I'm not going to lie -- That elementary school in Atlanta
that kept the kids overnight during a snow and black ice emergency? Epic coolness.
Best part is -- I have planned for this situation for years. I'm kind of jealous.
When I first start teaching in this district, our
superintendent never calls off school. There
could be snow emergencies in every town around us, including the one where I
live, but we all still soldier on to work in the public schools, just the same.
Weird thing is that at one stretch we
hadn't had a snow day in the entire northeast section of Massachusetts for five
years. I remember this because my youngest
had a state-wide composition test in grade four, and the question concerned the
children's most recent snow day. The
kiddos didn't understand the question. They'd
never had a snow day from school. They
thought the question meant their last weekend day to play in the snow. They hadn't an inkling about missing actual
school time to stay home and wait out a storm.
Eventually New England falls back into a snowy pattern, and
for a couple of years we have snow days in towns all around us, but still no
calling off of school from my work town. We teach straight through and struggle,
sometimes for hours, to plod the few miles home over the river and through the
woods.
This provides me with a unique opportunity to practice one
of my favorite pastimes: PLOT.
That's right, I said it.
I plot evil takeovers of the school by my seventh grade team should we
be stuck inside the building during a massive storm.
I have three other teachers on my team, and there are
multiple teams in the building between the three middle school grades, so
securing the best hang-out spots would require some coordination. I decide that enlisting my teammates is the
best strategy. I come up with a
brilliant master plan.
In the event of an actual emergency requiring the
sequestering of students inside the building for an additional period of time
that might require an impromptu slumber party:
My science teammate, who is a big-time athlete, and her students will take over the gym
and be in complete control of all fun and games and activities. No one plays basketball without getting
through her and the minions.
My social studies teammate and his students will take over the
cafeteria. Not only will we be able to
disburse food at our whim, but he is a master chef. If there are enough ingredients, the whole school
could be eating in style.
My math teammate and her students will take over the teachers'
room and connecting copy and tech centers. Although she isn't the most technologically
savvy of our mates, she certainly knows how to coordinate the troops. No one gets Internet access or makes fun copy
activities unless she says so, and she'd be in control of the only soda vending
machine as well as an army of microwaves (and two private bathroom stalls).
I plan on commandeering the main office. This is an excellent strategy because the
principal and vice principal will probably be out in the hallways to prevent
mayhem. While their backs are turned, my
minions and I will take over the airwaves, broadcasting music and our own
version of a radio talk show throughout the evening. We also rule the nurse's office if we takeover
the main command center, meaning no teacher gets Tylenol without our mercy, and
we are in control of the only beds and all of the emergency blankets.
Not that I've really thought it about all that much, though. or anything like that ...
Lucky kids in Atlanta.
They don't know how good they have it to be stuck overnight in school
with their teachers. Let the games
begin, cook up some hand-tossed pizza, dole out the tonic, and get your ears
ready, kids, because I want you to repeat after me:
This is Led
Zeppelin. This is your brain on Led
Zeppelin. You're welcome.
