The Way the Pen Writes

As we near the start of my third child’s schooling, I brace myself for the challenges ahead.

With each country's unique approach to kindergarten, I am fascinated to learn about the diverse methods and experiences around the world.

He is about to approach his fourth birthday and has been attending an hour-a-week kindergarten sessions with both parents by his side. His younger sister enthusiastically joins in, taking part in the activities alongside her brother.

This experience has been valuable in helping him adjust to a structured setting and learn alongside others.

Yet, he has not been the only one doing the learning.

Part of the routine is recognising and practising writing his name, a task that has become a pendulum of successful enthusiasm or flat-out refusal for fear of botching it up.

You see, we’re having trouble with the pencil grip.

His grip on the pencil differs from the typical writing posture. His hand wields the writing instrument like a sword, gripped with a fist - a rebellion against the incessant and gentle reminders. This unique grip affects his ability to control the pencil to a degree, but the awkwardness seems to add to the momentum of the pendulum.

We have given him endless encouragement, guidance, and demonstration.

We’ve tried to talk about the crocodile snap snap fingers.

Drawn a smiley face upon his fingernails to see if that works.

Nope.

It’s early days for now, and we don’t want to force or criticise during this process.

As I’ve heard, easy comes with practice.

What has been interesting to watch is the learning of that 18 month young girl that ponders beside him.

With everything going on, she watches, absorbing every detail from the sidelines. Her tiny fingers mimic the actions, attempting to replicate what she’s seen.

Her fingers innocently and skilfully curl around the bottom of that pencil.

She makes and creates intricate lines which could make an encyclopedia of things if you let your imagination run wild.

And, at the moment, that is the reality.

I gaze across the table with the three and one years old — a gaze filled with curiosity, wonder, and discovery.