All of us remember teachers who influenced us. Some were tough, some were compassionate, some were funny, some were grumpy and some were just plain frightening. But they all left their mark. A few teachers changed my life. There was Mrs. McGrath in sixth grade, who should have flunked me in English grammar but had mercy. There was Brother Thellen in senior Latin, who should have given me a C but gave me a B. Do you see a pattern?

There was the incomparable Norman DeTullio at St. Joseph High School and his colleague Joseph Foran (yes, the man who has a high school named after him).

If you’re lucky, you might have one, maybe two, possibly three people who truly make a difference in your life, and many of them are teachers, who didn’t accumulate worldly accolades.

No Oscars, no Pulitzers, no lengthy obituaries, no monumental successes—in short, none of the accomplishments that we associate with “success,” which is often stuff you won’t be able to put on your heavenly resume anyway. You might try, but it won’t get you anywhere.

As a journalist, I occasionally met people of power and prestige and could only shrug. Then, there were people whose achievements were spiritually monumental but often unacknowledged because they let God work through them and didn’t try to expropriate the glory that is due God alone.

Most teachers will never know the number of students they touched until the next life when they go to the head of the class to be a bride of Christ, and she professed her perpetual vows in 1963. She was a teacher for 25 years, and I met her at Greenwich Catholic Middle School, where she taught math, and I taught English grammar and composition. (Thanks to Mrs. McGrath, I be recognized for all they did.

There was one teacher who taught me a great deal, even though I didn’t have her class. Sister Pauline Semkow, RSM was a person who saved my life and probably my soul. She and I taught at the same school back when I thought partying was more important than praying and I never went to Mass.

One day I said, “Sister, I wish I had your faith” and without hesitation, she replied, “All you have to do is ask.”

“It can’t be that easy,” I thought. Well, Sister, you were right. Faith is a gift, so I started asking for it, and I still am.

Over the years, this Sister of Mercy, helped many people as a teacher and later as a spiritual director.

Her obituary said, “Sister Pauline Semkow, formerly Sister Mary Philip, daughter of Philip and Rose (Albano) Semkow, entered into the fullness of life on Monday, May 18, 2026.”

She was born in Middletown and in 1957 graduated from Mount St. Joseph Academy and immediately entered the Sisters of Mercy. There was no question in her mind that she was called to SISTER PAULINE SEMKOW, RSM finally figured out what a subordinate clause is.)

Sister had a contemplative side, and I always marveled at how much she trusted God in everything, even during her trials, suffering and health setbacks.

When St. John Paul II was dying, a news anchor asked a priest to sum up the pope’s life, and he replied with one sentence: “He had many questions, but he found all the answers in Jesus Christ.” That was Sister Pauline.

She had a “lifelong desire for a closer relationship with God” that took her to California to study at the School for Applied Theology at Berkeley, where she became certified as a retreat and spiritual director. Because of health issues, she retired to Frances Warde Towers and later St. Mary Home in West Hartford.

Over the years, we occasionally went to lunch (she loved Olive Garden) and talked about life … and the afterlife. I suspect she wanted to check up on my soul. She always gave me spiritual advice and said what I needed to hear, even though it was sometimes difficult to accept.

Sister Pauline was a humble woman who understood love, joy, hope and the mercy of God more than most of us. One of her favorite sayings was “Take gentle care of your beautiful self,” which I usually had a hard time doing.

So, Sister, until we meet again. Please keep praying for me … and take gentle care of your beautiful self.