ASDF

I took typing when I was a sophomore in high school. Our machines were old Underwood and Royal manuals. You had to strike each key physically with just the right force. Too soft and the type would be too weak to read, too hard and you have a bold, dark letter with smudges. Naturally, your index and bird fingers are stronger than ring finger and pinkie was weak. It took a while to develop a touch and over time the exercise made for strong fingers and good dexterity. You’re not supposed to look at the key board while you type. You learn the key locations like a pianist learns the piano keys and look at the text of whatever it is that you are typing. It’s sort of like playing guitar. You may sneak a peek once in a while but you have to play by feel. 

Typing class was dominated by girls where shop was more for boys but sometimes at the end of the alphabet, you have to take what’s available. You didn’t have to pay for materials in typing and that was fine with me. So we learned the home row; a, s, d, f, with the left hand and j, k, l, ; with the right. When you put your hands on the keyboard your fingers find those keys without thinking about it. Then you start learning to reach for the other keys without moving your hands. I was alright but never good. The girls all made their machines buzz like shuffling cards while mine sounded like a lethargic wood pecker. We were graded on timed writings; 60 words per minute was the goal and most of the girls could do that. I was consistent in the mid 30’s. 

We had to erase and correct our mistakes. If you had a heavy, dark letter or word to correct you might eat a hole through the paper before you got it clean. If you were typing with carbon paper you had to erase twice and hope the pages lined up when you started typing again. I knew I’d never do this for a living. I was happy with a “C”. The next year when the girls would take Office Practice with its shorthand and book keeping, I’d be in an Art or Shop class. Now, how many years after the fact, I can still type. My grand daughter was talking to me as I typed. I turned to answer but I didn’t stop typing and she was stunned. “What are you doing? How do you do that?” I was typing without looking at the keyboard. I laughed, knowing they don’t teach typing any more. They have keyboard classes in elementary or middle school but not enough to master the skill; hunt and peck is the rule. If you want to be an administrative assistant (they don’t have secretaries any more) you have to figure out a method and get up to speed or you’ll never get a promotion. 

I write. When computers came in it was like Xmas. I could correct with a few key strokes and go on. I can cut and paste with a sweep of the cursor and a key stroke. Carbon paper, wow: carbon paper went the way of small pox and nobody wants to see it ever come back. You just print as many copies as you need. It’s been 16 years since I worked in a classroom and computers were fully integrated then. I know people who lament the demise of cursive writing and I have some feelings there as well but I can promise you, teachers don’t miss trying to decipher kid’s scribbling or stylized calligraphy. As a low-middle achiever, I knew that unreadable scribbling was a great distraction when you were guessing. Sometimes they give partial credit for even a bogus attempt. To that extent nothing has changed. 

In the early 1950’s General Douglas McArthur got himself fired as Commander of Forces in Korea by then President, Harry Truman. It was a big deal at the time. He was old and his political aspirations seemed to have ebbed. In his farewell address he made a now, famous quote. “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” In this case I would rephrase that feeling; “Old typists never die, they just go to the old home row.”