As the 2026-27 academic year begins, New Jersey schools are implementing some new old rules: students must learn cursive and students must not use cellphones.
The bell-to-bell cellphone ban is a rather obvious win for everyone. The cursive policy is less so. Why do parents and teachers care about cursive in a digital age? Was the decision to bring back cursive solely because children couldn’t read birthday cards from their grandparents? Was the chief concern that students of history couldn’t read crucial texts?
Perhaps these were discussions that went into the thinking, but more than likely, the cursive policy reversal, combined with the cellphone ban, has more to do with a growing recognition that the value of the physical world must be reasserted. The mere fact that the phrase “touch grass” has become part of the 2026 vernacular signifies a growing need to connect with the real, as opposed to the virtual, world.
A critical mass of people has now realized that humans are neither happier nor healthier because of ever-increasing digitization of significant experiences. Tangible, original items and experiences, whether they be a handwritten birthday card, a homecooked meal or a swift kick to a soccer ball, hold a sensorial value for human beings that simply can’t be outsourced to the digital world.
Yes, a birthday card can be typed, just as dinner can be Door Dashed and soccer can be played virtually, but there are great costs to this trade off. Cursive has been shown to improve letter recognition and boost retention of content. Eating mom’s homemade chicken soup builds secure emotional attachments for children. And perfecting a penalty kick develops muscle coordination. What at first seem discrete skills are actually the building blocks of happy and healthy human beings.
The Review is our way of putting our voices and values out into the world…
The 100th volume of the NJEA Review arrives at a time when practically everything can be digitized, which raises the question, “Why stick with print?” Print publications are time consuming and labor intensive to produce.
The answer to this question is the same as to the question of teaching cursive: the human experience cannot be outsourced to technology. Trust is not built through algorithms, and real readership is not mindless scrolling. Printed work asserts itself with a legitimacy and confidence that digital writing cannot. Once shipped, printed content cannot be deleted, edited or filtered; its writers must stand firmly behind their articles and be prepared to engage with those who disagree. Behind each hardcopy Review article is a name and a face and lived experiences that have been vetted for accuracy, relevance and usefulness. In 2026, print offers the reader a respite from the virtual lenses that so often filter, and arguably cheapen, our experiences.
The tactile and original nature of each person’s handwriting, recipe, penalty kick, prose or myriad other expressions of style is the act of creation; it is the act of putting oneself out there in the world. The Review is our way of putting our voices and values out into the world; it is our identity as a unified, powerful force. For 100 years the Review has reflected the interests, needs, concerns and accomplishments of our members—here’s to the next hundred.