The promotion of handwriting, once a cornerstone of education, has made a comeback in recent years. I keep reading well-meaning bloggers, educators, parents, and even psychologists extol the holy virtues of putting pen to paper, pointing to new studies claiming it boosts creativity, improves memory, and enhances learning, giving you and your kid that special edge over others. Blah blah blah. (Let’s just cut the crap. Remember Baby Einstein and Baby Mozart?) That said, the rise in performance psychology and the marketing of pseudoscientific bio-hacking over the past decade often overlook the profound insensitivity toward individuals with dysgraphia and other writing-related neurological disabilities, now recognized under the broader umbrella of neurodiversity.
While studies indicate that handwriting can improve motor skills and may aid in certain types of memory retention, these effects are specific cognitive benefits—not an overall boost in intelligence. Intelligence, as measured by IQ, is not correlated with one’s ability to write by hand, nor does it rely on fine motor skills. Framing handwriting as a path to “smarts” is misleading and sets up unrealistic expectations, especially for those with neurological conditions affecting writing. Writing by hand is not going to improve your thinking.
Consider the heirloom tomato. Just as heirloom tomatoes come in a vibrant array of shapes, sizes, and colors, each with its own unique flavor profile, so too do human brains. While some of us may excel at traditional pen-and-paper tasks, others may thrive with different tools and approaches. This diversity of learning styles is often overlooked, particularly when it comes to neurodivergent individuals like those with dysgraphia. The recent trend of promoting handwriting as a panacea for learning challenges can be particularly harmful to those who struggle with written expression.
Recent research suggests that optimal learning environments integrate diverse approaches, recognizing that not everyone benefits equally from handwriting. Emphasizing cursive handwriting has historically privileged the neurotypical, reinforcing a narrow view of literacy that can exclude those who don't conform to this standard. For people with dysgraphia, writing by hand can be physically painful and may lead to frustration, shame, and a diminished sense of self-worth.
The goal isn't necessarily to “cure” dysgraphia but to find strategies that help individuals with dysgraphia and other neurodiversities overcome challenges and express themselves effectively.
As a psychotherapist who struggled with reading, writing, and math growing up, I understand these challenges personally and professionally. In childhood, I spent considerable time masking my struggles to avoid harsh judgments. The expectation of neat, legible handwriting felt like rubbing coarse salt in a fresh wound. I survived but at the cost of self-worth and future educational opportunities. These experiences now shape my therapeutic approach, where I’m particularly attuned to clients with language processing challenges. (I realize that I may be “preaching to the choir” here for some of my readers.)
Educators play a pivotal role in creating inclusive classrooms by offering diverse writing tools and fostering a more flexible growth mindset that values effort over innate ability. However, an over-focus on handwriting often perpetuates the misconception that neatness and legibility are the primary indicators of intelligence and competence. This more rigid mindset is particularly harmful to students with dysgraphia, dyslexia, or other neurodivergencies, who may struggle to produce coherent legible work despite having strong cognitive skills.
Challenging this shallow and ableist mindset means recognizing that not everyone learns or expresses themselves in the same way. We are unique creatures. We are more like those beautiful heirloom tomatoes than the flavorless mass-produced store-bought ones that look Instagram perfect. While handwriting may benefit some, it is not a universal solution. For individuals with dysgraphia, assistive technologies like word processors, tablets, and keyboards, AI to help with organization, and speech-to-text software are invaluable, allowing them to focus on critical thinking rather than worrying too much about the physical mechanics of writing.
The ableism embedded in the trend to advocate handwriting is often subtle but significant. By promoting handwriting as the “superior” method for everyone, we exclude and stigmatize those who need alternative approaches. To cultivate a more inclusive learning environment, we must value diverse learning styles and actively challenge both explicit and implicit biases.
One could argue that the recent emphasis on handwriting may be a cultural response to understandable fears about excessive screen time, rather than from an evidence-based education. While learning to write by hand can be a valuable skill, it's important to remember that it's not a one-size-fits-all solution. By prioritizing the cognitive development and content of writing over its form, we create more equitable and supportive learning environments. Just as we appreciate the unique qualities of heirloom tomatoes, we should celebrate the unique strengths of each learner. After all, we are human beings, not human doings.
Consider thinking beyond a cookie-cutter education and cultivate a growth mindset that values diverse learning styles and accommodates the needs of all students. By doing so, we can unlock the full potential of every individual and build a more inclusive future.
What is neurodiversity? Watch this short video!
My memories are filled with the struggles my daughter encountered beginning in Kindergarten. Her teacher asked for a meeting with me, and then asked pointed questions about whether or not I took drugs during the pregnancy (I didn't even allow myself an aspirin!). Then she proclaimed my daughter to be mentally ill and demanded I take her to a therapist. At the end of the first appointment, the therapist said, "Hogwash! She has learning disabilities!" That began the process of doing an IEP and having my daughter out of the classroom for part of every day for most of the rest of her childhood education. I remember taking her to a parent/teacher night and as we walked into her classroom, all the other students had brightly colored name signs on their desks with examples of their work but my daughter's desk was void of anything. I watched her face turn bright red. There was nothing personal for her in her "learning disabled" classroom either. Thankfully, she became determined, graduated high school even having pulled herself out of all "special" classes towards the end, and then attending college. She just graduated with her masters and is now a teacher herself, and has much more understanding of neurodivergence. That you for your take on the nostalgia over learning cursive. I have wondered about that a lot.
great article and smart. No one person is like another.