A bundle of letters from a ‘pen pal’ – my best friend at primary school. A collection of Christmas cards from students I taught 30 years ago. Birthday cards from loved ones, some now deceased. They have no material value, but to me they are priceless. Why? Because they are handwritten messages.
Do you have similar treasures?
Handwriting, or symbolic representation for others to interpret, is uniquely human. It’s a skill that has been passed down through the ages – evolving from pictographs first drawn on rocks, to the abstract symbols that became the English alphabet we use today.
Handwriting involves linguistic, cognitive, perceptual and motor components, all of which must be coordinated into an integrated action. And, although one might not distinguish handwriting from other forms of writing – in terms of using legible, correctly formed letters to communicate thoughts and ideas – handwriting is special.
The real power of writing by hand is in the craftsmanship. Each letter – uniquely formed – is as individual as the writer’s DNA and fingerprint. Every stroke of the pen enables us to express that which is ours alone – our unique signature.
Today, many argue that writing by hand has been compromised by the use of digital devices and anonymous keystrokes. However, its demise could have begun well before the latest technological wave of ‘one device for every child’ washed over us.
In 1972 the world’s first national level environmentalist party – the Values Party – was formed in New Zealand. In the same year, the United Tasmania Group was the first Green Party in the world to run a candidate. It was also the year blackboard and chalk in schools suddenly became a health hazard.
Teachers no longer worked from the front of the room. Group work and roving became the new norm. Universities replaced Teacher’s Colleges. Reading began to take precedence over writing, and ‘free writing’ took precedence over grammar and spelling. The formal teaching and practice of writing declined, and so did the ability to record thoughts and feelings.
And, 10 years from now, if the so-called conservation movement achieves its ambition of having an ‘electricity system based on 100 percent renewables’, the dominance of the digital device over the pen and paper might well be complete.
Today, in the signature line, X can literally ‘mark the spot’. By one simple keystroke an individual can lose the ability to express something that represents individuality.
Tomorrow, the use of another simple keystroke might also be in decline, if wind-generated power replaces the switch.
Could it be that the forces behind the so-called conservation movement and the changes in education really represent a protest movement against free thought and enterprise?
Copyright © 2018 Cheryl Lacey All rights reserved.
Parent, educationist and advocate of agitating change in Australian education. By raising the bar we can face any global challenges facing Australia and Australians.
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Contact me at cheryl@cheryllacey.com to learn how we can work together.
