Dyspraxic handwriting

How six hours of exams exposed one of the physical challenges of my undiagnosed dyspraxia

June 1998. The World Cup in France. Ronaldo, Zidane, Bergkamp. 

The final summer before the digital revolution truly gripped the planet. Very few own a mobile phone; barely anyone has actually used the internet.

Meanwhile, an 18-year-old me is sitting a pair of three-hour, essay-based A Level exams on the same day. At this point in my life I know I’m different – the friends I’d grown up with are learning to drive and are working on building sites, both of which sound like alien pursuits to me – but I don’t yet know I’ve got developmental coordination disorder.

Nobody’s even mentioned it as a possibility.

28 years later I vividly recall the sensation as the second exam finished. I emerged from the hall with my hand shaking, mildly spasming, feeling like normality would never grace it again. I was hospitalised when I was three, having spilt a hot drink that had been carelessly left around. This post-exam pain was the most extreme sensation I’d felt since. 

Nearly three decades on it still has no rival. 

Why was my hand shaking? Because, as I’ve since learned, many dyspraxic students have an uncomfortable pen grip. This can make handwriting both slow and uncomfortable – discomfort turning to pain if we write for too long. Six hours’ furious scribbling had taken its toll.

I have two types of handwriting as you can see in this blog’s image. One is the slow version, which I rely on when I need others to decipher my script. The other is the quick, messy version – okay for note-taking, when the only person who needs to read it is me.

What I would have done for a word processor!

Thankfully, the world is catching up with neurodivergence. My daughter, who is also diagnosed with DCD, has recently had exam-access arrangements recommended by her diagnostician following some tests. One is that she has a word processor. I think this will be a game-changer for her because, like me, her handwriting is exceptionally slow. 

She can produce grade-eight GCSE English answers if she can type; but gets overwhelmed with stress if she has to handwrite. The problem isn't her ability to think of good-quality persuasive or creative prose. It's the physical act of handwriting quickly enough under examination conditions. Hopefully, the recommended accommodations will serve her well.

I wish someone had given 18-year-old me a word processor. Twenty-eight years later, I'm very glad that my daughter won't have to discover the same thing the hard way.

Another small step on the path to a neuroinclusive society.