When I was young, all kids in my grade wished upon stars, fingers and hope that small, white flakes would gently tumble from the clouds and stick. It didn’t matter if it was a dusting or a barrage, as long as it stuck school would cease to be. We’d have a Snow Day.
Growing up in the part of my country where snow happens, but infrequent, it didn’t take much to call off school for the day. I recall walking home from being dismissed early, only to see it melt before I reached my house. But the decision had been made. Snow had stuck to pavement. School closed. And wouldn’t reopen until the next day.
Maybe.
Assuming more frozen stuff didn’t fall overnight.
And it usually didn’t.
Fast forward a few decades; my daughter had her own share of snow days, too. There weren’t many, but there were enough for her and her classmates do to the same wishing rituals we all did at her age, adding new ones, such as wearing pajamas inside out.
K is now grown, school days well behind, yet the hoping and wishing for a day off remains.
I had to laugh as it dawned on me the other day that work being closed due to winter weather is nothing short of an adult version of a Snow Day.
However, Snow Days today are a little different now, aren’t they?
Coffee with friends brought up the topic of school and winter weather. My one friend with school-aged kids told us how it’s a mix now. School could be canceled. It could be delayed. But more likely than not (thanks to tech and the pandemic illness that shall not be named), they have remote learning days. In other words, most times they still have school. Just at home.
In an era where we lament so many staying indoors, screen-stuck, lacking the amount of natural exercise experienced by generations that came before, it seems like a missed opportunity to move. For mine and my daughter’s generations, we broke out sleds (or large tops of storage containers), found something resembling a hill, and went sledding. We attempted snowballs and snowmen. Flopped backwards on the ground and made snow angels. We walked around the neighborhood, enjoying flakes on our faces, ruddy cheeks and biting cold piercing shoes that may or may not be up to the challenge.
Once adequately soaked and chilled, we’d head back inside, drop the wet layers somewhere (usually on the floor, to the consternation of our elders), change, and find our way to the fireplace or the kitchen in search of something to warm us up.
It was, in one word, glorious.
It was sensory (cold, wet, stark). It was movement (trudging, tossing, sledding, angel making). It was memory making, too.
I’d like to think if schools went back to traditional snow days kids would be out in the snow (safely), making their own set of memories. And some do. But screens still scream, don’t they? Or does the quiet, peaceful snowfall shout louder?
Snow Day
Come my way
Stay a while
Leave me comforted, warm and cozy
Rested, refilled, calm
Snow Day
Julie
All of this original content is created by Julie Clark. Permission denied to AI for learning and other uses. Author retains all rights.