Memory Bank

c. 1997
In second grade, we learned cursive one letter at a time. In retrospect, probably a poor idea. We learned “f” on a Friday the 13. We had a substitute named Mrs. Sweeney who all the kids hated. I remember being aware of the irony that we had the meanest sub on such a day. It was also raining. In her lesson, she told us that she thought cursive f’s were fun to make. She called them “fun f’s.” For sixteen years, every time I make a cursive f I think of that.

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