I Was Thinking About…The Lost Art of Passing Notes
By Andy Lee
Long before texting, we Gen Xers honed covert communication skills by mastering the delicate art of passing notes. I’m talking old school scribbling on loose leaf between classes, triangular folds disguised as origami creatures. Slippery acts of folding paper fortune-tellers or craning just enough to slip questions three rows up when the teacher wasn’t looking. It was quite a production before convenient DMs and SMS arrived!
Yet more rewarding for those stealth successes. By high school I turned note writing into a tactical dance with as much satisfaction as pulling an epic senior prank. Except I used incognito ink exchanges to connect classmates rather than create chaos. Not gonna lie though, outmaneuvering authority while satisfying our need to chat had its own bit of James Dean level glory.
So how DID we manage effective note running without getting pinched by the powers that were? You can’t rush art, my friends. First came selecting the proper stationary. Three-ring binder tear-outs for quick questions, grocery receipt backs for gossip relay. Post-its if you were fancy. Actual notes went on notebook paper folded into covert rectangles called “zip notes.” Triangles too for accurate flicking across aisles into a pal’s waiting hands behind the teacher’s back while they were facing the chalkboard.
Of course proper passing procedure was key. Coded communication kept it DL, like using initials instead of full names to conceal identities in case interception occurred. You also sparingly sent—no rapid fire text chains here. Wait until teach got into their lecture rhythm fully facing the blackboard before making your move. Keep that index card bookmark slipped a few pages behind in your textbook too, ready to slide over evidence at the first sound of approaching sensible heels.
What kind of top secret info did we risk hard time in detention to share? Standard teenage agenda items, mainly. Who liked who, what parties we hit on the weekend, song lyrics and mixtape recommendations, weekend play-by-plays, bantering over football teams or plotting group movie viewings so we could separately relive key scenes through hastily scrawled recon.
Of course clammy-palmed queries asking someone to an upcoming school dance always proved high stakes. More nerve-wracking than even asking in person since reaction stayed unseen until a reply note hopefully got lobbed back your way. I’ll never forget strategically tossing a carefully worded invitation on neon green paper two rows behind me to a girl I never had guts to flirt with at our lockers. Watching my friend inconspicuously deliver my hopeful folded square across the room, then pretending to be very into logarithms chapter 12 as I awaited her response.
When her reply finally hit my elbow three minutes later, I almost fumbled it straight into the trash can. Little heart dotted over the “I” in “I’d love to!” Nothing like nearly blowing your cover over success. Gotta commit fully to not reacting! But inside? Pure joy. Being scared enough to risk asking AND boldly putting feelings on paper AND seeing them enthusiastically returned? Solid confidence boost even if I did use liquid paper to correct two spelling errors in my original request.
While today’s teens navigate high tech communication, these low-fi analog interactions built grit. Taking emotional risks through passing notes trained us in self-advocacy and handling rejection. We learned to be concise and compelling making written asks. Drafting diplomatic gossip required thoughtfulness. Honing nonverbal communication—notes had no tone!—prevented misfires. And gaining covert ops skills came in handy later navigating office politics or making reservations at an exclusive new restaurant.
Most of all, passing paper connected us. Physically crafting messages to share thoughts, jokes, interests, and feelings fostered focus. We couldn’t outsource communication to memes or gifs. It was intimate! These days our kids may text us from their bedrooms 20 feet away, but I’ll always have fondness for this old school analog art.
Stay crafty, keep writing! ✏️
I was thinking about... 