The conditions last Friday were perfect for a snow day. The windchill factor hovered at -20 degrees, reaching the threshold where frostbite can impact exposed skin within one minute.
That was balmy Rochester, where school children were given a reprieve from their walks to school, up to a mile and a half. A few miles in any direction, the suburban students had to attend school. You could almost hear the wailing.
North and east, in the towns around Watertown, schools also were closed. But up north in St. Lawrence County, conditions were worse. The mercury lingered at -8 degrees Fahrenheit. The wind whistled. The windchill factor flirted with minus-35. The students must be hardier. School was in session.
I felt a sense of loss for the kids in Morristown, Hammond, Lisbon, Heuvelton and Ogdensburg. Every kindergarten child through high school know-it-all holds a whimsical vision of that next magical day when they sense the weather will grant them a snow day. They plan to sleep in, play video games, binge watch TV, gather at someone’s house. It’s going to be party day.
I recall those days in the 1960s. We had to grab a shovel and clear the front walk, then the driveway, then the driveway again after the Morristown village plow swept past. After you cursed the plow and remediated the chore, there was plenty of time for sledding, a snowball fight, or football on your knees in the living room until a parent booted you back outdoors.
Sometimes, my parents still had to report for work at the school or hospital, leaving an older sister or brother in charge. It meant less supervision and more risk-taking.
One of the snow day highlights was the indoor basketball game at the Colburn’s house. We unwound a metal coat hanger and reshaped it into a circle. At the time, grocery stores sold oranges in mesh bags. We cut them, laced them through the hangers, and taped our homemade hoops over doorways. Some socks, rolled and tucked, became the basketball. There was plenty of dunking and occasional harm to the surroundings.
To this day, I can hear the lamentations of Josephine Colburn, a mother of eight: “Why don’t you boys go down to the Hollerans’ house and break some of their furniture?’’
When you teach school, the thrill of a snow day never gets old.
Art teacher Erica Salgado described the eve of a snow day in her home. “I hope to see my school district listed. Then I hope to see the district my husband works in, and then my children in that order.’’
“The first thing I do is turn off my alarm for the next day and hope my kids let me sleep in. Then we just bum around in our pajamas all day, watch some TV, read books, and drink hot cocoa.’’
That feeds the myth that teachers don’t work hard. Never mind correcting homework, grading papers and preparing lessons at home in the evening, after their own children have completed their homework. Just the opposite. Teachers know a snow day is a chance to relax.
Joe Carter, not the Toronto Blue Jays World Series hero but an occasional basketball mate and a school administrator in Rochester, confirmed teachers are just as excited as students for snow days,
“I am an admin, so I come in anyway,’’ he said. “But if I stayed home, I’d catch up on my TV shows, a little binge-watching.’’ If his son was home, they would celebrate together while mom/wife went to work.
My old teaching partner, Kim Siracusa, now a special ed mentor teacher, hit the “daily double’’ on the snow day. She had the day off, but her two girls attended school.
“As long as everyone is safe, the words sub-zero, nor’easter, and ice storm give me the warmest and fuzziest of feelings,’’ she said, conjuring up memories of hot cocoa, sledding, delaying her student-teaching placement by a week, and patronizing pubs with her college roommates.
“I wish I could say I treated myself to a spa day, but instead I organized my dresser (two bags of donations), listened to my audio book, and cut out laminated games for one of my teachers.’’
“I had a quick lunch date with Mr. Wonderful too,’’ she said. “My how times have changed, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.’’
My parish council colleague and crossing guard, Amy Voelkl, relayed a conversation held outside her high school. The day before Friday’s storms, the day before a national record would be set for windchill (minus-108 at Mount Washington in New Hampshire), she turned to a young man in shorts in 20-degree temperatures and asked if he planned to wear pants the next morning.
The boy sighed disgustedly, shook his head, and announced, “My dad watched the weather report and told me I had to wear pants.’’
Then, with a look of disbelief, again he shook his head.
Aye, the rigors of teen-age life. The next morning was not declared a snow day.
Holleran Gets It Write 
Some North Country schools closed some didn’t which was unusual. Of course, this had nothing to do with how many days the district had used up already [closing on days not close to as bad as the day in question].
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Snow day column illustrates the old adage that a change (of pace) is like a vacation.
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