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如今计算机时代已经真正到来,对传统带来了诸多冲击,电子邮件代替了传统信函,打字代替了书写,书法还有存在的必要吗?本文在这方面给我们一些启迪和思考｡
In this age of computers, does a 6-year-old really need good handwriting?
“I don’t want to do this,” says my 6-year-old adamantly. I repeat my own mother’s dialogue: “You will do this because I am telling you to.” He obeys, but with a huge roll of his eyes.
We are debating the importance of good handwriting, and I am trying to get him to practice. Some may think he is too young, but I don’t. He loves to make up and write out stories, but he writes so fast that his lovely stories don’t look lovely-or legible.
Growing up, I had no choice—practicing good handwriting was as important as learning addition or subtraction. Both my parents were very particular about that. My mother, an elementary school teacher, gave extra points to the kids in her class who had clear, attractive handwriting. “Good writing shows that you truly care what you write about, that you made an effort,” she would often say.
When I was a child, my father would read over my handwritten notes and say, “It looks as if you have smashed ants on the paper. Try it again. Beautiful handwriting is when words look like pearls strung together.”
His handwriting was exquisite—like calligraphy without any special pens. I have saved letters he has written me, and somewhere in my heart I resent e-mail, which he now uses, because it has dashed the possibility of future handwritten notes from him.
When I was about the same age my son is now, my father and I came up with a plan to improve my handwriting. Every day during summer vacations, we would sit down together and he would hand me his favorite story that day in the local newspaper, The Hindu, and I would copy it down word for word on paper.
Sitting at my maternal grandmother’s dining table—a ceiling fan blowing cool air around the room and a large glass of buttermilk to give me strength—I would start my practice. It was painstaking at first, copying each word and taking time to understand it. I could hear my cousins playing outdoors.
As the summer months wore on, my cousins’ shouts from outside held far more allure than my handwriting sessions. I kept practicing, but reluctantly. Finally, one day about two years later, Dad declared that I had done it: I had good handwriting.
I still have good handwriting. It sounds strange to say in this day and age. Friends ask me to help address their envelopes and even help with their scrapbooks. I am a writer, and pride myself on my handwriting. I want my son to have the same pleasure.
I make him copy sentences from his favorite “Arthur” books. He loves to read them. He loves words. He spends hours creating and illustrating stories. Then he “writes” them down, as fast as he can, without a focus on the legibility of the words.
He does not understand my insistence on practicing writing. So I decide to show him. I make a card—I write out the words as beautifully as I can.
He reads it and smiles. In a childlike attempt to pacify his mother, he says, “Mama, what a nice job.” He even comments on how good it looks. I am pleased. He is seeing the error of his ways. He understands why this is important.
He then turns to me and says, “Mama, I never see you write on paper. You are always typing on your computer. Why do I need good handwriting on paper if all I am going to do when I grow up is type on a computer?”
I sigh. First it was a battle over telling time using “real” clocks versus digital clocks. Then it was over regular shoelaces versus Velcro. It’s a different world today. I am losing some battles, but I am hoping to win the war.
from the April 24, 2006 edition - http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/0424/p18s04-hfes.html
在这个计算机时代,一个六岁的孩子真地需要好的书法吗?
“我不想做,”6岁的儿子固执地说｡我重复了自己母亲的一句话:“你要做,因为我叫你去做｡”他只好服从,使劲翻动着眼皮｡
我们争论良好书法的重要性,我竭尽全力使他去练习｡有些人或许认为他太小了,但我不这样想｡他喜欢编故事并将它们写出来,但他写很很快,结果他那些动人的故事看起来就不那么动人了……也不清晰可辨了｡
随着年龄的长大,我别无选择——练习良好的书法与学习加减法一样重要｡我的双亲对此有特别要求｡我母亲是一位小学教师,她会给班级中那些书写干净漂亮的孩子额外加分｡“良好的书法表明你真正关心你写的东西,说明你已经付出努力,”她经常这样说｡
当我还是个孩子的时候,我父亲会读一遍我的手写笔记,然后说,“看起来你写的字好像你把蚂蚁擂碎在纸上一样｡努力再写一遍｡美丽的书法会使单词看起来像是串在一起的珍珠｡”
他的字非常优美——就像是没有使用任何特定钢笔而形成的书贴｡我保存了他写给我的信,并且从内心深处我开始怨恨起他现在开始使用的电子邮件来,因为这已经使收到他手写的未来家信的希望破灭｡
当我还处于儿子现在年龄的时候,我父亲和我就制定了一个计划来提高我的书法｡在暑假中的每一天,我们都会坐在一起,他会递过这一天当地报纸《印度报》——上面有他最喜欢的故事,然后我就逐字逐句地将它们抄写到纸上｡
坐在我姥姥的餐桌上——吊扇将清凉的风传遍整个房间,一大杯牛奶会使我力量倍增——我开始了我的书写练习｡一开始这非常辛苦,抄写每一个单词,并花时间去理解它｡我可以听到我的堂兄堂妹们在外面玩耍｡
随着夏季的慢慢过去,堂兄堂妹们在外面的呼喊声要比我的书法练习更具有吸引力｡我一直在坚持练习,但非常勉强｡最后,大约两年后的一天,爸爸宣布我的书法练习结束了: 我已经能够写一手好字了｡
今天我的字仍然写得很好｡在今天这个年代它似乎听起来很奇怪｡朋友们要求我帮忙给他们填写信封上的地址,甚至帮助他们书写剪贴簿｡我是一名作家,并以自己的书法而骄傲｡我希望自己的儿子也拥有同样的欢乐｡
我让他从他最喜欢的“亚瑟王”丛书上抄写句子｡他喜欢阅读这套丛书｡他喜欢这些句子｡他花费数小时时间来创作和阐述故事｡然后他将它们“写”下来,用他最快的速度,不再将注意力放在单词的可辨性上｡
他并没有理解我坚持要他练习书写的用意｡因此我决定给他展示一下｡我做了一张卡片——我尽最大努力书写上了优美的文字｡
他一边读一边面露微笑｡用孩子般的天真赞扬他的妈妈,他说,“妈妈,你写的字真好看｡”他甚至还描绘这些字如何优美｡我非常高兴｡他看到了自己书法的瑕疵｡他明白了书法重要的原因了｡
然后他转向我说,“妈妈,我从来没有见你在纸上写过字｡你一直在计算机上打字｡如果当我长大以后我也一直在计算机上打字,为什么我还需要在纸上练习书法呢?”
我感慨万分｡首先这是一场使用“真实”时钟与数字化时钟进行报时比赛的战斗｡其次它是常规鞋带与维可牢尼龙搭扣的一场战斗｡如今世界发生了变化｡我在一些战斗中失利,但是我希望赢得这场战争的胜利｡
In this age of computers, does a 6-year-old really need good handwriting?
“I don’t want to do this,” says my 6-year-old adamantly. I repeat my own mother’s dialogue: “You will do this because I am telling you to.” He obeys, but with a huge roll of his eyes.
We are debating the importance of good handwriting, and I am trying to get him to practice. Some may think he is too young, but I don’t. He loves to make up and write out stories, but he writes so fast that his lovely stories don’t look lovely-or legible.
Growing up, I had no choice—practicing good handwriting was as important as learning addition or subtraction. Both my parents were very particular about that. My mother, an elementary school teacher, gave extra points to the kids in her class who had clear, attractive handwriting. “Good writing shows that you truly care what you write about, that you made an effort,” she would often say.
When I was a child, my father would read over my handwritten notes and say, “It looks as if you have smashed ants on the paper. Try it again. Beautiful handwriting is when words look like pearls strung together.”
His handwriting was exquisite—like calligraphy without any special pens. I have saved letters he has written me, and somewhere in my heart I resent e-mail, which he now uses, because it has dashed the possibility of future handwritten notes from him.
When I was about the same age my son is now, my father and I came up with a plan to improve my handwriting. Every day during summer vacations, we would sit down together and he would hand me his favorite story that day in the local newspaper, The Hindu, and I would copy it down word for word on paper.
Sitting at my maternal grandmother’s dining table—a ceiling fan blowing cool air around the room and a large glass of buttermilk to give me strength—I would start my practice. It was painstaking at first, copying each word and taking time to understand it. I could hear my cousins playing outdoors.
As the summer months wore on, my cousins’ shouts from outside held far more allure than my handwriting sessions. I kept practicing, but reluctantly. Finally, one day about two years later, Dad declared that I had done it: I had good handwriting.
I still have good handwriting. It sounds strange to say in this day and age. Friends ask me to help address their envelopes and even help with their scrapbooks. I am a writer, and pride myself on my handwriting. I want my son to have the same pleasure.
I make him copy sentences from his favorite “Arthur” books. He loves to read them. He loves words. He spends hours creating and illustrating stories. Then he “writes” them down, as fast as he can, without a focus on the legibility of the words.
He does not understand my insistence on practicing writing. So I decide to show him. I make a card—I write out the words as beautifully as I can.
He reads it and smiles. In a childlike attempt to pacify his mother, he says, “Mama, what a nice job.” He even comments on how good it looks. I am pleased. He is seeing the error of his ways. He understands why this is important.
He then turns to me and says, “Mama, I never see you write on paper. You are always typing on your computer. Why do I need good handwriting on paper if all I am going to do when I grow up is type on a computer?”
I sigh. First it was a battle over telling time using “real” clocks versus digital clocks. Then it was over regular shoelaces versus Velcro. It’s a different world today. I am losing some battles, but I am hoping to win the war.
from the April 24, 2006 edition - http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/0424/p18s04-hfes.html
在这个计算机时代,一个六岁的孩子真地需要好的书法吗?
“我不想做,”6岁的儿子固执地说｡我重复了自己母亲的一句话:“你要做,因为我叫你去做｡”他只好服从,使劲翻动着眼皮｡
我们争论良好书法的重要性,我竭尽全力使他去练习｡有些人或许认为他太小了,但我不这样想｡他喜欢编故事并将它们写出来,但他写很很快,结果他那些动人的故事看起来就不那么动人了……也不清晰可辨了｡
随着年龄的长大,我别无选择——练习良好的书法与学习加减法一样重要｡我的双亲对此有特别要求｡我母亲是一位小学教师,她会给班级中那些书写干净漂亮的孩子额外加分｡“良好的书法表明你真正关心你写的东西,说明你已经付出努力,”她经常这样说｡
当我还是个孩子的时候,我父亲会读一遍我的手写笔记,然后说,“看起来你写的字好像你把蚂蚁擂碎在纸上一样｡努力再写一遍｡美丽的书法会使单词看起来像是串在一起的珍珠｡”
他的字非常优美——就像是没有使用任何特定钢笔而形成的书贴｡我保存了他写给我的信,并且从内心深处我开始怨恨起他现在开始使用的电子邮件来,因为这已经使收到他手写的未来家信的希望破灭｡
当我还处于儿子现在年龄的时候,我父亲和我就制定了一个计划来提高我的书法｡在暑假中的每一天,我们都会坐在一起,他会递过这一天当地报纸《印度报》——上面有他最喜欢的故事,然后我就逐字逐句地将它们抄写到纸上｡
坐在我姥姥的餐桌上——吊扇将清凉的风传遍整个房间,一大杯牛奶会使我力量倍增——我开始了我的书写练习｡一开始这非常辛苦,抄写每一个单词,并花时间去理解它｡我可以听到我的堂兄堂妹们在外面玩耍｡
随着夏季的慢慢过去,堂兄堂妹们在外面的呼喊声要比我的书法练习更具有吸引力｡我一直在坚持练习,但非常勉强｡最后,大约两年后的一天,爸爸宣布我的书法练习结束了: 我已经能够写一手好字了｡
今天我的字仍然写得很好｡在今天这个年代它似乎听起来很奇怪｡朋友们要求我帮忙给他们填写信封上的地址,甚至帮助他们书写剪贴簿｡我是一名作家,并以自己的书法而骄傲｡我希望自己的儿子也拥有同样的欢乐｡
我让他从他最喜欢的“亚瑟王”丛书上抄写句子｡他喜欢阅读这套丛书｡他喜欢这些句子｡他花费数小时时间来创作和阐述故事｡然后他将它们“写”下来,用他最快的速度,不再将注意力放在单词的可辨性上｡
他并没有理解我坚持要他练习书写的用意｡因此我决定给他展示一下｡我做了一张卡片——我尽最大努力书写上了优美的文字｡
他一边读一边面露微笑｡用孩子般的天真赞扬他的妈妈,他说,“妈妈,你写的字真好看｡”他甚至还描绘这些字如何优美｡我非常高兴｡他看到了自己书法的瑕疵｡他明白了书法重要的原因了｡
然后他转向我说,“妈妈,我从来没有见你在纸上写过字｡你一直在计算机上打字｡如果当我长大以后我也一直在计算机上打字,为什么我还需要在纸上练习书法呢?”
我感慨万分｡首先这是一场使用“真实”时钟与数字化时钟进行报时比赛的战斗｡其次它是常规鞋带与维可牢尼龙搭扣的一场战斗｡如今世界发生了变化｡我在一些战斗中失利,但是我希望赢得这场战争的胜利｡