Remembering Nina Johnston

I never had a biology class while I was at East Newton High School and that was my loss.

In those days, the state of Missouri only required one unit of science, and I took that in my freshman year- physical science under the tutelage of Mr. Bill Keith. Mr. Keith was one of my favorite teachers, but I had a hard time understanding anything scientific. For a brief time, he had a student teacher, whose last name was Brumscheen, if I remember correctly. Mr. Keith took four or five of us and put us in what he called "remedial science."

Political correctness wasn't a thing back then.

After that experience, I returned to the regular classroom, worked hard, studied and made straight As- well, except for the D+ the first quarter (the only D I ever made), and then the C's I made during the second, third and fourth quarters.

I wouldn't have missed taking physical science for the world. I didn't do well in it, but Mr. Keith was probably the only teacher who could have passed on any knowledge to me about that subject.

By taking his class and stopping at one science credit, though, I missed the opportunity to take biology under Mrs. Nina Johnston.

I always talked to her in the hallway as I passed her class, and I spent a considerable amount of time in her husband's office. (Don Johnston was the high school principal.)

During my senior year, I did a poorly written feature story on her fruit flies project for the East Newton school newspaper, the Fife and Drum.

Today, I received Mrs. Johnston's obituary from Clark Funeral Home and one thing definitely didn't surprise me- she led a full and productive life. When she left the classroom in 1988, her contributions were just beginning. She and her husband made an annual pilgrimage to Big Hole National Battlefield in Montana where they spent their summers serving as park rangers.

As her obituary recounts, she took up painting and devoted countless hours to visiting shut-ins and sending them cards, bringing the kind of joy only Nina Johnston could bring.

Her laughter and voice will be sorely missed, but heaven will sure be more lively.