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I was in a songwriting class waiting for a guest teacher when our instructor told us to use the time to interview a classmate about an awkward moment in their life. This was my classmate's story.
A second grader who could not master cursive writing takes matters into his own hands and walks out of class and goes home. His parents punish him but he learns a lesson in life in the process.
The Curse of Cursive Writing
By Charlie Crow
Oh, I recall the day--deep in second grade
In my mind it's clear as day and night
Though I never was a hellion, I staged a rebellion
The day that I refused to write
Our teacher (rest her soul), she seemed to be SO old
Obsessed on penmanship perfection
Every day she'd drill us; thought she would kill us
Tempted me to contemplate defection
I felt the curse of cursive writing
My fat and fumbling fingers lost control
Couldn't get a grip
Gave my pen the slip
Rather be at the fishin' hole
And print my letters till I was old.
Well, I couldn't make a "Q"--it looked just like a "2"
No pharmacist could fill my prescription
And the "Z" and the "Y" almost made my cry
Threw me into a conniption
I could plainly see it was silly as could be
To waste my time on things that made me sore
So without regard to risk, I rose from my desk
And confidently marched right out the door.
I fled the curse of cursive writing
My tender little mind had seized the day
Headed for the teepee
Before I got sleepy
Rather be outside and play
Who wants to write in cursive anyway?
By the time I got home, Mom was on the phone
Talking to my teacher with alarm
Dad cut a willow switch, made my bottom twitch
Showed me a new way to keep warm.
Mom drove me back to school, which wasn't very cool
The thrill of the moment was gone
I'd learned a lesson, made my confession
And scribbled my penance 'til dawn
Now I look back and think how I raised a stink
When I decided not to write my name
Learned to take my fate and communicate
And life for me has never been the same
I shook the curse of cursive writing
It isn't how I write it's what I say
Sometimes they don't believe it
And can't even read it
But I know what I really meant to say--
And I write to please myself anyway!
Forget the curse of cursive writing
There's higher hills to conquer anyway
So regardless of your talent
Just smile and be gallant
Everything is gonna be OK
Charles T. Crow
© 2009 Fading Sunset Music
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