Gazing out many of my house's 228 windows today (OK I tend to exaggerate at times, but I do have a lot of windows), the winter wonderland we call Minnesota cannot be more beautiful but deadly as well. As the inches pile up, the winds increase to threatening windchill levels, our governor, a former teacher, has asked our legislature to allow schools not to have to make these snow days up in the summer - a state first. Personally, I am a believer in year-round school: work around the weather, you know, it's been pretty consistent we freeze our ass off December through February and fry our butts in July, so can't schedules be so aligned with that pattern? And why can't teachers and kids make those days up, isn't it 'school'?
A hundred years ago when I was a kid, WE LOVED the snow! Thank God we didn't have the inside entertainment of today and I wouldn't trade my childhood for the world. Snow fights, building snow forts, digging snow tunnels, sliding, skating... oh what fun! We went out bundled up and back in sweating, laughing, wet - and tired. Mom didn't have to tell us to go out, we wanted to brave the weather. Icy roads were new death-defying stunts to be performed; drifts and mile-high snow piles became mountains to trudge up and push people down for "King of the Hill", throwing snow balls meant nailing a brother or friend for free - or at least until an ice ball knocked you aside the head.
Funny, we lived through all that.
Then came the snowmobiles my dad got, most likely for my five brothers than me. Undaunted, learning by watching the siblings shatter speed, launch and crash records, I figured out how to survive that yellow Ski-Doo. There was a couple on the farm, one so wore out the only way it would run was with the hood off. Many times we attempted death, including friends in on the ordeal of surviving a metal saucer pulled by a 25-foot rope. We didn't worry about dying, but looking back and remembering some of those treacherous quick spins and seemingly endless throws off that saucer, it is shocking no one ever got hurt. One time I challenged the width of two giant hay piles in a field a mile from home only to get stuck due to that brazen dare. Digging out of that took about an hour and went into the journals of 'stuff mom/dad don't need to know about.
Funny, we lived through all that.
Going to country school the first five years of my academic life was all I knew. Trudge a half mile to get there, race home the same length. Then as we were forced to go the 'city schools' it was racing to the bus, riding for 45 minutes before joining the throngs of kids in the classrooms. Having only five kids in my class and 24 in the school was a far way from 30 in each of my six classes and different teachers for each subject. Ahhh, being a 1960s kid was the best.
We had three 'recesses' at Fitch (country school): one in the morning before, lunch time and in the afternoon. Our imaginations run wild no matter the season, finding ways to play, argue, fight with each other. Mrs. Reiter took care of all us kids, teaching lessons, shushing us, reading to us, bringing us in with that school bell (ours was a new fangle alarm because some creep stole our actual bell from the tower). The winter brought all sorts of crack-the-whip - man we could really send that last kid flying! Duck, Duck, Grey Duck games had no equals as the anointed leader circled the playground readying us for the chase. And when we seemed to slow down with ideas, it probably was an appropriate time to nail a kid with a snowball to the forehead. We knew how to play! We knew out to get along! We respected our elders! We loved our school and most of the kids that went there.
Again, we lived through all that.
But the best part of winter in the big time for us farm kids was when school was called off for those whose roads weren't plowed by bus time. On our gravel road the side snow piles could get 12 feet high and drift in for a couple days. Yah, no school for us! We had to wait until the township plow dug us out, but never fear! My younger brother and I would taunt the bussed kids as they came home, by waving to them from our snowmobile as they passed in the afternoon going home. But because we didn't get any favor missing school as the teachers plugged away at lessons with no remorse in waiting for the farm kids to catch up. I swear it was June before some of those roadside mountains melted.
We were never bored at home and most of us loved school, that was escape from five brothers and getting to play with some girls for me. Everyone knew what kind of bread the other ate at their house by the plastic bags used to keep our feet drive in snow boots. There was no time to avoid a deep plunge into the white abyss or change socks when a boot got stuck. Your mittens got stolen lots of times and the chase was on as it was tossed around to the enemy or buried somewhere until spring. Then rush in as the bell beckoned us back to our desks, warmth and safety. Noses were blown incessantly as we quieted down to listen to today's reading.
No time to think or realize we had it all.
