The year 2000 saw the passing of Miss Edna Roach, I received this wonderful letter from one of her many students.

 Regarding Miss Roach, I was also saddened by her passing.  She went to school with my father in Hudson County and I was in the first class she taught in Bergenfield, which was second grade at Lincoln in 1948.  She only taught this grade one year and then moved to sixth grade.  I can't believe fifty-two years have passed!  We thought she was ancient then!   She was an emotional woman and you either loved her or hated her,  However, she was a wonderful teacher and a very caring person.  Obviously, I liked her.   Her handwriting was magnificent, being a student of the Palmer handwriting method taught in her school years, and she was the finest English teacher I ever had.  I learned more about English grammar in 6th grade than from anyone else during all my school years. I will always remember her precious green Sunsweet prune juice jars which had ivy in them on her window sills.  During an air raid drill (remember them?), I pulled the shades down and the cord got caught around a jar and made it fall and break when we came back to class.  She was furious, but I had the answer.  My mother had two of the jars and she gave me one to 
bring back to her after lunch.  Miss Roach didn't know what to say and was obviously moved and grateful, but hesitant to take the jar knowing it was a rarity.  She did take it, though, and probably still had it when she died.       She also liked her classes to sing.  Her favorite song was "Indian Love Call."  We always thought she might have had a lover who crooned that to her during courting when she was young back in Medieval Days.       My father-in-law lived in Bergenfield until his death three years ago.  When my wife and I would go up to take care of him, we would occasionally meet Miss Roach in the drug store or somewhere else in town.  We were always glad to see her and she was also glad to see us.  A giant in education, a very classy lady, and a one-of-a-kind educator is gone with her death.  Another touchstone to my childhood disappears, also. 

A note from Alex Onofrei, '62
reprinted and edited, by permission
I had not known that Miss Roach had died until reading Bob Hauf's (Class of’59) story. I graduated three years after you, Bob and also fondly remember Mrs. Roach from my sixth grade at Lincoln. I had always felt somewhat inferior, not realizing that my emigration from Germany invariably put me about a paragraph behind every time a reading matter was involved,
let alone learning English! Nevertheless, one day I happened upon a recipe assignment we were instructed to do and to my surprise she absolutely loved it! Indeed, she made a considerable to do about it for about two to three days, each time extolling whatever virtues she was able to find in that single episodic encounter. I felt so good for so long that I still remember it fondly. Several years later, when I had the pleasure of playing for the Senior High BHS basketball game against
Dumont, having an unusually good game, completely having forgotten all about my sixth grade experience, I ran a ball down and summarily chucked it over my head, blindly to a Chuck Richardson who gave his interpretation of a 1962 version of dunking. The crowd went absolutely wild. Game over. We won. After having fallen into the crowd retrieving this errant turned into game winning shot, I looked up..........there was Mrs. Roach, arms folded, crying with pride, staring into my very appreciative eyes with the compassion of saints. 
Thank you,
Alex Onofrei, '62


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