Go With the Snow

Last Friday, the 28^th of March and just into our Spring, Vancouver had a mid-morning snow storm. The snow started falling at ten minutes after nine, precisely the moment I began to introduce the new unit on Frogs. Sitting adjacent to the windows, I noticed the first few flakes, but tried not to draw any attention away from our lesson. “What happens after the frogs hatch from their jelly-like eggs?” I ask. But I only hear the first whispers of “snow” among the students. Ploughing forward and trying to ignore the distracting rustle, I prattle on about the tadpole stage. Giggles, bursts of laughter and surprise, and flailing gestures toward the huge windows pull all eyes to the wonderous display of a springtime winter-wonderland. My hopes of discussing the froglet stage are diminishing. By this time, it looks like a veritable blizzard outside and there is no way that my students are able to contain themselves. To be truthful, I’m having a hard time staying focused myself –the sight of the beautiful spring storm is incredible. “Class,” still trying to maintain a semblance of order, “it seems that the snow is falling quite heavily and many of you are very excited.” Cheers of agreement arise from the eight year olds, the boys race to window. The final threads of interest in the frog lesson have been irrefutably broken and the kids are in near snow-fervour. Thank goodness for classroom doors that lead directly onto the field. “Okay everybody, outside for a quick snow dance!” With squeals of delight and amazement and without jackets, mittens, hats or scarves, we dash about in the falling snow. It is an amazing scene. The kids are beautiful with red cheeks, big smiles and fat snowflakes caught in their hair. I chuckle to myself, in spite of the frog lesson, and take heart in the warming experience. With the first proclamations of cold hands, we are back inside. The students are still excited and many gather around the windows chattering happily. A few wander back to their desks. One by one the snow-wowed kids dispense to their seats, the chatter quietens and the industrious sound of pencil scratchings and thinking begins. Soon, the whole class is fully engaged with The Life Cycle of the Frog sheet that I have placed upon their desks, and the snow outside is temporarily forgotten. In this moment, I have time to reflect: being a teacher often means going with the flow, on this particular Friday, I chose to go with the snow.