Yesterday, a friend and I were discussing grade school in the 21st century. He explained that his 6th grade son not only completes his assignments on a computer but is also required to submit his work via USB stick. He takes the USB device to school and uploads his homework.
“What of cursive writing,” I asked.
“Oh, that’s dead. No one writes in cursive any longer.”
“All those hours I spent perfecting my letter S.”
“It’s turning into American calligraphy. The way things are going, handwriting will be completely dead soon. When’s the last time you wrote anything?”
I produced the small notebook that I keep in my backpocket and showed him the chicken scratch I call handwriting.
“Yea, but when’s the last time you wrote something substantial? Like a letter?”
I shrugged and returned the notebook to my pocket.
It may have been this sickness, but this affected me deeply. I envisioned a school full of kids toting around iPads, tapping away their assignments. I saw my old neighborhood and the kids who would not have such things until well after the good (read: moneyed) schools had theirs. I saw them all sitting alone on school benches, writing love letters to girls and boys who would receive them as emails on Mars. They were chock full of smileys and GIFs from romantic films.