I was born left-handed. Until first grade, I was confused which hand was my left and which was my right. Whenever my teacher would say raise your right hand, I always hesitated. "It's the one you write with." "Oh," I'd say and confidently raise my left hand. Everyone else in class raised the other hand.
When I was "transitioning" to being right-handed, I'd also have teacher's marginal note in almost every page of my notebooks. "Please improve handwriting."
So when Gabby's preference to write with her left hand became apparent, I encouraged her. Everyone else around me who had an opinion on the subject told me to teach her to write with her right. I said no. Let her be.
Well, Gabby always has a hard time finishing what she has to copy on the blackboard. But she's too lazy to practice at home. So I devised various games, tried to use my charms (duh!) on her, played the role of a stern mother - all to encourage (or maybe force her) to do writing exercises at home. But Gab comes up with excuses everytime.
Just tonight, Grandma told me that Gab again failed to finish copying their lessons on the board. To avoid another sermon from Grandma, Gab wrote at the bottom of the page: TO BE CONTINUED.