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Why Cursive Mattered

Practicing the skill may have been laborious, but the art of penmanship
is invaluable.

Albert Gea / Reuters

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Since the U.S. Department of Education dropped cursive writing from
standard national curricula in 2011, the debate on the value of learning
penmanship has raged.
Some argue that the skill is obsolete, akin to learning how to use an
abacus in the age of supercomputers. [The] time kids spend learning
to write curvy, connected words is time kids could be spending learning

the basics of programming and any number of other technology skills

theyll need in our increasingly connected world, wrote the blogger
and podcast host Justin Pot in a spirited editorialrejecting the utility of
such an anachronistic skill.
But for me, holding a Bic ballpoint penthat anachronistic tool
always takes me back to third-grade penmanship class. Then, the cheap
disposable pen was a trophy of achievement, and the day I upgraded
from pencil to pen is as memorable as any graduation day.
We knew that we were doomed to writing with a pencil until we got it
right, and nobody wanted to languish in that graphite purgatory.
I attended an all-girls private school in the Philippines run by Belgian
missionary sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, a school that was
both ultra-traditional and very progressive, if not outright socialist.
There were days when classes were canceled so we could march on the
streets in solidarity with disenfranchised farmers for agrarian reform.
(I practiced lettering on political signs and could make a sturdy papiermch protest effigy at a young age.)
But there were also many days spent learning how to sew, touch-type,
and, yes, master the art of cursive writingtruly one of the greatest
sources of angst for a third-grader.
Our bible was the Peterson Directed Handwriting Manual. Peterson is
a particular type of cursive style in which the letter P has an antenna;
the capital Q looks like a fancy number two; and the Z has a funny loop
that dipped below the baseline. We started learning at the end of
second grade, when we were all issued manuals to trace and practice on
as homework during the summer break.
For what must have been hundreds and hundreds of hours, we toiled
and perseveredtraining our young hands to commit those letterforms
to muscle memory. Rhythm, form, slant, space. Rhythm, form, slant,
space, I would sometimes silently chant to coax my wild clumsy hand.
These were the things I obsessed with at 7 years old.
Perfect penmanship was expected in all our classes. Our notebooks
were even collected at the end of every semester and graded based on
fidelity to this style and the neatness of our note-taking. We had to do
this in proper sitting posture, too. It was about conformity, discipline,
and deportment. It was religion. It was penitence. It was torture.
We knew that we were doomed to writing with a pencil until we got it
right and nobody wanted to languish in that graphite purgatory.

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I was second in a class of 40 to graduate to a pen. I remember that it
was our language teacher who announced it, somewhat out of the blue
interrupting class for an impromptu ceremony in my honor. She
proclaimed, Anne can now use the pen, beaming while my classmates
applauded. It was epic. This was the day. I felt differentinstantly
taller, smarter, perhaps.
I recall ceremoniously demoting my yellow No. 2 pencils to the second
level of my tin case and moving up the blue Bic Cristal pen that I had
secretly (and optimistically) stashed there for months. I could not wait
to write notes to my friends with the self-assurance and permanence of
ink.
These days, like everyone else, I rely on touch screens, keyboards, and
mobile devices. When I write with a pen, I scribble in all sorts of styles.
My notes are often a mess of doodles and rebus phrases. But still,
sometimes I lapse into Peterson. I write out thoughts and sentences
that I want to remember this wayslowly and carefully again. Rhythm,
form, slant, space. Rhythm, form, slant, space.
In hindsight, Im grateful for those years of laborious practice. The
ordeal of learning penmanship remains useful and indelible. I traced so
I can writelegibly and intentionally. I followed, and now Im free.