Ultimate Honor for Santa Ana Teacher

With mariachi music and poetry, flowers and ribbons, a small elementary school in a modest Santa Ana neighborhood was named Friday for a young teacher whose sudden death reminded those who knew her that unique gifts are to be found in ordinary places and ordinary people.

Lydia Romero Cruz was born in Santa Ana, attended Santa Ana schools, belonged to Santa Ana community associations and, after graduating from college, returned to teach in Santa Ana.

In March 1996, she received an aneurysm diagnosis, and in April that year she died. Friday would have been her 39th birthday.

Her 8-year-old son, Michael, opened the dedication by leading the assembly in the Pledge of Allegiance, keeping his hand over his heart even after he left the microphone, after he was seated and until his father, Fidel Cruz, gently lowered it to his side.

Assembled at the new school, at 1512 W. Santa Ana Blvd., to honor Romero Cruz were dignitaries from across the county. Rep. Loretta Sanchez (D-Garden Grove) and Supervisor Charles V. Smith spoke. Santa Ana Unified School District Supt. Al Mijares spoke, as did Mayor Miguel A. Pulido and board President John Palacio.

Mostly, they directed their comments to the children assembled at the foot of the stage. Be like Lydia, they said. She had nothing that you don’t have, but everything about her was special.

“Lydia knew that it’s OK to be Latina, to speak Spanish as well as English,” Sanchez said. “It’s OK to be from Santa Ana and, regardless of where you come from, that all of us have the potential to affect everyone else’s life.”

Lauded as both teacher and administrator, Romero Cruz worked for the district at the time of her death. Her colleagues remembered her as someone whose manner with kids was patient but determined.

Once watching Romero Cruz teach a group of first- and second-graders, her former principal Jacquin Terry said, she watched Romero Cruz call on a boy who had raised his hand but then said nothing. After giving him time to think, she again asked him for the answer, and he still said nothing.

“But she could see he was about to die inside,” Terry said. “She knew in her heart how little Hispanic children feel when they are put on the spot, when teacher wants them to answer.”

The teacher rephrased the question again, and the boy gave her the correct response.

Though the speeches focused mainly on Romero Cruz’s role as an educator, the program was sprinkled with personal touches. From the stage, a large portrait of her, black-haired and black-eyed, smiled down. Near the buffet of refreshments stood pictures of her at different ages.

For her parents, husband and son, the school dedication in her memory brought poignant pride.

“It means a lot to me--my wife, Lydia, was very passionate about teaching, and I think the naming of her school will help keep alive her vision,” Cruz said. “She’s someone the kids will be able to see as connected with them, as opposed to a president who was born in the 1800s.”

Her father, Samuel Romero, remarked how as a boy growing up in segregated Santa Ana, he could not attend certain schools.

“Now here is a school being named for my daughter,” he said. “I don’t know any huge words, words to describe how I feel.”