Mother Nature surprised we North Dakotans with a blizzard on
Thursday, which was so sweet of her.
It was a doozy too. And
wouldn’t you just know it, I had left all of my projects at school. I NEVER do that. I always lug pounds of work home just
in case we have a snow day, or I have an appendicitis attack, or wolves take
the town hostage and I can’t get into the building. I literally never go anywhere without something to work
on. I killed me to be “naked” at
home with little to do. What to
do? Well, I had to muddle through
by finishing my novel, documenting the storm in pictures, bake Mr. Dahl’s fave
molasses cookies, and generally ignore all housework. It was a great day.
I truly enjoyed the down time.
Friday dawned cold but clear. I was itching to get into my classroom early and prepare for
the day. I left unusually early
and was looking forward to some productive work time in the quiet of early morning. I pulled up to the
building and parked in my usual spot.
The front steps were covered with snow from the storm. Poor Harry, our he-does-everything
maintenance guy hadn’t been out to shovel yet.
I hurried to my classroom, switched on the light, surveyed
the scene I had left two days before, and then realized… brrrrr, it was COLD in
there. My classroom is normally
very toasty… VERY toasty – which I LIKE.
At least it has been for the last two years. It was discovered awhile back that one of the two vents in my room had been completely closed off, probably for years. Well, that would certainly explain the
perpetual nip in the air. Being in
the basement of the building didn’t help matters either. Sitting in a cold room all day everyday is about as enjoyable as sitting in the filthy waiting room of the tire store
while you get new Bridgestones put on your minivan. It's just not that fun.
I put my things away, kept my Columbia parka and Ugg boots
on, and went to find Harry. I
found him, alright. He looked like
he’d just wrestled zombies. He was
disheveled and leaned heavily on the counter top in the office. No heat since two days ago. That was his story. The furnace repair company refused to
send guys out in the blizzard. Who
can blame them? On top of that,
the interstate had been shut down completely for half the day. In North Dakota that means literally
closed off. There are long gates
on each entrance ramp that are closed when the DOT issues a shutdown. It does not happen often. It’s a big deal when it does. So no heat and no repairmen. Harry was ready for a trip to anywhere
without snow and wind. Nebraska
would have sounded tropical about then.
“They’re coming sometime today, that’s all I know,” he said
wearily. Any extra space heaters
around the joint? Nope. Okay, then. We’ll just think warm thoughts.
I cheerily welcomed the Darlings into our walk-in
cooler/classroom and told them not to bother hanging their coats up as they
would need them for an indeterminate amount of time. And so we dove headfirst into reading and math bundled up
like the Michelin Man. Jackets
were zipped to the chins, stocking caps pulled low, and snow boots clomp,
clomp, clomped around the room all morning.
It was apparent by late morning that repairs were not
forthcoming anytime soon. This
being cold thing was getting old.
And so we pulled up Kookookangaroo dance videos on Youtube and did some
cardio. That helped. But they were getting antsy and really
wanted to shed the extra layers.
I had to laugh when recess rolled around and we sent our
chilled students outside as usual.
From the frying pan to fire, as they say. Or rather, from the frig to the freezer. The part that really tickled me was,
the kids were completely fine with yet more cold. Man, these kids are hardy. I am a big, soft, pathetic wuss. I have no problem admitting that. I was cccccccold.
I knew the Deep Freeze had hit its frustration climax when I
attempted to do word maps during reading intervention time. Coincidentally, my thematic unit for
the month of January is “Winter” and that day we dissected the word
CHILLY. They were to write the
word, then give examples. I got
the giggles when I perused their drawn examples of our word du jour. They illustrated themselves in our
classroom with various evidences of being, well… chilly. There were penguins, polar bears, and
one exceptionally cold child drew himself trying work with himself encased in a
block of ice from the waist down.
Oh dear. They’re colder
than I had feared.
And so I decided that we should just run with our
circumstances and make it an adventure.
I quickly found a (very cool) image on Google of the interior of an
igloo, which I projected onto the white board. I then had the children help me scoot a desk over to our
doorway, lined chairs up in front of it and then laid a blanket on top of the
chairs to create a tunnel effect.
This was the entrance to our igloo. We were now officially an Igloo School. If you wanted to enter or exit our
classroom, you were going through the tunnel, pal. Yes, that included Mrs. Dahl.
They loved it.
Cold was no longer endured.
Now it was embraced. We
were Eskimos! We go to school in
an igloo. Our chicken burgers for
lunch were actually seal burgers.
The sled dogs were waiting outside to take us home at the end of the
day. We laugh in the face of
cold. Bring it on, frigid
classroom!
The para showed up to check a diabetic student’s blood sugar
numbers. She looked at the blocked
doorway, looked at me with raised eyebrow, and waited for a response. “You’re gonna’ have to come through the
igloo entrance, sister. No
exceptions,” I challenged. She
grinned, dropped to her knees and emerged on the other side in no time
flat. I love her. She always so happily plays along. The Darlings hooted and hollered and
welcomed her into our ice block structure.
The Darlings wanted to know if they had to crawl through the tunnel with their backpacks on as they left for the day. Well... YEAH. Hello, it's an igloo. More giggles as puffy, well-insulated, cumbersome Eskimo children huffed and puffed their way through our quickly disintegrating exit tunnel.
The Darlings wanted to know if they had to crawl through the tunnel with their backpacks on as they left for the day. Well... YEAH. Hello, it's an igloo. More giggles as puffy, well-insulated, cumbersome Eskimo children huffed and puffed their way through our quickly disintegrating exit tunnel.
The furnace gurus finally showed up, and by the time I was packing
up to leave for the day, I felt delicious, glorious heat pumping out of my
vents. Oh my, I hate to be
cold. I still do not have blood
the consistency of maple syrup that native North Dakotans seem to possess. But the interior temperature had been
merely an annoyance, nothing that would jeopardize safety. We survived just fine. All in all, it was a good day. Even a fun day.
I think one of the biggest surprises I have discovered with
teaching is there are no “ordinary” days.
It seems that interruptions, changes of schedule, sick children, surprise
guests, weather disruptions, etc., etc., etc., are part and parcel of the
school day. A teacher has to be so
flexible she could twist herself up like a pretzel. It’s a little ridiculous at times.
I love the morning announcements that go something like this,
“Due to a conflict in schedule, the meeting that was scheduled for tomorrow
will be rescheduled for a week from Thursday and the meeting that was scheduled
for that day will be rescheduled for the nine days from the last lunar
eclipse. It is vital that you
attend and this will be the only reminder given.” As you are trying to make a mental note of this gibberish,
Little Sally Sue’s motion sickness from the morning bus ride makes a spectacle
of itself all over the reading rug, distracting you from this Priority One
announcement. A rigid teacher is
going to have a very unhappy career.
I struggle with the chaos of scheduling at times, to be very
honest. It makes me a little crazy
at times. But the show must go
on. Kids need to learn, even if
the static indoor temperature is in the 50’s. You do your best. It's all anyone can ask.
I just hope I don’t show up Tuesday to a flooded
classroom. I am NOT building an Ark…
