My relationship to handwriting has transformed and grown alongside me. One of my earliest memories of handwriting was when I was in first grade. My teacher asked everyone to hold the infamous Ticonderoga #2 pencil, and she walked around the room checking how we each held our pencil. For every student that was holding a pencil incorrectly, she gave them a pencil grip object. As she neared my desk, my heart was beating quickly in fear, and next thing I knew, she dropped a grip on my desk. My face burned red with shame. I also saw the look of embarrassment in the faces of others who were told that…