With apologies to all the good teachers around these parts, there is an incompetent minority in the profession that terrorizing at the hands of enraged parents does some good for.

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I throw more powerful punches with my left, but have better endurance with my right. My kickboxing instructor splained why, but I forget.

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I stuttered a lot as a kid. Needed lessons and whatnot. Also, lisped.

Well, the forcing against the handedness is not the only cause, but it is a cause.

I do feel sorry for all the lefties who were forced to write with their arms curled around into an unnatural position, just so they can write "correctly."

It just looks so uncomforatable, and it can't be good for the body.

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With apologies to all the good teachers around these parts, there is an incompetent minority in the profession that terrorizing at the hands of enraged parents does some good for.

When I hear stories from my parents and other relatives older than I am, as much as the public school system today is a head-thunker, it is so much better for children. The incident with my father and his twin happened at some point in the 1930s, as Dad was born in '28.

I do remember a case in the news within the past couple of years where a young girl had her mouth taped shut in school. Today, that's recognized as an abusive situation, rather than just a strict teacher. I'd be hard pressed not to shove the role of tape up the behind of a person who did that to one of my kids. I come by that honestly, though. In the early 40s, my (maternal) uncle came home with a black eye, because he smirked at a teacher. He wouldn't tell my grandmother what happened, so his friend did--he was taken in the cloak room/closet by a teacher, and beaten, for smirking. I believe my grandmother's exact words to the Principal were, "Put the two of us in a closet, and let's see who comes out."

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Oh damn. Yeah, the cruel humiliations and torments that bad teachers generally subject kids to are the sort of thing one raises a ruckus with administration about, but if a kid of mine came home with a black eye from a teacher punching him or her, they'd be looking for a new teacher and I'd be hoping my case got tried by a judge who was also a parent.

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I do feel sorry for all the lefties who were forced to write with their arms curled around into an unnatural position, just so they can write "correctly."

This was my father. Though I never thought about him being forced to write like that. Just thought it was a bad orthopedic choice. It always looked to me like it must hurt.

Me? I just drag my hand right through. In my very prolific, ball-point writing days, I could tell how much progress I was making by the shade of blue the edge of my palm got on a given day.

Cindy, I love hearing I'm relatively young for anything. But, in the early 60s, things seemed pretty provincial and definitely un-enlightened in my neck-o-the-woods. Even if it WAS California. The tying up was extreme, but I certainly got talked to by more than one adult.

I was left-handed, spelled my name wrong (according the EVERYone), had no mother and was 3 feet tall grades 3-9. Jeez, what WASN'T I hassled about?

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Cindy, I love hearing I'm relatively young for anything. But, in the early 60s, things seemed pretty provincial and definitely un-enlightened in my neck-o-the-woods. Even if it WAS California. The tying up was extreme, but I certainly got talked to by more than one adult.

Did you go to parochial school, Beej?

I was left-handed, spelled my name wrong (according the EVERYone), had no mother and was 3 feet tall grades 3-9. Jeez, what WASN'T I hassled about?

My word. Being a kid is hard work, isn't it? I try to remember that, when my kids' problems seem about as difficult (to me, from my perspective) as choosing between chocolate and crap.

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Oh my. How whiny did that come out? Pretty damn. I think I need a nap.

No parochial school...which might have explained it.

I'm thinking that all my karmic debt got paid off in the first 30 years of my life. Now? It's all chocolate...no crap.

Love that analogy Cindy, and I can so relate when I deal with my clients--none of whom--by design--have unsolveable problems.

Lately, when I feel whiny...like today...I remind myself that I am not a tsunami victim. I don't even have a hangnail = quitcherbitchinbeej.

eta: tenses are useful

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I just drag my hand right through.

My mother developed a system of writing that worked very well for her as a lefty. She didn't write, she printed. But when you looked at her printing, you would have sworn it was cursive. By printing each letter it lifted her hand off the paper between each letter and no smearing. No tilting of the paper, no curling the wrist. It was a supremely elegant style of writing. I attempted to emulate her writing for years and finally gave up when I decided it was something about being left-handed. Until I realized some 30 years later that my aunt wrote in nearly the identical style, and she's a rightie. Sigh. I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

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I was born left-handed, but my great grandfather, who I positively adored as a child, convinced me while I was young that being left-handed was wrong. So now I'm primarily right-handed, though I do some things lefty (like opening jars) and some things with either hand (I can try to catch things with equal levels of clumsiness in each hand). I never heard about the stuttering thing before, but I do have a tendency to stammer, particularly when I'm nervous.

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