“Can you PLEASE get me a cursive workbook?”
No one could have been more surprised by this request than I was. Not once in my life had I ever asked anyone for a workbook.
The begging was years ago, now. The Captain was in first grade at the time and determined to begin learning how to write in cursive, grade level be darned! Sadly, cursive is usually only introduced in third or fourth grade workbooks, and even then but rarely. Thus began my search to fulfill our boy’s odd and lovely request.
Cursive is, of course, a lost art in our modern society. But the Captain has always been an old soul. (I cannot imagine where he got that from 😆 !)
True to his nature, no art form appeals to our little Dapper Dan more strongly than one that is dwindling or altogether lost.
So, some years gone by now, I purchased our son a third-grade cursive workbook (somewhat against my better judgement), wrapped it, and snuck it into his school desk after he’d gone to sleep. You’d think tearing into a bright paper package only to find a workbook would be severely disappointing to a first-grade boy . . . let alone in the summertime. But not to ours. He let out a squeal of glee, opened it right up and started tracing over the dot-to-dot cursive alphabet on the first pages. That first day with his workbook, the Captain refused to do any of his other lessons in Language Arts or math, and even put off read-aloud time.
Cursive, you see, was just too much fun.
The next day, our son decided to “save the best for last” and tore through his other lessons so that he could once again settle down with his tantalizing cursive workbook.
Alas, it was a gorgeous day outside ─bees buzzing by the window, birds flaunting their freedom from the trees. Once our son had finished his daily lessons he was torn between two loves: the garden, and cursive.
I could see the indecision and the mounting FOMO (fear of missing out) in our son’s eyes, and so I asked if he’d like to work on cursive out in the garden. I know, I know, truly groundbreaking right? Of course he leapt at the idea, and we took his workbook and a small portable table outside.
As I sat watching the Captain bent over yet another page of curving letters, surrounded by the beauty of the garden ─splotches of orange and green and pink framing his focused face─ I was struck by how harmonious the image before me was, and what a gift it was for me to witness.
A young child writing in a garden.
A young child writing cursive in a garden.
Perhaps it was the hypnotic scent of the first peonies, or the lulling hum of honey bees hovering over the clover that had overgrown our lawn, or the kiss of warm sunshine on my hair and cheeks, but I became enchanted by the idea that cursive and a garden are vines on the same trellis.
Both are art forms. . .
both are anything but standard or conventional . . . no calligrapher forms his letters precisely the same way, and no gardener plots her space precisely the same way –some enjoy everything evenly spaced and uniform, others fancy the work of their hands to be sporadic and unpredictable . . .
both take a lot of time, patience, and perseverance . . .
neither chrysanthemums nor cursive letters serve much of a purpose ─except to be thoroughly beautiful that is . . .
neither cursive nor home gardening have much *use* in our modern culture and society ─indeed the most beautiful aspects of life often don’t . . .
and is there anything as lovely as a neighbor or friend standing on your front step, extending a basket of home-grown vegetables; or opening your mailbox to find a letter written in exquisite cursive from a loved one?
And don’t both of these gifts have almost the exact same message?
That the receiver is worth the time and trouble.
That beauty is never wasted.
In essence, that the receiver is inexplicably and uniquely loved.
Even the way the tiny tendrils of the pea plants wrap themselves in fiercely delicate curlicues around the trellis which rested against our house reminded me of the little curls our son had been adding ─with satisfied flourish─ to the ends of his letters, you know, “just to be fancy” . . .
For isn’t our Creator just the same? How much has he written into nature, just to be fancy?
It’s been some years since this little love affair. Our son no longer begs to work in his cursive workbooks. He has long since moved on to other entwining passions. His cursive, however, has continued to bloom and grow from that first romance. In fact, it’s become a faithful, perennial beauty.
Dear friend and fellow home educator,
I invite you as I invite myself; let’s indulge our children (and ourselves) in practicing art forms that seemingly have “little purpose” in our modern world. Let’s make time and space for them. Let’s embrace beauty for beauty’s sake, and allow our kids to dabble in it. To rest in it. To revel in it. In the end, those things that the world tells us are a waste of our time and potential may truly be the most rewarding, perhaps even the most formational moments of our lives. The least we can do is gift them freely to our children.
Thank you so much for following our month of love letters to homeschool families! Each of you are an inspiration to me. Power on! Power strong!
Love, ~Candace Arden~
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