Twentieth Week of School

How to Shovel your Driveway if You are a Teacher in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, if You Don’t Have a Plow Truck,  and if You Live Right Across from your School*

 

1.       Look out your window at 5:00 a.m. and see the blowing swirls of snow and eight inches already piled on your front steps.

 

2.       Answer your beeping phone at 6:15 a.m. and try to sound concerned while speaking with your principal about the impending snow day.  Get off the phone and let out a cheer—give yourself a hug, your cat a hug, or celebrate with anyone who might be around, even if that means calling your parents who live in Vermont and who are just coming back from their morning walk.

 

3.       Wait for daylight.  Plan out grandly efficient goals for your day, knowing that you will only accomplish 25% of them, if, that is, you are feeling particularly driven.

 

4.       Make something special for breakfast instead of grabbing a bowl of cereal like usual.

 

5.       After noticing that the snowfall has begun to slow down, begin getting your duds on, paying particular attention to the gators that will keep the ten inches of snow from going down your shoes, and the hat that will keep your heat from escaping.

 

6.       Go find your rugged, large-scooped shovel, all the way from Vermont, with the crooked handle so as to save your back, not break it.

 

7.       Lean on your shovel as you decide where to start.  The end of the driveway?  In front of the garage? Next to the front steps of your house?

 

8.       Remove several shovelfuls of the wet snow while thinking, This won’t be too bad.

 

9.       Remove several more shovelfuls and squint at the length of your short driveway in dismay.

 

10.   Keep going.  Don’t look up.  Don’t think about your back or your arms. Don’t even glance up when cars go by.  Whatever you do, don’t stop.

 

11.   Wipe the sweat off your forehead and remove your hat, remembering to keep working while doing so.  Ignore the grains of icy snow blowing against your face.

 

12.   Repeat steps 10 and 11 until the last possible chunk of snow is resting in your shovel , then heaved over your shoulder.

 

13.   Look with satisfaction on your work.  Smile.  Go inside to check “shovel” off your list.  Look at the myriad of things you still haven’t completed, sigh, and get out a book to read that has been waiting for you on your desk since school began, four months ago.

 

14.   Settle deep into the reverie of your book.

 

15.   Suddenly startle at the sound of a large vehicle pulling into your driveway. 

 

16.   Stare in disbelief as your school board chairman erases all evidence of your effort with his backhoe.

*Please disregard these instructions if your driveway exceeds 1000 ft.