Saturday Morning With Jack Tame

I still remember the exact seat where I was sitting.    It was 20 years ago, and I was primed for one of the key exams in my tertiary education. I’d passed Teeline shorthand at 40 words a minute. 50 words, 60 words, 70 words. To progress on my journalism course and ultimately earn a degree I had one final challenge: I had to pass a Teeline shorthand exam at 80 words a minute.   We learnt Teeline from a wonderful tutor, a woman named Julie with exacting standards, a wicked sense of humour, and a way with words. She’d peer over your shoulder when you were tracing out different characters.   “That’s a squitty-looking outline,” she’d say with a wry smile.  The moment I realised I’d passed 80 words a minute, I walked up to the front of the class and kissed her on the cheek. It took five months of work with daily lessons. I drilled myself with cassette tapes at home. But in a stuffy room on Madras Street, finally, I’d done it.  But here’s the crazy thing. That was the very last time I