He dropped onto the edge of my bed, flopped back, and flung one arm over his face, covering his eyes.
He sighed, then started to talk, hesitatingly at first and then more evenly as he found his rhythm.
And I typed. Mother, as stenographer.
Just one more role of many.
Shorthand (economics?)
I had a flash of myself in Junior High School – you know, when it was called Junior High School. Boys attended “shop” and learned to make metal oddities, the result of nuts and bolts, grease and soldering and other things girls weren’t supposed to need to know. And we were entitled to suffer through “home economics,” wherein we learned to use a sewing machine (and make clothes), as well as, ostensibly, how to boil an egg – and then some.
Theoretically, we were learning necessary life skills for the future. But while I sewed because it seemed to me to be creative and practical, I had little interest in anything that went on in the kitchen. I stubbornly refused to learn (and still managed to attend college, thank you), and eventually fed myself, a husband, and family with a just-in-time approach in adulthood.
Typing class
As for Junior High, there were other tortures, and wonders. There was Typing Class. And Gregg Shorthand. Only for the girls, of course. Yet this felt useful – I could type my stories, poems, and papers. And the squiggles and dots and lines? They were like magic – glyphs and mark-making. Art and practicality. I loved it, and actually used shorthand throughout college and into graduate school, mixed with more traditional note taking.
But who would have thought that typing and shorthand would be part of my ongoing role as parental stenographer?
My typing past 
There were my years of tap-tap-tapping on a worn blue Smith Corona, the one that got my mother through college in the 1960s. Later there was an IBM Selectric (which seemed awe-inspiring at the time), and I can hardly think of the 1970s aesthetic without picturing that boxy but remarkable machine. Another Selectric got me through the 80s, and since – a series of laptops. Two Thinkpads, two Dells, and more keyboards than computers, with my rapid-fire typing tendencies.
I typed at temp jobs for extra bucks in high school. I did the same through college. I typed term papers for money in business school. And later, there were IBM punch cards, a French keyboard in Paris, 20 years in a corporate life (no administrative help except for the executives). My freelance work – of course. And now this, these years as parental stenographer.
Dictation motivation
Little did I know that my role as a motivator of dictation (and consequently, typist) would become an essential parenting skill. And there I was, last night, my son’s computer on the fritz, and me, taking dictation. The all-important essay for a summer program, deadline just a week or so away. Fortunately, he had the beginning of a draft on his thumb drive, so into my laptop’s USB port it went. Up came the document in WORD, and down onto my bed went the adolescent, struggling to keep his mind on task.
Just as I had for his brother so many times, I gently coaxed him to “talk it like you’re having a conversation, and I will type.” It’s an effective method. What kid – or adult for that matter – can’t “just talk out” their thoughts? From that, you have a draft. Then it’s a matter of shaping and editing. He knows how to do that. It’s that first gust of wind, the initial push of words. That’s the toughest part. Beginning. Anything. And then you get into the rhythm of the effort, and you go with it.
Experience
I had to encourage my older son to “talk his essays” from an early age, and for many years. Both of my kids (thankfully) want to use their own words. My elder, in particular, could never seem to get himself started. But once I tried the “talk it” method (age 13), he was flying. Talking was his thing. My 90 words per minute could hardly keep up with his dictation! And as a draft poured out and filled a page or two, he was able to take his own work, and go from there.
By 16, the need to say “just talk” and play the subsequent stenographer role was over. Instead of just talking, he was “just writing.” No muss, no fuss. As for the skinny kid dramatically stretched on the edge of my bed last evening? We’d never needed dictation before. He would procrastinate. I would nag. Then he would just do it. Very Nike. But this was different, and as we head into pre-college and college applications, I suspect my role as stenographer will be cranking up again.
Shorthand and supporting roles
This morning, there’s a list in scribbles (shorthand?) – pressing items that have to do with both kids. I need to run a forgotten tennis racquet to the High School (been there, done that). I need to talk to a Guidance Counselor about my son’s official transcript, his SAT scores, and letters of recommendation. All need to be coaxed out of overworked teachers and administrators, and ASAP, because these are some of the tasks that should have been done before Spring Break. And weren’t.
Yes, I could say “forget it” to my son. But he’s been swamped, working harder than I’ve ever seen, and last night, now rested (his break), he could evaluate more clearly. After painting his room (long procrastinated), doing the dishes (without protest), and reading the course details online, he said: “This is a great program. This is perfect for me.”
Exactly.
The exasperated sigh was rising in my throat, but I kept the lid on, and just nodded. I’ll be dashing here and there all day for my kid, figuring out how to expedite the paperwork and processes for this application. There’s no guarantee he’ll get in, of course. It’s highly competitive, and as for scholarships? Uncertain. But stenographers know their place. Supporting. Taking dictation. Gently reminding. Knowing when to keep quiet, and get the job done.
You May Also Enjoy
Ahh, the days of typewriters. [Was the IBM Selectric a typewriter or a word processor? A word processor got me through high school (and the night that I accidentally deleted my U.S. History term paper in one errant keystroke).]
You’ve got me thinking about the other ways in which parenting is like stenography, about how much of our kids’ lives is about spewing (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) and how much of ours is about recording and editing.
Ahh, a delicious metaphor on a delicious morning. Thanks, BLW!
A few comments:
I remember taking a typing class in junior high. I used my parents Smith Corona typewriter, an old heavy beast whose ‘e’ key stuck. Later they purchased an electric that I learned to love because it was so much faster.
I wrote a post on How To Hard Boil Eggs that has been surprisingly successful in driving traffic to my blog.
My children are younger than yours but I find myself working with them on their writing projects and using similar tactics. Lots of encouragement and prodding so that they can tell me a story that we can then write down together.
Jack – I love the old typewriters. (And peek at my “how to boil an egg” – it’s about parenting, and other things. And how to boil an egg! Yes, good for SEO.)
I love this post. The balance of being completely involved and yet behind the scenes all at the same time. There is nothing quite like it. Your son is lucky to have you in both places (at once?)
Also? I was given the “Most Improved” award in typing class in 10th grade. Watch OUT, 90 wpm. I’ll take you on!
I think too often we expect children to be miniature adults. But of course, they’re not. And I do believe they need our support to get there. Sometimes, though, I do struggle with how much to lend a hand and how much to let the consequences come naturally.
Love your idea of talking it out!
“Supporting. Taking dictation. Gently reminding. Knowing when to keep quiet, and get the job done.” – I only wish I will know when to do what. I’m not the “keeping quiet” kind but at least I know I need to sometimes. It’s the doing part that will take some practice.
Oh, I remember shop. I made a tackle box and cast metal ashtray.
Your post conjures vivid recollections. Thank you.
Love your advice and support of your boys. You give them such love with a solid base for life. As they leave the nest and go on to starting their own families they will be better for it. Well done. Have Fun, Jim
Poking, prodding, praising – “spewing” as you say, Kristen, and yes – documenting. All with seemingly endless coaxing, cajoling, counseling – and switching up the tactics non-stop, because what works keeps changing. Who would have known we need all these skills?
On that note, I’m out again on the second run of tasks for teens. Sounds like it ought to be a support group. Any takers?
🙂
I learned to type on one of those old fashioned typewriters. I remember being so annoyed at how HARD you had to thunk down on the key in order for it to hit the paper. I did, however, love the hard thunk! of the carriage return. It was very satisfying to fling that lever back.
And boy, do I hear you on the procrastination. Just trying to get any information out of my stepson is torture. We keep nagging him about SAT/ACT registration and all he does is shrug. ARRRRGH.
I hear you on the SAT/ACT procrastination! You might be amused at this: https://dailyplateofcrazy.com/2009/08/06/life-before-google-sats-a-connected-world-a-great-omelette/
Stenographer Mom: 90 WPM and 90 MPH. Hope you get errands run, materials collected, counselors coordinated in time for the application.
My son does well with the talk-it method. Whenever he gets stuck on an essay, I’ll suggest he write like he’s telling it to his friend. And voila – out pours the essay.
SAT/ACT dates and registration deadlines can be found online, TKW. I would encourage both for stepson if possible. Two of my kids did much better on the ACT as it is shorter sections than the SAT.
BLW – I remember shop. Yes, I was the errant girl who took shop in junior high. I loved it. One year I took shop, the other year home ec. Loved them both. I still sew, solder and cook.
The Selectric … I used one during personal typing. I am not as fast as Jen but can easily hit 75 words a minute on a standard keyboard. Less due to errors on a laptop keyboard. I loved that class. I was finally typing differently than my father – who, though he was a newspaper man for 43 years, never typed with more than two fingers.
I feel for you on the summer applications. I found those to be harder to coax the children through. College was something that was built up. Summer programs that required letters of recommendation, transcripts, etc. were not. I am the parent the guidance office loves/hates. I want those college apps done by October, September if you are playing a fall sport. Guidance is not always ready/able to respond. LOL!
Kudos to you, Wolf. As you said, you could have told him “forget it” but parents do what it takes for their kids. Just amazing what you’ll do for your offspring, that careful balance of supporting while also letting go.
Oh I’m glad this brought back fun (funny?) memories for some. Nicki – you’re the “shop” girl! Cool. (I think I would’ve liked it more than home ec.) And Stacia, I may not be at 90mph today, but I’m sure at 55 and still going. 🙂
@TKW – you’re a plunker too! (Kills keyboards though.)
@DM – “talk-it” – I like it. Sounds better. And it really does work.
@Eva – the letting go as well as supporting – yes, that’s the tricky part. Letting go, especially.
On that note – I’ve got to make my fourth run to the high school (for the day). Scottie – beam me up! Maybe 90mph is right after all.
I hated sewing class but I liked home-ec cause we could eat what we made. EVERYone took typing in my HS. I would’ve loved to take shop but it wasn’t happening for girls. Love how you got your son going with his thoughts that way, writing an essay in his mind. A whole different set of skills. Oh, but parents of teens arent’ involved in schoolwork, right??
I remember typing class (but I took it in high school) and shop, where I made a candelabra and was mostly glad that I didn’t lose a finger on the jigsaw nor run the drill press through my hand. Off to college in my day was with the high-tech humming electric typewriter that saw me through most of graduate school… and those typing skills helped pay the bills through many years of struggling in different temp jobs from Wall Street to Hollywood. The thing I think is most useful about writing on word processing programs is the relative ease for editing and rewriting… and the irony is that so much language is now dashed off, texted and the like that the ethic that writing is rewriting may be going the way of the stone tablet and the papyrus.
Awfully nice of you to be your kid’s girl Friday on Sunday.
BLW, I hate being the stenographer for my kids but mainly because both of them refuse to learn keyboard skills on line so they use me as their typist because hunting and pecking for keys is so bothersome. But I never thought of just sitting them down and having them dicate a paper to me. Maybe in the fall after my son gets to high school (if I live through the next 6 weeks…).
When I taught community college English for my amazing one semester, though, I did tell my students that all conversations are like a five-paragraph essay. When you (they) call people they have a topic, they have examples, they have a conclusion, they may even have quotes and sources (in the form of gossip, but still!) So, I get it.
I started my academic career with an old Smith Corona typewriter that was heavier than a car! On the bottom it said “Made in Groton, NY.” I never realized that I would eventually spend most of my life in that little town as a public school educator. Ironically, the summer I moved to Groton, they tore down the Smith Corona Building. I look back at all of that as foreshadowing. Not only ending up in Groton, but having that town/career tear me down. I have now moved my base of operation to a new town and a new career where there is active support and foresight as well as a positive, team oriented culture. There will be no more typewriters weighing me down or no buildings being torn down in my life – the my narrative now flows freely and effortlessly.
Very personal symbolism for you, Steve! (Glad you’re loving the new job.)
I am so hopeless at the domestic arts. My parents forked out their retirement savings so I could go to a school without home economics. My mother had to make her graduation dress — and sewed the collar on backwards — or that’s the family lore. Her teacher is rumored to have said that someday she hoped mom would have 100 kids to teach how to sew! I’m just grateful that, with the advent of the computer, I can help my own children without feeling like a moron.
Shorthand…that takes me back. I’ll bet teenagers today would have no idea what it is, kind of like albums existing before CD’s or heaven forbid a tv without a remote! Sorry, went off on a tangent. Hope all goes well with your son’s application and he gets in.