If the 1966 Monongah High Black Diamond yearbook I’m converting from the print version to the 27^th online MHS album doesn’t stop stirring up memories that sidetrack me, I may never finish the book with the awesome metallic red cover, the only MHS yearbook I’ve seen so far using that color for the cover.

The first page I scanned into my computer via my Canon printer was the Maid of Marion photo of the late Saundra Ann Tetrick Loretta, which got me onto the tangent of Monongah High gals who were chosen Maid of Marion, as in Marion County. So I did the montage of Saundra, 1965 Maid of Marion Judy Blocker Kincaid and 1958 Maid of Marion Judy Lipinski Cook and whipped up an article about beauty and Monongah High.

The second page I scanned into my computer showed Mary Turkovich (I thought her first name was “Miss” till long after I left Monongah High) with student Linda Zickefoose. That kicked my brain into nostalgia again.

I’ve told the story many times how Miss Turkovich, who taught me math, algebra and geometry in successive years at Monongah High, helped form the “me” who had a successful 43-year newspaper career that made it possible to visit 52 countries and 43 states and take 11 cruises during my 19 years in retirement.

 

And how I took my children and grandchildren to Miss Turkovich’s grave at Mount Calvary Cemetery in Monongah, said “thank you” to her and told my children, “This is a teacher who was far more valuable than her paycheck.” Our society does not pay people in line with their value to society. Teachers are proof of that. Few millionaires among them. But they are rich in many other ways.

 

My older daughter, LaQuita, is a teacher in the Aurora, Ohio school system. They gave her a key to the building because she shows up early, stays late and even works on her “job” on the weekends. I call her “the Mary Turkovich of Aurora.” It’s the highest compliment I can give her.

Irene Vozniak Stroud, Class of 1964, named Miss Turkovich among her favorite teachers, along with Geneva Brumage and Margaret Howes. That tells me that Miss Turkovich, a decade and a half after Monongah High spit me out into the world, Miss Turkovich was still doing A+ teaching.

She just refused to let you NOT learn. And she did more than that.

When the late Frank Michalski quit school, Miss Turkovich went to his house, dragged him back to the building, insisting that he graduate. Frank only stayed till the 1949 football season ended, not graduating with his Class of 1950, but that was Miss Turkovich. Teaching wasn’t a job, it was a calling, just as much as her life was a calling for Sister Agnes, the speed demon in a Jeep from Kilarm who gave me my foundation in grammar and spelling and reading that led to a 43-year newspaper career that took me to Williamson, Charleston, Montana, St. Petersburg, Florida, and Dayton and Akron, Ohio.

Although she was stickler for learning, Miss Turkovich was no stuffed shirt. I remember when the faculty played a team of students in that bandbox of a gym Monongah High had, there was Miss Turkovich in the bloomer shorts of her youth. Yes, THAT Miss Turkovich!

Miss Turkovich is next to last in the faculty photos in the yearbook. But that’s only because they went in alphabetical order. Miss Turkovich is at the front of the line in MY book.

Paula Kerns Fazio, Class of 1979, married to Joe Fazio, Class of 1974, grew up living near Monongah High’s superb math/algebra/geometry teacher.

I’m sure that Ramona Fullen Michalski, Class of 1949, who lives in Monongah, feels the same about her daughter, Marcia Michalski Westfall, Class of 1974, of Kilarm, a super teacher in Marion County when she’s isn’t gallivanting off with her husband, Dave Westfall, Class of 1948, on their Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic Electra Glide motorcyle.

Steve Mikulski, Class of 1964, who grew up in Carolina and teaches engineering design in Montgomery County public schools in Maryland, is another example of an invaluable teacher.

I know we’ve all had our favorite teachers at Monongah High but, for me, Miss Turkovich is at the head of the Class, yes, with a capital C. She passed away in 1991 at the age of 90, but she will live forever as long as I'm alive.