The Lost Art of Cursive: The Slow Death of Penmanship in Washington (Holiday Edition)

Once upon a time—not in a fairy tale, but in actual history—it was common practice to write letters. You know, those handwritten things people used before texting, email, or yelling “u up?” into the void of Instagram DMs.

Whether it was a birthday card, a thank-you note, or a longwinded update on Aunt Gertie’s bunion removal and her ongoing feud with the podiatrist, correspondence was the gold standard of communication.

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Not because it was cute or quaint, but because, well, it was all we had. That, and semaphore. Which would be great if you had flags, arm strength, and no social anxiety. But pencils beat out waving flags every time. 

Supplies You Actually Needed to Write a Letter

 And writing a letter wasn’t just scribbling on paper. Oh no. You needed supplies. Stationery (the kind that smells faintly of lavender, rain, and repressed Victorian feelings), envelopes, and maybe—if you were feeling fancy—a sticker seal. Or a wax seal, if you were channeling your inner Jane Austen and had very strong opinions about propriety and postage. 

 You also had to know how to address an envelope. Like, with a name. And a street. And a ZIP code. Not just 'Mom 💖' or 'Grandma’s house, next to the tree, across from where the Taco Bell used to be.’ It’s an actual skill—right up there with writing a check or dialing a rotary phone. Which is to say: slowly fading into the historical abyss next to cassette tapes, Blockbuster memberships and Pong. 

How Cursive Became a National Crisis

 And let’s talk about cursive. Once a proud, looping art form, now it might as well be Klingon to anyone under the age of 25. The National Archives is literally asking for “citizen archivists” who can read and write cursive, because apparently these documents from our nation’s founding weren’t written in Helvetica Neue. Without this talent pool, future generations may look at the Declaration of Independence and go, “Cool... is that a new font or....English?” 

Shorthand: Not a Font, Not a Dance

 And speaking of fonts, let’s not forget cursive’s weird, misunderstood cousin: shorthand. Yes, shorthand still exists. No, it’s not a TikTok dance or glove size. It’s that rapid-fire scribble system used by court reporters, journalists, and people who still take pride in writing faster than their laptops can buffer. 

While its glory days may have faded with the rise of recording devices and transcription software, shorthand continues to lurk in legal proceedings and press briefings like some linguistic cryptid. And let’s be honest — hand a Gen Z intern a reporter’s shorthand notes and watch the existential dread set in. “Wait... is this Sumerian? Elvish? Are we being pranked?” And to be fair, shorthand is kind of a font. A font designed by someone who was too busy for vowels, mercy, or spellcheck. 

Still, there’s something thrilling about a writing style that says, “I am both in a hurry and a little bit magical.” Shorthand might not be trending on social media, but it’s keeping the ancient art of fast, indecipherable scribbles alive—and for that, we salute it.  

 So what happened to cursive? Around 2010, the U.S. adopted the Common Core State Standards, which didn’t require cursive. So school leaders collectively shrugged and said, “Guess we’ll teach keyboarding instead.” And thus, goodbye to the tactile sensation of thought transfer from frontal lobe to fingertips and welcome WPM. 

The Return of the Loops: Is Cursive Coming Back?

 But wait—there’s hope. Some states are bringing cursive back, probably after realizing their high school graduates couldn’t read grandma’s birthday card, the Constitution, or multiple brand names written in cursive from Kellogg's to Campbell's to Instagram.

Of course, even those who do still write don’t always write well. At this point, most adult handwriting looks like a mix between a ransom note and a prescription pad. Cursive may be dying, but illegibility is alive and thriving.

Is Handwriting Dead or Just Retro Now?

 So grab a pen. Buy a real stamp. Learn how to write your name like a 19th-century poet with a scandalous past. Or John Hancock. Because if we’re going to lose cursive, we might as well go down in a flourish of ink, drama and style. Just like cursive.

*A Quick Note on Handwritten Thank-You Notes, According to Emily Post (the original Miss Manners.)

Emily Post may not have handed down one perfect quote about thank-you notes, but her message is loud and clear: if someone gives you something and you don’t thank them in person, grab a pen before karma grabs your file. A handwritten note isn’t just polite — it’s proof you paused your scrolling long enough to act like a functional adult for 30 seconds.

And during the season of shared meals — Thanksgiving spreads, Christmas dinners, the cousin’s casserole that may or may not be safe — going the extra mile to acknowledge the work behind hosting is never wasted. If someone fed you, warmed your seat, or tolerated your stories, they earned a note.

Her greatest hits, streamlined:

• Thanked in person? You’re good. No extra stationery guilt required (but secretly greatly appreciated!)

• Didn’t thank in person? Break out the pen. Yes, an actual pen.

• You can never go wrong sending one. Ever. People love tiny paper compliments.

• Handwritten > digital. It shows effort and can’t be accidentally liked by your ex.

• Keep it short. Three to five sentences — gratitude, specifics, done.

• No thank-you-note chain reactions. A thank-you note does not require a thank-you note for the thank-you note.

In short: Write the note. Seal the envelope. Enjoy being a civilized human.