Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, February 19, 1995 TAG: 9502170020
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 5 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: THOMAS HUANG DALLAS MORNING NEWS
DATELINE: GRAND PRAIRIE, TEXAS LENGTH: Long
But Sister Regina Kotas, an 85-year-old nun who teaches at Immaculate Conception School, remains an indomitable presence in the classroom, carrying on with a faith in God and in her students.
She has taught grade-school reading and math for 60 years - the past 25 in Grand Prairie - and shows no signs of stopping. She'd give the Energizer Bunny a run for its money.
``I love children,'' she says. ``I love to help them as much as possible. They're our future. In their faces, I see they need a lot of help and love. And they're eager to gain knowledge.
``Many times, I said I would quit,'' she says. ``But the children would lose my help. So I go to Communion to get the power of God. I teach as long as God gives me the grace, as long as I am able.''
One morning, Sister Regina's first-graders fill the chalkboard with a scrawl of numbers. In a black habit with a white collar, she stands behind the young ones like a guardian angel. She places her hands gently on their shoulders as they sum up the numbers.
Her gray eyes peer out from behind spectacles, and wisps of fine white hair poke out from beneath her nun's veil. Occasionally she touches the silver cross that dangles from her neck.
Correcting a mistake here and there, Sister Regina says, ``See it? See it?''
As the times have changed, so have Sister Regina's teaching methods.
Decades ago, she boosted her students' vocabularies by showing them pictures and repeating new words. That's not necessary for today's students, who develop larger vocabularies through television and preschool, she says. By the time they reach Sister Regina's class, they are ready for more complex lessons.
But there is one aspect in which children have not improved, she says. She now spends time teaching children how to cooperate with one another.
``Before, many children came from larger families, so they had to step aside, one for another,'' she says. ``Now you have very few families with three or four children. So they have no chances at home to find out how to share, how to help. You have to teach them to share.''
She accomplishes this through persuasion, because the days of physical discipline are gone, she says. ``Before, they said the sisters used to hit, and in a way it was true,'' she says. ``That was the custom. It wasn't only in the Catholic school. It was all over.
``Now you won't see that,'' she says. ``You can talk to the child, you can reason with the child, and he sees that it is wrong.''
Sister Regina says she misses the days when teachers emphasized memorization. Children are less patient now, and it's hard to get them to learn the multiplication tables, she says. ``They'll say, `I'll get the calculator.' I say, `Listen, are you going to carry the calculator all your life?'''
Nevertheless, Sister Regina says she likes the fact that children feel freer to ask questions. She says she doesn't lecture as much, but encourages more discussion. ``You can give them more thinking and reasoning on their own,'' she says.
The Rev. Leonard F. Callahan, superintendent of Catholic schools in the Catholic Diocese of Dallas, says the education at these schools has advanced ``into technology-assisted teaching, into interdisciplinary teaching, into [lower] student-teacher ratios.''
Sister Regina has kept pace with the changes, he says. But one area where she has not had to change is that of religious education, he says.
Even though teachers in Catholic schools in Dallas now are ``practically all lay people, what's interesting is our schools are no less Catholic,'' Callahan says.
``We guard our Catholicity by adhering closely to our philosophy and mission, which is Christ-centered and Gospel-based,'' he says. ``Our day begins with prayer. Religious symbols are prominent. Religion is a core piece of the curriculum. Teachers convey values through behavior.''
Asked to describe Sister Regina's qualities, those who know her invariably cite her ability to speak her mind, as well as her openness to change.
The Rev. Denny O'Mara, pastor of the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, recalls how he once visited Sister Regina's math class. He remembers, with a laugh, how the sister admonished him: ``Father, you don't come to visit us enough.''
She is also plain-spoken in teacher workshops, and ``what's awesome to me is how she continues to upgrade herself,'' says Patricia Reinhardt Monaco, the school's principal. ``I've never heard her balk at a new idea. She's a perfect example of lifelong learning.''
Students respect Sister Regina, Monaco says. One indication of this is this early-morning scene:
The school bell's alarm interrupts a lesson, and a girl puts her papers in a folder.
``What's the matter?'' asks Sister Regina, who, busy with an addition problem, hasn't heard the bell.
``Well, it won't hurt to have a little bit of extra time,'' a boy says.
The children continue to work quietly on their lesson until students arrive for the next class. It would be hard to find a clearer sign of the children's devotion to Sister Regina.
Students like her, ``because she lets us take math games for a long time,'' says Alyssa Fernandez, 7, who is in the sister's second-grade class. Sister Regina rewards good students with raffle cards, and every so often they hold a drawing to see who gets a prize.
Such encouragement has been a hallmark of Sister Regina's teaching style for many years.
One alumna who benefited from the sister's guiding hand is Polly Thorne, 30, a Grand Prairie lawyer. She still recalls how, in the early 1970s, the sister would not allow girls to wear nail polish.
``She was a force in my life,'' says Thorne. ``She instilled confidence in her students. She always found the best in her students. She's achieved so much and lasted so long. She taught me that I could do the same thing in whatever career I chose.''
Sister Regina got her strong convictions from a close-knit family. Her parents came to the United States from Poland. She grew up in a Polish neighborhood in Chicago. She speaks with a slight Polish accent.
Her parents, a steelworker and a housewife, were devoted to God. Every Saturday, they and their six children would kneel before a picture of the Holy Mother and pray. The kids went to Catholic school.
``I was many times angry,'' Sister Regina recalls. Walking to Catholic school, ``I had to pass the public school, and all my girlfriends [who attended public school] said it was easy. No homework. My ma said, `You go to Catholic school, you learn about God.' ''
But she came to admire the nuns who taught her. She wanted to be like them. ``They had a chance to work, and they also had a chance to pray, to serve God. Their life was scheduled, and I liked that. And I liked the way they were dressed. They had beautiful pleated collars.''
At the age of 15, she entered the convent with the intent of serving God and becoming a teacher. ``I always knew I'd do something for people, to help bring them back to God,'' she says.
Two of her sisters eventually became nuns, too, and they are now a nurse and a missionary.
Sister Regina received her bachelor's and master's degrees in education. She began to teach elementary school in 1930. Parish assignments took her from Chicago to South Bend, Ind., to Mott, N.D. She arrived in Texas in the late 1960s.
``It's just like in the Army,'' she says. ``You're shipped, and you go.''
Sister Regina lives with three other nuns (two schoolteachers and one college instructor) at the convent next to the school and church. They rise at 6 a.m. for prayer and then cook breakfast.
By 9 a.m., Sister Regina is ready to teach the first through fourth grades. She begins her classes with prayer. The classes are small, with no more than nine or 10 students in each. The boys wear uniforms that include red sweaters, blue pinstriped shirts and blue slacks. The girls wear dresses with a blue, yellow and red pattern.
The sister runs an orderly class. The four golden rules are that you raise your hand; bring your pencils and books to class; work quietly; and turn in your work on time.
As the population of Grand Prairie has changed, Sister Regina's classes have become more racially diverse. White, black, Hispanic and Asian children come together to learn, and Sister Regina says she likes that. Although occasionally the kids have language difficulties, Sister Regina says they learn a lot from one another's cultures.
One of her favorite parts of the year is Christmastime, when alumni return for a midnight Mass, she says. She sees the children she once taught, all grown up.
``You're surprised at how they change,'' she says. ``As children, they are easygoing, they have no responsibility. Yet they grow up to have special jobs.''
There's Thorne, the smart girl who became the lawyer, and another girl who became a physician. There's the boy who grew up to ride in the rodeo, and another who, to her surprise, became a priest. There's the class clown who is now a business manager.
``I see them still little,'' Sister Regina says. ``To see the little ones, you don't know what will come out of them. Then, to see them [as adults] in big professions, you feel good. You did some good. You see the result.
``They say, `Sister, you helped me in math, reading, how to be honest, how to pray.' ''
That last lesson, Sister Regina says, is important today. ``All this violence,'' she says. ``God is missing. There is no prayer. That's why we try to instill that there is God, he sees you, he will help you.''
During her free time, she likes to cook, clean and crochet. She enjoys watching football on TV and is a fan of the Chicago Bears and Dallas Cowboys. But she always wants to return to her children and has no plans for retirement.
``I love it,'' Sister Regina says of her job. ``I don't know what I would do without it. And I love my life. There come troubles. There was loneliness. But that passes. When you make up your mind, all obstacles will go.
``When children say, `It's so hard to work,' I say, `Listen, honey, it's not going to get any easier. When you grow up, you're going to have a harder job. You have to go on.' ''
by CNB