It’s late November 2018.  I sit inside the Denver International Airport terminal with my wife and two children, waiting to board our flight to Cancun, Mexico for a much anticipated vacation.  I peruse our documentation and realize that neither teenage child signed their respective passports.  I don’t want anything slowing us down when we pass through Mexican Customs, so I find a pen and instruct them both to write their signatures on the passports. 

To my horror, I watch them scrawl their names on the signature lines like a pair of kindergarteners slowly pushing a crayon across a piece of manila paper. 

I immediately ask why it looks like they’ve never written their signatures before this precise moment.  My 18 year-old-son responded with an answer that left my mouth agape.  He informed me that almost nowhere in his educational journey did any teacher worked on cursive penmanship.  My daughter vouches for her brother and makes the same claim.  

I’m dumbfounded.  I spent the better part of my elementary years learning handwriting, first print, and then cursive.  We received letter grades for penmanship.  How did I not know the public education system ignored this highly regarded skillset while it was a crucial part of my schooling?

I can still remember the lined paper where we painstakingly practiced our cursive writing.  Letters needed to be exact heights, the correct distance from the bottom of a line and the correct distance to the top.  The letters required a specific cant in their appearance.  Everything necessitated uniformity, completely legible to any reader.  Seasoned handwriting was an art form that we would carry with us throughout our lives. 

The teachers so stressed its significance we students believed it a pre-indicator for later life success.  Certainly no astronaut, engineer, or scientist wrote jumbled, misshapen letters.  Literary giants, teachers, lawyers, and the like were most likely first recognized for their penmanship. 

And all of the doctors…well, I suppose there are exceptions to any rule.

Like a mother bear protecting her cubs, my wife came to our teenager’s defense.  She quickly pointed out that my handwriting was anything, but neat and orderly.  I countered by explaining writing in a hurry precludes the ability to always pen legible words.  I could write properly if I chose to take the time. 

I wasn’t certain our children could make that argument.  Watching them sign their passports was like witnessing a caveman first discover the wheel.  It rolled slowly, often times appearing to trail off course or come to a complete halt.  They basically sucked at handwriting. 

I, however, chose to suck at handwriting.  There is a difference.

My son and daughter wisely retorted that they spent hours in computer labs, typing documents on keyboards and learning computer programs like Word, PowerPoint, and Excel.  Technology for me was moving forward from manual typewriters to electric machines. 

In high school I was overjoyed to have correction ribbon instead of Liquid Wite-Out.  By the time our kids reached fifth grade, they individually knew more about Microsoft computer applications and their constructive uses than I did.  When it came to Apple and Iphone technology, I routinely went to them for advice.  I still do that to this day.

I can recall one typed, research paper submitted in high school.  I submitted all other assignments handwritten, typically double-spaced.  I vaguely remember my kids submitting some handwritten documents, but I recollect most assignments getting typed on a laptop or a PC. 

By the time they both hit high school most assignments were delivered online.  Now that they’re in college during Covid, the whole process is online.  Their technological understanding and its seamless flow from year to year appears unencumbered by their diminished handwriting prowess.

My son compiled straight A’s in his last three university semesters, while his sister finished her first collegiate semester with all A’s.  Cursive writing does not appear to be slowing down their academic achievements, nor is it propelling me further up the career ladder. 

What was once deemed an absolute necessity has gone the way of the dinosaurs. 

Outside of penning high school graduation thank you cards and endorsing the backs of gift checks, handwriting for my kids doesn’t seem so essential anymore.  I admit, most of my signatures these days are in a digital format anyhow.  Apparently good penmanship is about as useful as speaking fluent Latin.