First Snowfall

Stories from a writing classroom

“Snowy Sunrise” Photo by Jennifer Olsen

I watched many first snowfalls from the classroom. Those first, fat snowflakes were like a magnetic force, pulling the whole class to the windows. As a new teacher, I tried to contain the children, reminding them to Keep working please! I lost their attention to the snowflakes anyway. Soon enough, I stood with them at the windows.

The story unfolded in pretty much the same way every year. Wrapped in the possibility of an early dismissal and future snow days, those tiny snowflakes were an irresistible force. Along with the magic of their crystalline form, they conjured up a whole season of new possibilities.

For children, it’s a short, straight line from snowflake to wonder. There were usually a few who had never seen snow before this moment. No shrieks from them, just wide-eyed, silent awe. But at age seven, it didn’t matter whether this was their first snowfall or their seventh, their wonder was genuine. And contagious.

As snowflakes slowly collected on the ground, snow became visible in a different way. Such a metaphor for an elementary classroom. If the snow lasted until we walked to the buses, most children stuck out their tongues, capturing what they could, that snowflake magic melting into them.

The truth of a snowflake moment is simple. And wondrous.