Poetry from the Left Hand Side

 It was World Left Handers Day  on Wednesday. The day always causes me to reflect...

Amazingly, I learnt to write using my left hand. An achievement against the prevailing beliefs of the day. My very first teacher saw it as her mission in life to ‘fix’ the poor, wretched little boy suffering from what she clearly diagnosed as left handed disease. She must have thought, 'This child must be re-formatted! If he remains left handed he will be forever condemned to writing in a scrawl that no one will be able to read.'  She actually told me this horrifying fact regarding my predicted fate.

They took the pencil out of my left hand and placed it in my right hand. It felt unnatural. It felt weird. It was not right. More importantly, it was not left. Watch me I said. I may be a left handed oddball, but I am a determined oddball. I mean how boring would the world be if everyone wrote with their right hand?

So I dug my toes in –and my hands too, and steadfastly resisted efforts to change my natural desire to be a left handed operator! Left handed liberty was my goal, and eventually I got the right to choose, –if you’ll pardon the pun. It was good enough for Alexander the Great to be left handed, not to mention Queen Victoria, Joan of Arc and Leonardo da Vinci as well as writers such as Lewis Carroll, Mark Twain, and H.G. Wells.  I am in great company here people!

Famed Australian Indigenous author, Oodgeroo Noonnucal (aka Kath Walker) wrote about her experiences as a left-handed student in her memoir piece, 'The Left-Hander' in 'Hands Up' stories compiled by Barbara Ker Wilson.

 'I soon realized that the Education Department in those days considered it wrong for a child to write or sew with the left hand. There were many painful scenes when I refused to pick up a pencil with my right hand; many times the Head Teacher's ruler came down in full force on the knuckles of my left hand.'

I have heard stories of fellow left-handed writers having their left hand forcibly restrained to restrict them from doing what was natural. Thankfully, educators now have a more enlightened view of we left-handed writers. 

Not surpisingly, I persisted with my left-handed writing. I was not the fastest note-taker on the planet, but my writing was always legible, reader friendly. I was hell-bent on not being viewed as a scrawling scribbler. Sometimes the words of adults have long-lasting consequence - both good and bad. The initial diagnosis and the dire predictions of my teacher had a profound effect on my determination to prove her wrong.

I feel a sense of validation, when someone comments on the neatness of my writing .  Writing neatly, if I'm honest, became something of an obsession. I never forgave them for trying to control my natural desire to remain a ‘leftie.’ 

I have delved into my poetry archive and using my left hand, retrieved a poem that featured in my first poetry anthology, 'Searching For Hen's Teeth. It refused to be left out...

Leave My Left Hand Alone, Right !

When I started school

A prep still unbranded

They looked at me strangely

And observed

He's left handed !

Well I was just five

And my left hand felt right

I didn't consider its use was a blight

You'll have to change hands

Learn to write like the rest

The news didn't please me

I found it a pest

They handed me crayons

Scissors and chalk

All in my right hand

But this didn't work

I scribbled and chopped

I felt quite bereft

I desperately needed the use of my left

I didn't conform

I continued to fight

The use of my left

Was a personal right

So they left me to write

With the hand of my choosing

And to this very day

It's the left I'm still using.

Alan j Wright

From: 'Searching For Hen's Teeth -Poetry From The Search Zone, Alan j Wright'

It is Poetry Friday and our host this time is Heidi Mordhorst.

Heidi' s post contains news of figs, fulfillment and Kudzudoku poems.