I love writing.

My favorite thing about writing is connection—to the characters and the story, yes; but also just the simple connection of pen and paper. There’s something about the feeling of the pen in my hand and the sound of it crossing the paper and the magic of seeing my words come to life on the page. I find it calming, pure, and uniquely intimate. Much more so than typing ever is. Typing is impersonal and half the time we don’t really remember what we typed or only fragments. But pen and paper engraves it into our minds. There have been studies that have proven writing notes with pen and paper causes a connection with the material in our brains infinitely better than typing on a computer. I realize the tech giants own the American education system, but if I had the power, I would remove all technology from the classroom and return to thee days of textbooks, pen/pencil, and paper. Return to the days of computer labs that were only there for final draft essays to be typed up and printed out to turn in after all other parts of the planning process—brainstorming, outlines, rough drafts—were done on paper with a writing utensil, not a keyboard. As a teacher who has watched student literacy and writing skills steadily deteriorate since the mid-1990s, I say we join with the Nordic countries and our own Silicon Valley and take the screens out of our classrooms.

Rant done. Soapbox gone. Back to me and my paper. And by the way, the irony that this blog is being typed on a computer is not lost on me at this moment. Nor am I saying we shouldn’t use to computers to write anything. What would the world be without email? Less immediately connected, of course; but more intimately connected, too. Teaching my students how to address an envelope is something I never thought I would have to teach a teenager. The fact that I do is sad. Getting mail—not email, but an actual physical letter—was such a glorious experience. Now, even Christmas cards and birthday cards are digital. You can’t hold digital in your hands and store them with a ribbon in a keepsake box to bring out and go over again and again, reliving the feelings the words on the paper evoked. Emails, snapchats, posts, they’re all fleeting, impermanent for the most part. But a tangible piece of paper lasts. That’s connection.

Even the smell of paper stirs memories. I mean, really, anyone ever get a perfumed email? Or the whiff of the sender’s cologne? Or pipe smoke? (Yes, I’m remembering someone with that pipe smoke reference.) You can’t send someone’s scent or essence through Snapchat. That’s part of the connection of pen and paper. It’s personal, real, connecting.

My journals are some of my most treasured possessions. I love reading through them to laugh at my childhood writings, cry over old heartbreaks, gloat over triumphs, and find joy in my growth. I love my early mornings with my coffee, the sunrise, my dogs, and my journal. The writing brings me joy and calms my anxiety—as does the growly snores of my two bullmastiffs leaned up against me. These moments are important and I wish more people took the time to stop and connect. I wish I could get this across to my students—the importance of connecting with not just your writing, but your thoughts, your mind, and your audience. Writing isn’t a chore to get through for a grade or assignment or job. It’s a lifeline.