In a note just now to my friend Monique in Canada---she of the delightful and sumptuous La Table de Nana, now closed down and sorely missed, I mentioned an old custom which I think of now and then. Letters often used to begin: I take my Pen in Hand. . . And a lot of people DID take that for true, especially some of our town residents who had the misfortune of having never learned to read or write. And so, I had a few patrons who counted on me to read their letters from family and friend, as well as to WRITE them. As I took down their words, quite a few of them would finish the little session by a hesitant touch of my pen. It's as if the writings were some unspoken RITES---a sacred ritual to the words, in which touching the pen, though they could not write nor read what I was putting down---that conveyed some sort of power to the words, and made them theirs.
Even folks who came in and could only write their X on a note or document---that power of touching my trusty Parker 51 Gold-All-Over---a graduation gift which has lasted me decades---those folks trusted in the POWER of the touch, and the proof of their being there in that moment to vouchsafe their word and their agreement. And even Wills and Deeds were treated with the dignity of their "X" if I had written in their name, and BY: racheld. The confidence in that touch was solid, legality was confirmed, and the courthouse understood.
Darling Rachel,
ReplyDeleteThis is such a tenderly sad post.
The power of the written word is something that is often taken for granted or not even considered and, yet, it opens doors in a multitude of practical, creative and mysterious ways. We like to think that those for whom a touch of the pen was as close as they could be to the written word found fulfilment in other ways. Nature, family relationships, friends and religion could be some of the ways that their lives were enriched but, as you say, one thinks of the very many ways that their lives were impoverished by illiteracy.
And, today, these divisions still exist. Universal education is so often dismissed rather than revered for the life-changing force that it can deliver. In our teaching days, we plied the mantra of "education gives you choices" which many heeded but a few ignored. We wonder how many now regret the lack of choices that a lack of engagement possibly brought to their lives...and how many thrived in spite of our best efforts to engage them in a formal education which never really suited.
Your Parker pen really does look like a golden charm and we can well imagine that it would be tempting to touch it and receive its magic power. Whatever, your words are golden and how marvellous that we can see them and reflect upon them so many many miles away....
I am so humbled and impressed by the depth of your comment, and the understanding hewn by your own great interest in education and literacy. You speak from a career of sharing such an accomplishment with numbers of students, willing or resistant, and your continued thinking of those pupils and what their futures have fulfilled is a great tribute to your fitness to be teachers. I think of the YOUS that we've met---the fun and the travel and the brilliant repartee, the close-seen small things that MATTER to you, and the hopes for those very young peoples' welfare and dreams simply shine.
ReplyDeleteIt's HARD to equate the Miss Dove or Mr. Chips with the soignee pair who liven up our conversation and lift our spirits with such fun. I'd love to hear of those days---the Open Your Spelling Book and the Where's your Handkerchief are faint on the images of your past, and as vast as my own WORD bank is, I cannot fathom how to IMPART the very simplest lesson. I can read to children all day, but have not a clue how to help them attain the art, and that lack haunts me in my dreams. I WANT it for everyone so MUCH, but it's a vague vapor that I cannot seize or conquer.
I say BRAVO---no one scattering the words on a page---Wordsworth or Christie or Seuss---is as important and ever-lastingly appreciated as a teacher who enabled the pupils to FLY on their own.
Thank you for the "golden" image, but you've scattered nuggets in your wake to equal Heaven's streets. Bravo, Brava and Bene Factum!!