Snow more days

It is May and in the spring, a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of distance learning and its impact on the traditional school year. Also, the fact that some models are showing a snow storm in part of the northeast for this weekend has me thinking about stuff like snow.

Some journalist said what 50 people before him had said (just without the millions of followers), that with the advent of widespread distance learning, there will no longer be any need for snow days. I'd like to take this opportunity to head this little foolishness off at the pass and destroy it so that no one else mentions it, even as a joke. I'll focus on high school education, but I won;t limit myself to any particular texture of snow.

1. If it snows so much that we can't drive, then there will be much shoveling to be done and we rely on roving bands of young people to save that particular day. Force them into classes and then it gets dark, stuff freezes up and my back hurts. Why are you trying to make my back hurt?

2. A snow storm brings with it the chance for black outs. Covering required information when there are students who lack the personal technological infrastructure at every drop of a hat will cause knowledge and achievement gaps.

3. A snow day or two is a welcome break. It is a celebration of childhood and freedom. To co-opt it and jam education down its fun little throat is mean spirited and cruel. Even administrators and teachers want to eat marshmallows, build a snowman and daydrink. Don't take that away from us.

4. This is the real one -- the logistics and administration of the day, coupled with inherent curricular obstacles make the notion of effective distance education unlikely even when the implementation is anticipated by weeks and there is planning. Without that, as in the case of a storm, education is impossible via technology.

I'll discuss #4 (as I think the others are self-explanatory) by creating a scenario.

Monday and Tuesday during the first week in February were routine enough. The second semester was well underway -- long term assignments had been assigned and classes had jelled to the point that the teacher knew a lot about every student. But by Tuesday, students checking weather apps knew that something was brewing. They kept asking "Do you think we'll have school tomorrow" as weather forecasts drew from 10 different models and predicted everything from a coating to up to 2 feet of wind driven snow. The most popular guess was 12-14 inches, with heaviest snow beginning at 7AM. The principal of the private HS, as was his practice, didn't sleep overnight. At the close of Tuesday's school day, he reminded students to take books home "just in case" but there was so much uncertainty and students sprinted for the buses more concerned with getting home now than worry about getting to school tomorrow. So he didn't sleep. He watched the weather channel, the news channel, ESPN, and then the weather again. He drank soda to stay awake and started looking for closure guidance by 3 AM. At 4, with no snow falling but in an abundance of caution, the superintendent called a snow day so the principal followed suit. He started making phone calls and the contingency plan was sprung into action.

Teachers were called, the emergency "snow day schedule" was invoked (it had taken hours, but a class schedule had been prefigured to ensure that classes that should meet, met, at a time that was responsible and for a length that was reasonable) so students received emails, texts and direct messages across a variety of social platforms.

At 9:30, as per the schedule, the principal's office sent out an email announcing a school-wide online meeting (the money spent for a business account on the platform, to allow so many sub-accounts, such large meetings and other perks seemed well worth the sizable investment). Seventy-five percent of the student body showed up for announcements and reminders. Class sessions begin shortly thereafter.

In each class, most students showed up mostly on time. Technological and personal glitches (wi-fi problems, hardware problems, home space availability, ambient distractions, family commitments) abounded. Teachers could not just pick up what they had been doing on Monday and Tuesday -- curricula had been designed for and implemented in person so the lectures, discussions, group presentations, review sessions and such didn't all translate directly onto the digital model. Tests could not be given. Homework could not be collected nor could it be assigned. Stand-alone, discrete content was covered but students didn't feel accountable. Teachers noted a lack of involvement and attention and traditional classroom management methods were ineffective. Classes that had been in the middle of group work, Socratic circles and other student-centered lessons turned into simple lectures so that teachers could present foundational information. Students who didn't take home books or material had to find on-line equivalents or hope that they could catch up upon returning to the building. Teachers had been advised to have extra classes prepared to be inserted at any moment but that meant that the content couldn't be based in the curriculum -- how could any teacher design a class that could work in November or March equally seamlessly? Some teachers broke out the bells and whistles and used third party apps to mix up class presentation and while most worked admirably, they served more to entertain than to enforce curricular lessons. The day was one more of warehousing and of discrete, extra-curricular discussions and content. There was some review which ended up being monopolized by the couple of students who wanted to take advantage of the chance to ask questions. Classes were shorter than traditional ones and students didn't necessarily show up on time for a variety of reasons ranging from the reasonable to the ridiculous.

By the time Thursday rolled around and most students were able to get to school (those in northern and western suburbs stayed home as their districts still canceled) Wednesday's classes were forgotten. Teacher's reviewed the Tuesday work and moved forward. There was no time in the schedule to add in assessments to make sure that the Wednesday work was done, let alone done well. What was left was resentment -- by teachers who spent their day trying to be something different from what they were trained to be and by students who felt that they were subject to busy-work. Administratively, all of the impact of a missed day had to be accounted for -- rescheduling of events and tests still had to be done and teachers had to figure out how to cover the actual curricular content with fewer days, and they hadn't had a day off to rework their plans. Sure, the school could brag that it had a plan in place and it could tell parents that it made the most of every class day, but was it really effective education? Was it worth the headache? No one on the front line seemed to think so.

My assessment? Distance education cannot be slapped on a traditional structure. Even on its own it is (IMHO) suspect, but this isn't on its own. This is changing horses midstream and the new horse isn't even a horse. It is swarm of angry bees and you owe it $20. Leave snow days alone. Account for them when designing the calendar (even in May) and let's focus our money, attention and effort on real issues in education.