This morning my students were all huddled in a vestibule waiting for me to come out. None of them wanted to spend a single extra minute outside. They were horrified to see me, not precisely because of my lack of personal charm, but rather because that meant they were going to have to face that long, cold walk to the trailer.
It was so cold that no matter how many times the custodians salted the three sheets of ice that we had to cross to hit the trailer, they froze almost immediately. I saw a girl slip and fall, but fortunately she was not hurt and got up to go the rest of the way to her trailer.
Eventually admin, or the custodians, or someone, got creative, and placed rugs over the perpetually freezing ice sheets. I felt important walking over them, as though someone had rolled out the red carpet. Unfortunately the carpet was a dull grey, but we can still dream, can't we?
I've become enamored of my North Face parka. A good friend of mine and I used to make fun of the kids who wore them, as though they were school uniforms, but at the end of the season a few years back they were on sale at Macy's for a hundred bucks each, and I got one for my kid and one for me. Now my friend makes fun of me for wearing it, but I wouldn't give it up for anything. I don't own stock or anything, but it kept me pretty happy today.
On the other hand, it only goes down so far, and this morning it felt like I didn't have any pants on (though I did). I don't think I could make it as a woman, wearing outfits that require bare legs.
I had to stay late and go to a meeting, and on the way home 1010 WINS informed me we hadn't had a day this cold since 1896.
I certainly hope we go another hundred years before the next day like this.
Views expressed herein are solely those of the author or authors, and do not reflect views of my employers, the United Federation of Teachers, the MORE Caucus or any other union caucus.
Stories herein containing unnamed or invented characters are works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.