Terry Matthews recalled perhaps his favorite story about his late father, Terence, who died last week at the age
of 83.
“I guess I was about 11
years old,” said the younger Matthews, who is the associate principal and dean
of students at Hudson Catholic. “I was friends with perhaps the coolest kid in
the neighborhood. He was everything a kid wanted to be. I was having a baseball
catch with my Dad. This kid walked over and just started to throw the ball back
and forth with me and my Dad.”
Mr. Matthews taking the time
to play catch with the kid really resonated with his son, especially after
hearing the reaction from the kid.
“He said to me, ‘Man, you’re
lucky, because your Dad plays catch with you,’” Terry Matthews said. “My Dad
took the time to play catch with him and any other kid that came around. My Dad
sensed that this kid had no father and that no 11-year-old kid should never have
to worry about having someone to throw the ball with.”
That one summer afternoon in
Terry’s childhood stood out.
“It made an impression upon
me,” Terry Matthews said. “He understood it was the right thing to do. He got
it.”
From left, the late Terence Matthews, his son Terry and grandsons Eamonn and Liam Matthews. The elder Matthews died last week
Terence Matthews certainly “got
it” when it came to dealing with adolescents his entire life. His professional
life spanned five decades with the Jersey City Board of Education, including
six years as the principal at Snyder High School and another 13 years as the
principal at Ferris High School. He held the highest position at two tough
schools in the inner-city, yet never bemoaned his status. In fact, he embraced it
and welcomed it.
“He was proud of being a
principal,” his son said. “He worked hard at it. It was a passion for him. He
took a lot of pride in his job.”
He also took a lot of pride
in his son’s friends. Mr. Matthews was an avid reader of my work and would
freely criticize me when he thought I wrote something wrong, yet praised me
when he agreed with something I put in my column. Believe it or not, the praise
probably came just as much as the criticism. He was fair and stern and
trustworthy and faithful all rolled into one.
And I’m not alone with such
treatment. I’m willing to guess that Mr. Matthews was that way with practically
every kid he came across. He might have given me preferential treatment because
I was his son’s friend, but it didn’t seem that way to me. He was the same
strict disciplinarian with me as he was with his students.
The best way I can describe
Terence Matthews is this: He was a gentleman, class all the way. And he was a
gentle man, kind, considerate, a man with a gigantic heart who cared for so
many others.
The word can be utilized two
ways _ a gentle man as a man whose heart
was bigger than Montgomery Street; and a gentleman, a man with class and
dignity.
That best describes Terence
Matthews. He was the gentle man’s gentleman.
After graduating from St.
Peter’s Prep, Terry went to Rutgers University, but really didn’t have a career
path when he first started attending classes.
“I just started to gravitate
towards education,” Terry said. “I never anticipated it at all. I was an
English major, but I wasn’t a career path guy. It just happened organically.”
Of course, it didn’t hurt
that one of Jersey City’s top educators and administrators resided in the same
house with Terry.
“He provided guidance to me,”
Terry Matthews said of his father. “I was able to get his opinion on
everything. As long as I did it and did it well, my father didn’t care. As long
as the kids were my focal point, then my father was a great role model to have.”
Matthews said that he
received several cards, notes and e-mails from former students after his father’s
passing.
“People wrote to me, saying
that they were an ungrateful teen,” Matthews said. “And they said after meeting
and talking with my father, they went from being an ungrateful teen to a grateful
young man. When it came to other teachers, he didn’t demand respect. He didn’t
command respect, but I bet he got it. He was logical, yet empathetic. He was
always looking out for kids. He just had that presence. There was no bullshit
about him. You saw what you got. The kids recognized that he cared for them.”
Mr. Matthews lost his wife, Catherine, a little more than a decade
ago. They were married 45 years and had five children – sons Terry and Sean and girls Michelle,
Katie and Megan. Mr. Matthews was blessed with 12 grandchildren. After losing
his first wife, Mr. Matthews fell in love again with Alana and got remarried
nine years ago. Mr. Matthews is also survived by his sister Helen Alosa.
Terry Matthews said that he
lost his hero last week.
“He’s still my hero and
always has been my hero,” Terry Matthews said. “The one thing that stands out
about him is that he was a man of his word. He had a tremendous heart.”
Terence Matthews retired as
the Ferris principal in 1999. He then bounced around a little with limited work
responsibilities as Bogota’s acting principal. He also served in similar
capacities at Hoboken.
The sad thing about his
passing was what the COVID 19 pandemic has done to the country, that he was
prevented to have a wake and funeral with everyone getting a chance to say
farewell.
But it turned out the way
Terence Matthews liked it.
“He wasn’t a man who liked
showing off,” Terry Matthews said of his father. “He wouldn’t have wanted a big
funeral, a huge sendoff. But without the COVID restrictions, there would have
been a big turnout. It’s ironic that he didn’t get the tremendous send off that
he deserved.”
Terence Matthews certainly
deserved a grandiose farewell. He deserved to know that thousands of people
cared for him, respected him, absorbed his words like it was the Bible and
accepted his advice, whether you wanted it or not.
That’s just what a principal
does, the head honcho at two of Jersey City’s toughest facilities of secondary
education. Terence Matthews fit the part perfectly like he was a retired
colonel in the U.S. Army. He certainly looked the part.
Jersey City lost a true
giant of education, a true legend of a man, a gentleman and a gentle man. No
question, he will be missed, by family, friends and comrades alike.
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