How to write in cursive

I am looking for experiences transitioning an older primary child to Montessori from either parents or guides.
We finally moved to an area that has authentic Montessori schools, and have finally received a spot at our desired school after 1.5 years on a waitlist (August 2024 start date). He would remain in the program through upper elementary (there is no middle school option in my area), so this would not be a short term stop for him. He would start in a primary classroom and likely transition to elementary within a year due to his age.
My son has been at a regular run of the mill academic focused daycare since about 1 year old and is finishing up his “pre-k” year.
He is neurotypical, no known disabilities (although I do suspect some slight attention issues - I myself have ADHD but managed to thrive in Montessori as a child). He is empathetic, sweet, and very social (another of my concerns in switching to montessori). He is an excellent reader, loves art, and of course playing (what kid doesn’t). He is very eager to please and is used to having a lot of engagement and routine in his current / previous schools.
My question is - how do children at this age adapt to Montessori when they have been accustomed to such an extrinsic motivation system? How can I prepare him to succeed during the transition period? I am primarily concerned with his happiness at this point, I overall trust the Montessori philosophy in terms of skill/ content acquisition and we have many Montessori materials in our home.
A side question, the school we got a spot in teaches only cursive. He has worked very hard on his print writing in his current program and is rightfully very proud of his work. How should a guide approach this with him as to not discourage or put down the hard work he has already done? What should I look out for?

I’ve recently just started using fountain pens and re-learning cursive. My main struggle is writing words in one go. I always start and stop especially for longer words. I don’t know if it’s how I’m holding the pencil or what, but any advice on how to improve in that regard.

I'm walking through a bustling underground train station. I push and shove my way through all the other commuters onto the platform. As I look around, there seems to be endless rows of platforms in both directions, stretching well into a dense fog. Further ahead, neat lines of railway tracks extend out from the fog and through the platforms. I instinctually look up at the info screen
Next train in ### minutes
I furrow my brow, squint to try and focus on the numbers but they're heavily pixelated and illegible. I look around at the other commuters, who stream onto the platform completely unaware of the anomaly. Most people are on their phone, or wearing headphones while some are talking to each other. No one seems to notice the malfunction with the screen.
That's when the absurdity of the situation clicks for me. Endless platforms, a wall of fog, unreadable numbers and people that don't care. It's all a dream. I bring my hand up to my face and pinch my nose, trying to breathe through it. An old reality check I remembered from back when I was trying to learn to lucid dream.
My heart rate jumped when I realised, that I couldn't breathe through my nose. Before I could even process this, another problem presented itself. I didn't know why I was here. I didn't know where I was going and I definitely did not know how I even got here. It seems as if reality ceased to exist right before I walked onto this platform. Just like it typically feels in a dream, you spawn in out of nowhere and don't really know what happened prior - except this wasn't a dream.
I knew I was sure of it because deep inside my bones I felt this anxious urgent message. I need to catch this train. It was a primal feeling.
At this point, my head is spinning and I need to sit down somewhere. I choose a silver bench with a middle aged woman sitting on it. She shuffles further to the left as I sit down next to her clutching my head and racking my brain to try and figure out what it is happening. This is what amnesia feels like, I thought to my self as I gnawed at scraps of messy muddled memories. Each image that came into my mind was just a fragment - A school, a library, sickeningly white walls. It hit me that I didn't even know my name. I was starting to hyperventilate but then my body kicked into autopilot. I started to take deep breaths, focusing on my diaphragm and calming myself down. It felt like I was trained to do this. I started to focus on the current situation.
Where was my ticket? Instinctually, I knew I had to have gotten one on my entry to the train station. I reached into my pockets and pulled out a scrap of paper. Scrawled in very familiar cursive:
*In case of memory loss, read the journal in your backpack*
Strange message but I didn't have any choice then to at least give the instructions a try. I removed my backpack and rummaged through it for the journal. I wouldn't really call it a backpack - more a tattered and frayed bundle of cloth that was reminiscent of a backpack. I finally found a series of small thick journals, bundled in cloth with their leather covers on the verge of disintegration. The pages still seemed in good condition though. Each cover was sequentially labelled which I'm guessing corresponded to the chronological order of the writings within.
The lady next to me was weirdly getting agitated. She kept stealing glances, her body shaking and eyes burning with a fierce rage. I slowly got up from the bench and began to step backwards. My backpack bumped into a pillar. The dull thud it made seemed to cause a drastic change to everyone around me though. They all snapped their heads, locking eyes on me and staring through my very soul. I felt exposed.
The rumble of an arriving train stole away their attention and within a split second everyone was ignoring me again, going back to their usual activities. It seriously felt like I had just imagined it and it was becoming more and more clear that I was having some sort of mental breakdown. Nevertheless, as the train slowed to a stop on the platform, I walked into it and found a seat. The train seemed to be old and new at the same time. Typical blue seats with abstract dirty patterns complete with a modern sleek interior of gentle curves clashing with a boxy dull metallic exterior and doors that looked like they belonged on a rusty submarine.
I opened the first of the journals and began to read. I soon realised that the handwriting was mine and within the next few moments I was attacked by a barrage of memories that had remained repressed and buried in the back of my mind.
*
My name is Jacob and I have been stuck here in this place called *The Limbo* for an eternity. When I say 'eternity', I don't mean it lightly. Back when I used to keep track I counted over 500 years through my wristwatch that never seemed to run out of battery. Now I know counting is meaningless. There have been periods like this where my mind falls into a deep trance and I lose my whole identity as I mindlessly wander in this place much like the entities that inhabit it. Occasional periods of lucidity breach this trance and then I find myself lost and confused. It's why I keep the journals with me. I think its some sort of psychological survival mechanism that human brains develop when faced with the infinite vastness of The Limbo.
Speaking of The Limbo, I've come to learn a few things about its nature through my stay here. Some of its been through people that I've come across (Yes others are also stuck here) and some has been through my own experiences. Perhaps the most important is the question of where I get my food and water. The answer is weird. I have never felt hungry or thirsty. The sensation of having cool water slide down my throat remains a memory so distant that it feels like the snippet of a childhood dream.
I guess the next natural topic about this place would be time. Through various experiences of mine (that you'll get to read about) and discussions with others, the leading theory of mine is that The Limbo exists outside of time itself. While I myself have fallen here sometime during 2001, I've met many others from various years like the 80s, 90s and even one recent fellow from 2043.
Most people in The Limbo eventually fall into a trance, withering away until they become one of the entities or become mere tools for them. It's probably naive but I keep going through this place with only two hopes. The first is to somehow get out of here at the right time point and see my son, who I never got to see. The second is to come out of this place and die so that I no longer have to live out the empty agony of eternity (I'll explain how you can't age or die in The Limbo later). Perhaps my hopes will dwindle as the centuries pile and I will become just like those who I look upon in pity now.
I am writing this consolidated diary of my experiences for several reasons. I'd like someone to know of my unending journey in this place. To be aware of the capacity of the human spirit to keep going in the worst of situations. I have never had a long term friend in The Limbo, but know that I consider you the reader a dear friend even if I never get to meet you because you will know my story. I'm also sharing this in hopes that there is more awareness of The Limbo. Perhaps the military and scientists can actually figure out what it is. Perhaps all of us can be brought home. Or maybe this can serve as a survival guide to those who may be unfortunate enough to fall through.
There are small holes in The Limbo. Most of them are barely large enough for a pinkie finger to fit in let alone a person, but sometimes I've come across one large enough for this journal to go through. I'm not sure what time or place these holes lead to, so the safe passage of this book into a person capable of reading it has about the same chances as me ever leaving this place.
The train I'm on supposedly leads to the edge of The Limbo, where the holes are large enough for humans to fit through. It's really more of a legend amongst the poor souls that are trapped here and I've followed trails and clues for a long time to even find this train.
There are only two ways this goes. Both outcomes would lead to you reading this book in your hands. I'll either find my way out of this hell or give up hope and slip this journal through a Hole. You will find my fate at the end.
I should stop rambling now though. It would be best to start at the very beginning.
*
I was rushing out of work in pure ecstasy. My wife had gone into labor while I was at work and been rushed to hospital. I needed to get there fast. People were glancing over at me over their cubicles in confusion as I packed up my work bag and rushed out to the elevators. I couldn't stop thinking about seeing my first son as the elevator made its way down. The elevator doors finally opened and I rushed out.
The ground entrance of the building I worked at, particularly near the lobby, is an intersection of various hallways. I was already walking to close to the wall when someone came rushing around the corner and bumped me right into the wall. I was only able to hear half their apology when I fell *through* the wall like it was just a holographic projection. In hindsight, I find it oddly funny how easy it is for a life to get ruined. Just when you think you've got it all, when everything is going smoothly, a small incident like that is enough to take it all away.
I found myself in a room that resembled a classroom. It looked as if someone who had never stepped inside a classroom was asked to imagine the space. Desks were arranged in messy uneven rows with the chairs facing various directions. The board at the front of the room was a seamless patchy mixture of both chalk and modern whiteboard and mounted way too low on the wall, nearly hugging the floor. A large teachers desk sat in the front of the room. The walls were filled with posters of absolute gibberish along with diagrams and pictures that seemed like they showed something tangible but no matter how close you looked you could never identify anything in the picture.
The initial confusion was replaced by an immense panic. My heart was drumming against my chest as I searched the room for a doorway to exit it. My mind was trying to rationalise the situation. I was trying to convince myself that this was just some old part of the building and I had fallen into a hallway instead of the wall.
I ran through the doorway at the far end of the room and found myself in a large hallway that seemed to extend forever in both directions. The walls were a muted grey and the floors were that typical dirty linoleum. Soon I would find out that the regularly spaced doorways on either side of the hall led to other nonsensical classrooms.
I ran down the hallway screaming for help in pure panic, which was a terrible mistake in hindsight. I stopped running down the hallway when I suddenly heard the distinct scratch of chalk against board. In this large empty space, the sound echoed and boomed. Since I was still refusing to buy in to the reality of the situation, my hopes were momentarily increased by the supposed presence of another person here.
I slowly walked over to the doorway that the sounds were coming from. My stomach filled with an uneasy dread. This deep primal instinct within me urged me to hold back. I peeked carefully in the classroom and saw a woman with their back turned to me drawing something on the chalkboard.
It took me a few moments to notice that it was a very realistic portrait of my face.
She was drawing lines across my throat, her long dark hair swaying as she drew in the details. The drawing was completed with a terrible slash across the throat, blood gurgling out. I was frozen in place, transfixed on the hauntingly beautiful realism of the picture.
She began to turn around slowly while humming a high pitched tune. To this day I can't describe the face I saw. It is still etched into my mind. A face full of so much hatred, so much anger that I don't think its possible for a human to make that face. It expressed an emotion beyond human understanding. No artist in the world could ever render the expression on the paper. No words could describe the pure fear that coursed through my veins as she stared at me and began to approach.
I turned around to run, only to realise that a bunch of school children had gathered around me. They were headless, the bleeding stumps dripping thick blood onto the floor in a rhythmic patter. Somehow they were laughing.
I shoved through the group and ran down the hallway. I wasn't sure where I was going. My whole world had shattered and now I was completely aimless in some nonsense dimension with horrors beyond imagination that wanted me dead.
*
The extract above is from this journal I found at the foot of a large tree on a hiking trail. It's a miracle that I spotted its faded leather cover given that it was almost buried under rotting leaves. I really don't know what to make of what I'm reading, so I'll be slowly transcribing bits of it in separate posts over the next few days.
I know this subreddit is good for this sort of stuff. I'd love if someone else could share anything they know about The Limbo. This whole journal feels like some sort of prank, but the words and memories within feel way too real.
I can't help but feel a connection to this story. My mum doesn't speak much of my Dad, who I know left before I was born. No one ever found out where he went.
I was born in 2001
X

Hey, there! I often come back to places like these in hopes to try and write to others. I don't care where in the world you're from; I like all good people who wish to connect to others around the Earth.
I want to try writing again because I feel I'm better mentally than how I was since a couple years now. If you're still reading, let me introduce some things about me and you can see if we're compatible.
I like:

1. Horror films or suspenseful things and thrillers or psychological horror.
2. Drawing, digital art, crafting stuff for cosplays, and writing stories/role plays.
3. To cosplay in my city whenever there's an event.
4. Karaoke and singing.
5. Collecting Pokémon plushies and figures.
6. Learning other languages and teaching them as well.

There's a lot more I'm sure, but maybe so far if you're interested you can send me a DM or invitation to chat!
I ask only a couple things please:

1. Don't use cursive too much as it's difficult to read unless your penmanship is spectacular (mine isn't so great).
2. Write as clearly as you can as I have poor sight.
3. I'm not looking for anything other than friendship.

Thank you! I hope we can write together!

Hi all. I would like to recommend the most interesting work by Ernst Axel Knauf. I will quote the most interesting quotes (from my point of view) here. But I still advise you to read the entire article, as it is written in a very accessible and understandable language.
author's profile at the academy: https://unibe-ch.academia.edu/ErnstAxelKnauf?swp=tc-au-28366493
read the article: https://archive.org/details/arabo-aramaic-and-arabiyya-from-ancient-arabic-to-early-standard-arabic-200-ce-600-ce
"Nabatean Arabic became some sort of standard Arabic as early as the second century bce, but it was a spoken, not a written language, and it was, in the beginning, of no interest to anyone outside the relatively small circle of Arabian international traders and shippers. It became a written language between the third and fourth century ce in post-Nabatean texts.96 500 years of Old Arabic–Ancient Arabic coexistence and/or diglossia can now be considered."
"The Nabatean script is a cursive script. It was developed for writing on “paper” or its ancient equivalents. It reflects the needs of a society of traders who had to keep accounts and set up contracts. Only secondarily, with the onset of conspicuous architectural consumption at the end of the first century bce, their utilitarian cursive script was put to lapidary, epigraphic use. Unfortunately for the perception of Nabatean society through modern eyes, it is their “luxury” (and basically non-essential) written record which dominates the data base, whereas the main output of Nabatean scribal activities, the papyri, have only survived in meager installations, like the Nabatean papyri from the Babatha archive.106"
"With the imperial crisis of the second half of the third century, Greek lost its splendor in the East: the Parthians' Sasanid successors wrote Middle Persian (and Aramaic, for that was the language of their economical powerhouse, the Iraq); Arabs ( if not Christianized) turned away from both Greek and Aramaic."
"Aramaic, no longer in use for written business transactions among the Arabs themselves, remained present in pre-Islamic Arabia from the fourth through the sixth/seventh centuries through the Jewish and Christian communities which felt no urge to translate their scriptures into Arabic; a fact which one day early in the seventh century ce would instigate a failed merchant from Mecca to give his fellow Arabs a “liturgy” or “recitation” (in Arabic: qurʾān) in plain Arabic, obviously being of the opinion that the other monotheistic religions had failed, or neglected, to do so."
"From time to time the assumption resurfaces that the Arabic script did not develop from Nabatean Aramaic but from Syriac. It can be traced back to early Muslim scholarship,128 but it has no other argument in its favor than the relationship of the written word to the line: while Nabatean is sublinear (the letters are hanging from the line), Syriac and Arabic are supralinear (the letters are standing on the line). This feature can be explained by the easier assumption that Nabatean writing (the origin of all individual letters) was influenced by a Syriac adstrate in Arabian scribal practice during the fourth and fifth centuries ce. (Hoyland, “Language and Identity,” 196, with n. 50.)"
"Cursive writing with diacritical points indicates that throughout the fourth through sixth centuries ce Arabian merchants continued to trade merchandise and to keep records of their business in the Early Standard Arabic which they had inherited from the Nabateans.144"
"The cultic origins of Poetic Old Arabic with its archaic and, in prose and everyday speech quite superfluous case-endings are, especially since the discovery of Avdat 1, no longer questionable. On the other hand, Luxenberg has reopened the question of how pagan (instead of non-standard Christian) pre-Islamic Arabic really was.151"...
I’ll stop at the most interesting point, the article is very informative, be sure to read the footnotes and bibliography. Good luck.

This was about the 2021 Free-Response Questions Handwriting prompt. Just looking for # values of my thesis, evidence, and sophistication.
Although some argue that handwriting instruction is beneficial in helping students develop certain skills, to a greater extent, handwriting instruction is not needed in today’s schools because the aforementioned skills aren’t directly proportional to handwriting and the world is evolving into a society that lacks the need for such writing skills.
Handwriting instruction has no place in this globally changing society that is geared more and more towards technology. Technology has no doubt pervaded into our school systems on a global level. Kids in elementary schools are receiving chromebooks, ipads, and even laptops. This is even the case for my own situation, in which I was given a chromebook for assignments in fifth grade. However, schools have continued to implement handwriting practice into daily routines, and for what reason? The opinions are starting to sway against teaching handwriting skills, however. Teachers themselves are stating that they believe we need to do away with the practice and “move on”(Source A). It is not only an individual basis level, however, as even forty one states have implemented courses that omit cursive from their curriculum as a whole(Source A). The fact that not only individuals are rebelling against this “archaic [...] communication” but also a majority of states on a national level are doing so highlights how change is what the nation wants. Specifically, technology is making the teachings of handwriting obsolete. The keyboard allows students to be “quicker on the keyboard” and can help them be “better writers as handwriting takes up less of their education”(Source C). Others agree with this sentiment that doing away with handwriting can give more time for education in other subjects too. For example, some articles are saying that handwriting is taking away time that could be better prioritized for “essential life-skills” like finance and programming(Source E). The sentiment of teachers, editors, states, and more, is that handwriting has no place in a society that is evolving.
The supposed skills that come with teaching handwriting at our schools are lacking in direct benefits. For example, some argue that handwriting activates cognitive and fine motor skills because it requires knowing what to write and how to use motion to write as such(Source D). However, this assertion could be applied to any scenario. Say painting: it requires a vision of what to make and the skills to create the work. However, why is painting not a required curriculum in many schools? This basic line of reasoning has been pointed out by others too, with one pointing out how “playing the original Super Mario Bros helps develop fine motor skills”(Source E). Knowing where to jump or which pipe to take is the equivalent to using your cognitive skills while inputting such decisions into your controller is using motor skills. However, schools are not requiring 15 minutes a day to gaming. This comparison between handwriting and Super Mario Bros underscores how the perceived benefits of handwriting are, in reality, not inherently needed. Another point of view to highlight is that while handwriting instruction may have benefits, they are highly constrained to when one is in school. In Source F, for example, it is shown that the use of paper over technology is heavily prevalent but in K-5. In Source D, it is said that elementary-age students were found to write more during their time. However, these assertions do not take into account the realities of our society. Children are not in the growing technology-focused workforce. Children will not have the time to take such liberties when having to take quick notes in high school or college. Children will be losing out on time that could be used to develop other more important skills.
Overall, the practice of handwriting instruction is not needed in today’s schools because the overall consensus agrees with such and the supposed benefits of handwriting do not outweigh the loss.

I hate that I use this account to post these sad rants but this is my new way of trying to explain myself. I’ve let months go by simply by accepting I’ll die soon.
I had my first serious attempt yesterday (none have come this close). Mother’s Day. Who does that ? My whole immediate family including young kids (my first baby cousins) came over. Usually at these parties I’m one of the best dressed, on making drinks, somehow am also the entertainer and the one to get the kids to sit/eat. Can’t even imagine my family getting to the house and finding me lifeless. Yet I still tried to die. Due to my appearance and having avoided my family for the last few months.. everyone asked me if I was “okay”. I was pretty good with avoiding these pursuits of answers by helping in the kitchen and playing with the kids. No sane adult is going to force you, an adult, to start explaining where/what you’ve been when a kid is playing with you or your hands are occupied. I pathetically took advantage of this. I’ve always been relatively close to my family but I’ve burned ties twice now. First time around this time last year and second time we are currently in. What got me out of that first time ? I’m not really sure. I think I just knew I had to try one more time before really giving up. There were some cornered moments and while my loved ones were just doing what family does (checking in) I just kept replaying my attempt that occurred precisely two hours before anyone got there. I wore a dress with a collar. This collar was important because my neck was extremely bruised and looked scratched. My attempt if not apparent by now was by partial hanging. I put makeup on it and left my hair down to cover. It wasn’t enough but this goes to show how good I was with avoiding eye contact and being investigated. My sister isn’t easily fooled. We were setting up some food before people arrived and she asked me what happened to my neck. I didn’t even take the time to come up with a story just in case. Was it a cry for help? I wasn’t going to let it be. I somehow blamed it on my necklace scratching me when I took it off. To this second I don’t know how she believed me or the conversation shifted. Must have been a combination of my tone/mannerism and her just going with the flow because I was actually present. I haven’t been with anyone in so long. My isolation has ruined everything. Anyways I put more concealer and kept a smile for my family. My dad walked into the gathering with flowers for everyone. After greeting everyone he approached me with my own orchid and a trinket for me. I am not a mother but he made it a point to include me and to remind me he thinks of me. The trinket can be described as a decoration for a table. An all in all thoughtful gift. It has in cursive “live the life you love, love the life you live” with a clip I’m guessing to add a picture. I immediately grabbed it, turned it around so I wasn’t reading it anymore, somehow changed the conversation and he being my father (I believe knows me more than I think), took the hint to walk away. I’m grateful he did because I was about to have a mental breakdown. I somehow held my tears back and forced my attention back to my baby cousin which wasn’t hard she was drawing and wanted me to see. After a bit of this she wanted to go by the front of the house to play and her mom was there alone. This is down a hall away from where we were. I felt time move slow as we made eye contact and my mouth go dry as the space between us was closing. I knew what was coming. Everyone else was congregated in the kitchen and family room. A simple what’s up how have you been was about to send me over the edge. I didn’t even notice I was holding my dads gift in my right hand. She grabbed my left hand and instinctively said “wow I’ve never seen your skin this pale it’s like porcelain”. She didn’t mean it in a bad way just stating a fact. I looked at her and as my eyes started tearing up she let go. She asked me if I was sad and I said I can’t talk now because I’ll lose it. Thing is once I start I can’t stop. I told her I needed to go to the bathroom. She called her daughter said we need to talk I said okay and went to my bathroom upstairs. As I stared at myself in the mirror now completely alone I realized just how different I have to look to everyone. I looked at my dads gift and really started crying. After a few sobs I somehow managed to stop crying and fix my makeup a bit. I went back down to the party mostly to try to prove I’m okay and avoid being a topic. I know this was the bare minimum thing to do. I know this isn’t who I should be. This weekend coming is a bigger party. Point is I barely survived yesterday. I’m one of the youngest in my family not including the baby cousins. That being said everyone is older and has way more stressors than me. They either have kids, their careers, more bills, and whatever else. These people manage to go to every party, maintain conversation, and overall be apart of the family. I 23 unemployed overweight believe I can’t get it together. I can’t be apart of anything. I went through college and from the moment that last semester ended didn’t know what the fuck to do next. Before my attempt yesterday morning I spent an hour on a suicide hotline. I never admitted to the woman on the phone how close I was to the edge. This is what I wrote down after the call “I told her almost everything. The isolation, how I let myself go, and how I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I couldn’t actually say what my plan was. The lady was really nice. We agreed I should face everyone and get professionally evaluated. I didn’t really mean it. I’m going to die before I face anyone and I couldn’t tell her I can’t tell anyone. She was a really nice lady. I wonder if she’s a mom. It’s Mother’s Day. Mommy I can’t do it. You were always there for me. Always answered me. I can’t answer you anymore. I wish I could’ve talked to you. I wish I would’ve just talked. For what it’s worth I do love you. “. My mother called me around 9AM Mother’s Day morning. Said she needs help getting gifts ready and I told her I felt bad. She said how everyone is worried and I have no reason to be this far gone/sad. I somehow got the conversation to end. She ended saying I was going to be okay that we’re going to get me a therapist just have to get through mothers day and next weeks party. I said I love you and immediately tied the belt around my neck. I was seeing black, choking, ears ringing, and arms shuffling. Something came over me and I got myself out of it. I didn’t even cry. I went to my bathroom showered, got dressed, and you know the rest. Now I’m here 4 o’clock the next day writing. I have spent the whole day in bed. I think subconsciously I’ve let myself go into this isolation to weaken my body. For it to be easier for me to die and severed connections for it to be easier for those around me. I don’t know what I want from writing this down. I know my throat feels sore and I think I want to know why this is happening. I want to somehow try to put a reasoning behind everything. Somehow find a way to maybe really talk to one of the people that care without breaking down and shooting blanks with my mouth. I’ve tried even though it looks to those around me I haven’t. Thanks for reading.. comments are sincerely appreciated.

Next part from The Lost Women of NXIVM:
PRODUCER: Do you have the suicide note?
HEIDI CLIFFORD (As “Anonymous Classmate”): (Reading purported “suicide note” aloud): This is a copy of the suicide note.
“I attended a course called Executive Success Programs, aka Nexium (sic), based out of Anchorage, Alaska and Albany, New York. I was brainwashed and my emotional center of the brain was killed and turned off. I still have feeling in my external skin, but my internal organs are rotting. I’m sorry, life. I didn’t know I was already dead.”
“No need to search my body.”
Was this potential suicide letter in Kris’s car coerced?
Was it her willingly writing it?
You don’t know.
As we have discussed in previous posts, nothing about the Kristin Snyder missing person case makes any sense whatsoever, and the purported “suicide note” found in her vehicle is certainly no exception.
Before we start analyzing the “suicide note,” here are a few factors to keep in mind:
• We know through information from multiple sources that Kristin was a prolific journal writer and letter writer, so we have a plethora of writing samples to compare with this alleged “suicide note.”
• We refer to “the writer” in our discussion of the “suicide note” below. The reason for this phrasing is because the actual writer of this note is unknown. Did Kristin herself write it, either as a explanation for killing herself, or for the purpose of faking her own death? Did someone else write it to make her disappearance appear to be a suicide? Was part of the text written by Kristin and added to by another party? Was the entire note faked? Was the note written by Kristin, but under duress/coercion as Heidi pondered?
• See notes under each section below regarding clear discrepancies between Kristin’s baseline writing style based on the hundreds of writing samples we have obtained from multiple sources through varying times throughout her life.
Now, without further ado, let’s take an in-depth look at this “suicide note” – line by line.
“I attended a course called Executive Success Programs (aka Nexium) based out of Anchorage, AK + Albany, NY.”
• Who is the note intended for? There is no salutation. We have tons of samples of Kristin’s letters and there is always a salutation – AND a date. If this is really her “suicide note,” why wouldn’t she address it to her partner Heidi, friends, coworkers, and/or family – as she always had addressed people in her letters? Similarly, wouldn’t she document the date of the most significant letter of her life, as she did routinely with her letters? In fact, she often even included the specific time (for instance, 7:15 p.m.) that the letter or journal entry was written.
• In addition to a salutation and date on other writing samples, Kris also typically indented her paragraphs and she also usually wrote on each line of the paper in her letters and journal entries, unlike this “suicide note,” which does neither.
• Related to the numerous writing samples we have acquired though multiple sources, Kris also primarily wrote in cursive in both her letters and in her journal. This “suicide note” is an odd hybrid of cursive and print.
• Why would anyone start a suicide note with “I attended a course…”? Clearly, the writer of this note is directing the reader to correlate ESP with the disappearance, but it seems like a very odd place for anyone to start a suicide note. Also, Kris attended two courses, not “a course”; a fact that Kris would have clearly known.
• “aka Nexium” is another oddity. Kris did not take any NXIVM classes, not even one, despite the extensive recent propaganda linking her to NXIVM. Why? Because NXIVM did not even exist at the time of Kristin’s disappearance; it was still in the planning stages. The writer had obviously heard about these plans as evidenced by the phonetic spelling. Again, it is obvious the writer of the note is clearly directing the reader’s attention to ESP/NXIVM – but if Kris were distraught enough to write a suicide note (and as functionally incapacitated as reported by her partner), why/how would she focus on minutiae like this?
• Speaking of minutiae, it gets even more obvious in the next words: “based out of Anchorage, AK + Albany, NY.” First of all, WHO CARES where ESP was based? That is in no way pertinent to the reasoning, and apparently is another clear attempt by the writer to direct the reader toward ESP/NXIVM. Secondly, this information is actually wrong. ESP wasn’t “based out of Anchorage, AK” – they held classes in Anchorage in a rented hotel space. The home base was in NY. Furthermore, Kris knew very well that this information was wrong, having recently visited their NY headquarters herself weeks before her disappearance!
•The words “based out of” (city, state) are odd as well. None of Kristin’s other writing samples did this. Nowhere does she mention elsewhere that anything is “based out of” anywhere in any of her copious writing samples we have obtained.
• Furthermore, why would the note say “Anchorage, AK” anyway? Presumably, Alaska law enforcement would be able to deduce that Anchorage is in Alaska without this unnecessary clarification.
“I was brainwashed + my emotional center of the brain was killed/turned off. I still have feeling in my external skin but my internal organs are rotting.”
• If Kris was brainwashed, she wouldn’t know (at least at the time) that she had been brainwashed. Again, this seems to be yet another clear attempt by the writer to direct the reader to look at ESP.
• Furthermore, if Kris finally did realize that she had been brainwashed, why would she then kill herself?
• The writer switches “my” and “the” in a sentence – something Kris never did, even once, in the hundreds of pages of writing we have obtained. The sentence should read “the emotional center of my brain,” not “my emotional center of the brain.”
• Another oddity is in the redundancy of “external skin.” Again, this sort of mistake does not appear to be Kris’s style, based on other writing samples. She had a Master of Science (M.S.) in Biology and she worked as an environmental consultant to the National Guard. She was a precise, clear, scientific, and articulate writer.
• This passage clearly implies that Kris was suffering from Cotard’s syndrome; per WebMD: “People with Cotard’s syndrome (also called walking corpse syndrome or Cotard’s delusion) believe that parts of their body are missing, or that they are dying, dead, or don’t exist.” We have talked to multiple people who Kris had visited in her January 2003 trip immediately prior to her February 2003 disappearance, and nobody reported any observations of any mental health issues, suicidal ideation, depression, psychosis, nor delusions of any sort. All of the people who discussed Kris’s reported mental health decline stated that they had not personally witnessed any symptoms, but rather, they were told of a rapid decline following Kris’s disappearance.
• If Kris thought she was already dead, why would she kill herself?
“Please contact my parents Bob + Jonnie Snyder at (number redacted) in Dillon, SC if you find me or this note.”
• Why would she specify to contact her parents, who lived out-of-state? Why not her partner? Why, in fact, is Heidi, the love of her life and civil union partner not mentioned AT ALL in the entire note?
• The inclusion of Kris’s parents as the sole contacts listed in the note contradicts a specific story told at the time of the disappearance alleging that Kris had uncovered memories of abuse during the class and that these purported memories were the reason/a factor in her alleged suicide. But: if that story was true, why would she include her father in the note? It should be noted that there is no evidence whatsoever that Kris was abused. As with the alleged rapid mental health decline, people who reported that story were not told of the purported abuse by Kris themselves, but rather, they were told of the purported abuse allegations after her disappearance. In fact, we even have been given a copy of a text message exchange in which the person who spread this abuse claims refers to it as “the lie.” This is yet another example of the myriad of inconsistencies and contradictions that plague Kris’s case.
• Why mention “Dillon, SC”? There is already a phone number given, so the city/state is irrelevant, and also, it is not her typical style. Again, it seems like someone with a quirky tic to mention a city and state wrote this.
• “if you find me or this note” is similarly nonsensical. If someone found her but NOT the note, they wouldn’t see the note, would they? Again, this oddity of wording is inconsistent with Kris’s typically precise style.
“I am sorry, life, I didn’t know I was already dead. May we persist into the future. KRISTN (sic) SNYDER”
• Again, if she thought she was already dead, why would she need to kill herself?
• Why is she addressing “life”?
• “May we persist into the future” is interesting. “Persist into the future” is a phrase used in ecology, which could potentially mean a couple things: a). Kristin wrote this herself; b). Kristin wrote this phrase elsewhere and someone traced/copied it onto the “suicide note”; or c). the writer had seen a document that referred to this phrase and used it.
• WHO LEAVES A LETTER OUT OF THEIR OWN NAME???? The second “I” is missing in “KRISTN.” Furthermore, as mentioned earlier, Kris predominantly wrote in cursive and she typically signed her name in cursive as well. Why, in the most important document of her life, would she BLOCK PRINT her name, and even more bizarre, why would she leave a letter out of her own name? The writer appears to drop letters and cram letters together, but there is no evidence from other writings that Kris did these things.
“No need to search for my body”
• Why was this written on the BACK of the page on the “suicide note”? And why was the note left inside of a notebook to begin with?
• Kris was a member of the Anchorage Nordic Ski Patrol, and therefore, she was involved in search and rescue. Therefore, she would already know that THEY WOULD SEARCH FOR HER ANYWAY. Also, more importantly, why would she intentionally hide her own body and therefore put her colleagues/friends on the search and rescue team through the extensive trouble and potential dangers of conducting the search for her?
• Why write “my body” on the back of the page but write “me” on the front of the page of the note? That is yet another incongruity.
• Why the emphasis on not looking for a body? The writer clearly has a very specific reason to mention this; there is a reason the writer does not want the body found. It is very rare for a person to want to hide his/her own body, and even more rare to be able to successfully do so.

So, I've been trying to learn how to write in Old Roman Cursive, but there seems to be many different ways to write each letter, and the sources I've been using seem to conflict on almost all of them (A is the only letter that seems to actually stay the same throughout all of them). The sources I've been using are:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXWUL8ieBgE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQu2zKYdIWw
https://www.omniglot.com/writing/romancursive.htm
https://sites.dartmouth.edu/ancientbooks/2016/05/25/ancient-fonts-rustic-capitals-old-and-new-roman-cursive/
https://coriniummuseum.org/schools/resources/roman-writing/
https://www.detailedpedia.com/wiki-Roman_cursive (full image is on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roman_cursive )
I've also been using LLPSI to learn Latin, and the Epistula Magristrī chapter (as well as an image on p259 of some carving from Pompeii) has some Old Roman Cursive that I transcribed onto a notebook, so I have that as well to reference.
Anyway, the conflictions between all these sources has me wondering which I should rely on. The person on this 9 year old Reddit post said he used the the second link I provided, but the detailedpedia source and the first YouTube link both seem to use the same letters (the omniglot and dartmouth links also use the same letters), so that's two sources that actually agree... originally I was actually going to compare each letter with each source and use the form for the letter that the most sources used, but I don't want to accidentally mix dialects or something, and end up writing E's like I'm from Ostia while writing my P's like I'm from Pompeii, or anything like that.
Anyway, what do you guys think? How should I pick which source to rely on? Or is there other sources that are more accurate than these, that I should be looking at?
P.S. Some of the letters are even considered New Roman Cursive in some of the sources, but put under Old Roman Cursive for other sources, to make things even more confusing (e.g., the "New Roman Cursive" E in the coriniummuseum link and the third "Old Roman Cursive" E in the omniglot link are identical)
P.P.S. A couple of other sources I excluded, as I haven't actually looked into these two too deeply: https://www.reddit.com/latin/comments/f7wtc2/breakdown_of_the_cursive_used_in_ancient_roman/ https://www.reddit.com/latin/comments/ecgk4a/old_roman_cursive_variants/

1. Lamy 2000 Brown LE with 18k Broad nib [A2] The pen writes great and looks even better. It has a nice milk chocolate appearance that really sets it apart. It comes with all the goodies completely unused including a book, a Lamy leather notebook and some other fancy items...oh and the pen. photos and timestamp $425 shipped
2. Pelikan M1000 Green 18k Medium Nib [B] This pen is a classic. It is huge but can be used daily and it writes so well. Usually these pens are buttery smooth but this one has a very slight bite to it. The ink flows will and it has a lot of springiness to it. Comes with the original box and sleeve. Photos and Timestamp $475 shipped
3. Visconti Homo Sapiens Bronze Age Skylight 23K two-tone Palladium Nib Medium Cursive Italic [B] This is such a good pen. I wish Visconti would keep making them. It is the best of the Crystal Dream and the standard Bronze Age in that it allows you to see how much ink you have without taking away from the great lava resin barrel. I had the 18k nib replaced with a dream touch because I prefer the look and feel of the palladium. This one writes well with good flow and spring. This one has a bit of a bite to it. Comes with the box Photos and Timestamp $675 Shipped

I received a long-lost letter that my Uncle wrote years ago about the abuse I was suffering. In the letter he mentioned I hadn't been home in several nights, and I told my mom, "she was not my mother."
I had ripped out the dictionary definition of a mother. "Gives birth to. Loves and cares for" I told her, none of those things were her.
I then ran away and lived on the streets for two years. I was accepted to SCSU at 13, and my mother was disgusted that I was so weird. I was autistic, but she only told me on her deathbed that this is why she hated my for so long...and that she was sorry.
I am 48 (f) and I thought that I was done with all this trauma. But seeing it in the handwriting of my Uncle, reminded me how dire it all was. How disturbing it all was. How real it all was.
I once went viral for allowing an abused son and daughter to publish an obituary! I almost got fired for letting another tell their story, but for me, I have kept it all to myself. I thought there was no reason to bring harm to others, negating the damage it did to myself.
I have been in a spiral in the month since I received this, along with other thoughtfully collected books from my Uncles estate. I don't know how to express any of this to anyone who knows me. How dysregulating this all is. I have tried to share it with some friends...but they don't read cursive and also don't get the gravity of knowing, in writing... the evidence...I did not make it up.
I just overcame it all, few who know me would ever guess.
But my kids, all adults now, both called me today and thanked me for me being the best mom in the world. I thanked them for teaching me how to be a mother. Moment by moment...how can I be there for you? They taught me.
Happy mothers day.

A few years ago, I had a job that required me to sign stacks of documents. My boomer boss insisted this be done manually, even though DocuSign existed. She just didn’t understand the idea of electronic signatures. So each Friday I’d sit down and sign my name over and over.
One day she is standing over my shoulder as I’m signing and she freaks out. “Wait a minute, what are you doing? You’re signing your last name wrong!”
I stopped. “What do you mean?”
“That’s not how you write an ‘L’ in cursive,” she said. “You need to learn how to write properly in cursive.”
“This is how I write my ‘L’,” I said.
She then proceeded to Google a cursive “L” and told me I needed to include the top and bottom loop, or my signature wouldn’t be legal.
I pulled out my drivers license and showed her my legal signature, and she shook her head. “They never should have allowed you to get away with that,” she said like I was committing some sort of crime.
What is their obsession with cursive?

frq from the 2021 exam : https://apcentral.collegeboard.org/media/pdf/ap21-frq-english-language.pdf?course=ap-english-language-and-composition
note : i’m self studying for the exam and this is my first ap lang essay ( and my first essay in a long damn time in general ) . i know it’s crazy that it’s my first with the exam being so soon, but it is what it is. i tried to get chat gpt to grade it based on the rubric, but it gave me a 5 and to me that’s unbelievable. anyways, i’m open to constructive criticism to improve my skills with the time i have left.
here is the essay itself :
Thesis :
While cursive in the presence of digital technology is not necessary, hand written instruction, such as print, should still have a place in schooling because of the cognitive benefits; relevance to daily activities ( specifically in schools ); and the use of it in scenarios where the use of technology is not available or an option.
P1 Concession
To begin with, it is easy to admit that handwritten instruction in schools is not necessary in the digital age.
In the classroom, traditional writing has been “swapped for keyboards” and “blocking cursors” while “some teachers believe that cursive is archaic and that students should be prepared for more contemporary communication” ( Source A ) so that they may “ become better writers as handwritten instruction takes up less of their education ( Source C ), for this type of instruction is only emphasized inside the classroom and “the move outside our schools, and in innovative schools, is toward technology.” ( Source A )
This evidence confirms that cursive is not necessary in today’s educational programs because of the need to instead prioritize how the majority of our communication is done.
However, since handwritten instruction is not just made up of cursive, and benefits of it can still be achieved without having to dedicate the time to learning cursive, handwritten instruction should still have a place in school.
P2
Unlike the former point, handwritten instruction ( such as print ) has a place in schooling because of the cognitive benefits developed when taught compared to fully transitioning to only teaching forms of modern communication. When it comes to the opposition of handwritten instruction, most people focus on the cursive part of the argument as if handwriting consisted of just cursive and not the printed word as well. Both give cognitive benefits to whomever is taught it, but only one is necessary to be taught to receive the enhancements.
For example, “ Because handwriting is a complex skill that involves both cognitive and fine motor skills, direct instruction is required to learn handwriting ( it is not good enough to just give a workbook to students and hope for the best. However, the result of good instruction is that students are benefited in their cognitive development and fine motor skills.” Specifically, when taking handwritten notes students more effectively retain information, comprehend the content, and have more focus during lectures compared to students who took notes on a computer. They are also less likely to “...have problems retrieving letters from memory; spelling accurately, extracting meaning from a text or lecture, and interpreting the context of words and phrases.” As well as expressing more ideas and writing longer compositions. ( Source D )
This evidence supports that handwritten instruction should still have a place in schooling due to the cognitive benefits because it illustrates what benefits are present in students when they are exposed to handwritten instruction as opposed to disadvantages when they are not.
Consequently, since students are put in an advantageous position in contrast to those who rely on writing on keyboards, educators should consider whether prioritizing the focus on the digital age is actually hindering the educational progression of their students. Therefore, Handwritten instruction should be a part of the learning experience due to the fact that its absence would decrease the quality of their education.
P3
In a similar manner, the relevance of handwritten instruction in daily activities ( specifically in schooling ), has made it necessary to still be taught in school. The data “of a 2013 survey of 450 elementary school teachers that asked how much of their time students spent on writing on paper and how much of their time they spent using technology” concluded students spent the majority of their time writing on paper compared to using technology and as you move up in the education system you see that over time they use less and less of technology in contrast to using paper. ( Source D )
This evidence proves that handwritten instruction is relevant enough to be taught because of how much students still use it. Consequently, since the usage of handwritten instruction is still relevant in the lives of students, it should not be removed from their education. Therefore, due to its relevance in education it is evident that handwritten instruction still has a place in education.
P4 ( maybe i should’ve removed this… it’s outside evidence )
Equally important is the usage of handwriting where technology isn’t accessible or an option. Solar flares, simply not having access to an internet connection due to circumstance, or even knowing that technology is not inherently secure ( data can be sold, obtained, or silenced ) can make it so that you cannot type what you want to express. Having the ability to write on paper allows you to have access to a written of communication even in these scenarios. Therefore, being taught how to write by hand gives you an alternative in an ever-changing world where you cannot control or know what will happen next.
another note : i know it’s pretty bad. my commentary should be more developed and link back to my thesis, but i would like someone’s advice on what and how i could do better.