Germany’s Staedtler has been making pencils for a long time, and unlike many of the American brands that seem to have consolidated to one or a handful of pencil lines and variations over the decades, they’re still putting out more models of wood-cased, graphite-leaded writing instruments than you can shake a…well, a pencil at. To name a few, you’ve got the Noris, ubiquitous throughout western Europe; the high-end Mars Lumograph; the Norica, which we’ve reviewed here before; and many more, including some I probably couldn’t name off the top of my head. Sometimes it’s hard to keep the hierarchy and niche of all of them straight.
For today’s review, I dug out a box of yet another offering from the noteworthy maker of writing supplies: the Staedtler Tradition pencil, in grade HB. Made in the company’s homeland of Germany, these pencils are perhaps almost as prolific as the Noris in that part of the world and, despite looking almost identical except for the color scheme, are apparently positioned one notch above their yellow-and-black kin on the pecking order of office and school pencils. So, let’s have a look at how the Staedtler Tradition functions, and compares to its siblings!
It’s September. Here in Alaska, the State Fair is over. Labor Day has come and gone. As Florence says, “the dog days are over”; at this latitude, it is officially unofficially fall. That means the kids have been back in school for a few weeks. School means tests. And tests mean filling in stupid little bubbles (or at least they did back in my day). In fact, I got an e-mail not too long ago reminding me to remind my eldest daughter to sign up for the PSAT.
For this pencil review, I wanted to do something...different. I dug through my pencil drawer, looking for a package of something that wasn’t yellow and or unlacquered. Something exotic, unusual, or just plain weird. And then a flash of silver struck my eye: ah, yes! The Musgrave Test Scoring 100! The perfect pencil to review as the youth get settled back into the groove of reading, writing, arithmetic, and filling in little ovals and boxes.
…something yellow, number four-eighty-two? Thought the Mongol pencil was dead? Think again!
My travels this summer took me to Costa Rica, where I was pleased to see that the Mongol Pencil — now made by Paper Mate — is alive and well in Central America. In fact, I think this was the pencil I encountered most commonly on the shelves of shops in Costa Rica. I haven’t cracked the bubble pack open to try it yet, but when I get the urge to, I’ll be sure to write up a proper review of it. Until then….pura vida!
It feels like the world might just be slowly going back to normal (side-eyes at you, Delta Variant). Lately, I’ve been picking up a few of the old hobbies that I’ve put on hold for the past year or two as my routine adjusted to life with COVID-19. One of those hobbies is writing this blog. I mean, if you’re reading this, I must have hit publish on a pencil review so that much is obvious (hopefully there will be more to follow soon). The other is travelling. Earlier this year, once my vaccinations kicked in and I felt not totally irresponsible about venturing out into the world, I spent two weeks in and around Rosarito, Mexico, in the state of Baja California. It was awesome, and it felt good to get out of ‘Murica for a while. iMe encanta Mexico!
Not only did I have a great time, but I picked up a few boxes of pencils while I was out and about. Today I want to review one of those pencils: the Dixon Metrico, in No. 2 grade, model number 1910. I was drawn to this pencil because it’s not one I have ever seen in the States or elsewhere. While many Dixon/Ticonderoga pencils are made in Mexico and imported to the United States, and Made-in-Mexico Ticonderoga pencils seemed to be as prolific in B.C. as they are here in Alaska, the Metrico appears to be not only made in Mexico but also made for Mexico. I was immediately curious to see how it compared to some of the other Dixon products that we are more familiar with in the States. So, today, I’d like to report my findings on that subject.
Howdy, folks! Guess what? I’m not dead. I just kind of turned into a potato thanks, in part, to COVID. After falling off of my routine over the past year or so, I’m trying to get my butt back in gear — including blogging. So, I figure, what better way to pick it back up than to jump right in by finishing a review that’s been a long time in the making?
It seems like only yesterday that it was back to school time here in Alaska, whether that be literally going to a school or studying from home. Back to school means one thing — inexpensive school supplies, including pencils, everywhere — so I jumped on the chance back then and picked up some new review fodder. I’ve already reviewed some of the more common “schoolhouse” pencils out there, such as several iterations of the Dixon Ticonderoga, the Staedtler Noris that is the standard in Europe, and a few others. Today I want to review a pencil from a company whose products are perhaps as universally-used as either of those, but much lesser known: J. R. Moon.
I’m not a complete stranger to Moon pencils; in fact, I wrote a review of their Try-Rex some time ago. It would seem that the bulk of their sales, though, originate from elementary school teachers who buy the company’s colorful, cheery motivational pencils. Thus far I haven’t felt inclined to review their “Fifth Graders are No. 1!” model, or one of the numerous other similar options, so I haven’t written a whole lot about the company’s offerings. However, I recently picked up a fresh dozen of the pencil maker’s entry into the nudist pencil category — Moon’s Bare Wood. Here’s my take on it…
Hello again! It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to jot down my thoughts on a pencil. No, I didn’t catch The Rona; however, this “hunker down” thing really threw my routine for a loop. I’m back, though, and approaching this blog with renewed vigor! All I needed was a new pencil to inspire me, and browsing on Amazon the other day, something caught my eye. It was…a Dixon Ticonderoga.
Ah, but not any Dixon Ticonderoga. The world may have been out of toilet paper there for a while, but it’ll never run out of the iconic No. 2, after all. (There’s a poop/No. 2 pun there that I’m missing, I’m sure). But I happened to find a Ticonderoga you don’t often see on store shelves: the B-graded, No. 1 Dixon Ticonderoga. In fact, I don’t recall ever seeing one of these pencils. I eagerly bounded to the mailbox to retrieve these (once the letter carrier was six feet away, of course) and began my review.
It’s springtime in Alaska. It’s no longer 45 below. It’s actually, like, 55 above. And there’s not much to do outside of the house given the whole global pandemic thing and all. So, me and this ol’ General’s Layout no. 555 are out doing some projects! They make great carpenter pencils, by the way (except that they are circular and tend to roll away). I am even working on my hand sharpening skills. Hope you’re all staying healthy and same out there…and check back soon, because I actually have a new pencil review almost all written up.
I’m back! I’ve returned to the Great White North after a week-plus stint on the Gulf Coast to try and thaw out a little bit, as well as a little bit of a grad-school-induced hiatus from blogging. Anyway, a lack of money and time on my part, combined with an apparent lack of interested in the woodclinched graphite writing instrument on the part of the fine folks of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and the Florida panhandle, resulted in a net gain of negative-one pencils on this trip. The good news is that I still have a huge backlog on hand to review, including some from last fall’s trip to Spain. Today I decided to break into that stash and sharpen up one of my European finds: the Lyra Robinson, in this case with a 2B-graded core.
Lyra, as you may recall, is a German pencil-maker that produces numerous lines of writing implements, including the previously-reviewed Groove Slim. Their graphite pencils are a little bit hard to come by here in the States — I imagine that being a FILA affiliate, their parent company isn’t trying to steal market share from Dixon Ticonderoga. That makes testing out one of their products a rare treat for me, so today I’m going to jump right in to it. Here we go!
In my quest to burn through all of my money and leave time at work as quickly as possible, the Polar Pencil Partner and I have booked our next international adventure. This August we’ll be winging it across the Pacific to Japan! As a result, I am taking a pretty big plunge: attempting to learn Japanese.
Trying to learn other languages has always made me feel frustrated and vulnerable, but I think making a good-faith effort to pick up what you can of the local tongue(s) is courteous and respectful when visiting a country whose predominant first language isn’t your own. I bristle when I am abroad and encounter other Americans who so obviously don’t share this viewpoint, and I actually get a little offended when I attempt to start a conversation in the local language and the other party switches to English without at least letting me try. And anyway, from a purely practical standpoint, I’ve found that even if you only know a little bit of the local language, and a local with whom you’re conversing knows only a little bit of yours, you can often meet them halfway and manage to piece together a semi-coherent conversation.
Sorry for the relative radio silence, but I’ve been touring the gulf coast, writing lots of postcards, and Mardi Gras-ing it up! I should be back to the office and the daily pencil-sharpener grind soon, so hang tight.