As I do every year, I start by writing my students a letter of introduction and asking for one in return.
I’m not sure where the time has gone, but this is my 18th year of teaching, my 7th year at Graded. This year, I teach 9th grade English, 11th grade TOK and 12th grade IB Language and Literature SL. I’m including below my letter to the 9th graders. I have another post coming about TOK and I’ll include my letter to them there.
This year, I wrote the first two drafts of my letter on my Lettera 32 typewriter. My plan was to write the final draft on the typewriter and then make photocopies. Unfortunately, I had a problem crop up with the typewriter. (The platen kept getting stuck and not rolling, and the line spacing when I pushed the carriage lever was either not engaging at all or adding 3 line spaces.) I moved to my laptop for the final draft on Google Docs. Still, all in all it was a lovely composing experience.
See my set up below:
And without further ado…
August 10, 2024
São Paulo, Brazil
Dear students,
Welcome to the 2024-2025 school year! My name is Mrs. Griswold and we will spend this year together. This is my 7th year at Graded, where I’ve been a middle and high school teacher. Some of you have been in my class before. I’m excited to have you back! I can’t wait to see how you’ve grown and changed. I have 3 kids at Graded: a 2nd grader, a 5th grader, and a 7th grader. My husband is a math and computer science teacher here. I am originally from the US, but I grew up in Mexico and Venezuela. I am fluent in Spanish and Portuguese. I went to an international school like Graded and I have an IB diploma. After high school, I returned to the US for college, where I went to undergrad at Case Western Reserve University, and graduate school at NYU. When I am not teaching or responding to “Mommy,” I like to play the mandolin, run, and write.
One interesting way I have been writing recently is on a mechanical typewriter. At the end of last school year, I fell down an internet rabbit hole of antique typewriters and ended up with a 1965 Olivetti Lettera 32 typewriter. In fact, the first two drafts of this letter were written on that typewriter.
My mom’s reaction to me getting a typewriter was to wonder why I would want to deal with the hassle of changing the ink ribbon, losing the ability to edit, the loud clacking, and the bulky weight when I have a perfectly nice laptop and Google Docs.
It’s a fair question. First, I just think typewriters are cool. All the complex mechanical parts and no electricity makes it feel like magic. As for the noise, I like it. Typing on it is a bit like playing an instrument—noisy, but expressive. Like an instrument, it’s hard work on the fingers to type on a typewriter. But I feel a sense of power that I can make the words appear on paper as I type. We all know the pain of needing a printer and not having access to one. With a typewriter, my words have immediate mass and presence.
But my mistakes are also immediately visible. I’ll admit it can be frustrating to see a typo or error, but it has two positive side effects. To begin, I have to slow down and think about what I’m typing. I think this is a good thing. We move so fast all day, firing off messages. Maybe if we all had to type a little slower, and see our words on the page, we might be a little kinder, a little more thoughtful. And finally, I have to be okay with imperfection. On a typewriter, you have to accept the mistakes and keep writing.
One YouTuber referred to a typewriter as a portable printing press. I love that. There’s a line from Gutenberg’s invention of the movable type printing press in 1440 in Germany, to me typing at my desk in Brazil in 2024—that’s rad.
And who could resist that little bell that dings at the end of the line? When I first got this particular typewriter, the bell was broken; it didn’t make a sound. I had to watch a bunch of YouTube videos about how to fix it. I took the machine apart, located the bell, figured out the problem and fixed it! I felt like I’d won a gold medal. If my laptop broke, I would not be able to watch a few YouTube videos and fix it. Typewriters are a cool mechanical puzzle, and I love puzzles.
You know what my typewriter doesn’t have? Notifications. I can’t swipe to a different window or get distracted by scrolling. If I need to pause and think, I look up, and in my case as I wrote this letter, out the window. It’s a lovely silent moment. And then I’m back on it, clacking away.
Wow, Mrs. Griswold, you are going on and on about the typewriter, but isn’t this supposed to be a letter of introduction? Okay, okay, but I’m hoping that you are learning something about me through this story.
The typewriter is a symbol of where I am this year and where I want to go. I like puzzles. I like fixing things. I want to slow down and embrace imperfection. I want to disconnect from some things to connect more deeply to others. I’m excited by new experiences. I like taking on challenges.
One big goal is that I want to disconnect from technology and connect more with myself and others. I want to embrace messiness and mistakes. I want to try things that are hard, complicated and slow. I hope you might be willing to join me.
Hopefully you are starting to guess that I might be the kind of teacher who sees learning and students as a fun puzzle to solve. Hopefully you see that I’m not expecting you to be perfect. Maybe you can see that I value a love of challenge and curiosity in my students.
By now, you’ve probably guessed how I feel about the new cell phone policy. 😉
Now that you’ve gotten to know me, will you write me your own letter of introduction? Tell me who you are, what’s on your mind right now, where you want to go. Also, if there’s anything important for me to know about you, this would be a great chance for you to share that. It’s due next class. This is our first formal interaction as teacher and student, so bring your A game and turn it in on time next class.
Now, I know you probably don’t have a typewriter of your own, but in the spirit of slowing down and connecting with your own words, will you write me your letter by hand? Remember what I said about embracing imperfection. And please don’t worry about your handwriting. Anyone who has been in my class before can tell you how bad my handwriting is—who am I to judge? Try to keep it legible, but I’m good at reading handwriting.
Warmly,
Mrs. Griswold