Snow Day!

Because I lived in the Southwest (Oklahoma, Texas) almost all of my first twelve years on earth, I had, as a boy, no idea what a "Snow Day" was. Our move to Hiram, Ohio, in the late summer of 1956 changed all that. And Hiram--which I'd already, and very quickly so, learned to love (the woods were lovely, dark and deep)--became to me a kind of heaven-on-earth when I experienced my first Snow Day.

Because Hiram was (is) such a rural community--with many "back roads"--the snow plows weren't always able to clear the roads all that promptly, so we began getting the calls: "No school today."

Is there a sweeter sound to a confused seventh grader? (Or, I would learn later, to an ill-prepared teacher?) I remember one fabulous week in the 1956-57 school year (I was in seventh grade) when we had the entire week off because of a blizzard. (Maybe it was 57-58? and maybe only four days?--I prefer thinking it was five.) My mother, who taught high school English in Garrettsville, three miles from Hiram, had to teach a couple of those days, and I remember her muttering some things about "standards"--whatever those were ... I think she was just jealous.

We did have snow now and then back in the Sooner State, but nothing like what I have experienced in northeastern Ohio. Oh, and I should add this: In the 1978-79 academic year, Joyce and I were teaching at Lake Forest College, up the North Shore from Chicago, where they had a mega-blizzard that winter. It seemed an omen--a message from Ohio: Get back here--our winters may be bad--but Chicago's are horrible! And so we did--after only a single year away, the only year we have not lived in Portage or Summit County in our entire forty-nine years of marriage.

Anyway, as a youngster I came to cherish Snow Days. Often--when the call came--I would think: Great! I can do that homework I neglected to do last night! (Usually, though, Lassitude prevailed, and I found myself returning to school, my homework still undone. My mediocre grades in junior high are ample proof.)

Later--a teacher--I became more ambivalent about them. Early in my career (which commenced in the fall of 1966 at the Aurora Middle School) I was thrilled to have days off--a chance to catch up. I was then in my mature early twenties, and (most of the time) I actually did catch up on grading and preparation--after, that is, I got out of bed, sometimes even before noon.

Later in my career, though, I didn't like Snow Days. I had carefully planned my courses, and unplanned days off annoyed me. I had to make ... adjustments. And adjustments were not easy for the Older Me. Days off also complicated things like play rehearsals. (I directed more than thirty shows at the middle school.) Anyway, when classes resumed, I had to feign delight at the day(s) off so that my students wouldn't think--even more than they already did--that I was a dork.

After I retired from public school, and after a few years of reading and writing and traveling and penury, I began teaching again (part-time) at nearby Western Reserve Academy (I could walk or bike to class--and usually did).  Principally a boarding school, WRA never had Snow Days. I found that refreshing--even charming--until, of course, I had to struggle through a foot of snow in below-zero weather. Then the charm quickly froze.

And now--fully retired--I sit in the coffee shop and watch the school buses roll by (or not--depending on the snow). I sip hot coffee and miss having a surprise day off--though, being retired, I know that every day is really a day off. Every day's a Snow Day. Which kind of diminishes the charm ...