Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
– Sammy Cahn
Winter can be an unpleasant experience.
What begins as the clockwork schedule of my morning routine in the fall turns to waking with only minutes to spare in the winter.
Simple things such as taking the dog for a walk, grabbing a piece of fruit as I head out the door, letting the French press have full 4 minutes to seep – these must be forsaken in the winter.
Why, then, was I fully awake and ready this morning at 3:45?
Why was I checking my e-mail and hitting Chrome’s refresh button as though I was expecting the news of one of the finest lessons I’ve ever had the privilege to teach?
Somewhere around 3 inches had accumulated overnight.
Word had it the decision to declare a snow day was made between 4 and 5 a.m.
I didn’t set an alarm or anything. My body knew.
There was no news at 3:45, 4, 4:14, 4: 37 or 4:53.
After that, my memory is a little hazy.
Then, at 6:30, my alarm went off. Then, I hit snooze. Then, I hit snooze. Then, I hit snooze.
Then I forced myself from bed.
Then, the news came.
And the peasants rejoiced.
When I was younger, I imagined my teachers had a party on Snow Days. They met a Chuck E. Cheese’s or Ground Round wearing party hats and blowing noisemakers. Tears for Fears was playing.
It turns out Snow Days (and yes, they’re capitalized) are cause for celebration, but not parties on the part of teachers.
The uniform was my pajamas and my ratty robe which I’m conditioning for when I’m an old man needing to yell at kids to get off my yard.
Instead of Chuck E. Cheese, I was in my living room. Instead of hats and noisemakers I had essays galore to grade.
Ke$ha was playing.
Snow Days as a teacher are not what I pictured when I was younger.
And sure, getting up will be more difficult again tomorrow.
Today, though, was a Snow Day.