So I’ve found one sincere downside to the big wide world of high-tech homeschool. My children’s handwriting is ATROCIOUS. Think : second grade essay without lined paper. That’s my boys.
Actually, I can’t blame it ALL on the constant keyboarding. Uber’s neurological issues have always given him the unfortunate side effect of hand tremors and insufficient fine motor skills. And H-T’s dyslexia has always made writing anything a chore. There might also be a genetic component…I had award-winning bad handwriting as a kid. Every report card I got in elementary school was full of back-handed compliments like…”she has such promise as a young writer, if only her work weren’t so damn sloppy.”
Ok, maybe I added the “damn” for effect, but that was basically the way my mom read it, based on how hard she would come down on me afterward.
My handwriting didn’t seem to improve, either, as I edged closer to middle school, until one day when I went to visit my dad (my parents were divorced and I visited my dad often on weekends and summers).
Dad was one of those classic guilty divorced dads who tried to buy me things to make up for his absence. Only problem was, he was always dead broke, so instead of picking me out the latest Bloomingdale treasures, he went thrift shopping for me. Dad was a regular fixture at every flea market, yard sale, and thrift store within a 100-mile radius of his house. He would take hours each week scouring through other people’s cast-offs to find the very things he thought I would like. And doggone if he wasn’t usually right on the money!
Well, on the day in question, when I showed up at my dad’s, he had spread across his kitchen table a gorgeous used calligraphy set. It had a wide assortment of pens, and nibs, and papers and colored inks. Granted, some of the inks were half empty, but do you think I gave a hoot?! Having never even seen anything like this before, I was fascinated. I pored over the instruction book as if it were my Teen Beat for the week. And in two days time, I had conquered every pen, nib, and technique it had to offer, and was begging for more. Dad let me take the stuff back home with me, and I became a die-hard calligrapher for about six months.
I guess you can see where this story is going. When next semester’s report card rolled around, my teacher had nothing but glowing praise for my handwriting. “’Bout damn time!”, it probably said. And I’ve been getting compliments on my handwriting ever since.
So, Topsy-Techie is considering this low-tech solution to her current remedial handwriting crisis…what do you think? Calligraphy class for boys? Will it be successful, or bomb as flat as all the other “it-worked-for-me-so-surely-it-will-work-with-my-boys schemes”?
Sound off below, you moms of boys with bad handwriting…