Cursive: A Right of Passage

In case you didn’t know, I teach my cousin as an English touter. (Turns out to be a perk of having a degree in writing that I didn’t know about.) ;) Recently I was chatting with my younger cousin and found out that due to when he was going through school, he only had one lesson on writing in cursive. According to him, they barely taught him how to write his name and then never talked about it again.

This idea kind of boggled my mind. When I was in 3rd grade I spent countless hours learning how to make each letter stroke for stroke. Writing my name became an art project. I was amazed at how fancy my name looked. Then afterwards, I saw changes in my printing penmanship as well. Letters that used to be nothing but sticks changes and morphed into these round curly shapes. Thankfully it made my hand writing easier to read, and I think that it has maintained a decent pretty quality to this day.

What really made me sad about the phasing out of cursive in school, is that another of my cousins couldn’t read the hand written well wishes written to her and her fiancé on cards at their baby shower. These beautiful messages had to be translated for them as if they were written in a different language.

I am grateful that I learned and can read cursive. That means I get to keep the notes from my elders and reread them whenever I feel the need. I love that I have a box with cards that mark special moments in my life, and that I get to hold those moments closer because of this skill.

Thankfully I am able to teach my cousins enough that they should be able to learn to read those heartfelt messages and be able to treasurer them as well.