Your struggles with handwriting made me think back to my own struggles.
I was pretty much a reader when I entered the first grade which in the rural school that I attended put me way ahead of everyone else.
But although I could read, I couldn’t tie my shoes as I had issues with left and right.
Back in the day, parents didn’t want their kids to be left-handed.
Later in life I jokingly accused my parents without evidence of slapping my hand when I did things as a toddler with my left hand.
Even today I write with my right hand and I use my left hand for a computer mouse.
My hand eye was very good to write although I wasn’t fully writing cursive in the first grade as I remember I could sign my name in cursive.
But when recess in the gym came around I couldn’t tie my shoes even in the second grade.
I’m sure the other kids made fun of me behind my back but not to my face.
I was one of the biggest kids in my class and such a confrontation might have caused them some pain as kids in those days routinely exchanged pushes, shoves, and punches.
It was a good and humbling lesson learned early.
I never felt “superior” because I could read and I never felt “stupid” because I couldn’t tie my shoes.
I learned early on that everyone has a different set of strengths and weaknesses.
For the record sometime in the second grade I kinda figured out how to tie my shoes.
It takes longer and the process looks awkward, but when I’m through my tied shoes look like everybody else’s.
I still tie my shoes every morning the same way.
I have always thought that being left-handed must have been a curse for some people. And the the Italian word for “Left” is “Sinistra”, so the Italians viewed it as some kind of liability. Or people who didn’t speak Italian did!
Funny. I got bullied a good bit as a kid, and while I was bigger than some, and very strong, I was clumsy and slow. But I learned a lot from being bullied that stays with me today, and one of them is that humility you mentioned, so that I avoided picking on others and my inclination to stick up for someone being picked on.
I didn’t like it, and eventually learned to stick up for myself, but I wouldn’t trade that experience of being bullied. It was valuable.