No, I'm Not A Doctor!

Today I got a very nice thank you card from a friend whose bridal shower I attended last week. The first thing that struck me when I held the unopened envelope in my hand was the handwriting. It struck me as very grown-up. Inside the card was a lovely note scribed in that same hand. My handwriting isn’t like that.

My mom saves different things I have written since I was little, and since back then the only folks with computers were NASA and the government, it’s all handwritten. I spent a lot of time fighting with teachers and on occasion crying when teachers tried to change my pencil grip. The “acceptable” way hurt my fingers and gave me no control over the pencil. For a while, I had to put a colored rubber triangle about an inch and a half long on my pencils to help my finger placement. I cried. This went on for years. In addition to a bad grip, I could not for the life of me write in anything close to a straight line on a blank page. My sentences would all go from point A, to a downward angle of about 40 45 ish degrees by the time I reached the end of a sentence. Capitals letters were randomly thrown in the middle of sentences. Cursive and regular letters ran together. Content wasn’t bad but execution was horrible. At 41, not a whole lot has changed. I don’t do the random capitals anymore, and I tend to print so I stand a chance at reading what I wrote, but my handwriting is still not so great. In fact, it still resembles my 4th grade examples.

When my older boy Harry was in kindergarten, I did the standard very dignified parent’s night thing where you sit in your child’s wee little seat. I saw a cup filled with pencils and on one of the pencils I saw one of those evil rubber grip thingys that caused me such anguish as a child. I reached for the victimized pencil and what did I behold on the rubber grip: my son’s initials. My heart sank and I sat holding the pencil until the formal part of the evening had ended. When the other parents had left the room I approached Harry’s teacher with whom I am friends. I walked towards her holding up the pencil with the colorful rubber grip. “OHHH no” I said. “I was TORTURED with these as a kid and don’t want him to use this.” I then proceeded to show her the improper grip I have used (successfully) since childhood. She assured me it was a little experiment, and she wasn’t terribly concerned, but they had these things around and a few other boys were using them as well. She knew where I stood, so feeling re-assured she would not be making a fuss and forcing him to use the GRIP, I retreated.

Harry is now in 2nd grade and enjoys a very nice, classic textbook grip. When I look at his penmanship and comment how it’s better than mine he grins and occasionally taunts me. At the start of the school year, his teacher sent home an alphabet chart with each letter mapped out in arrows to show the “proper” way to form the letter. I enjoy watching him put care into how he forms the letters, and frankly, when he doesn’t use the approved method, I don’t much care. He’s trying hard and it looks better than my efforts so I leave him alone. He really does have a nice handwriting. And since my husband’s handwriting isn’t great, we know it’s not inherited.

Anyway, seeing my friend’s nice handwriting earlier today made me long for grown-up handwriting. It must be nice to see your words across a page and be able to easily go back and read it. If I try really hard, I can write a note Harry can read, but it’s not an effort I can sustain very long. And if I do, it’s exhausting. Using the computer is a godsend as far as handwriting goes, but I now find on those occasions I do need to write, my hand and fingers lack the stamina to write much. At this stage I probably shouldn’t care, but when I see a nice, legible handwriting I feel envy. I’d like to write like a grown-up too.

Someone once told me poor handwriting is a sign of vanity. Their theory held that self-important people scribble to make others work harder to read their brilliant words or some tripe like that. True, I have seen folks scratch out a word with no intention of coming close to making it legible and I’m ok with that. I do it when I sign my name. It’s a long one, and folks just need to see a signature, not read the letters. And as long as it matches how you do it every other time, it’s fine. Doctors are notorious for their poor handwriting, often caused by high volume and not enough time for effort. But I’m not a doctor and I can’t claim any good excuse for my poor handwriting. It’s just how it is.

I still struggle to read my own writing and utilize my improper grip but I wouldn’t trade it for a classic, school board approved grip even if I could. After all my tears, there is no way I could now admit my early teachers had a point. But at this stage of my life, I’d like to think that the words I am putting on paper have improved, even if my handwriting has not. It’s the content not the package that counts.