Chicken Scratch

Funny how I can barely recall what I had for breakfast and yet see every face of my elementary school teachers clearly.


But for Mrs. Rankin, most were young, reasonably pretty and single.  Mrs. Rankin - fourth grade and penmanship - was different.  She favored flowered print dresses and stocky heeled shoes, her bifocals hung around on her neck on a silver chain, and she carried a wooden ruler.  At our first penmanship lesson, she handed out yellow notepads with wide, blue lined spaces and freshly sharpened pencils.  We knew our letters by then, Mrs. Rankin's job was to teach us the art of writing - capital letters were to cover two whole spaces, touching the blue lines at the top and bottom.  Small letters were to take up only the bottom space.  We hunched over our notepads with pencils tightly clenched, not wanting to disappoint and definitely not wanting to risk the wrath of The Ruler.  Any imperfect letter brought a glare and a sharp rap on the knuckles.  


Letters do not lean, we were told repeatedly, Letters do not start and stop or sprawl out of control.


We practiced this every day for an entire school year while she walked slowly up and down the rows of desks, peering over our shoulders and tapping The Ruler against her thigh.


O's are to be closed.
I's are to be dotted.
T's are to be crossed.
Precision, children, precision!  It's the sign of an organized mind!


A to Z.
z to a.
A to Z.
z to a.


Bit by bit, we began to see that she was trying to teach us more than handwriting, that the lessons had to do with self control and discipline, accuracy and clear thought.  It was her way of teaching us to know where we were to start and where we were to finish, how to focus and not blur the lines - that we emerged from her class able to write clearly and neatly was a plus.


Clarity in thought, deed, and when you put pen to paper, she liked to tell us, You'll thank me one day.


Mrs. Rankin was not my favorite teacher - she was brusque and impatient and hard to please, often reminding me of my grandmother - but she may well have done me the most good.  To this day I get compliments on my handwriting and I think of her ( and thank her ) each time.