Alright…
Roll call, fellow Elder Millennials and Gen X survivors.
Remember when computer class wasn’t “learning apps.”
It was TYPING.
Not keyboarding.
Not digital literacy.
Just straight-up typing.
If you know what WPM (Words Per Minute) means, congratulations… your knees probably make popcorn noises when you stand up.
And if your school had one of those wooden boxes the shop teacher built that sat over your hands so you COULDN’T CHEAT by looking at the keyboard…
WELCOME.
This post is your PTSD support group.
I was telling my kids about this the other day.
They looked at me like I had personally attended school with Abraham Lincoln.
Then they casually informed me…
“They don’t teach that anymore.”
…
WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?!
Excuse me?!
YOU MEAN TO TELL ME…
MY GENERATION WAS PSYCHOLOGICALLY WATERBOARDED WITH TIMED TYPING TESTS…
“asdf jkl; asdf jkl; asdf jkl;”
FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON?!
I spent YEARS having my confidence destroyed because I accidentally hit “G” instead of “H” while Ms. Powers stalked the room with a stopwatch like she was training Navy SEALs.
I lived in fear of hearing…
“Eyes on your screen!”
Meanwhile these kids are over here looking directly at the keyboard like it’s a scenic overlook.
No hand prison.
No typing box.
No WPM score.
No panic attack because you only hit 42 WPM while Danielle somehow cranked out 97 like she was secretly an IBM supercomputer.
How are they supposed to become…
• Secretaries?
• Court reporters?
• Professional AIM chatroom speed demons?
• MSN Messenger warriors?
• The designated family member who types Grandma’s Christmas letter?
The older my kids get and the more I ask what they’re actually learning in school…
The more convinced I become that our generation was one giant educational science experiment.
We memorized cursive.
We diagrammed sentences.
We learned to balance a checkbook.
We survived the Presidential Fitness Test. MULTIPLE YEARS RUNNING.
We climbed a rope to the gym ceiling for reasons that STILL remain unclear.
Seriously…
One day they were training us like Navy SEALs.
The next day…
“Find your square dancing partner!”
WHY?!
Who was making these curriculum decisions?!
What life emergency were they preparing us for that required us to know both the Virginia Reel AND how to type 60 words per minute without looking?
We watched TVs get wheeled into the classroom on giant carts because that was basically our version of Netflix.
We grew up hearing,
“Don’t touch the TV! You’ll mess up the tracking!”
We had Oregon Trail.
We died of dysentery.
We printed banners with Print Shop.
And apparently we were tortured into becoming typing ninjas…
…just so our children could lovingly hunt-and-peck at the keyboard with two fingers while making eye contact with every single key.
I am owed financial compensation.
Or at the VERY LEAST…
A Kool-Aid Jammer.
A pack of Dunkaroos.
A Fruit Roll-Up with the tattoos.
And one of those little wax bottles full of sugar water that tasted vaguely like chemicals.
I’ll be outside eating popsicles if anybody wants to hang out.
My mom said it’s okay…
As long as we aren’t running in and out of the house because she isn’t paying to air-condition the entire outside!