In Defense of the Snow Day

We all remember it: the constant refreshing of the snow day calculator, the rumors abounding about other schools closing, the excitement about planning a day off. The buildup and suspense around a snow day is almost as exciting as the day itself.

Unfortunately, Harvard students were robbed of what, for many of us, may have been the final act in our snowday saga. Despite nearly two feet of snow in Boston and nearby schools like Tufts, Boston University, and MIT canceling class, Harvard chose to remain open last Monday, leaving students to navigate narrow sidewalks, muddy ground, and ongoing snowfall.

Harvard isn’t the only school abandoning the snow day. Since the Covid-19 pandemic, snow days have become an endangered species. Many schools now resort to remote learning days rather than giving students (and teachers) the day off. But in doing so, these schools are depriving students of cherished childhood memories — and in Harvard’s case, of what might have been our last snow day.

It is not a surprise that Harvard did not cancel class; it only did so only a handful of times in the entire 20th century. Although it has given more snow days in recent years, the administration takes a kind of stoic pride in not canceling class; former Dean of Students Archie C. Epps III once said, “Harvard University will close only for an act of God, such as the end of the world.”

But historical precedents shouldn’t determine a snow day — the actual logistical problems of holding classes should. As last Monday was the first day of the spring semester, many students reportedly had not arrived on campus yet due to flight cancellations. And although it felt like the bulk of the storm had passed by then, there were still high winds and intermittent snowfall that, to some extent, mimicked blizzard conditions.

Still, what is more concerning is that the snow day is in danger of going extinct, replaced by a remote school day. My hometown, New York City, for example, did just this. As a result, public school students were stuck inside that day on their computers.

Maybe it’s just nostalgia, but New York snow days were particularly special — for a brief period of time, steel and concrete disappeared under a layer of pristine white snow before almost immediately becoming brown sludge. Parks were filled with kids hurling snowballs or dragging sleds. Others chose to have a cozy day inside, watching movies with their siblings over hot chocolate.

Meanwhile, remote learning has been proven woefully ineffective compared to in-person instruction. Do we want a generation that has struggled with loneliness and phone addiction to be cooped up on days formerly spent having fun? Do we want to sacrifice childhood memories of snowball fights and sledding instead of ending the school year one day later?

For many of us, much of our lives will be spent working in an office building, typing away at spreadsheets, and collectively consuming a metric ton of slop bowls, all for the reward of preparing for another day’s work. But childhood is a brief period when one is free and mostly unbound by obligations. That’s why our memories of it are so deep and so vivid.

College students may be adults, but they are still in a stage of development. Binding them to their screens when there are snowmen to be made and snowball fights to be played, all for the sake of utility, is antithetical to how life is really experienced.

It’s one day off; what’s the worst that could happen?

Henry F. Haidar ’28, an Associate Editorial Editor, is an Applied Math concentrator in Lowell House.