Head’s Lines: Snow Days are Still Magical

It seems the winter of 2026 has seen fit to make up for the last few disappointing winters with the gift of lots of snow…and snow days.

“Snow Day” remains two of the happiest words in the minds of school-aged children, joy that can’t help but infect even some curmudgeonly adults.

When Park shifted to remote learning during the pandemic, the thought arose: Would this mean we would no longer have snow days? Would schools instead deploy this new muscle of online learning to ensure classes continued even when school couldn’t? It’s not an unreasonable question, particularly given the importance we place on academic excellence. But just because we can…does that mean we should?

During the pandemic, I received a petition from Park Upper Division students arguing that snow days must not be replaced by remote learning. They said, “Snow days are a rite of childhood. They bring joy. Please don’t take them away.” Their case, while persuasive, aligned with the direction I was already traveling: to ensure there would always be a chance of snow days for Park students in winters to come.

I believe snow days are, in fact, an important part of childhood—a special gift of winter that sparks anticipation and unscheduled delight, hope, and optimism. The anticipation itself feels magical, along with the belief in the power of inside-out pajamas and a wooden spoon under the pillow. The wish fulfilled arrives like a gift of freedom, loaded with excitement and energy.

A snow day offers kids an opportunity to get outside, engage in physical activity, and engage in the creative play that is unique to a snow day. I remember snowy days in my own childhood when my friends and I tramped through snow above our knees and fell down, laughing. We built snow forts and pelted each other with snowballs—and I remember needing to stick up for my little sister when a neighbor threw a snowball at her from a distance that was just too close. I remember skiing and sledding and then coming inside, wet and tired, for hot chocolate. Most of all, I remember loving this unexpected chance to play outdoors in winter, released from the normal schedule of the day, and savoring it.

I know I want my children to have those memories, even as I value every day of learning on campus. Perspective matters, too: even this winter, the most significant one we have had in half a decade, we have had just two meaningful snow events. In balance, I know the benefits are worthwhile.

That doesn’t necessarily mean we would never consider moving to asynchronous teaching and learning under circumstances that would keep us out of school for a long, predictable period of time. If circumstances demanded that we close the school and it was clear we would be closed for several days, we might ask teachers to begin sending home asynchronous learning assignments to keep students engaged and the curriculum moving forward.

We take the decision to close school very seriously. The thinking begins when the first indication of an upcoming storm pops up on my weather app. Usually, I’ve already been speculating and tracking the weather for a few days when the local weather forecasters start hyping the forecast.

Two days before the storm, my local “Boston-area Heads of School” text chain starts heating up. School leaders are sharing updates they’ve heard from national forecasts and locally from sources like David Epstein, and they’re trading information about when they expect to make their decision and inform their community.

Then, there’s a multi-hour window between when I have a strong sense that we are likely to close and when I actually send the message announcing a snow day. During that time, I’m watching and listening to see what Brookline public schools and other area schools are doing. I’m keeping in touch with our Operations team to understand what our snow removal services are anticipating. We’re in touch with the bus company and monitoring local authorities' statements.

The decision is easiest when the forecasters believe a big storm—8+ inches—is coming our way, with temperatures consistently below 30 degrees. It’s trickier, though, when the temperature is hovering around 32 or 33 degrees, the prediction is for 4 to 6 inches, and the weather gets going after we’ve all gone to bed. On those occasions, I’m up at 4:30 a.m. and driving around Brookline. I head down to Putterham Circle and back, and head up Lee Street to the reservoir to assess the primary and secondary roads. These roads may not represent the experience of all our community members, but it gives me an idea of how the situation is evolving.

Back at the house by 5 a.m., I’m on the phone with Kimberly Boyd and Joe Lepore, and we make the decision for the morning.

It’s a decision we really want to get right—and, of course, I really want kids to go to school! Every now and then, you get a snow day for which the best information says “close,” yet by 10 a.m., the skies are clear, and the roads are open. Those are the calls I find most frustrating, second only to when the call is made, and it rains all day.

It’s an imperfect science, a best effort to do the right thing. And still…the two happiest words in the life of a school child remain SNOW DAY!

By Scott Young, Head of School

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