Write on!

Originally published in December, 2013

            When I was a teacher at Greenwood Elementary School in the nineties, I was blessed to have worked for an incredible principal, Mr. George Baker.  A consummate professional in every sense of the word, there was nothing Mr. Baker would ask of his staff that he was not willing to do (or had already done) himself.  I only just realized I've known him for more than half of my life.  Mr. Baker's undeniable strength of character has been the measuring stick for what I could experience in a work situation, and since he retired and I moved on from the classroom, there has been no one in my life quite like him.

            Mr. Baker was darn near perfect....except for one little thing:  his handwriting was nearly illegible for most of the staff.  But not for me. Every morning when I arrived at Greenwood and checked in at the office, there was a hand-written morning message from Mr. Baker that let us know the news of the day.  More often than not, I was called back to the office to decipher Mr. Baker's seemingly-encrypted code.  And every time, I was able to do so with ease.

            "I teach first grade," I once said to someone.  "I'm used to wobbly letters and having to get into the right side of my brain to understand what he's trying to say."

           

            There's a box in my basement filled with cards and letters, pictures and stories written by my students during the eleven years I spent teaching little ones.  I have saved letters from parents and even a "welcome to our family" adoption certificate from one of my favorite first graders who signed his name in beautiful script.  What a joy and a gift to lift the lid and revisit happy memories.  To read the invented spelling.  To remember the gap-toothed smiles when each child presented me with his/her creation.

            How sad it is to hear that schools no longer have the time to teach handwriting skills, as teachers must comply with the demands of testing and ever-changing concepts of how children learn best.  Make no mistake....I value the speed and ease of email.  I learned how to type when I was in second grade and oh, what a joy to BANG, BANG, BANG on that old Smith Corona!  When I learned how to use a word processor, I felt like a bird being released from a cage.  What a freedom to finally have a tool that could keep up with the speed of words that passed through my imagination.

            Still, I journal by hand as well as compose thank you notes and cards I send through snail mail.  Writing this way not only slows me down, it allows me to personalize a gift, a gesture of goodwill, a kindness with something that is uniquely my own.  

            When my grandmother died, my mom gave me a stack of letters all tied up with a ribbon.  "We found this in Grammy's desk drawer, Kate," she said.

            There in my hands was every single letter I had ever written her...from the early 1970's through my college years and beyond.  I brought them home and then, after pulling out a stack of all the letters and cards she had written me, I put them in order by the postmark and spent a bittersweet weekend reading about her life...my life...and all that two lives can experience over the course of a few decades. 

           

            Just yesterday I received a Christmas card from Mr. Baker in which he wrote a very kind and sweet personal note.  Even now...twenty-odd years later, I could still read every single word.  For you see, as a writer myself, I intrinsically know the power of the pen (and pencil and crayon) which often express what speaking cannot. 

            No matter how it arrives in my hands...it always goes straight to my heart.