Life takes a pretty big turn in the 3rd grade. One minute everything’s all gummy worms and Pringles, and the next thing you know Ms. Buzzkill drops a bombshell–you’re going to be learning cursive. But what’s sold as classy and useful is really the biggest waste of time since that Intro to Basketweaving course you took in community college. Cursive is a skill reserved for calligraphists and grandmas, and I’m willing to accept that. I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that my signature on all of my important documents will look as though an 8-year-old is trying to forge their parent’s signature to skip P.E. Needless to say, I never got to skip P.E.