I am stuck inside. The fireplace is going, all the bulbs in the house are turned off, and I am writing and reading by the flickering light of every jar and pillar candle I own. Oh, and by the LCD, multicolored twinkles on my Pink Christmas Tree. Generally, I don’t like the forced mood of Christmas, but I sure dig the lights.
I keep my Christmas tree throughout January precisely for days like today. This is Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend, and I have Monday off, which is usually the closest thing a Texas teacher gets to a legitimate snow day. Thank you, MLK. I will read his classic, Stride Toward Freedom, for the first time this month and, with impassioned intonations, I will teach my 6th grade students about him. Throughout the lessons, my voice will match the fervor of his in The Drum Major Instinct, my favorite speech of all. It is piteous that so many students have never heard of him. When I connect the dots between The Declaration of Independence and The Gettysburg Address and the I Have a Dream speech, there are always gasps of wonder throughout the classroom. I love being a teacher.
But I will take my snow day, yes, I will!
Some non-teaching people decry, “Why in the world do you need a snow day? You just had two weeks at Christmas. And you will have to make it up on the allotted day in April, anyway. Why not skip a break in January and later just enjoy the Bad Weather Make-Up Day your school district didn’t use?”
Becaaaaause, you goof, a snow day is a surprise. The Bad Weather Day is on The Calendar. It is not a surprise. We teachers already know it is there. And if I already know it is there, I already will have made a list of things to do on that day by the time we get there. Things I do not want to do: like the garage.
On a snow day, because it is a surprise, I have not made a list of any kind. So I can tackle the things I really want to do: like read. And eat homemade chocolate syrup on … anything, maybe a cracker. Besides, there is no reason to start a fire in April, and I cannot keep my Christmas tree that long, even if it is pink, and I can safely call it an Easter tree.
I have a teacher friend who hates snow days. Hates them. She says they make her feel like she has been locked in, like she is in jail. She can’t go anywhere or do anything when it is icy; all she can do is lie on her couch in her pajamas and watch TV. Come to think of it, it does sound a lot like the contemporary prison system.
I don’t get her. I love a good snow day so much, I think my subconscious mind locks me in on purpose. You decide: night before last, I lost my keys. In the morning, they were nowhere to be found, so I used my spare car key and the garage door opener to leave for work. This would have do until I found my main keys, because I do not have a spare house key. (No comments, please.) Then last night, I lost my garage door opener. Which means I cannot leave the house without leaving it unlocked, which means I have just locked myself in, which means I have just created a virtual snow day. This was not on The Calendar! I love surprises. Going to work would have been a mild inconvenience under these circumstances so, thank you, MLK, for buying me some time to look for the keys.
Right after I read. And after I make the chocolate syrup.
You may ask how I got back into my house at all if I lost the garage door opener while out. That is where my big, little brother comes in. He and his family of five live across the street, which is very convenient for a scatter-brained girl like myself. Help is not without penalty, however. He keeps his snarky comments on quick draw and wears a double holster where I am concerned. He had plenty of ammunition last night, although he adhered to the School of Sarcastic Minimalism, it being so late at night and all.
“First your keys. Then your garage door opener. Incredible,” he grunted, galumphing onto the porch in mocassin slippers and flannel pants and using his key to throw open the front door. His voice buzzed with irritation like my green-energy porchlight overhead. When he wants to, he can even turn a doorknob with a certain sardonic flair. Very talented, that man.
I didn’t care that he was snarky. I didn’t even care that the keys and door opener would have to be located eventually. All I knew was that tomorrow I would be locked in. Or “unlocked in,” as the case may be.
And I slept peacefully in my pre-snow-day haze.
Surprise!
ADDENDUM: A couple weeks later, I enjoyed an unprecedented FOUR real snow days in a row! I was beside myself. And on the final day before returning to school, I put away my tree, with lights and some ornaments still heroically strung ’round. That was February 6th, the longest I have ever had a tree. So, Merry Valentine’s Day.
