't, mind you, if I took the time. But that I saw no reason to...especially because, back then, it took a lot of time. I had taken calligraphy classes in 4-H somewhere around 3rd or 4th grade, with a specially designed calligraphy marker, and had actually made money addressing Christmas cards and writing up Bible verses and putting them in frames. But for day-to-day writing, I didn't find that level of attention to detail to be worthwhile.
When I was around 7 or 8, my dad and I had a bedtime chat about the seriousness of neat handwriting. And he'd said to me, "What are you going to do when you grow up and get a job, and you write a memo to people and they can't read it?" In absolute seriousness, my response was, "Daddy, I'm not going to write memos. I'm going to have a secretary who will type all my memos for me." He was incredibly angry at this statement...which, I guess looking back on it, I can sort of understand, but really, that's what TV shows said secretaries did, and I wanted to be someone important enough to have a secretary.
This whole situation made this report a matter of major stress in our house.
My dad's solution was an interesting one: He went to the only "office supply" store in town (a small place stuffed with wonders, to a child like me, although horribly over-priced) - a branch store of one of two or three printers in the whole county. And he bought me a fountain pen.
This was quite an expenditure back then - $30 or $40 - for a family that lived on about that much a week for groceries.
The agreement, as he solemly handed me this treasure, with its clear barrel so you could see the ink, and shiny chrome-colored cap, was that I would use this pen to write my report, and I would take the time to write it neatly. And in return, I could keep the pen. He'd even buy me ink to use in it, indefinitely.
Learning to write with the fountain pen was interesting. There were a lot of pages that required re-work because of splotches early on. And white-out wasn't allowed on the report , so every spelling mistake meant re-writing the whole page. But I was fascinated by the pen, and quickly fell in love with its smooth writing style, and its quirks, like needing to be stored standing upright.
And for the first time ever, I found that just writing could be a nice thing; the flow of the letters as they run together, the cadence of the words flowing from my head to the paper. Calligraphy was fun, but it wasn't the same as writing. Typing....typing has a different cadence, a faster cadence, more fit for things with hard edges and clear answers. I didn't have the words to describe it then, but pen-on-paper is somehow organic; analog communication for the real world, rather than the electrons and pixels that are now common.
I wore that pen out, and have since bought more, by several different manufacturers. I think I have 4 or 5 working pens, though I haven't used any of them in several years. I even have older ink-well style pens. But all in all, my favorite will always be my old Shaeffer pen with the yellow barrel (because by then they didn't make clear barrels anymore, and now I can't find one like this at all)...
...at least until I find something else that manages to capture my heart in the same way that my first pen did.
Principal believes pens help boost academic performance, self-esteem
When I was in the 5th grade, I had to write a report on a US state.
And by write, I mean by hand, in pen. With neatness a part of the grade.
It was a really long report - there were 25 or 30 questions we were supposed to answer, and each had to be a separate "chapter" of the report, starting on a new page. Some were answered in as little as two sentences, some took 6 or 8 pages.
We had a computer - had been the first in my class to get one, in fact. I was a reasonably accomplished typist (although not touch-typing yet) after working on my dad's masters' thesis the summer before. And back then, 11-year-olds weren't expected to be able to type. In fact, my dad and my teacher had an argument, because she didn't believe 11-year-olds could type.
One of the ongoing arguments of my childhood was my handwriting. My dad has terrible handwriting, which I suspect comes in part from being left handed, and learning to write in the late 50's when left-handedness was seen as....a problem to be overcome, and in part because of some of his own issues with dealing with the world in general. And because his handwriting is so bad that he sometimes can't read it himself, he was very keen on me having good handwriting.
Which I didn't.
Not that I couldn't, mind you, if I took the time. But that I saw no reason to...especially because, back then, it took a lot of time. I had taken calligraphy classes in 4-H somewhere around 3rd or 4th grade, with a specially designed calligraphy marker, and had actually made money addressing Christmas cards and writing up Bible verses and putting them in frames. But for day-to-day writing, I didn't find that level of attention to detail to be worthwhile.
When I was around 7 or 8, my dad and I had a bedtime chat about the seriousness of neat handwriting. And he'd said to me, "What are you going to do when you grow up and get a job, and you write a memo to people and they can't read it?" In absolute seriousness, my response was, "Daddy, I'm not going to write memos. I'm going to have a secretary who will type all my memos for me." He was incredibly angry at this statement...which, I guess looking back on it, I can sort of understand, but really, that's what TV shows said secretaries did, and I wanted to be someone important enough to have a secretary.
This whole situation made this report a matter of major stress in our house.
My dad's solution was an interesting one: He went to the only "office supply" store in town (a small place stuffed with wonders, to a child like me, although horribly over-priced) - a branch store of one of two or three printers in the whole county. And he bought me a fountain pen.
This was quite an expenditure back then - $30 or $40 - for a family that lived on about that much a week for groceries.
The agreement, as he solemly handed me this treasure, with its clear barrel so you could see the ink, and shiny chrome-colored cap, was that I would use this pen to write my report, and I would take the time to write it neatly. And in return, I could keep the pen. He'd even buy me ink to use in it, indefinitely.
Learning to write with the fountain pen was interesting. There were a lot of pages that required re-work because of splotches early on. And white-out wasn't allowed on the report , so every spelling mistake meant re-writing the whole page. But I was fascinated by the pen, and quickly fell in love with its smooth writing style, and its quirks, like needing to be stored standing upright.
And for the first time ever, I found that just writing could be a nice thing; the flow of the letters as they run together, the cadence of the words flowing from my head to the paper. Calligraphy was fun, but it wasn't the same as writing. Typing....typing has a different cadence, a faster cadence, more fit for things with hard edges and clear answers. I didn't have the words to describe it then, but pen-on-paper is somehow organic; analog communication for the real world, rather than the electrons and pixels that are now common.
I wore that pen out, and have since bought more, by several different manufacturers. I think I have 4 or 5 working pens, though I haven't used any of them in several years. I even have older ink-well style pens. But all in all, my favorite will always be my old Shaeffer pen with the yellow barrel (because by then they didn't make clear barrels anymore, and now I can't find one like this at all)...
...at least until I find something else that manages to capture my heart in the same way that my first pen did.