“I’ll Type My Way Out…”

When I was a small child, I had very bad handwriting. (I still do.) My printing was barely legible, so long as I wasn’t excited, but my cursive was a muddy mess. My teacher despaired of teaching me to write better.

One day, while I was taking after-school remedial lessons for my writing, my teacher said:

Teacher: “[My Name], with handwriting as bad as yours, the only thing you’ll be able to be when you grow up is a doctor.”

I did not become a doctor. I became a typist.