Sunday, January 3, 2016

A Winter Wonderland

On New Year's Eve eve it began to snow, only intermittently at first, but enough to cause grave uproar among any student to eye it. They rushed to the window, mesmerized by the flakes as they littered the sky, melting immediately as they hit the ground. It was almost as if they'd never seen snow before, which is not to say the first snow of the year isn't magical. To be certain, it is, if not soon to grow wearisome and rather obtrusive. The show of flakes lasted only for a minute, but continued this pattern throughout the day, each time eliciting the same response.

While students were busy pressing their faces eagerly to the glass, hurrying to run outdoors upon the ring of the bell, faculty were eagerly checking the forecast. More snow - and less intermittent - it seemed was in our foreseeable future. Chatter happily turned to the possibility of a snow day. "Even an inch," we were told, "is quite a lot here." Without the capacities to clear the roads, perhaps only an inch was needed to deem travel unsafe, although that seemed to me to be an utterly catastrophic thought.

Still, I let myself get swept away in the possibility, and, when morning prayer woke me (as it tends to do), I glanced out the window perchance to see a squall of snow. Happily, I tried to get back to sleep, but my anxious nature kept me waiting for the phone to ring with tidings of great joy and school cancellation. A ring which never came. Come 7:00, the snow was no longer falling and, as if no squall had happened at all, the roads were clear.

On the way to school, however, the bluish skies turned grey and snow poured down, ceasing only once or twice in the afternoon. Classes were half full, in an optimistic sense, with the bravest and heartiest students who chanced to brave the perils of winter. Nothing that a little sand and salt wouldn't fix, to be sure, but without such appropriations, cars misguided themselves through the growing piles of snow and steadfast feet slipped as they walked.

A huge uproar followed the morning announcement that school would be closing early - at 12:30 - a fact for which I was grateful, though it did seem rather silly. If inclement weather was the cause, weren't students presently safer staying where they were? But no mind, as I, too, was excited for the early dismissal.

I, having yard duty that day, which every 40 minutes dragged me outside for 10, spent most of that time warding off snowballs that were hurled this way and that, and watching young students cast their faces up towards the sky, tongues outstretched, to catch the quick-falling, fat flakes of snow. 

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