Gifted Handwriting

Memoir III
Karen Durand
July 15, 2008

The Declaration of Independence. John Hancock's famous signature. These are the lofty standards of penmanship that teachers hope to inspire. And even if we can't come close to the handwriting of two hundred years ago and even if computers replace most pens and pencils in the future, everyone needs to have a legible hand. As a second grade teacher in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, I felt good penmanship was important. The lessons were routine, but there were ways to make them less boring. And one of those times comes to mind when I hear a familiar piece of classical music.

My school used the D’Nealian method to teach handwriting. With this program, even printing looks graceful. Most letters have a small up stroke as opposed to the straight lines of the ball and stick form.

Manuscript, or printing, was practiced the first half of the year. Usually by late fall children would begin asking, “When are we going to learn ‘cursoff’?” They could see the lessons coming pages later in their workbooks. After Christmas cursive was finally introduced. This was a big deal for seven year olds, a rite of passage from a kindergarten and first grade skills. Most were eager to make the transition; girls especially, who liked to play school at home were excited. But for others who wrestled with pencils as if they were redwoods, cursive writing was considered a real challenge.

During the lesson I remember, we were a few weeks into the lower case letters of the alphabet. I introduced the letter m on the chalkboard. Forming each letter I chanted, “Overcurve, slant, overcurve, slant, overcurve slant, and upstroke!” The dry scent of yellow chalk dust fell to the ledge of the board. I wiped my hands on my skirt before saying, “Everybody Up!” The children stood to make the letters in the air with arms moving in swells like tsunamis waves as they repeated the same chant. “Overcurve, slant, overcurve , slant, overcurve, slant, upstroke."
After several aerobic m’s it was time to get down to work; the pencil hit the paper. I reminded everyone of writing positions. “Feet on the floor, backs straight, two arms on the desk!” The children snapped to and began practice. First they carefully traced the correct formation in the top lines of their workbooks. Then they practiced writing rows of triple humped letters on lines.

To encourage thoughtful and deliberate work, I played a CD of classical music. These
were famous adagios, which I hoped would become familiar to the children. “The Air on a G String” by Bach and Mozart’s “Piano Concerto No. 21” were some. The titles were listed on a chart with each composer’s name. I had glued a pink ostrich feather to a spring clothes pin and moved it as each work was played.

“I’m going to walk around the room to look for the best m’s in America,” I said. Then I circulated with a marking pen. "Marvelous M's!" "Don't forget the upstroke." I slipped to the chalkboard to write a few sentences. It was a simple poem to keep printing skills in good form while we learned cursive.
Rain
The rain is raining all around;
It falls on field and tree.
It rains on the umbrellas here
And on the ships at sea.

Robert Lewis Stevenson

Standing at the board with my back to the desks, I first heard a low hum which I ignored. The sound became louder as more voices joined in. I put down the chalk and listened. The class was humming “The Pachabel Canon!” Note for note, a sweet strong melody accompanied the strings on the recording. When I turned around some children were smiling. Some were looking sheepish. Some were still writing and humming. Tears welled in my eyes from the simple beauty, and unabashed, I brushed them away. I had hoped that the music would be a nice touch to enhance a useful but routine lesson. I never counted on a gift being given back.