On Poor Handwriting

Contrary to what my Handwriting Tag post suggests, I have atrocious handwriting. If, God forbid, I’m forced to write and think at the same time, it looks like I’ve dumped a can of Heinz spaghetti onto the page, hoping to Christ that someone else will be able to decipher it. Normally, that’s not a problem. But according to this article in the Guardian, it is.

Apparently, my loops and lack of (identifiable) space between sentences may ‘hinder’ my chances of exam success. Shame, really. I could have got straight A*s, in reality I’ll probably get 5 Cs and a ‘back up’ place doing Level 1 BTEC Hair and Beauty at Wiltshire College. My life just flashed before my eyes: instead of being in London at a theatre or bookshop or publishing house or gutter, I’ll be trapped in a town with less life than your average care home, trimming hair and saying ‘What do you think of the back, dear?’. All down to the fact that an examiner couldn’t read my handwriting.

I exaggerate. But I’m also slightly terrified – despite frequent reassurances from teachers throughout April and May that, if an examiner can’t read it, they’ll just send my paper up to higher powers. God, hopefully. Then, he would take pity on me, give me my predicted grades – with which I would be more than happy, because there’s no chance that I’ve actually got an A* in Physics (or Chemistry. Or Maths.) – and I could gallivant off to sixth form, safe in the knowledge that I was capable of redemption.

On the other hand, of course, I could have screwed them up completely, and college is welcoming me with open arms.

And I’d be welcoming a slanket (blanket! with sleeves!) and a family-sized tub of ice cream, so instead I could join a circus as the fat bearded lady.

I don’t think it’s fair that my writing could have an impact on my results. It’s legible (mostly), and at least I wrote something down. It’s not my fault that I ended up working through three (or was it four?) booklets in History, or that I was actually forced (shock horror!) to write and speed-search the folds of my brain for a time when I was challenged or whatever that bloody task was.

Hey, at least I’ve found an appropriate excuse for results day. Bring on Thursday!

(genuinely, I’m so tired of waiting, I just want to know)