Homeschooling was a failure for me. I had suspected as much, but I didn’t realize it fully until just now, as I sat at the table, trying to write yet another thank you note. Bear and I turned out to be more popular than expected, especially with our families. So now I’m writing lots of thank you notes. And by lots I mean about one hundred thousand. And my hand hurts so much that I had to stop. Which is why I’m typing now.
We all know how important penmanship is. It’s the mark of a well-educated, cultured, refined person. You can tell everything about a person by one glance at a note they’ve written by hand.
“Ah! What a lovely, elegant, beautiful woman she must be!”
Or, in my case, “Oh dear lord. Lock her up before she kills again!”
Really. I once took one of those psych tests that determine something critical about you based on some seemingly inconsequential tendency. I was diagnosed a dangerous criminal, based on my handwriting.
(this is how I hold a pen. source)
Women, even more than men, are supposed to have good handwriting. Men are allowed to have “bold” or “strong” handwriting. And then there are very masculine doctors who are teased for their handwriting. But lovingly teased.
There’s nothing lovable about my condition. It’s a disaster. It’s humiliating. Professors have taken me aside while handing back blue book exams and said, “I wanted to give you a higher grade, but I honestly couldn’t be exactly sure if you deserved it, because of this handwriting. I’m only going to tell you once. It has to be better next time.”
Not all kids who went to school have great handwriting, but they all have better handwriting than me. Because they had to learn. They got graded on it. My mom tried. She sat there with me and made me write on the line, and practice letters and stuff. Maybe she just didn’t end up caring enough about it. Maybe we got distracted by lunch, or a bunny outside the window. Or an interesting book. Something happened, a lot, because here I am. I grip the pen so incorrectly that it actually hurts me. I don’t know what the correct grip looks like. I don’t know why it’s not intuitive. Were humans not meant to write things? Were humans meant only to type things? Maybe all of human evolution was leading up to the invention of the laptop. That could be it.
That must be it, because otherwise, I am a tragedy. I am a writer who can’t physically write. I can barely read my own journal. I’m like, “’He was the coatest boy I’d ever swan.’ No…Wait. The ‘cultish boy I’d even sane.’ Ok, whatever. He was a boy.”
I’m blaming this on my education. It was faulty. I’m horribly, permanently flawed. Mom, where are you? This is your fault. Why did you homeschool me?? Why didn’t you give me the same opportunities everyone else had??
OK. Back to thank you notes. Not that anyone will be able to read them.
* * * *
Un-roast: Today I love I look when my hair is wet, but starting to curl anyway. It’s like this internal revolt, and the curls are slowly winning, even though it looked like they didn’t have a chance.
P.S. To the girls who sent me the awesome cake pictures, I really want to put them in the cake gallery. I don’t know why wordpress isn’t letting me, but I’m on it. To other people, send me pictures of yourselves with cake. It’s the cool thing to do.