Cursive writing was a major component of my elementary education. I remember learning how to form individual letters, how to flow the letters together into words. I remember practicing and practicing until cursive became the natural way to write. Lest I return to the simplicities of printing, my school required cursive writing until seventh grade. I happily complied, perfecting my letters, adding unique flourishes here and there. When the cursive requirement was lifted, I tried a return to printing, just to see how it went. And you know what? I've never gone back. Until recently.
Why did I return to the swoops and loops of the cursive alphabet? Well, according to a New York Times article (read the full article here), cursive is well on its way to extinction in the modern handwriting ecosystem.
It makes sense. Though you can type research papers and book reports in cursive fonts, you rarely would. You can't send a text message in cursive, after all. Like the endangered handwritten letter before it, cursive can't keep up with technology.
Maybe it shouldn't have to. The NYTimes article notes the decline of cursive as a taught skill in modern education. Teachers are spending less time making sure students can properly connect a b to an r (I always struggled with that blend...) and more time preparing them for standardized tests.
Consider the question: how useful is cursive to the modern student? I learned cursive over multiple years, and I haven't used it since I was 12. That was when handwriting was still required from time to time. Perhaps if my teachers had spent a little more time developing my math skills, I'd have struggled less in high school. Perhaps preparing our students for a technologically advanced future requires a different set of skills that doesn't include fancy handwriting.
After reading the NYTimes piece, I couldn't help myself. I've spent the last two weeks reintroducing myself to cursive writing. I was a tad rusty, at first. Before long, however, I was swooping and looping like the pro my teachers taught and required me to be. I think I might take notes a smidge faster in cursive. I think my wrist might be a measure more relaxed. But I'm catching a certain scent on the air. And I think it's nostalgia.