6 minute read
In Memoriam
In Memoriam JULIANNA SZÉKELY
Julianna Székely, 75, an employee of Woodside Priory School for 32 years, died on September 17, 2017 after battling cancer.
Julianna was born on June 4, 1942 in Gyergyóújfalu, a small village in Harghita County, also known as Székely Land in Transylvania, Romania. She was raised on a farm with her five siblings and helped with the animals and harvesting the crops.
At the age of fourteen, Julianna followed her sister Elisabeth’s steps and moved to Marosvásárhely, Romania to become a live-in nanny/housekeeper for a well known dentist. On August 17, 1963 Julianna married János Székely Sr., Julianna met János by doing what she loved to do: dancing. They had two beautiful children, Anikó and János, Jr.
János Sr. had attempted to escape the communism in Romania for many years but after several unsuccessful attempts, he finally escaped in 1984 and ended up in California. With János Sr.’s Hungarian background, he was referred to Woodside Priory School where he met Father Maurus and was hired as a handyman for the school. Julianna and the children reunited with János Sr. in 1985 when they came to America and Julianna joined János Sr. at Priory when she began working in the kitchen.
The Priory dining hall became Julianna’s second home in many ways; her co-workers became her family and she fed each and every person like they were her children. Her heaping portions of food became legendary.
Julianna enjoyed spending her weekends with her children and their families. They went camping, fishing, motorcycle racing, and toured around the U.S. and Canada. János Sr. was never tired of driving and loved showing the family endless adventures.
Julianna had great additions but also unexpected losses in her family. Julianna became a grandmother in 1993 when her son János Jr. had twins, but sadly her husband passed away just 11 days after the twins were born. Her son János Jr., then passed away in 2009 after a fifteen-month battle with colon cancer. But Julianna’s heart was filled with joy again when she became a great-grandmother three years ago. Julianna was proud that her family stuck together through the ups and downs and instilled the same family values in the generations to come.
She is survived by her brother, Marci; sisters, Mariska and Erzsike (Elizabeth); daughter, Anikó and her husband Sándor Nino; two grandchildren, János and James, and a great-grandson, Jax.
Peter Agoston, the Priory kitchen manager, reflected on how special Julianna was, “Her infectious smile and love towards all, will be sorely missed, but especially by us, here in the Kitchen, her home. Julianna was our mother, our foundation, someone who cared about all of us, a few of us have know her for 30+ years. She was a loyal friend, dedicated colleague, and a loving mother/ grandmother, that cannot be replaced.”
IN MEMORIAM
REMEMBERING COACH JOE
To Joe Montero, Priory alum, coach, teacher and Assistant Dean of Students, everyone was his “champ.” The truth, though, is that he was our champion. Champion of the athlete—the stars and the bench-warmers—the stressed-out student, the quiet student, the depressed student. Of the student who was none of the above, but just happened to pass Joe on campus. “Trying to get anywhere with him took forever,” laughed Andrew Daniel, Middle School English teacher, and Joe’s good friend. “He loved to talk to people, to hear their stories...to help people figure out how to deal with their situation.”
It’s safe to say that everyone on campus loved Joe. Even students who only had him one year as a teacher, or not even not at all, felt a fondness for him. But who was the man behind the deep gravelly voice, the full belly laugh, and the joie de vivre which he shared so freely?
Before he was lovingly known as “Coach Joe” or “J-money”, he was just Joe, or Joseph Bernardo Montero, Jr, to be exact. The third of five children, he was born in San Francisco and raised in Woodside. He was “wild and crazy”, his wife, Lindsay, said and credited the Priory for providing the structure and discipline he needed in high school. “He always said he went to the Priory because he wouldn’t have graduated from anywhere else,” she chuckled.
And of course, Joe loved soccer. As a student, he was Priory’s goalie and continued to play throughout his adulthood. It was his love of the sport that brought him back to campus as a coach 22 years after graduating with the class of 1976. “He just loved soccer...he’d watch it 24/7. And he got so much joy out of coaching the Priory boys and girls,” Lindsay said. When the Montero’s son, Joe, was old enough to don cleats, his dad was on the field, coaching him, too.
It’s fitting that Joe would have a passion for a sport that embodies teamwork. “Joe was a team player, he taught me what it means to be a Priory man,” said Father Martin. A new teacher when Joe was a senior, Father Martin remembers Joe the student well. “As a student, it wasn’t about himself, it was about the school, the friends he had, the connections he established.” Joe maintained that philosophy during his 20-year professional tenure at the Priory. “No one is bigger than the school,” Andrew recalled him saying often. “There’s no “I” in team,” he’d tell his math students.
But what fueled his joy, the positivity that seemed to lay the foundation for seemingly every action he took, conversation he had? When asked for the secret, Lindsay gave a laugh. “You know, I’ve been trying to figure that out myself...I think his dad had a lot to do with it. He had a great relationship with his dad, and he was very positive too.” Joe was committed to carrying on that strong bond with his own son. When “Little Joe” was born, “Big Joe” turned to his soccer buddies and said, “Let’s only be friends with guys who are good dads.”
Any student of Joe’s can attest that with his jovial disposition came a sense of purposeful irreverence. “He was rooted, to the community, to keeping a balance in Silicon Valley, to lessen the stress of very high-achieving teens,” Andrew said. “He knew how to manage a crisis, but he also knew how to make people relaxed and laugh.”
On one of their last walks around campus together, Joe shared his teaching philosophy with Andrew. “He told me, ‘I never cared about the classes I taught, but about the students. I am interested in them, their views, their lives. The classes and books never really mattered to me.’”
It can never be doubted that Joe was a beloved figure on campus. The question though, is did he know just how much he meant to everyone? Did he realize the impact he had on the day to day lives of those around him? When asked, Lindsay responded, “I think he knew the parents loved him, that the students did. But I don’t think he knew just how much. Even I didn’t.” And while it’s tempting to see sadness in this, that a man so beloved passed without knowing his own greatness, it also underscores who Joe was at his core. Because Joe was never about himself. He was about the Priory, about the community. After all, no one is bigger than the school, and there’s no “I” in team.
