Confession: I have the handwriting of a serial killer. If I were to send a handwritten letter to Quantico*, they would swoop down on my so quickly with a hockey mask, straight jacket and a moving dolly that I wouldn't know what hit me.
And I give all of the credit to the woman in this picture, Mme Connolly, my first grade teacher.
Mme Connolly decided that at the age of 6 I had the most atrocious handwriting she had ever seen. And it soon became her sole purpose in life to correct this. Not to teach me, or nurture me or help me. No, she was going wear me down with sheer repetition until I got it right. EVERY SINGLE TIME. So for an entire semester, January to June, I missed recess, gym, art and any other fun activity*** so that I could write lines and practice my handwriting.
And as luck would have it, I got Mme Connolly for a teacher again in grade 2 AND again in grade 8. But what happened to her when I was in grade 8 is a whole other story!
And now I have the daunting task of helping to teach someone how to write! I think this homework task will best be left to Hilary. One person with illegible handwriting in the family is more then enough.
*Yes I'm Canadian, and no the FBI doesn't have jurisdiction here, but I'm pretty sure that most of you who read my blog have never heard of CSIS. That, and they don't have a cool place like Quantico.
**Can you guess which one is me?
***Keep in mind that this is my recollection of events some 30+ plus years later. It may well have only been 2 weeks, but it is cemented in my mind as having been a whole lot longer.