My mother and Miss George

Sepia Saturday 449: Eighth in a series about my fourth grade teacher Miss Helen George — one of those friends, acquaintances and neighbors (FANs) who can make such a difference in a person’s life.

Although I long considered my fourth grade year an individual experience, my education was actually a group effort — with my teacher Miss Helen George working in tandem with my mother to move my learning process forward.

The best evidence of this is the teacher-parent comment section of my fourth grade report card.

My fourth grade report card’s teacher-parent comment page (1959-60). I get a kick out of these little notes every time I read them. They reveal Miss George and my mom as a mutual admiration society — one teacher corresponding with another, collaborating and taking pride in a child’s progress.Scan by Molly Charboneau

A mutual admiration society

In the little spaces provided, Miss George outlined my progress in the beautiful flowing cursive she strived to teach us in class — her signature underlined with a flourish.

In reply, my mom Peg (Laurence) Charboneau — herself an elementary music teacher — thanked Miss George and acknowledged her contribution in glowing terms.

I get a kick out of these little notes every time I read them. They reveal Miss George and my mom as a mutual admiration society — one teacher corresponding with another, collaborating and taking pride in a child’s progress.

My deportment problem

My first quarter of fourth grade went pretty well, judging by the report card notes:

“Molly is doing a fine job in fourth grade and I hope that she continues to do as well.” ~~Helen George

“We are pleased with Molly’s report and feel she has shown improvement this year. We appreciate your fine work with her.” Margaret L. Charboneau

The second quarter was another story. I started the year with only a “satisfactory” (as opposed to “excellent”) in deportment. And apparently my rambunctiousness went downhill as the year went on.

My childhood home in Endwell, N.Y., circa 1957. My bedroom is up top with the open window. Prompted by my fourth grade teacher Miss George, my parents stressed neat homework and good deportment. Luckily, I cleaned up my act and was promoted to fifth grade in June 1960. Photo by Norman J. Charboneau

So did my neatness — a point pride to my meticulous teacher. So Miss George sounded the alarm, and my mom stepped up to help.

“Again Molly has done an excellent job! If she always does as well I’m sure she will know a happy, successful future. (–I do wish she would try to make her papers a little neater.)” ~~Helen George

“We will encourage Molly to continue the good work. Also we will stress the neatness and deportment department.” Margaret L. Charboneau

I clean up my act

My parents’ intervention apparently did the trick. I actually got an “excellent” in deportment in the third quarter — and Miss George reported that my papers were neater, too. In appreciation, Mom returned a message of high praise to Miss George.

“Papers neat — excellent work — so there can be nothing but praise for Molly this period.” Helen George

“An excellent teacher can bring out the best in a youngster. Thank you.” Margaret L. Charboneau

Headed for fifth grade

I was back to “satisfactory” in deportment in the fourth quarter — but fortunately didn’t behave badly enough to hinder my educational progress. On June 24, 1960, Miss George proudly promoted me to the fifth grade.

“Molly has had a fine year in fourth grade and I hope that she will continue to do as well in fifth grade.” ~~Helen George

There are no closing comments from Mom. But when I asked her about Miss George decades later, she smiled affectionately at the memory.

“She was just great,” Mom said. “The classical type of person you think of when you hear the word teacher.”

Please stop back as this series continues. Meanwhile, please visit the blogs of this week’s other Sepia Saturday participants here

© 2018 Molly Charboneau. All rights reserved.

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5 thoughts on “My mother and Miss George”

  1. I have many of my report cards from elementary school beginning with 1st grade on up through 6th grade and my biggest problem was the same throughout all grades: “Gail talks too much in class.” or “Gail whispers in class.” Ah well. As it turned out, I’m very good at giving speeches. 🙂

  2. I have my report cards, but I don’t remember them having comments. Now I’m interested to go back and look.

  3. A lovely memory. Somewhere stored away in my house are a few of my report cards and also a few of my parents and possibly their parents too. Yet I don’t think I have any for my son. I can’t even remember if I ever signed one, much less left any comment for the teacher. I remember that my first anxiety of life was probably the worry, “will I be promoted,” or shiver, “held back.” Never really a problem for me. My son did okay too, except that his college degree took 5 1/2 years. So I tease that he was held back his freshman year in university. Poor deportment I think.

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