Our Storytelling series on favorite teachers continues this week (click here to read earlier stories):

The rigors of following the "academic" track at Tarentum High School in the 1960s always included two years in Miss Toepfer's Latin Class. Miss Toepfer loved her subject -- indeed, had studied in Rome -- and proved it by offering Latin Club in addition to the regular course work.

At the time, I thought: We're trying to be cool teenagers, and here we are voluntarily joining Latin Club. Are we nuts? Nonetheless, we signed up and were enriched in ways that are still in our memories today.

A particular joy of the club was learning to sing in Latin. To this day, "Ab Alles Montezuma" ("From the halls of Montezuma ...") runs through my head, and I can sing it to the end, though I've probably changed some words and syllables here and there without even realizing it.

Another song was "Gaudeamus Igitur Juvenes Dum Sumus." Again, I can sing it to the end -- with no memory of the lyrics' meaning. (I was compelled however, to refresh my memory: The song, popular in European graduation ceremonies and festivities, means "Let Us Rejoice Therefore, While We Are Young.")

One student in our class, Jack Woods (now deceased), struggled and struggled with Latin. His recitations were agonizing, for all of us, and some days he would blow up in frustration. In that era, students pretty much behaved themselves; even so, sharp words were occasionally exchanged between Jack and Miss Toepfer. When it came time to sign up for Latin II, Jack knew how things stood and declined to accept more torture.

Jack was an expert with the trumpet. We loved to hear him play. One spring afternoon we were sitting in Latin II class on the second floor, the windows of Tarentum High wide open. Miss Toepfer was standing at the front of the room, making some fine point of Latin clear to us.

Suddenly there was a sound from outside. The clear, perfect notes of "Gaudeamus Igitur" played on a trumpet came wafting into the classroom. Jack was standing on the sidewalk below, playing this song he had learned to sing in Latin Club for Miss Toepfer and for us.

I'll never forget her transfixed look, as though some truly magical thing was occurring, and it was happening for her. We listened with rapt attention to the end and then broke into wild applause.

We had tears of laughter in our eyes at the fun of it. But Miss Toepfer had tears of joy at the pleasure and honor of it.

-- DOROTHY BROWN, Neshannock

I was 11 years old when my family immigrated from the Czech Republic (then Czechoslovakia) in October 1969. On my first day at Colfax School in Squirrel Hill, I grabbed my brand-new leather briefcase (I wanted to make a good impression) and excitedly entered the halls with high expectations. Much to my dismay, I was barely given a second glance.

The homeroom teacher gave me a Jack and Jill book to read. One of the brighter students was asked to read with me when her work was completed. In 1969, schools were not required to meet special needs of students. I was simply moved from room to room with my fellow classmates, not understanding anything that transpired.

The only class that did make sense was math. Although the methodology was different, I was able to complete my work. My basically mute and almost invisible existence continued until Christmas vacation. As concerned as I was about not adding to my parents' worries, I could no longer contain my frustration and the truth about my lack of learning came spilling out.

With the support of my family and a generous scholarship from Hillel Academy, I was admitted in January. From the first day, it was apparent that things were going to be different.

Apparently, Miss Hodil -- an unmarried and strict "old school" English teacher -- had a plan. My classes would shift so that I would have spelling and writing with fourth-graders, but math with the sixth-graders. The reshuffling of classes was approved by the administration and I slowly began to learn. By the end of the school year I was proficient enough to move on to the seventh grade in all subjects, not losing a single year in spite of my transition.

Miss Hodil was strict and not fun like some of the other teachers, but we learned. I graduated in the top of my class. None of it would have been possible without the intervention of Miss Hodil.

In a typical teenage fashion, I never did go back to tell her just how much all of what she had done for me meant. But I know that she kept her eye on me and knew that she was partially responsible for my success.

I hope that some members of her family read this and will know that I will always remember Miss Hodil.

-- CHANA JAKUBOVIC BRODY, O'Hara