Snow Day Cancelled

Monday was almost a snow day. Atlanta meteorologists had been playing up the possibility all weekend. Because of the rarity of snow in Atlanta, local and state governments have very little road-clearing equipment, and native drivers have very little common sense when driving on ice, snow, and really cold rain. Schools, of course, close at the drop of a flake. A few years back, most metro schools closed because of the forecast of snow. It never snowed.

More often than not, however, the local news creates a possible snow or ice crisis (Snow Jam 87 or Ice Storm 77 or Storm Jam 06) that doesn't materialize and results in no schools closing and tens of thousands of broken hearted young people and thousands of bitter teachers. That is what happened Monday morning. From the time I last checked the weather on Sunday night to the time I got to school, I was dreading the day. I knew we would have school. I knew that the students would think that we shouldn't have school. It would be a tough day, like waking up on Christmas morning to find no presents and instead being forced to work a double shift at Walmart the day after Thanksgiving. Indeed, I made it to school without seeing any signs of an eminent winter wonderland. Classes began to groans of disbelief and disappointment.

Then it began snowing. There are three windows in my room. I usually have the blinds open in the morning. I considered closing them before the students arrived but realized that would make me a killjoy. Besides, if we did have some flurries, I wanted to see the snow.

The flakes began falling fast near the end of first period. My students, juniors, begged to get out and frolic in the snow. They offered a number of compelling arguments:
"You won't be my favorite teacher anymore"...right, whatever
"I thought you were a good teacher"...you were wrong
"Don't you like snow"...well, yes, when I am at home with my family
"Other classes are going outside"...oh dear, I see that you are right
"It never snows"...I see, then what exactly is falling outside
"We shouldn't even be here today"...can't argue with you there, kid
"I hate life"...right there with you on that one
"Wouldn't you want to go out with your kids in the snow"...actually I would probably close the blinds and make them clean their rooms
etc etc etc.
I didn't have the heart to cut off their protests. Mostly, I just let them vent. Mercifully, the bell rang, concluding the argument.

Second period (freshmen) came in and picked up where the juniors had left off. They were positively giddy with excitement. I tried to get us started with our work for the day (the passage from The Odyssey where Odysseus visits Hades--a great passage and appropriate to the mood of all), but they only had eyes for snow. They couldn't stay in their seats. They unleashed a torrent of reasons to go outside (see above). They begged, pleaded, bargained. None of their arguments were getting through my responsible skull.

What they didn't know was that there was an argument going on inside myself. There was the professional teacher who should crack the whip, close the blinds, and plow ahead into the material, crushing any opposition that got in my way. I had responsibilities. I was paid to teach. In fact, this part of me was winning as I actually closed the blinds. Their protests bounced off me as I returned to the podium. The other part of me wanted nothing more then to let them go outside and dance in the falling flakes. This part of me questioned what kind of man I was becoming. Had I lost my appreciation of snow? Where was my sense of wonder? How could I deny the joy of snow to a bunch of stir-crazy kids who already spend too much time inside engaged in the many drugeries of school?

Eventually, the arguments of my responsible side were fatally undercut when I realized that I was going to get nothing done in class as long as it was snowing and that it was pointless to continue. My responsible side offered a deal to the class: If we go out for a few minutes and don't disturb any other classes will you come back inside and get back to work? I knew the deal would be accepted, and though I doubted its efficacy, I let them go out.

They left quietly and danced in the snow. Upturned faces quickly grew ruddy with cold as fat flakes plopped into open mouths. For a few minutes there was nothing but a bunch of kids in the falling snow. Soon the flakes turned over to rain and we went inside with a few flakes still clinging to our hair and clothes. We spent the rest of the class with damp heads discussing Hades with only a few wistful glances out the window. I was proud that they held themselves to their part of the bargain. Sure, they probably think that they got the best of me, but that's okay because I don't think I could have forgiven myself if I hadn't let them feel the snow on their faces.


Peace