The Physical Act of Writing

A friend on Facebook pointed to a study that said writing by hand used more of the brain than using a keyboard. As someone who prefers keyboards to writing by hand and has since I learned to type at 16, I was a little skeptical.

I looked up the study and not only found it, but found a significant critique of it published in the same journal.

When I read over the study, I discovered that the participants did the “writing by hand” using a digital pen on a screen, while they did the typing using only their right index finger – that is, the equivalent of “hunt and peck” typing, which is not the way that people generally type on a keyboard. They limited it to right-handed people as well.

According to the study, they did this because using both hands would make it hard to interpret the results. The critique noted the one-finger typing as a problem, as well as looking at other things from the perspective of researchers and finding it wanting.

And I came away deciding they hadn’t really proved anything about the difference between keyboard use and writing by hand.

I suspect there is some value in learning to write by hand – the study points to the understanding of how each letter is constructed, which makes sense to me. But if you want to convince me that it’s better than using a keyboard, you’re going to need to study people using pen on paper and typing with both hands on a keyboard.

I am assuming that most people who spend time using a computer keyboard use it with both hands and know the QWERTY layout in their fingers. If a large number of people are actually doing some form of hunt and peck while staring at the keyboard rather than the screen, the bigger question is why aren’t the kids learning to use a keyboard properly.

I have seen all kinds of arguments about whether kids should still learn cursive. There are those who argue that learning to print is enough. Perhaps it is, but printing was always harder for me than longhand. So I’m inclined to go for teaching all those things – printing, cursive, and typing – and letting people decide which to use when.

Lately teachers have taken to requiring students to write by hand in blue books in class to keep them from using LLMs (“AI”) to write their essays, so they need to be able to print or write longhand. A friend of mine tutors a high school student who is finding the physical act of writing difficult because he wasn’t taught it well when he was younger.

I take notes by hand out of the books I read in my morning reading practice and have noticed a slightly different need for paying attention when writing by hand. But here’s the thing: once I learned to type, I vastly preferred writing on a keyboard where I could see what I was turning out much more easily.

manual typewriterNow mind you, I learned on an actual typewriter back before the personal computer existed. In typing class we used electric IBMs – not the correcting ones that I lusted after as a college student, but still fine machines. At home and for my school assignments, I used an old style manual typewriter, one of the ones that takes effort to punch.

Despite what the research implied, typing is a physical act. Using a keyboard is embodied in my physical self. And while computer keyboards don’t require as much effort as the old fashioned manual machine, the physicality is similar.

I put my fingers on the keyboard, think of what I want to say, and it comes out. I don’t have to think about the individual letters unless I use a word that I’m not sure how to spell.

I like writing this way much more than I like writing by hand, because writing by hand requires more concentration on the physical act of writing – making the letters clear enough, staying within the lines, and so forth.

I pay more attention to the idea when typing, and that’s what I want to pay attention to. Continue reading “The Physical Act of Writing”

I Did Not Write This in Longhand, But …

I don’t usually read John McWhorter. Over the years, I’ve seen enough work by him to know I find him annoying, possibly because he strikes me as one of those people who have carved out a career as a contrarian.

But he had a column about whether kids should be taught cursive this week and, given his usual defense of the old-fashioned, I thought this might be one place where he and I aligned.

Nope. Turned out he thinks it’s great that kids aren’t learning cursive anymore. Our ongoing record of disagreement continues, because I do think learning cursive — or, as I call it, longhand — is useful.

Now I should tell you that the only subject I struggled with in elementary school was handwriting. That includes learning to print as well as learning to write longhand.

It’s not that I couldn’t recognize the letters — I was reading before I started school — nor that I didn’t know how to make them.

It’s that the way I made them was always messy. They were readable. They were “right.” But they didn’t look very good.

Longhand was no harder for me than printing, which is to say that I could easily do both, but never do either to my teachers’ satisfaction.

The end result? Judging by my handwriting, you’d assume I was destined to be a doctor. (I wonder if the old joke about doctors’ handwriting still applies in the modern world in which prescriptions are sent electronically.)

My handwriting has not improved with age. At one point in my life, I took an aptitude test in which I discovered that I had multiple aptitudes — an explanation for my multiplicity of interests — except in one area: fine motor coordination.

I test at 5 percentile on fine motor. The funny thing is, I kind of enjoyed the test for that. I was just very, very slow and clumsy at it.

I took typing in summer school when I was in high school and even though I was never a great typist — I am apparently not good at any skill where you are supposed to be very accurate with your fingers — I immediately starting typing everything.

Long before personal computers were a thing, I was writing on a typewriter rather than by hand. I should probably note that I was raised by journalists, and being able not just to type but to write directly on a keyboard was considered a basic skill.

I thought correcting typewriters were a gift of the gods and I got my first computer in 1983 (which is about to be 40 years ago). Typing on something where I could correct my errors and go back and revise without having to retype was the most wonderful thing I could imagine.

I compose almost everything I write by resting my fingers on a keyboard and thinking. (I do not like keyboards that are so responsive that you can’t touch a key without it registering.)

So why, you reasonably ask, do I think it’s good to learn longhand? Continue reading “I Did Not Write This in Longhand, But …”