School days are on my mind this week as the 50th re-union of my graduating class is being planned. Such an event takes a year to create and such an endeavour takes many heads and willing hands to execute. Today, however, it is not grade 12 that occupies my thoughts; rather grades 4, 5, 6 and 7. I wonder if young people know what a class in penmanship is all about for texting and fingerless winter gloves have replaced such interests. Each day at school we had a 45 minute period of letter writing and letter etiquette. How old fashioned is that, you say.........not really! I loved it. We were each given a nib and stylus to dip into an ink well (pot) that fit into a special hole cut out of the wooden desks - on the left of course for the lefties :)) We practiced and practiced the alphabet until our eyes crossed but between the dips and dunks of the pens and the sound of scratchy strokes crossing over the surface of linen and onion skin paper, beautiful characters usually emerged. Every letter had to be legible and neat. There were contests too - provincially - for best penmanship and I won that top spot twice (grade 6 and grade 7). Each time the prize was a new fountain pen. Dad took me to a special stationary shop in Bangor ME to buy purple ink (while on vacation visiting our cousins, Ben and Isabel). To this day, my favourite colour of ink to flowers to fabric is purple. I have yet to find a purple fountain pen (the one above is red among others I have but I am still looking for one in purple). I owe this lovely memory to a most lovely lady......a teacher who loved her students and was also my friend until she died a few years ago. Her name was Mary Grant.
Posted on: Sun, 09 Feb 2014 18:43:29 +0000