Remember learning how to write in cursive?

In many schools today this form of communication is de emphasized, or simply not taught at all. Whether because of budgetary constraints, a shift in skill-set requirements, or a tech takeover, the ability to write in cursive might go extinct.

Education World takes a look at the trend in its June 2008 article, “Have Computers Forced Handwriting Out of the Picture?” According to the article, characteristics of excellent cursive handwriting include “consistent slant, correct letter formation, consistent spacing of letters and words, and general neatness,” all of which the article claims are becoming “passé.” Handwriting is fading into the background, replaced with keyboarding skills taught “earlier and earlier” in schools.

Teachers expected students to turn in cursive scripted assignments when I was in elementary school in 1994 or so. They accepted no printed work.

By the time I entered middle school in 2001, the new standard was typed work only—no hand written work accepted.

During the inevitable shift from handwritten to typed, it is important not to cling to archaic techniques. We must take a look fast, before time runs out, at the ruins of the cursive art form and salvage what is important.

Perhaps we should expand cursive studies and incorporate the field into the art department. We could teach an entire segment on artistic writing, and it could cover cursive, italic, block lettering and more—skills that are invaluable in community, business and art.

The transition to tech, in what is being called the “communication age,” is jeopardizing aspects of language such as precision, presentation, grammar and spelling.

“A generation ago, a teen who couldn’t read well could still participate pretty fully in the social conversation among peers,” says Timothy Shanahan, president of the International Reading Association. “But with so much written chatter, being able to read and write have become definite social advantages. There is simply much more pressure to know how to read than in the past when it comes to conversation, shopping, or work.”

Perhaps the degradation of language has expanded accessibility. “Hey, how u doing?” is a lot easier to text than, “Hello, how are you doing?”—even if the latter is not linguistically correct. With more people accessing language, and documenting it, there are strange mutant forms of our language developing all around us. This so-called “degradation” aligns with a general movement away from structure and formality. The modern call is for acceptance, not standards.

While this is certainly a linguistics issue, it is a deeply rooted social issue as well.Sally Klapper, a teacher at the John Thomas Dye School in Los Angeles, poses the question,“What would happen if the Internet someday crashed? How would people communicate then?”

And I point out that in the meantime, for many in the world the Internet never got hooked up. There are many people without easy access to a personal computer. Library hours are getting cut in the recession while Internet cafés switch to wireless connections for their customers, who can afford laptops.

For computer-less people struggling to stay employed in a suffering economy, taking time off work to get onto a library computer is not an easily available option. This limited, economics-based access to the Internet further impedes these have-nots by limiting not only their exposure to the benefits of the Internet but the time they have to familiarize themselves with the ever-changing technological world. The lack of exposure to technology makes it increasingly difficult to develop the vital skills required to excel in this society.

Klapper says that “for many, the answer is cursive handwriting.” Still, it’s not always possible these days. Following the paperless trend, Cabrillo College has converted the financial aid office to exist only online. This means that the people most likely to have limited access to computers—those students receiving financial aid—must adapt.

There are many ways to thwart going computer-less. Developers release at breakneck speed new editions of software and cutting-edge pieces of hardware, devaluing older editions—but check Craigslist. Grey Bears recycling center probably has five monitors and a processor or two on hand, which they’ll give out for free. Still, I must point out that those the most in need of technology and its lucrative benefits—the homeless—have nowhere to put their processor.

Klapper calls penmanship a “lifelong skill” and one that’s absolutely essential. “Today in schools, we are seeing a resurgence in handwriting because of standardized tests,” Georganna Harvey, a handwriting product manager at textbook publisher Zaner-Bloser, told Education World. “Children are required to write, and part of the assessment of that test is legibility.”

Harvey believes that the peaks and valleys of literacy and handwriting in recent years are because of school budgeting rather than computers—and that while education budgets allow for each child to have paper and a writing utensil, there is “still not enough money to have one computer for every child.”

“I think we often don’t give kids enough credit with their control over language,” said Eric Paulson, associate professor of literary education at the University of Cincinnati. “They can text ‘IMHO’ on their cell phones, write ‘my own opinion is’ in a school essay, and read ‘it is my belief that your scar hurts when Lord Voldemort is near you’ without getting discombobulated.”

Commonly practiced linguistic laws are more relaxed because of the intensification of communication. Let’s not instate some sort of grammar police, but instead support the growth of good habits early on in school.

The evolution of language and reshaping of communication and technology is happening at an accelerated pace.“There is still not enough money to have one computer for every child, but there is enough money for pen and paper for every child.”

Students aren’t likely to stop reading any time soon, but they might stop teaching handwriting in schools.

image courtesy of wired.com