Mrs. Roach is a witch! And she eats roaches!” a 3ft tall girl yelled as she ran directly toward my Ema and I. It was early, around 8 in the morning & we had just arrived at Stepping Stones. This wasn’t the greeting my Ema and I were accustomed to. Usually it was a peaceful preschool save the squeals of children having fun; playing and running about. Upon hearing the news, we simultaneously started sizing up the source. We were sufficiently suspicious. Getting information from a young lady in her early 4’s could mean anything. It could be something personal such as a midlife crisis, or perhaps a game of pretend gone awry as they often did. My Ema and I knew we stood in a place where rumors, conjecture mixed with flat out lies bloomed and thrived like ethereal flowers, passing from one eager ear to another, like the spreading of the mischievous pink eye.
I was not shocked by what she said; as I recall, officially, 50% of me was surprised. I already knew she ate roaches. Everyone knew she ate roaches. We had established that weeks prior. The Witch part, however, was new information. Images from the wizard of Oz poisonously seeped into my vivid imagination bringing dark smoke into an even darker room. An evil green faced witch mixing up something mysterious in a huge black cauldron stirring away in a trance. “Why is that cauldron always so big?” I thought, but my thoughts were interrupted. It was the same excited girl and she was still talking.
Subconsciously at that age we knew thar we did not particularly want to spend time thinking about grown ups eating roaches, or being witches. We wanted to play with toys and have fun. Still, we were concerned and for good reason . We couldn’t ignore this fact we possessed. One of our classmates eloquently stated, “Mrs. roach is our elephant a china shop”. We all unanimously agreed nodding our small wise heads.
They were right. We had to address this woman at the end of our row of classrooms. It was, “the last classroom on the block” and it was being run by a lady named Roach… “Disgusting!”.
My short associates & I held an emergency meeting at the swing set. Nobody used the swings. We mainly stuck to our original line of thought which cited her last name as a huge cause for concern. After everyone spoke, we collectively felt the best course of action was to begin systematic one sided inappropriately suggestive poll taking , combined with rumors and conjecture.
We took action, asking students if they were aware of the facts we now faced: we have a teacher named Mrs. Roach and we are confident she eats roaches, mostly on account of her last name. Rumors were spreading and I began to believe some of them myself
Thankfully in the end we used a logic based argument. Even today there’s nary an individual who could effectively lay down just enough reason to completely abandon it. We had to embellish a few things. The conjecturing & embellishing quickly gave way to rumors and finally flat out lies. By the time we finished some were admitting (for the first time) that they had Actually seen her eating roaches, maybe it was a close friend or a sibling but that was good enough
I recall clearly when the topic surfaced most often. Generally we were doing what 3-4 year olds do. We were playing happily; running around within our fenced in world . It was small and usually shady despite it facing south. It’s still there as I write this, looking at NW 8th Ave which runs east & west through the small slow shady city of Gainesville fl
/
As most know and was mentioned, the playground, away from grown ups is where the best scuttle butt can be found, complete with conjecture pontificated as fact mixed with confusion & lack of knowledge in general. We humans think best on our feet. If one is trying to solve a problem it’s best to have more than one person focused on it and it’s best to address the situation while standing, dancing or doing some form of running around & playing, having fun (when possible).
The monologue about Mrs. Roach would usually begin by calmly laying out the facts as we knew them. They typically lasted 30 60 seconds and more often than not, circled back to her abhorrent last name which always got some kind of rise and reaction . We all felt her last name was relevant & important. This was the glue that held most of our arguments together. Even today I have to acknowledge the fact that it makes for an extremely solid argument & there is little to nothing I can retort worth value much less something that may sway ones opinion.
When someone would pause to talk about the potential roach eater, we would politely stop what we were doing, nod our heads and look at the ground. Of course each of us were playing a in our minds.
The scene: A gross roach scenario starring Mrs. Roach feasting on mound of roaches placed between soft white bread, Topped off with a heaping spoonful of mayonnaise.
Shakespeare asked a question, did some back door bragging & at the same time mansplained his opinion with “what is in a name?” “A rose by any other name smells just as sweet”. What an idiot! 1984 Joshua had not yet heard this hog wash. If I had, I would have disagreed with him then & it’s worth mentioning I disagree with him now.
. We’d thought of every possible scenario & every possible explanation. In the end sound minds & cool logic prevailed. We left emotions out of the equation and stuck to the facts: Her last name was Roach. She did not change her name , like grown ups can do. In fact, She didn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed of her last name which meant she may not be embarrassed about eating roaches either.
She had dark black hair & we didn’t interact with her. She was down at the end; the last classroom on the block. . After many days we felt it best if we added up everything we had heard & seen combined with the conjectures & rumoring we had done. It was official, a unanimous vote was cast. We all agreed as a group: there was no doubt: Mrs. Roach was definitely for certain eating cockroaches, “gross!”.
The news relating to Mrs. Roach being a witch was new and I could tell by how wide the girls eyes were & from her body language: my impromptu playground newscaster was serious. The energy was immediately elevated as more of our associates walked onto the scene. She immediately raised the status officially to the level of “super serious”, which is 4-5 levels more serious than just plain serious.
As my small associate began at the beginning with the details, my attention shifted towards the adults who were 90% mothers. They were discussing the recent headline: Mrs. Roach, a well known roach eater, was also a witch. She had done something to a student. If I was told what she did, I cannot remember today. I recall feeling confused by the information & simply not understanding what it was she had done. I was focused on the fact that she was a witch and I wanted to know if she had a giant cauldron in her class room or if it was at her house. Also where she hid her broom and could she fly using it?
The conclusions my colleagues and i came to made perfect sense. As best we could surmise, Mrs. Roach’s horrid roach consumption had to be connected with her being a witch. We felt strongly her being a witch
tied directly in with her consuming roaches; They fed into each other in some sort of disgusting symbiotic relationship that we had no desire to fully comprehend .
On this day Our parents didn’t depart one by one to go about their mornings. Today they were standing around talking in tones i could not hear but could understand, looks of seriousness & concern became apparent as they huddled closer and closer together.
I recall that day the air was crisp & dry for Florida. The sun was shining on our play ground but it seemed to be more slanted at an unnatural angle. Although the sun was shining, the light didn’t seem to touch mrs. Roaches classroom door the way it usually did. The cool air blew more leaves around the entrance and there was a silence that was not there before. Was it obvious to us children something had happened in Mrs. Roach’s classroom? Whatever had occurred, all of my classmates & myself felt deep down inside that the eating of cockroaches would have been part of it. That much we knew for sure.
Upon hearing the news, we simultaneously sized up the source. We were Sufficiently suspicious. We were getting our information from a young lady in her early 4’s; this could be something personal; a midlife crisis, or perhaps a game of pretend gone awry as they often do. We both knew we stood in a place where rumors, conjecture and flat out lies were ran rabid getting passed around like pink eye.******
I was not shocked by what she said; officially 50% of me was surprised. I already knew sheb ate roaches. Everyone knew she ate roaches. We had established this weeks prior. The Witch part, however, was new information. Images of the wizard of Oz poisonously seeped in bringing dark smoke into an even darker room. An evil green faced witch mixing up something mysterious in a huge black cauldron. I was thinking, “Why is that cauldron so big?” When my thoughts were interrupted by the frantic girl who was still talking at a rapid pace.
Even at that age we knew thar we did not particularly have a desire to spend time thinking about grown ups eating roaches, or being witches. We wanted to play with toys and have fun. Still we were concerned and for good reason . One of our classmates eloquently stated “Mrs. roach is our elephant a china shop”. We unanimously agreed , all of us nodding our little wise heads. She was right. We had to address this woman at the end of our row of classrooms. It was, as they say, “the last classroom on the block” and it was being run by a lady named Mrs Roach. “Disgusting!”.
My short associates & I held an emergency meeting at the swing set. Nobody used the swings. After everyone spoke we collectively felt the best course of action was r to begin systematic informative poll taking and combine it with some classic rumor spreading. 3-4 of us took action, asking students if they were aware of the facts we now faced: we have a teacher named Mrs. Roach and we are confident she eats roaches, mostly on account of her last name.
Thankfully we used a logic based argument. Even today there’s nary an individual who could effectively lay down just enough reason to completely abandon it. We had to embellish a few things. The conjecturing & embellishing quickly gave way to flat out lies. By the time we finished some were admitting for the first time that they had Actually seen her eating roaches.
I recall clearly when the topic surfaced most often. Generally we were doing what 3-4 year olds do. We were playing happily; running around within the fenced in world . It was small and usually shady despite it facing south. It’s still there as I write this, looking at NW 8th Ave which rujs east & west through the small slow shady city of Gainesville flak
As most know and was mentioned, the playground, away from grown ups is where the best scuttle butt can be found, complete with conjecture pontificated as fact mixed with confusion & lack of knowledge in general. We humans think best on our feet. If one is trying to solve a problem it’s best to have more than one person focused on it and it’s best to address the situation while standing, dancing or doing some form of running around & playing, having fun (when possible).
It would come up the play ground and immediately , the air would slow down with all of us. We would be playing tag or pouring tea in an another uneventful “house” scenario , when a 4 year old, seemingly out of nowhere, would stop what they were doing, lower their shoulders and start theorizing out loud about Mrs Roach. Exactly what she was doing in the privacy of her now mysterious home? Was she eating roaches in her house and at school or just at home?
The monologue about Mrs. Roach would usually begin by calmly laying out the facts as we knew them. They typically lasted 30 60 seconds and more often than not, circled back to her abhorrent last name which always got some kind of rise and reaction . We all felt her last name was relevant & important. This was the glue that held most of our arguments together. Even today I have to acknowledge the fact that it makes for an extremely solid argument & there is little to nothing I can retort worth value much less something that may sway ones opinion.
When someone would pause to talk about the potential roach eater, we would politely stop what we were doing, nod our heads and look at the ground. Of course each of us were playing a in our minds.
The scene: A gross roach scenario starring Mrs. Roach feasting on mound of roaches placed between soft white bread, Topped off with a heaping spoonful of mayonnaise.
Shakespeare asked a question, did some back door bragging & at the same time mansplained his opinion with “what is in a name?” “A rose by any other name smells just as sweet”. What an idiot! 1984 Joshua had not yet heard this hog wash. If I had, I would have disagreed with him then & it’s worth mentioning I disagree with him now.
. We’d thought of every possible scenario & every possible explanation. In the end sound minds & cool logic prevailed. We left emotions out of the equation. Her last name was Roach. She did not change her name , like grown ups can do. In fact, She didn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed of her last name which meant she may not be embarrassed about eating roaches either.
She had dark black hair & we didn’t interact with her. She was down at the end; the last classroom on the block. We really knew nothing about her. Still we did what we had to do.. After many days we felt it best if we added up everything we had heard & seen combined with the conjectures & rumoring we had done. It was official, a unanimous vote let know where we all stood. We agreed as a group: there was little to no doubt: Mrs. Roach was definitely for certain eating roaches and from that point on it was known fact.
The news relating to Mrs. Roach being a witch was new and I could tell by how wide the girls eyes were & from her body language: my impromptu playground newscaster was serious. The energy was immediately elevated as more of our associates walked onto the scene. She immediately raised the status officially to the level of “super serious”, which is 4-5 levels more serious than just plain serious.
As my small associate began at the beginning with the details, my attention shifted towards the adults who were 90% mothers. They were discussing the recent headline: Mrs. Roach, a well known roach eater, was also a witch. She had done something to a student. If I was told what she did, I cannot remember today. I recall feeling confused by the information & simply not understanding what it was she had done. I was focused on the fact that she was a witch and I wanted to know if she had a giant cauldron in her class room or if it was at her house. Also where she hid her broom and could she fly using it?
The conclusions my colleagues and i came to made perfect sense. As best we could surmise, Mrs. Roach’s horrid roach consumption had to be connected with her being a witch. We felt strongly her being a witch
tied directly in with her consuming roaches; They fed into each other in some sort of disgusting symbiotic relationship that we had no desire to fully comprehend .
On this day Our parents didn’t depart one by one to go about their mornings. Today they were standing around talking in tones i could not hear but could understand, looks of seriousness & concern became apparent as they huddled closer and closer together.
I recall that day the air was crisp & dry for Florida. The sun was shining on our play ground but it seemed to be more slanted at an unnatural angle. Although the sun was shining, the light didn’t seem to touch mrs. Roaches classroom door the way it usually did. The cool air blew more leaves around the entrance and there was a silence that was not there before. Was it obvious to us children something had happened in Mrs. Roach’s classroom? Whatever had occurred, all of my classmates & myself felt deep down inside that the eating of cockroaches would have been part of it. That much we knew for sure.
*********************************************************************
edits:
Mrs. Roach is a witch! And she eats roaches!” a 3ft tall girl yelled as she ran directly toward my mother and I. It was early, around 8 in the morning & we had just arrived at my preschool, Stepping Stones. This wasn’t the greeting my Emma and I were accustomed to. Usually it was a peaceful preschool save the squeals of children having fun while playing.
Upon hearing the news, we simultaneously started sizing up the source. We were Sufficiently suspicious. Getting any information from a young lady in her early 4’s could mean anything. It could be something personal such as a midlife crisis, or perhaps a game of pretend gone awry as they often did. My Emma and I both knew we stood in a place where rumors, conjecture and flat out lies flourished & ran rabid getting passed around like the pink eye.
I was not shocked by what she said; officially 50% of me was surprised. I already knew she ate roaches. Everyone knew she ate roaches. We had established this weeks prior. The Witch part, however, was new information. Images from the wizard of Oz poisonously seeped into my vivid imagination bringing dark smoke into an even darker room. An evil green faced witch mixing up something mysterious in a huge black cauldron stirred away in a trance. “Why is that cauldron always so big?” I thought, but my thoughts were interrupted. It was the same 3ft tall girl and she was still talking at a rapid pace.
Subconsciously at that age we knew thar we did not particularly want to spend time thinking about grown ups eating roaches, or being witches. We wanted to play with toys and have fun. Still, we were concerned and for good reason . One of our classmates eloquently stated “Mrs. roach is our elephant a china shop”. We all unanimously agreed nodding our small wise heads.
She was right. We had to address this woman at the end of our row of classrooms. It was, “the last classroom on the block” and it was being run by a lady named Roach… “Disgusting!”.
My short associates & I held an emergency meeting at the swing set. Nobody used the swings. We mainly stuck to our original line of thought which cited her last name as a huge concern. After everyone spoke, we collectively felt the best course of action was to begin systematic poll taking and combine it with rumors and conjecture.
We took action, asking students if they were aware of the facts we now faced: we have a teacher named Mrs. Roach and we are confident she eats roaches, mostly on account of her last name. Rumors were spreading and I began to believe some of them myself
Thankfully in the end we used a logic based argument. Even today there’s nary an individual who could effectively lay down just enough reason to completely abandon it. We had to embellish a few things. The conjecturing & embellishing quickly gave way to rumors and finally flat out lies. By the time we finished some were admitting (for the first time) that they had Actually seen her eating roaches, maybe it was a close friend or a sibling but that was good enough
I recall clearly when the topic surfaced most often. Generally we were doing what 3-4 year olds do. We were playing happily; running around within our fenced in world . It was small and usually shady despite it facing south. It’s still there as I write this, looking at NW 8th Ave which runs east & west through the small slow shady city of Gainesville fl
As most know and was mentioned, the playground, away from grown ups is where the best scuttle butt can be found, complete with conjecture pontificated as fact mixed with confusion & lack of knowledge in general. We humans think best on our feet. If one is trying to solve a problem it’s best to have more than one person focused on it and it’s best to address the situation while standing, dancing or doing some form of running around & playing, having fun (when possible).
The monologue about Mrs. Roach would usually begin by calmly laying out the facts as we knew them. They typically lasted 30 60 seconds and more often than not, circled back to her abhorrent last name which always got some kind of rise and reaction . We all felt her last name was relevant & important. This was the glue that held most of our arguments together. Even today I have to acknowledge the fact that it makes for an extremely solid argument & there is little to nothing I can retort worth value much less something that may sway ones opinion.
When someone would pause to talk about the potential roach eater, we would politely stop what we were doing, nod our heads and look at the ground. Of course each of us were playing a in our minds.
The scene: A gross roach scenario starring Mrs. Roach feasting on mound of roaches placed between soft white bread, Topped off with a heaping spoonful of mayonnaise.
Shakespeare asked a question, did some back door bragging & at the same time mansplained his opinion with “what is in a name?” “A rose by any other name smells just as sweet”. What an idiot! 1984 Joshua had not yet heard this hog wash. If I had, I would have disagreed with him then & it’s worth mentioning I disagree with him now.
. We’d thought of every possible scenario & every possible explanation. In the end sound minds & cool logic prevailed. We left emotions out of the equation and stuck to the facts: Her last name was Roach. She did not change her name , like grown ups can do. In fact, She didn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed of her last name which meant she may not be embarrassed about eating roaches either.
She had dark black hair & we didn’t interact with her. She was down at the end; the last classroom on the block. . After many days we felt it best if we added up everything we had heard & seen combined with the conjectures & rumoring we had done. It was official, a unanimous vote was cast. We all agreed as a group: there was no doubt: Mrs. Roach was definitely for certain eating cockroaches, “gross!”.
The news relating to Mrs. Roach being a witch was new and I could tell by how wide the girls eyes were & from her body language: my impromptu playground newscaster was serious. The energy was immediately elevated as more of our associates walked onto the scene. She immediately raised the status officially to the level of “super serious”, which is 4-5 levels more serious than just plain serious.
As my small associate began at the beginning with the details, my attention shifted towards the adults who were 90% mothers. They were discussing the recent headline: Mrs. Roach, a well known roach eater, was also a witch. She had done something to a student. If I was told what she did, I cannot remember today. I recall feeling confused by the information & simply not understanding what it was she had done. I was focused on the fact that she was a witch and I wanted to know if she had a giant cauldron in her class room or if it was at her house. Also where she hid her broom and could she fly using it?
The conclusions my colleagues and i came to made perfect sense. As best we could surmise, Mrs. Roach’s horrid roach consumption had to be connected with her being a witch. We felt strongly her being a witch
tied directly in with her consuming roaches; They fed into each other in some sort of disgusting symbiotic relationship that we had no desire to fully comprehend .
On this day Our parents didn’t depart one by one to go about their mornings. Today they were standing around talking in tones i could not hear but could understand, looks of seriousness & concern became apparent as they huddled closer and closer together.
I recall that day the air was crisp & dry for Florida. The sun was shining on our play ground but it seemed to be more slanted at an unnatural angle. Although the sun was shining, the light didn’t seem to touch mrs. Roaches classroom door the way it usually did. The cool air blew more leaves around the entrance and there was a silence that was not there before. Was it obvious to us children something had happened in Mrs. Roach’s classroom? Whatever had occurred, all of my classmates & myself felt deep down inside that the eating of cockroaches would have been part of it. That much we knew for sure.
***** Accidentally hit an Ai button and got this: "Behold, the enchanting tale unfolds! A petite 3ft tall girl, her voice filled with wonder, exclaimed, 'Behold, the mystical Mrs. Roach, a witch of extraordinary powers! And, believe it or not, she feasts upon roaches!' Her words echoed through the early morning air as my Ema and I stepped foot into the realm of Stepping Stones. This was no ordinary greeting, for the hour was still young, the clock striking 8, and the world around us transformed into a whimsical wonderland. Gone were the usual tranquil preschool sounds, replaced instead by the joyful squeals of children immersed in fantastical play, their laughter dancing amidst the air.
Intrigued by the news, my Ema and I exchanged knowing glances, our minds already weaving tales of intrigue. We were no strangers to this realm, where whispers of secrets, wild speculations, and outright fabrications bloomed and thrived like ethereal flowers, passing from one eager ear to another, much like the spreading of a mischievous pink eye.
Oh, how we marveled at the mysteries that awaited us, as we ventured forth, ready to unravel the truth hidden within this fantastical narrative. With every step, our imaginations soared, painting vivid pictures of a world where reality and illusion danced hand in hand, blending together in a kaleidoscope of dreams and enchantment."
