I have hear this statement a great deal lately. Most often it has related to the heroes of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) who are defending both Israel and the Jewish people in a war against evil. The specific names today are Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, and Iran. It is an age old hatred that threatens not just the Jewish people but the civilized world. This video expresses it well.
These aren’t the only superheroes that don’t wear capes. They live among us and too often we don’t even realize it until they are gone. On Sunday night, a childhood friend posted an update about one of them. Unfortunately, it was the news of his death. The gratifying part of seeing this post was that his impact had been so great for so long, that we didn’t just realize that we knew an actual superhero that didn’t wear a cape upon his passing. So who was this amazing person?
Richard Rome was a middle school math teacher. Let that sink in fully. The superhero without a cape that I am talking about taught 6-8 grade children math. He was my teacher somewhere between 1978-1981. Middle school math. That’s what he taught. In the 1970s and 1980s. 40-50 years ago. Or at least that was what he formally was tasked with educating us about.
Mr. Rome, as we all called him both in class and for the next 40-50 years, was so much more than a math teacher. While we were formally his student, he was a human being, a leader, a role model, a friend, a mentor, and a person who made math important, understandable, and relatable. While he cared about teaching us math and helping us understand the broader implications of it, he cared more about molding us into good human beings.
People often talk about finding something you love to do, and you’ll never work a day in your life. While I believe that Mr. Rome did truly enjoy teaching math, I don’t think that is what he loved to do. I think he truly loved being able to have an impact on young people’s lives and help mold them into good citizens, good people. I think over the years, his true joy came from hearing stories about our lives, our children, our spouses, and for many, our grandchildren. What makes me think this? It’s actually pretty easy to come to this assessment of Mr. Rome. It’s because so many of us still kept in touch with him. How many people in their mid to late 50s or early 60s keep in touch with their MIDDLE SCHOOL MATH TEACHER? That’s exactly the point. He wasn’t just a math teacher. He knew it. We knew it. And all of us appreciated it. I went to his Facebook page today to see if there were any other updates. What I saw was amazing. It wasn’t a formal posting but rather that we had 63 friends in common. This means that there are 64 of us from his class in 1978-1981 who were still connected to him. What a legacy – that 45 years later, so many of your math students are still connected to you. I promise you it wasn’t about math and any math questions we had for him were entirely so we could help our children or grandchildren with their math homework!
Mr. Rome posted this exchange with permission from a former student a while ago. It’s how we all feel about him which is why I want to share it with you.
I asked one of my former students if I could post this so everyone could read exactly what she wrote to me. She sent me this on FB messenger. I appreciate it so much:
“Let me tell you. You singlehandedly are responsible for the most positive experience with Math I’ve ever had. Through that experience, you are indirectly responsible for my career path and choices. It is my pleasure to help you in your time of need. I may not have been the best or most docile math student, but you let me conquer the obstacles in my path. Thank you sir for your dedication to all the students at Susquehanna. I’m so lucky to have been able to have you as my teacher. My thoughts and prayers for your improved health and recovery'”
“Kim, ahh, thank you so much for the kind words. I deeply appreciate it. <smiling>”
“Your teaching means a lot to your students.”
He liked to share his math humor with us as kids and as adults. A few things that he said that make me smile and remember why his class was one we all liked are:
To My Former Math Students: In honor of 3/14, I will repeat what I told every one of my math classes. Pie R Round; Cake R Squared. <smiling>
Also, remember the formula for Circumference of a Circle C = Pie x D, or C = who ate D Pie!
I went back to our last Facebook messenger chat, regrettably too long ago. There are two comments that jump out to me. More than 40 years after being in his class, Mr. Rome stated,
“Keith, I was wondering why I did not hear from you. I trust you and your family are well. Take care, Keith.”
So 40+ years later, he honestly wondered why he hadn’t heard from me. That’s the relationship he had with his students. After I explained what had been going on in my life and why I hadn’t reached out in a bit, he replied,
“That’s ok. As long as you are healthy, that is what it is all about, Keith <smiling>”
So, he wasn’t so talented with the use of emojis, he knew how to communicate. I updated him about my family and particularly my children and what they were doing, and he responded.
“Keith, congrats “big fella.” <smiling>”
I wonder how many of his other students he had similar conversations with on a regular basis. More than I can imagine. A superhero without a cape.
Over the last few years, Mr. Rome began have some health issues and related financial issues. His MIDDLE SCHOOL MATH STUDENTS, now in their 50s and 60s, created a GoFundMe for him. I see this happening when active teachers have family, health, or economic challenges. I have never seen it for somebody who many of us haven’t seen in person for 30 or 40 years. As Kim wrote to Mr. Rome, he changed not just her life but all of our lives. And he continued to teach us throughout life.
Every year near Christmas, Mr. Rome would post this story about his parents and his childhood. Even though he had retired from teaching many years ago, he knew he could teach us how to be good people, good human beings, and to improve our portion of the world. He always took advantage of the opportunities to help us to be better people. At 56, Mr. Rome continues to teach me. There are so many lessons that even though he won’t physically be here to teach, he has inspired others to teach on his behalf. Here is his reminder every year about making a difference in your community.
There is one day of the year that I miss my mom and dad even more that the rest of the year My father, Earl Rome, along with his brother, Isadore Rome, owned and operated an independent supermarket, Rome’s Superette. Every Christmas Eve they would host a Christmas Eve informal get together. Usually, around 250 of his loyal customers would drop in and relax and unwind before mid-night Mass. My mother would make all kinds of little finger sandwiches, Mrs. Boyle would bring her famous chopped liver mold, and many of their customers would bring bottles of booze to share. My dad, being Jewish, had a customer base that was 95 percent Christian. Some of his bigger customers were Catholic Churches.
That was back in the day when churches had large rectories, including lots of priests and lots of nuns. St. Ignatius Church was my dad’s best customer. They had a large parish, and, at the annual Christmas Eve party, usually Monsignor Gagen, along with a few of his priests, would attend the party. It was my job to usher the Monsignor out the back door so that his parishioners would not see him stone cold drunk. What was funny was that all members of his church knew he drank like a fish, but we kept up the pretense. anyway. It was the one night of the year that my father, may he rest in peace, got loaded. His favorite line of the night he used at every party was “Open up your song books to hymn number 64. If you do not like hymn number 64, we can sing hymn number 32 twice.”
My dad, a Jewish businessman, had a great relationship with the Catholic community. When he died in 1976, at the age of 62, over 1500 people came to the Shiva, including the Monsignor and a number of priests and nuns. I often “hark back” to those days and smile. The true meaning of brotherhood and what most religions preach was evident on Christmas Eve, at Rome’s Superette, in Kingston, Pa, for 44 years, ending in 1976.
As I read this story once again, the day after gathering with friends for Purim, I wonder what the world would look like if we all gathered for these types of celebrations, regardless of our religion. If we truly created local communities of people who got to know each other as people, could we put an end to the growing hate that poisons our world? It’s a conversation I’d like to have with Mr. Rome. It is one that I will have with my local community leaders to see how we can replicate what used to happen in Kingston, PA until 1976.
As I said, Mr. Rome was more than just a middle school math teacher. He taught us his entire life. Here is another lesson from Mr. Rome. Notice that even though we are in our 50s and 60s when he wrote this, we are still ‘boys and girls’ to him.
Good Morning Boys and Girls. Rather than teach a lesson involving grammar or math, I am going to tell you a story that is fitting during the holiday season.
1967 was my first year of teaching. I taught 6th grade at Sara Lindemuth Elementary School. The other 6th grade teacher was Mrs. Sollenberger. It was the last day before Christmas vacation. Both 6th grade classes had a combined Christmas party. The kids all brought a gift that cost 50 cents and each child got to pick out a present. The kids wanted Mrs. Sollenberger and me to open our presents. Mrs. Sollenberger went first. There were the usual assortment of gifts. She opened her gifts and thanked each kid as she read the card that accompanied each gift. The next gift she opened was wrapped in a small box. When she opened the box and read the card, there were chuckles and some of the kids were laughing. In the box was an old pin. It was ugly looking and some of the stones were missing. When she read the card, she realized that this gift was from Debbie. Debbie was the daughter of migrant workers. Her clothes were usually dirty, and her hair went often times, unwashed. Debbie was not a very good student and let’s just say she was not the most popular girl in 6th grade. It was at that moment when Mrs. Sollenberger did something I will never forget.
She told Debbie that her present was her favorite of all the presents she received. She made a point of asking Debbie to pin the pin on her dress. The smile on Debbie’s face said it all. She was so happy. It took a few minutes, but then the other kids got involved in the spirit of that moment and what I observed was like a transformative moment in time. One girl told Debbie that her pin was so pretty. Another girl said to Debbie that I can see why Mrs. Sollenberger liked her present best of all. Several kids asked Debbie if she wanted some extra Christmas cookies. Kids can be very cruel sometimes. But in this special moment, even some of the boys who often picked on Debbie and made fun of her, were actually nice and a few of the boys said some nice things to Debbie. For the first time in her life, Debbie was the “star of the show.” Almost every kid in class joined in the fun. Mrs. Sollenberger continued to make a “big deal” about Debbie’s pin. Debbie could not stop smiling.
When it was my turn to open my presents, in my mind I thought, how am I going to react when I open the present from Debbie? In a small box was an old rusty tie pin, shaped like an arrow. Following Mrs. Sollenberger’s example, I told Debbie that my father had a tie clip similar to this one and I always loved it. I wore the tie clip the rest of the day. I take no credit. Mrs. Sollenberger is the one that set the tone. Mrs. Sollenberger then did a special arts and crafts project with the kids. She told them they had to work in pairs. It was both heartwarming and amusing when the kids started fighting over who would be Debbie’s partner. Finally, the school day was over, and the kids were dismissed. I had a moment with Mrs. Sollenberger, and I said to her “Mary, you made one kid very happy today. She will never forget this day.” Mrs. Sollenberger just smiled and said thank you.
The kids returned from vacation and, for the most part, nothing out of the ordinary happened the rest of the school year. Occasionally, Mrs. Sollenberger and I wore our presents from Debbie, and she always smiled more than usual on that day. I would like to tell you that Debbie’s “one shining moment” continued, but that was not the case. Debbie’s grades did not really improve. Her clothes were still dirty, her hair went unwashed. She was usually quiet and did not have a lot of friends. Mrs. Sollenberger is long gone. May she rest in peace. Debbie’s family moved out of the school district, and I never heard from her again. I would like to think her life has been filled with moments that were more positive than negative. Debbie had a tough life as a child. But there was one moment in time when Debbie was a star. She had a huge smile on her face, and I have a feeling she will remember that day, always. Her teacher, with one simple heartfelt gesture and some kind words, made Debbie feel extra special. That day, Mrs. Sollenberger exemplified what it means to be a teacher. I have never forgotten that moment that happened almost fifty years ago. Take care.
I hope you can get a sense of how special a man Mr. Rome was. How he impacted lives when we were in 6-8th grade and how that impact continued throughout our lives. How it shaped us into being better people. I look at some of my friends from that time and see how they have chosen to impact the world and it is all truly a tribute to Mr. Rome. It doesn’t matter what their success in life has been, it seems they all find some way to give back. They find some way to try to help a Debbie that they encounter or inspire a Kim in her life’s journey.
The world lost a legend at the end of last week when Mr. Rome died. Yet he continues to live on through all of his ‘kids’ that he invested in and that invested in him as well. He lives through our volunteer week, our charitable giving, the way each of us, in our way, does what Mr. Rome taught us. Not math. He taught us to be good human beings. He taught us to care about other people. He taught us that no matter what the seemingly reason we were together (in his case teaching math) we are really together to build relationships and to build friendships. We are there to better ourselves, better the lives of those around us, and better the world.
Thank you will never be enough Mr. Rome. While I only had you as a math teach for 2-3 years, I have had the privilege of having you as a life teacher for 45 years and as a friend for nearly 40 years. And although I am not a teacher in a school, I will do my best to honor you and what you invested in all of us to continue to invest in ‘my kids’ for the future as they have a piece of my heart just as you do. Rest in Peace Mr. Rome. Your memory will always be a blessing to so many people Baruch Dayan HaEmet. Your legacy is secure. I’m gonna go and be a little teary now because you taught us all that’s ok.
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