In a world of laser printers I want to be a pen
thoughts on mindfulness prompted by a parent chat group interaction
As the mother of an 8 year-old I have the “pleasure” of being part of a parent group chat revolving around school issues/projects etc.
The other day, one of the parents wrote that the teachers were organizing a project where they wanted kids to write letters using typewriters and send them to family or friends via snail mail. Unfortunately, both available machines at the school were defective and the teachers asked if anyone knew how to repair them. Some parents then brainstormed solutions, when one parent (I'll call them Parent X) contributed to the conversation with the following:
Parent X: Dumb question: why do the kids have to do it with a typewriter? Can’t they just use a computer and printer? Shouldn’t they learn to use them by now? Who in the world still uses a typewriter?
Mom 1: I guess a typewriter is like a wonder machine to them. It has a nostalgic value.
Parent X: Maybe it does for us. I think this generation already thinks it’s boring that the printer can’t read their thoughts and they still have to type them.
(I’m not making this up)
Mom 2 (that would be me): Tactile learning is important. Words have weight– metaphorically and literally. It doesn’t hurt if kids learn that writing is work. I think it’s a wonderful idea and will gladly donate money or even a typewriter (if I can find it) to make this happen.
Parent x: As a developer for semiconductor technologies I am, of course, biased. We manage to develop better products every day, and people still like old products.
Dad 1: We have an old typewriter at home and it’s a hit. Easier to use than a computer and the kids see the output right away. A steam locomotive is generally also more interesting than an ICE (inter-city express train).
Parent X: That’s a good argument. I get it now.
What in the actual …. ?
Talking about it later with my husband I tried to pinpoint the many reasons I felt an anaphylactic sort of anger at the dismissive and condescending tone of the words shared by Parent X.
My first thought when I read what Parent X said was I get it, you feel in some way superior because... “developer” and “semiconductor” in the same sentence. Am I right?
I don’t even know why I, a poet of all people, even attempted to enter an argument with a “developer”. The last thing I developed was yeast dough to make sweet bread. Some would argue that is barely groundbreaking, and yet, it was things like kneading bread that helped many stay somewhat sane during the pandemic years. Coincidence?
I won’t deny the fact that I was also annoyed when the other mom’s and my comment concerning the value of a typewriter as a means of learning and expressing thought, were dismissed as sentimental (?), too poetic (?), yet as soon as another dad chipped in, the argument was immediately won.
But maybe I’m reading too much into this part of the text thread. Maybe it was the fact the other dad made a very practical point that connected with Parent X’s “developer” brain. Who knows?
One of the major qualms I have with Parent X’s stance to the typewriter issue though (before he got it) is the assumption that a) children would never be interested in learning how to type a letter in the first place and that b) teaching them about anything not “developed” for maximum efficiency (and time-saving?) is a waste of time.
This comment coming from some sort of engineer nonetheless, makes me question what he thinks his own profession is based on: the immaculate conception of ideas and products that have no ties to all the inventions that came before?
This isn’t the first time I was confronted with someone who thinks the more old-fashioned way of thinking and learning (or as they would say “how Neanderthals use tools”) is outdated and irrelevant.
Some months ago, after a parent-teacher conference, some of us went for a glass of wine and while sipping our Merlots and Rieslings somehow the discussion turned to the topic of spelling.
“Well I don’t see the use of insisting the children learn how to spell”, Parent Y said. “In the future, they will do all their assignments on a computer and automatically use autocorrect”.
I jumped in as soon as I got the chance to advocate for the need to be able to know for themselves and not outsource their thinking to a machine. I know not everyone will turn out to be a great speller, trust me. But maybe try to make the use of spelling understood?
For example in Greek there’s multiple (I think six) letters/ways to write the "ee" sound (as in "bee").
In modern Greek they are all pronounced the same, as opposed to ancient Greek where each one of those "ees" was pronounced differently. But, Elisa, if all those "ees" sound the same now, why still keep them?
Because their existence is not only a reminder of the phonetic evolution of our language, but also absolutely essential to understanding it today (etymology my love). The use of one or the other indicates the present or past tense of the word “to be” (είμαστε vs. ήμαστε), the difference between a wall in your home vs. a fortress wall (τοίχος vs. τείχος), the name of an island vs. a grinder/windmill (Mήλος vs. μύλος) or the difference between giving something to someone vs. a whirlwind (δίνει vs. δίνη).
Plainly put, spelling is essential to comprise texts that don’t make you sound like a monkey on acid typing random shit on a keyboard.
Also, who’s going to correct the autocorrector when it inserts a penis where a prius should be?
I have experienced the effects of taking handwritten notes first hand (pun very much intended). Information stuck like fuzz on velcro when I used a pen as a student.
It’s not just me though. There’s actual scientific evidence that affirms my suspicion that writing, learning and hence thinking/understanding and creating new possibilities happens best by doing the manual labor. Sweden has acknowledged the importance of “analog” learning so much that they have decided to cut down on the digitization of the education system and turn towards more traditional means of learning. Yet so many of us love shortcuts.
Our attentions spans are shrinking while the amount of information and image input we are exposed to every day is growing. Wade into the wrong side of the internet and you will think we are already in hell. We have increasingly more tools to “enhance” and “better” our lives yet the more technology we adopt, the more chances we have to feel disconnected from our own selves. There is so much pressure on being “productive”, “useful” and to get there as fast as possible.
In a world that worships the next hot gadget or tool with which to do something more “efficiently”, I often find myself longing for the excruciatingly slow mid-August noons of my childhood, cicadas having a feast outside the balcony door, the apartment steeped in the exhausted, after-swim silence, propping my legs up the wall: a blank canvas for my imagination to run wild. Some days, the slowing down led to writing. Others, to reading. Sometimes I napped the way a drunk naps: like I dove into a sea of feverish dreams, whiplashed from the heat of deep, unforgiving summer by the time I woke up.
My brother used to take machines apart and see how they worked. Or met with friends and they played board or card games. No matter what we each chose to spend our energy on, there was an element of using our minds and senses to get there. Doing things slowly meant actually living through them instead of passing them by.
What I mean to say is: I’m not in a hurry to teach a 5 or 8 year-old how to type before they can write. There is a reason babies first crawl, then walk, then run.
I consider it my job to not only make sure my children are safe, healthy and kind, but also to teach them how to be present for their own lives. How to think critically using their heart and mind to make informed decisions. Slow, mindful, purposeful.
Thank you for reading
Love, Ελίζα
A bottle of wine I sell right now comes from a property where the vines only exist because a water witch found locations for water. I can tell my printer to print something, it can say it's connected to the internet and it can still decide to "not" (Que Office Space printer demolition montage.) Developing yeast for bread reminds me of how in Morocco I saw community based bakeries where people would develop dough at home and then bring it to the bakery to bake. It's a trap to think what's old is irrelevant. Tolkien didn't publish his first book until he was 45. 40 year old film cameras are going UP in price. That developer needs to slow his role, chill, and look at the big picture. Analog is community, analog is magic, analog in the digital age is irreverence and that will always be relevant.
I was deciding whether or not to subscribe and was SO TAKEN ABACK at the parents comment about « why should kids learn how to spell », as a teacher I was horrified! I love your reflections and the warmth in how you write, subscribed to follow along :)