NO SLEIGHT OF HAND

Get ready for a different kind of revolution.

Ever since most of the United States’ public schools substituted “keyboard proficiency” for learning penmanship (or cursive, as scholars prefer), a number of teachers – and parents, too – are opting for alternative instruction in how to hand-write.

No duh:  The computer and smartphones have impacted language (and, by extension, handwriting) skills; many educators report that kids find it difficult to translate a “tx” or “OMG” into the appropriate scripts.  As do quite a few adults.

It’s not so much that cursive – the joining together of letters in a flowing manner – is underused today; rather, its benefits are simply underappreciated.  A 1989 University of Virginia study proved that, when terrible handwriting was deliberately improved, so did reading skills, word recognition, composition skills, and recall from memory.  Less robust research shows that good cursive leads to better grades … at least, in elementary and middle schools.

What many miss in this low-key debate is that the handwriting of notes, of postcards, of letters, and of longer missives forges an intimate connection between two people.  It’s the kind of bond that many companies aspire to, an engagement between employer and employee.  How many managers, in your own career, have penned a note of congratulations or sympathy or, simply, a conversation starter?  Do you ever expect to receive personal handwritten notes in home or office mailboxes?  Have you? How often in the past year have you deliberately expressed yourself on pen and paper … to colleagues and to staff and to leaders?

We’ll admit:  It’s all too easy to dash off an e-note, where misspellings are quickly identified – and corrected before sending.  And there’s no excuse for being embarrassed about poor handwriting; even a combination of printing and cursive – how most of us write – is acceptable.

Longhand, in short, is tomorrow’s emotional shorthand.

IT'S BOOM CITY, HERE

 

 

We’re fascinated by tech statistics – combined with, of course, very human stories.

The latest?  For the past year or so, a number of reputable firms, through various research studies, announced that the boomer generation is a rather significant middle-of-the-road adopter of technology.  From Blackberries to Internet surfing, we boomers account for 40 percent of the spend (though we’re 25 percent of the population).

What’s more, we text, use search engines, check online ratings, answer email, and, in general, practice all of the e-activities commonly associated with younger generations, whether you call them Xs or millennials or Ys.  And speaking for ourselves, we’ve developed quite a CrackBerry (substitute:  iPhone) habit, almost obsessively looking at our smartphones to determine the latest news  – and who needs us.

There it is:  The humanity of technology.  There’s an overwhelming desire to not only be informed but also to be included in work and life goings-on, regardless of age or career situation.  Even our moms, well into their 70s, 80s, and 90s, educated themselves – or via the local public library – on what this computer stuff was all about.  [They then bragged to their friends that they’d met the Internet – and it was theirs. It was a completely different story when they physically encountered screen and mouse.  That’s another story for another day.] 

That need for inclusion, a Maslov-ian desire, underlies our technology use.  There’s no way, for a group so dedicated to changing America, that boomers would not master YouTube, social networking, and the latest gadgets.  At the same time, that discipline is softened by a commitment to ourselves and the world.  It’s our DNA.  And it’s a dominant gene, one for marketers, sales people, communicators to remember.  Everywhere.  Every time.

 

POPULAR PHASES WE'D LIKE TO CHANGE #2

Technology is our life.

It invades – er, pervades – so much of our selves that being stranded on the proverbial desert isle sans our Blackberries and iPhones would force us to rethink who we are.  IT allows us to check trends, respond instantly via texting or IM’ing, rsvp to clients and customers, strategize through communities of interest, and just plain do our work.

Yet when we hear or read news about the next “killer app,” we cringe. 

Originally, the phrase referred to any computer program that instantly proved its value (in terms of sales, usually).  PageMaker and Adobe, for two, earned that moniker.  So did Pokemon and the Halo video game franchise.

Other personal “apps” emerge.  In many colleagues’ lives, the iPhone’s touch screen rules.  For me?  thesaurus.com and AdAge’s online edition.

When we really think about it, all these examples are, pure and simple, tools that help us succeed.  Maybe at one time, before copycat-ism shortened the life of innovations to one nano-second, killer apps existed.  Now, Groupon has been circumvented by LivingSocial, opentable.com, and any number of local e-businesses.  The iPad is spawning imitators (and good ones, at that) by the day. One site, one product, one service might have served us well in the past.  No way today.

We’re also objecting to the phrase for deeper reasons. 

One, killer apps over-emphasize the influence of technology.  After all, we find killer apps in other industries, like pop-up shops for retailers.  Or the growing call for good greens, from farmers’ markets to companies’ products. 

Two, the use of killer apps obscures the cry for just plain communications.   Too much attention is being paid to screens and animation.  Too little, to the needs of the folks around us.  When a face-to-face request is usurped in favor of email exchanges and PowerPoints, when we “3-3-7” an important voicemail because there’s another urgent priority, when our eyes peek at business smartphones during a video/audio team meeting, it’s time to give killer apps a rest for a while.

Hmmm.  How about talk-wares?