Report Card

The last time we were in Florida, my grandmother handed me a cream-colored card, folded in half. I unfolded it and started reading. The document was old, slightly creased, its ink fading a bit. The cursive handwriting looked old too (have we all but lost penmanship these days? I never see pretty handwriting anymore, it seems).

It was my mother’s report card from eighth grade.

Immediately, my dad and I began–as is our way–to tease my mother. Especially when we saw that she had gotten D’s in Home Ec. My mother, who was valedictorian of her high school!

“Home Ec? Really?” We all laughed.

Here’s Mom’s story: when she was little, her family moved. A lot. Like, multiple times a year, or something along those lines. So, she was always switching schools, starting up somewhere in the middle of the year. This year, the Home Ec teacher was having the girls sew their own dresses. Thing was, most of the girls already knew how to sew–except my mother. And I get the impression that Mrs. Havens, the Home Ec teacher, wasn’t one of those nurturing, “You can do it! Here, let me show you,” types. She was more the “Figure it out yourself!” type. Mom tried, but didn’t exactly manage to figure it out herself. Hence, the D’s. The worst part? The students were all made to wear the dresses they sewed to school, which meant my mother was subject to what she describes as abject mortification. Imagine it. Eighth grade.

The funny thing is, she never learned to sew. When I was a kid, it was Dad who sewed the straps on my ballet shoes, who hemmed his own pants. Mom tried, however, to make sure I knew how to sew. She enrolled me in a sewing class. She got me private sewing lessons. (I can’t even type that with a straight face, it sounds so funny to me. Private sewing lessons?)

It didn’t work. As much as I tried, I could not sew. The dress I made in my own sewing class was at least four sizes too large, and I’m pretty sure I butchered the zipper. I still can’t sew. It’s Jesse who likes sewing, who altered costumes for Halloween and for the short film we made for fun in college. Everything I try to sew comes out crooked or lumpy.

Apparently, I am my mother’s daughter.

Here’s the report card:

The back of the card has my grandparents’ signatures on it and a few marks. Mrs. Havens (a.k.a. Figure It Out!) selected “Assignments carelessly done,” of course. Mr. Bohon, the science teacher, selected “Is doing exceptionally well,” along with “Attitude commendable,” as did the history teacher, which was either Mrs. Farthing or Miss Raikes (they’re both on the card).