How often do we use these words before going to bed at night: "I wish I had more time..." "If only this would hurry up and finish I could do A. B. and C." "Can it just be Friday already?" I think half of our lives (though I am not a statitician) are spent wishing we were somewhere else in time. Most of the time, we wish we were in the future (not the past.) Truly, very rarely do I hear people say, "Gosh. I wish it was last Friday again." "I wish it that day 10 years ago again." If we aren't careful you know, we will simply wish away our time. However, I do find myself doing the same thing sometimes. In fact, lately I have been refusing to think about the future but rather trying to live in the present. It isn't always easy to break the habit, though. Believe me. 

On Tuesday, at around 3:00, our school called off for Wednesday. The temperatures were going to be way below zero, and I told my students because my teammate had received the message via text. The end of my statement was interrupted with a loud cheer. And then, I began having flashbacks of all of those "anticipated" snow days years ago when I was in elementary school, middle school and even high school. For those of you who grew up in the 90's and early 2000's, we always had to wait for cancellations. There was no automatic call or text message. We would go to bed the night before watching the weather. I remember always feeling disheartened when I saw the visual of "snow showers" rather than just "snow." We always hoped for a 2-4 or a 3-5 inches to maybe get off. We threw our PJ's on backwards, put spoons under our pillows and waited and waited. Usually, though, the waiting continued as we got up early the next day, opened our curtains to check the streets and watched as the school closings were displayed in a blue ribbon at the bottom of our T.V. set. Sometimes, that took a good thirty minutes before we saw our school district pop up on the screen. Because, you see, the names would cycle through alphabetically. If you missed the go-around the first time, in between commercials and other school districts, you would have to wait until the "N's" cycled through again. This whole ritual may sound awful to some, but boy was it a moment full of whimsy. I can remember screaming with my brother around the house as my dad watched with us (smelling like gasoline from the snow blower) and my mom cheered beside him (she is also a teacher.) The screams meant so much more because there was patience in the process. There was patience in allowing time to slow down and really live in the present. Believe me. In those moments, we were living in the present (not the past nor the future.)

Though I was happy for my students who had just received the happy news I could not help but think how much whimsy has been lost in just getting the results automatically. There was so much whimsy in my childhood snow day rituals. In fact, I will never forget watching the weather channel before you could look it up on your phones or even watching that blue ribbon displaying the cancellations and the names of the school districts. Waiting was exciting. Waiting was whimsical and it made the ending even more magical when it ended up in your favor. I must say, I am forever thankful to have grown up in an age where we received the results through our television sets. I am even more thankful I was able to learn what it means to really wish and want and hope and dream in the present. When we slow time down and focus, we have that ability to be thankful for what is happening. Right. Now.