Cursive Scarred Me.
Third grade was the year I started to learn how to write in cursive. I have always loved school; I love to learn, write, read, and create. This was a time in my life when I was hurt, I didn't want to write any more, and I was embarrassed around my peers. It pains me to tell you that I can't remember the name of my third grade teacher, but for your benefit I will call her Mrs. Salty.
Mrs. Salty had this wonderful idea to teach cursive to her students, and we were all excited to learn something new and finally be able to write in pen. In my school, you weren't allowed to write in pen until you mastered cursive. Now remember, I loved school and all that came with it, until the day I was the last one to receive a brand new sparkly pen. Mrs. Salty would work with us on cursive a little bit every day we had class. I remember coming home and practicing until I thought my hand was going to break. I wrote everyones name that I knew in cursive, I wrote stories, and love letters to boys that didn't exist. All I wanted was to do was achieve the one skill that I can't remember using since ----well actually, since third grade, and get a shiny new pen.
Every day I would hear of someone new graduating from the cursive program and receiving a new pen;I continued to go home and practice each day. After a while I felt like the only one who didn't get a pen, everyone in class was writing in cursive with their new pens. I walked up to Mrs. Salty after class one day and asked why I hadn't received a new pen yet, "Mrs. Salty, I practice every day and work really hard to make my cursive look nice, can I please have one?"
I received my pen on the last day of the cursive program, apparently my handwriting was sloppy and Mrs. Salty didn't 'feel' that I was working hard enough to get a pen. I thought I was a terrible student after that. I remember not trying as hard, because if I didn't try hard and got a bad grade it didn't matter, I could tell everyone I really didn't try. Mrs. Salty gave me a pity pen because I didn't appeal to her standards. Word to the wise, change the standards I'm a Third grader learning to write cursive.
Mrs. Salty had this wonderful idea to teach cursive to her students, and we were all excited to learn something new and finally be able to write in pen. In my school, you weren't allowed to write in pen until you mastered cursive. Now remember, I loved school and all that came with it, until the day I was the last one to receive a brand new sparkly pen. Mrs. Salty would work with us on cursive a little bit every day we had class. I remember coming home and practicing until I thought my hand was going to break. I wrote everyones name that I knew in cursive, I wrote stories, and love letters to boys that didn't exist. All I wanted was to do was achieve the one skill that I can't remember using since ----well actually, since third grade, and get a shiny new pen.
Every day I would hear of someone new graduating from the cursive program and receiving a new pen;I continued to go home and practice each day. After a while I felt like the only one who didn't get a pen, everyone in class was writing in cursive with their new pens. I walked up to Mrs. Salty after class one day and asked why I hadn't received a new pen yet, "Mrs. Salty, I practice every day and work really hard to make my cursive look nice, can I please have one?"
I received my pen on the last day of the cursive program, apparently my handwriting was sloppy and Mrs. Salty didn't 'feel' that I was working hard enough to get a pen. I thought I was a terrible student after that. I remember not trying as hard, because if I didn't try hard and got a bad grade it didn't matter, I could tell everyone I really didn't try. Mrs. Salty gave me a pity pen because I didn't appeal to her standards. Word to the wise, change the standards I'm a Third grader learning to write cursive.
