THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, May 26, 1996 TAG: 9605240230
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 39 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Ronald L. Speer
LENGTH: 71 lines
Probably the decision that shaped my life more than anything else was electing to take typing in my senior year in high school. It was an optional course. All of the girls in the Class of '51 took typing, but only about half the 26 boys did.
The boys who took that era's version of word processing had to put up with a lot of razzing, because typing then was for ``girls and sissies.''
In my generation, men were divided into two classes - those who typed and those who didn't.
When three of us joined the Army, my non-typing pals were rushed to Korea, where they were in some of the hottest fighting. I scored high in typing tests, was put into the public information office and became a journalist.
My pals went back to the farm after the truce, and stayed there. I got a college degree, worked on newspapers around the country, and never went home to stay.
A quick check of my class shows that most male non-typists stayed put or took blue-collar jobs. Most male typists went to college, never looked back and went into white-collar work.
But a very unofficial survey indicates that there was no obvious edge financially or otherwise for those of us who typed.
That's not true anymore.
Youngsters of 7 or 8 who can't sit down and play a computer like Beethoven pounded the piano as a child prodigy probably won't have a prayer when they grow up.
Becoming computer-wise isn't an option for today's kids. And, thankfully, educators no longer hold the opportunity back until the last year of high school.
The second graders I joined in Manteo Elementary School's Computer Pit a few days ago already are becoming old pros at what now is known as keyboarding.
Andrew Ray, 8, of Manteo, punched a few keys, grabbed the mouse (I won't explain the computer terms, since I'm not sure what they mean and the kids looked at me like an idiot when I asked them what they were doing) and plugged into Sammy's Science House.
Three pictures of a train and a tunnel popped up, and Andrew quickly shuffled them around until they were in the right sequence. Bells and whistles heralded his success.
Nearby, 8-year-old Daniel Wilson of Manteo was learning science and computers, too.
His color-drenched screen was filled with alligators and kangaroos and birds and turtles and other strange critters. His challenge was to put reptiles in one basket, pouch-bearers in another, two-leggers in another, four-leggers in another.
Mouse in hand, Daniel put the kangaroo in the pouch basket, the birds in the basket for two-leggers. . . and with only a couple of mistakes, he had quickly cleared the slate.
The computer screen turned noisy somersaults to celebrate Daniel's success.
And computers can turn on even the least motivated of students, who may not enjoy books but thrive on games, Claudia Twiford said.
I asked the Manteo Elementary guru of computers why kids can learn to work with them so quickly and so easily.
``Children are risk-takers,'' Twiford said. ``They're not afraid of failure, so they'll take chances.''
She didn't have to point out that oldtimers like me don't like to admit ignorance and are terrified of failure, so we approach these newfangled machines with trepidation or terror or scorn.
Second-graders look at them as exciting companions. I can't imagine what kind of wonderful things they'll be doing on computers when the class of 2006 graduates.
But I was comforted when Twiford announced a special reward for their behavior - Popsicles for everybody!
Some of my favorite things will never be out of date. by CNB