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I learned cursive and never used it ever again
Dearest Mother,
We were loosed into the wilds once again to-day. The bars had no monkeys, but I was sure I heard their cries. More loudly, though, were the cries of Timothy who fell from the top of a pipe-skeletoned half-sphere. He was carted away to murky insides of the nurse’s office, gravel in his knee and his leg at a strange angle. Without warning, another of my compatriots skids to a stop just before my feet, having flung themselves from great height off of a ‘swing’. Mother, I am only 9 and unprepared for this cruel world into which I have been thrust. Shall I survive the day?
Your loving son,
~signed
based loosely on a true story. I also got my head bashed on a merry-go-round that probably should have resulted in stitches.
Stop, drop and roll drills made me think being on fire was going to be a regular occurrence in my life.
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Now check out my Q’s and Z’s.
This dude is all over social media with his middle of the road, “relatable” takes.
Dude’s the Pizzacake of twitterers.
You can cut cursive but cutting phonics is a major path to illiteracy. That whole word bullshit that charlatans managed to sell schools for awhile wrecked a generation of kids if they were unlucky enough to be in a district with gullible superintendents.
It’s still going on, they’re just starting to crawl out of that hole.
Blessed would be the day when Wishbone was shown on the rolling TV cart surfing history class 🐕
‘I’VE been to a day-school, too,’ said Alice; ‘you needn’t be so proud as all that.’
‘With extras?’ asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously.
‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘we learned French and music.’
‘And washing?’ said the Mock Turtle.
‘Certainly not!’ said Alice indignantly.
‘Ah! then yours wasn’t a really good school,’ said the Mock Turtle in a tone of great relief. ‘Now at OURS they had at the end of the bill, “French, music, AND WASHING–extra.”’
‘You couldn’t have wanted it much,’ said Alice; ‘living at the bottom of the sea.’
‘I couldn’t afford to learn it.’ said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. ‘I only took the regular course.’
‘What was that?’ inquired Alice.
‘Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,’ the Mock Turtle replied; ‘and then the different branches of Arithmetic-- Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.’
‘I never heard of “Uglification,”’ Alice ventured to say. ‘What is it?’
The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. ‘What! Never heard of uglifying!’ it exclaimed. ‘You know what to beautify is, I suppose?’
‘Yes,’ said Alice doubtfully: ‘it means–to–make–anything–prettier.’
‘Well, then,’ the Gryphon went on, ‘if you don’t know what to uglify is, you ARE a simpleton.’
Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she turned to the Mock Turtle, and said ‘What else had you to learn?’
‘Well, there was Mystery,’ the Mock Turtle replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers, ‘–Mystery, ancient and modern, with Seaography: then Drawling–the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, that used to come once a week: HE taught us Drawling, Stretching, and Fainting in Coils.’
‘What was THAT like?’ said Alice.
‘Well, I can’t show it you myself,’ the Mock Turtle said: ‘I’m too stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.’
‘Hadn’t time,’ said the Gryphon: ‘I went to the Classics master, though. He was an old crab, HE was.’
‘I never went to him,’ the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: ‘he taught Laughing and Grief, they used to say.’
‘So he did, so he did,’ said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.
‘And how many hours a day did you do lessons?’ said Alice, in a hurry to change the subject.
‘Ten hours the first day,’ said the Mock Turtle: ‘nine the next, and so on.’
‘What a curious plan!’ exclaimed Alice.
‘That’s the reason they’re called lessons,’ the Gryphon remarked: ‘because they lessen from day to day.’
This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little before she made her next remark. ‘Then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?’
‘Of course it was,’ said the Mock Turtle.
‘And how did you manage on the twelfth?’ Alice went on eagerly.
‘That’s enough about lessons,’ the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided tone: ‘tell her something about the games now.’
Yeah, I need to dig out my copy and read it again. It’s been a long minute.
I find cursive much faster to write. Reading is a bit more pain though.
I’m 42 and the only thing I write in cursive is my signature.
If I’m writing notes by hand, they’re in cursive unless they explicitly need to be readable to another human (I write very quickly for my own notes which means quality suffers but I will be able to read it).
I’m 60, and the only thing I write by hand is my signature, for the most part.
The last thing I wrote by hand was to fill out a very short form for a vaccine approval at the doctors. Before that, I think it was some measurements and notes while I was building a bed. The design for the bed was done in blender, and I referenced the plan measurements on my tablet in the garage.
I’m so out of practice writing cursive, I’d need to think about it as I did it.
I kept doing cursive into adulthood but eventually the futility of life and the pointlessness of existence made me stop caring and I switched to godawful illegible printing that looks more like stick figures than written language.
Funny, I went from cursive to print script for the opposite reason. Once I started university, I realized I need to write fast and be able to read it back.
‘Cursive’ is a very generous description of the scribble that has become my signature…
Once you learn it doesn’t matter at all legally, that you could literally just make an ‘X’, there’s no reason to put any effort into it.
Oddly, my handwriting is converging on something that resembles cursive. Not using the hand-cramping painstaking bullshit methods that were beaten into us during grade school, but with fluid movements that those misguided curricula were likely attempting to emulate.
While not in school we would roam our cities with no supervision, as long as we were home by the time the streetlights came on.
Everyone says, “when the streetlights came on”, but we just needed to be home for dinner, which was 6PM. After, dinner, in the summer, we went back outside for a couple of hours. One of our favorite games was after-dark hide and seek. We’d come inside to watch Happy Days, which was 8:30.
what? i was taught cursive in primary school some point around 2010-11. this is just boomer “kids these days have it too easy” humor but for early millenials
Neither of the posts is that. The OP is just making a joke about being old, and the reply is parodying that exact boomer humor.
ah, i took the first comment at face value.
(still doesn’t make much sense but i see what they were getting at now)
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Every other Fortnite we would all collectively prepare our bodies for the cleansing conflagrations due to fall upon us at any moment and wipe us from the face of existence.
