I ran across a recent item that cut me to the nib (pun
intended). It seems that many schools no longer teach cursive writing. Many
states have dropped it from their language arts core, the logic being that our
keyboard society has made cursive writing a relic of the past. Many public
school students now have no writing skills beyond printing, and some schools
don’t even teach lower versus upper case printing–just block letters. (Catholic
schools still demand cursive and good for them.)
A lot of my college students think it’s fine to rely on
printing. They also think it’s fine to steal music. They’re wrong on both accounts.
If you are an elementary school teacher, instruct your classes in cursive; if
you’re a parent, don’t ask, demand that
it be taught. Some of the things you read online–how ironic!–offer elegiac
defenses of cursive writing. (Quite a few also spout the shortsighted party
line that cursive is as archaic as vacuum tubes and print publications.) I
suppose one could wax rhapsodic about creativity flowing down the barrel of a
pen, links to our Western heritage, and developing motor skills, but there’s no
need to go down those routes. A far more pragmatic argument is that cursive
writing is, simply, a skill one needs to keep up in today’s fast-paced society.
My students swear to me that they can type far faster than
they can “write,” by which they mean block-letter printing and that’s probably
correct. They also use their electronic devices so frequently that they’ve come
to expect there’s never a situation in which they won’t have one. That is,
until the first time someone gives them a blue-book exam and tells them “No,
you can’t type this on your laptop.” Many of my students cannot fill an
eight-page bluebook in an hour, which means that their essays are superficial
and they are graded accordingly. “Unfair!” they cry. I am roughly as
sympathetic to that plea as math professors that tell their students they must do
their own arithmetic rather than using a calculator. Are we being callous? I
don’t think so.
In Logic 101 one learns that a syllogism with a flawed major
premise yields illogic. In this case, the case against cursive rest on the
assumption (major premise) that there are no longer situations in which one needs
cursive. That’s simply false. The average accomplished typist does 60-80 words
per minute (WPM). I can write faster than that even though I have a hand
disability that slows me. Moreover, to hit 60 WPM, you need to know how to
touch type, which is another skill that most students never acquire. I have
observed students in lectures who simply can’t keep up on their keyboards. Some
ask me to put my lecture notes on the Web, which I will not do. I happen to
think that: (a) these things are my intellectual property, and (b) that a
person with poor listening skills is ill equipped for the job market.
One reason student are slow is physical. Just as a violin
player can play faster than a cello player because they don’t have as much
instrument to cover, so too can most people scribble on a piece of paper faster
than they can go across a 12-18 inch keyboard (on which many students have to
search for letters.) Another reason
is that we relate to screens differently. Put simply, a mind focused on a
screen is less actively engaged with a detached speaker. (And this is before
other temptations from the World of Wireless pops in one’s head. Try reading just
one e-mail and see if you can refocus on a lecture.) Today’s students are very
fast at retrieving information, but they are extremely slow when it comes to
analyzing it, in part because huge chunks elude them, especially the connective
tissue that relates bit of information to another. And heaven help them if
their laptops run out of battery life in the middle of a class. You know what most
of them do? Nothing! They simply sit there, stunned. The best students will
tune in and hope to retain enough to transfer it to their computer once it’s
recharged. Try that and tell me how well it works.
There are many circumstances in life where one has to jot down
information in a hurry without the aid of an electronic helper–an employer
calls someone into the office and gives details of an important assignment, a
critic needs to take notes in a no-gadgets environment, verbal directions are
given to someone who is lost, one is taking an exam that disallows computers as
a potential cheating source (and this includes licensing exams for many
professions as well as graduate school entrance exams), a therapist or doctor needs
to focus on patients instead of a screen, a person wishes to send a note that
is more personalized (sympathy cards, for example). Perhaps most important of
all, if you really need to remember
something, test subjects that write things cursively retain far more than those
that print or type. (Typing surpasses only relying upon aural memory in
psychological tests.) And, let’s face it; if you were an employer, would you
hire someone who couldn’t write his or her own name?
One doesn’t have to be a Luddite or technophobe to defend
cursive writing. Today’s world depends upon flexibility, suppleness, and
adaptability. I won’t pretend that learning cursive writing is “fun.” I hated
penmanship in grade school and my hand is indeed a poor one. I chuckle at those
who defend cursive as an art form; no one will ever confuse my scrawl with art!
But can we please can the if-it’s-not-fun-we-can’t-teach-it fluff of modern
education? I didn’t like learning multiplication tables, conjugating verbs, or
learning about syllables either, but I’m sure glad I swallowed the medicine. Do
not let your kids get by without learning cursive; they will hate you now, but
they’ll thank you later.
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