‘They’ll always be my kids’

No question that Facebook has produced reunions across the globe, as friends track down old friends.

But Cathy Crone-Sevo pulled out an old-school tactic in organizing a reunion with her 1966 fifth-grade class from Harbor View Elementary School: She picked up the phone and called her fifth-grade teacher, Marilyn Conrath, in Laguna Beach.

That was a few months ago.

Tonight, 15 students from the class will hold a party for Conrath at the house of former student Cindy Steinhaus, who lives in Irvine.

Of course, they’re no longer children; these days, they’re in their 50s, but don’t tell that to Conrath.

“They’ll always be children in my eyes, they’ll always be my kids,” said Conrath, 74, who taught at Harbor View from 1964 to 1994. “I just hope I can remember them all. I’m going to have to study up on this one.”

To the students, Conrath, hands down, was the best teacher they’ve ever had, they said.

For many, her influence, kind personality and persistence to have the children question just about anything carried over into their adult lives.

They all have fond memories of Conrath.

And they have fond memories of Mr. Nebbish, the rubber doll that sat up on her desk and was always a part of her classroom since she started teaching in 1957 at the age of 22.

“I remember I found him inside a record store in Ohio, and I paid $2.50 for him,” Conrath said. “There was a set of four. I remember thinking how I couldn’t afford all of them.

“To this day, I still regret not buying all of them, but $2.50 back then was a lot of money.”

That indeed was a lot of money for Conrath, whose annual salary back then was $4,000.

“Good ol’ Mr. Nebbish. I remember how we’d get to hold him while we asked questions,” said Crone-Sevo, who lives in San Diego. “It was a different time back then.”

It certainly was.

It was a time when the girls wore bobby socks and dresses and the boys donned slacks and button-up shirts — Sunday’s finest, Monday through Friday. No purposely torn jeans, no midriff views.

It was a time when students were constantly involved in outdoor activities and the computer hadn’t yet emerged as an alternative for after-school companionship.

It was a time when the American flag was really revered and meant something, so much so that different classes, every week, would march out to the parking lot and say the Pledge of Allegiance in front of it.

And in the thick of it all was Miss Conrath, a teacher from Ohio who was lured, like many, by Southern California’s great weather.

With her, she brought the Midwestern work ethic, a combination of German, Scottish and English stock. She was the product of a small town called Vordman.

Her parents — her father was a manager at Standard Oil of Ohio, her mother the consummate house wife — soon followed her out here after they retired.

Conrath went in on a house with them in Laguna Beach in the late 1960s and managed to buy a condominium in Irvine, which she’s since sold.

And so it was for 30 years, she taught at the elementary school, averaging 30 children each year.

Multiply that by 30 and somewhere out there Miss Conrath has 900 children, give or take a few.

“I was, as the quote goes, ‘Married to my job,’” she said.

It was an ambition she picked up from her favorite school teachers in her hometown — her second-grade teacher and her fifth-grade teacher.

She never married but had plenty of suitors over the years. Mostly, however, she was just interested in doing a good job in the classroom. Even she wasn’t immune to the recurring nightmares about school.

“It’s always the same,” she said. “We’ve got a week before school begins, and I haven’t prepared my classroom.”

Which couldn’t be furthest from the reality. Her class was always prepared and she was always a constant. Back in those days, children didn’t switch classrooms, but stayed inside one all day long.

Cory O’Connor, an advertising and public relations professor at Chapman University, remembers how kind she was to him.

“I remember I was Tiny Tim that year in ‘The Christmas Carol,’ and I only had one line, ‘God bless us everyone,’” he said. “And somehow I forgot my only line. And when I did, I remember saying, automatically, ‘Miss Conrath, I forgot my line.’ She never got mad.”

Now, tonight the students will return her kindness by holding a party in her honor.

“It’s going to be fun,” she said. “I keep asking them if I should bring something, and they say, ‘Nah.’”

She said she might bring Mr. Nebbish along.