Career lessons

Snow Days

by Robert

When I was growing up in Royal Oak, I don’t recall ever having a snow day.  I probably would have liked one, but we were a tough breed back then.   The first snow day that I can recall took place my second year of college.   I was a student at Western Michigan University living with my Aunt Emma, Uncle Jack, and my cousin, Ruth Ellen.   She was a senior and I was a sophomore.

Ruth Ellen and I drove to Western together most days.   She dropped me off for my eight o’clock class and it started to snow as I walked into Sangren Hall on January 26, 1967. There were four inches on the ground when I walked out.   I spent the night in Eldridge Hall with a couple of my friends and made the two mile walk home through waist deep snow drifts the following day.  By the time the storm was over almost 30 inches of snow had fallen over a 36 hour period.  They closed the entire campus for several days.

When I taught in Plainwell, we had snow days.  We had a telephone chain to help spread the word when school was closed.  The snow day calling list was the holy grail.  Where you fell on the list gave you an idea of when you would receive your call.  (I preferred a wake up call before I was dressed to leave for work.)  One staff member called another and so on and so on. Students didn’t report to school, but sometimes teachers did.   That was part of the calling system.  We were told if we needed to report or not.  Wayne, the superintendent,  decided if we were to report.  We all had work to do, but it was nice to get a day off once in awhile.

I remember walking down the hall of the middle school on a kidless snow day and running into one of the custodians.  He said, “This is a great place to work when the kids aren’t here.”

“Yes, but without the kids, none of us would have a job.”

“Oh, yea.   I didn’t think about that.”

When I became the elementary principal in Addison snow days took on a different feel.   Although whether we had school or not was not my call, I felt responsible anyway.  I had an allegiance to the superintendent who made the final call.  Roger, and later Jeff, were wrong every time.  Somebody second guesses every decision that the superintendent makes.  While not everyone cares about class size, what books are purchased, or who gets hired, everyone has an opinion about the weather and how it impacts the roads.

Teachers didn’t have to report for snow days in Addison.  It was a lost day of instruction.  People got paid for days that were lost because of poor weather.  The days we lost in Plainwell and Addison were not “made up.”  They were just gone.

That all changed when my son, David, was in the second grade.   We had seventeen  snow days that year.  We missed at least one full week and never had school on Monday during the months of January and February.  When you have a school year of one hundred and eighty instructional days, seventeen lost days is a lot.

The Michigan legislature, led by our local representative, Nick Smith, changed the law the following summer and anything over five days had to be made up.  That change in the law altered many people’s feelings about whether school should be canceled.  I expect that people were more willing to drive through deeper snow and slippery roads after the first five lost days.  The make-up  law has undergone several changes since then, but there are no more unlimited free passes.

When I became superintendent of Britton-Macon I was confident that I could handle everything asked of me – everything but snow days.   I still lived in the Addison School district and had to drive thirty-five minutes to get to school each day.   I wasn’t looking forward to having to get up at three in the morning,  get ready for school, make the drive, check the roads on the way, in order to make the call.

The superintendent and the transportation director worked in unison to check the roads and make a decision.   Surrounding districts also provided information regarding their roads and their plans to “run the buses”.   Districts shared information with the intermediate school district’s director of transportation too.  The county road commission and sheriff’s office provided information as well.  You had better think twice about running your buses when “everyone around you” was closed.

Like all districts, Britton had a transportation director. My first day in Britton was Monday, November 4, 1991.   I stood shoulder to shoulder with my transportation director, Gary, and we talked about “snow day procedures” as we watched the students arrive to school.   Gary said, “You don’t need to check the roads.   I do all of that for Britton.   I have “go to”  spots that I know cause problems.  I’ll check the roads, give you a call, and let you know if we should cancel.”

That was a great relief.

Several weeks later, Ruth received a “school is canceled” call from Adrian Schools.  It was about 5:30 in the morning.  I was just getting around to start my day.   I turned on the radio and discovered that other schools were canceling and the list was growing as I listened.  I hadn’t received a call from Gary so I called him.   There was no answer.  I thought, “He must be out checking the roads.”

I took a shower, expecting a call any second.  After my shower, I called him once again.  Still no response.  I decided to call the village office to speak with Jim who worked for the village.  I knew that he would be out clearing the village streets but maybe I could catch someone in the office.  Jim answered on the first ring.  (The village garage was adjacent to our bus barn.)

“Jim, this is Bob.  Have you seen Gary this morning?”

“No.”

“Can you see the school truck?”   I knew that Gary would come to school to get the four wheel drive vehicle before making his rounds.

“Yes, it’s here.”

“Jim, can you check on Gary for me?  Something must be wrong.”

“Sure.”

I called the transportation director of the Lenawee Intermediate School District , Don, and discovered that all of the county schools, except for Britton-Macon, had decided to close.  “We’ve got to close too.” I said.

Don volunteered, “I’ll call the radio stations for you.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as I hung up the phone, it rang.   Gary was on the other end of the line.  Jim had driven to his house, awakened him, and he was checking in with me.  “We should close.”, he said.

“We have.  Start our phone chain.”

That was my first official “make the call” snow day.  I worked for Britton for sixteen years and Gary never over-slept again, however, that morning lived in the back of my mind for the entire time.

My second grade son is a superintendent now.  He took on the responsibility for making such calls six months before I retired.  The make-up day law continues to change, but the snow keeps falling.  Technology has altered our notification systems and I don’t know if “snow day call lists” even exist anymore.

David is an active “tweeter”.  It snowed in Hamilton, Michigan this past Monday.  While I was still sleeping in Florida, he sent this out to all of  his “tweet” followers.  I checked it out later in the morning while I was getting ready for golf.

I’m very confident that there were a lot of happy students and teachers in Hamilton that morning. I’m equally certain that there were several unhappy parents. But as superintendents across our snow prone country say, “Safety first.”

Just Received.   Weather Bulletin:  

Snow possible anywhere from 0 – 145 inches.  Maybe.  Could start at 5, 6, 7, 8 , 9 o’clock.  Maybe today.  Maybe not.  Possibly none.   (Please plan accordingly.)