Hand written lessons

Recently I received a package from someone I met a long time ago on Hive.

Inside was a book she'd recently read and wanted to share with me, assorted items from her local area and a hand written letter; it was the book and the letter I was most pleased to receive, I mean who handwrites letters these days? Well, we do and I think a lot of the value in the package came from that personal nature of it: A worn and already-read book and a personal handwritten letter.

I'm going to reciprocate by handwriting a letter and sending one of my favourite books, (which I'll then miss terribly). I'll put a few other things in the package as well, Vegemite and chocolate and other things. The main concern is that my handwriting is terrible, it resembles hieroglyphics, but not in a good way.

With this in mind, I thought I'd share a handwriting story from my school days.

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It was decided when I was eight years old, by my school teacher, that my handwriting was sub-standard compared to others. In consultation with my parents a plan was hatched.

Their mission: Improve my handwriting

The plan revolved around a notebook into which I'd hand write phrases to be reviewed by the Head Master on Friday mornings who would then determine if it was good enough. There was no reward for doing well just a punishment for not meeting standards. I wasn't keen on this strategy but my teacher and the Head Master thought it was genius...and my parents agreed. I was eight so no one listened to me.

My punishment

There were these things called beach bats - a bigger and heavier version of a table tennis bat - designed for people to hit a ball back and forth on the beach or in the park...like tennis sort of. They had to be thick and heavy enough to whack a tennis ball and were made from marine-ply, (layers of wood bonded with glue), which certainly made the bat heavy and rather robust.

Whacks on the ass with "the beach bat" was the punishment the Head Master reserved for the students who were the worst offenders; it seemed my poor handwriting was a most heinous crime and I was to receive five whacks should my work not be up to standard. Remember, I was eight years old.

Punishment number one

I waited outside the Head Masters office that first Friday with notebook in hand containing that week's handwriting.

Before long I was admitted and, feeling much trepidation, handed over the notebook. The Head Master took a look, berated me and went over to retrieve "the beach bat" before ordering me come over to him. I did as asked but in hindsight should have told him to fuck right off.

He made me lean forward, both hands on the desk in front of me and proceeded to whack me with the bat five times, each sending ripples of pain through my rather smallish body, and when done he handed my note book back, gave me the following week's phrases to write in there and told me to do better before dismissing me.

I left feeling pretty wretched, in a great deal of pain, humiliated, shamed and unmotivated. In fact, it was as I left that day when I vowed to myself that I'd do everything in my power not to improve my handwriting.

You read that right.

I decided I'd not improve my handwriting and make that Head Master beat me each Friday morning, and make my parents choose to accept that their child was being abused over handwriting with their endorsement.

Punishment one rolled into the second and third, a fourth and fifth and on each occasion my handwriting did not improve at all. I don't recall how many weeks I endured before it stopped but eventually it did and that's when I reevaluated and decided I'd work on improving my handwriting, for myself.

I've never forgotten that experience although chose not to think about it as time went on; clearly I recall it vividly though and not fondly.

I was being stubborn of course, and it might seem like I was being quite stupid; I even wondered the same thing at the time.

I decided it was a lesson I had to learn though, the lesson being that difficult things happen, we get hurt, feel pain, humiliation, embarrassment, shame and other such things but it's how we endure them that defines us, not those things themselves.

Stubborn and hard-headed?

Fuck yeah I was, but those traits evolved, became more refined as I became an adult and moved on to do things that would really count and make a difference to my life and others' - those traits stuck and kept me moving forward whilst enduring hardships, tribulations, setbacks, failure, pain and suffering and through sheer will and determination I triumphed time and again. I'm not saying those beatings were the only reason of course, just that they, and other aspects of my youth, prepared and shaped me for what was to come, hardened my resolve and helped me find what was required from within myself. Endurance, the right attitude, a never-quit ethos a sense of what was right and wrong and so on.

There was a time or two I would have liked to run into that Head Master again so I could peel his face right off his head but I never had that opportunity.

What I did do however, was turn all of those things, the bad, difficult and negative aspects of my youth into the motivation to be a better man and I also vowed I would never treat my own children in that manner - little did I know then that I would in fact have none; life goes that way sometimes. As a kid I didn't think of it that way of course but later in life, looking back, I know it's those Friday morning's in the Head Master's office and other such things that helped shape me into who I am today.

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I know my friend won't judge my handwriting, just see it for what it is, my thoughts and feelings on paper written by my own hand, and value those scribbles for what they say, what's between the lines and what they don't say but she perceives. That's how it should be.

I like the written word but so often these days it's typed not written, dictated also. It seems impersonal to me when compared to the personality a handwritten letter can have. I'm not sure what I'll write but it'll be personal and from a place of respect and friendship and I know it'll be received in kind.

Have you sent or received hand written letters? It's not very common these days I suppose but if you have feel free to comment why and how it makes you feel. If not, maybe you'll like to share a learning opportunity you had at school where you learned more (or differently) than expected or maybe you want to admit to your handwriting being terrible as well. Did you have any bad situations at school you'd like to share, or any really great ones? Whatever it is, you can do it in the comments below.