I remember trudging to school as fat damp flakes fell, sound muffled by heavy air, the occasional Styrofoam squeak of snow under heavy tread.
On other occasions I remember needles of spindrift blowing sideways across the Rother Valley, blue parka hood zipped up tight to suffocate but protect. I remember arrival at registration, always one of the few, only to be turned around again and sent home, excitedly with renewed energy, to lob snowballs heroically at the older, stronger Sixth Formers before fleeing, less bravely, when they fought back. I remember building snowmen in the garden with my family on these rare, stolen days. I remember wet gloves, icy hands, hot soup. I think children are entitled to enjoy a snow day or two during their time at school, although, looking ahead, climate change might have something to say about that.
I have memories. You might too?
Global warming and weirding aside, I wonder if our recent, successful forays into the world of online teaching and learning might render snow days a thing of the past. Messages can easily ping up on school websites and media informing everyone that a campus is shut and ‘lessons will proceed online’. Are snow days soon to go the way of the dinosaurs, as teacher Alan Gillespie mooted in the TES last year?
“Technology has obviously brought great blizzards of change to the art of education. Much of this change is welcome and necessary. I would argue, however, that robbing children of their snow days is a technological innovation too far.”
Head Teachers, their more practically minded deputies and other suffering school leaders know what it is to look up at the skies at night, tune into multiple weather forecasts and road watch websites to second guess if their school should be shut before buses depart, before alarm clocks ring out and breakfasts are munched in households across a school community. This painful exercise, balancing constantly moving and partial information, and without a crystal ball to gaze into, demands imperfect judgement. Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we make mistakes. I suspect a new similarly nuanced decision will now follow, not about closure of a school site, but about firing up the remote, online engine, or not. Why not let students enjoy the snow in a household garden and then curl up warm with a good book, or catch up in more relaxed fashion with that last piece of homework nagging on the mind? Judgement, exercised in the moment, will be required again.
So today, as the snow falls, rightly or wrongly, and opinions will inevitably vary, young people and staff at Bradford Grammar School are going to spend the morning at least, if they wish it, in the snow and fresh air of their gardens, hopefully before temperatures rise as forecast, when snow is predicted to turn to sleet and then to Yorkshire drizzle.
On a future occasion we might choose to press on with virtual lessons. Timing and context, responding to need, is everything. Today, after weeks of hard work, perseverance and progress online in front of computer screens, and responding to the feedback we have received from families and colleagues, a single morning, a bonus moment to have fun as the snow comes down, might just raise a few spirits, children and teachers alike, before we meet again in virtual classrooms.
And this just in via email, representative of the general feeling: “X says a massive ‘thank you’ – 7.20am and they are all very keen to come on my morning dog walk!!” A nice comment to receive during #ChildrensMentalHealthWeek.
“Today, after weeks of hard work, perseverance and progress online in front of computer screens, and responding to the feedback we have received from families and colleagues, a single morning, a bonus moment to have fun as the snow comes down, might just raise a few spirits, children and teachers alike, before we meet again in virtual classrooms.”
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