When we first started teaching the children how to write in cursive, the excitement wasn’t exactly overflowing. Some of them looked at the loops and curves on the page and asked the question every teacher has heard at least once: “Why do we have to learn this?”
Fair question.
So, we took a step back and shared the story behind cursive writing — how it began, why it mattered, and how it connected generations of communication long before screens and keyboards. What we’ve learned over time is that understanding the history behind something gives it meaning. When children know why they’re learning something, it sets a foundation that helps them remember, ask questions, and build upon what they’ve already learned.
And that’s exactly what started to happen. During review time, we noticed their curiosity growing. They remembered the stories, connected the dots, and slowly began to appreciate cursive not just as a writing skill, but as a piece of history they could carry forward.
One day, one of the boys in class was having a hard time with his cursive writing. The lines didn’t flow, the letters wouldn’t connect, and frustration was beginning to set in.
So, we decided to switch things up.
We asked him to show us a basketball skill he had demonstrated before. Without hesitation, he picked up an imaginary ball and began to dribble. As he explained the technique, he told us something simple but powerful:
“You have to keep the ball low so your opponent can’t take it.”
And just like that — a lightbulb moment.
We connected that same principle to cursive writing: keep the pencil low, or in this case, don’t lift it from the paper.
The moment we made that connection, it clicked for him. His letters started to flow. The other boys, who hadn’t been all that eager about learning cursive, suddenly leaned in to try it too. Before long, the classroom was filled with a new kind of energy — the kind that comes when understanding replaces resistance.
Teaching moments like these remind us that learning doesn’t always happen in straight lines. Sometimes it happens through basketball moves, shared laughter, and the joy of connecting one skill to another.
That’s the beauty of what we do at GBOC— and the heart of why we do it.
Picture Credit Manuel-will@Unsplash.com
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