The constant messages, pleading teachers, and underhanded bribes (maybe not that extreme, but you get the idea). There’s nothing quite like the anticipation of a snow day, especially when your father has the district’s fate at his command. While being the “superintendent’s kid” comes with many perks, no perk is more notable than my alleged influence over snow day authorities (a persona carefully crafted by yours truly.) Though I have been known to share my constituents’ snow day opinions with Dr. Tucker, my snow day influence wields much more “bark than bite.” Unfortunately, I do not receive direct weather reports from Gary Lezak and have yet to gain membership into the area’s snow day deciders group chat (“Northland Strong” if you’re reading, I still await my invitation!)  Though I may not be directly involved in the canceling process, I’m keenly knowledgeable on the potential snow day process. One in which, dear readers, shall be shared with you! 

          To remotely consider canceling school, one of two events must occur. A: the weather person forecasts inclement weather, or B: a local sports team wins the championship and throws a parade. It is important to note, however, that some regions “winning mindsets” are greater than others, so these select school absences may not apply to you (cough Arkansas cough.) Regardless of snow day type, the Specialized Snow Squad takes command. Comprised of the transportation director, chief operations officer, communications director, and superintendent, this fab four heeds the charge. However, coordination between districts is also key. When contemplating potential snow days, my dad normally texts the Snow Squad and Northland Strong (of whom still owes me an invitation.) To consider canceling, however, one must experience road conditions first hand. Select Snow Squad members then drive endlessly within district bounds to determine safety ratings. My dad makes sure to drive the normally rough roads, many of which connect to the high school (not terrifying at all.) After the Squad returns from their respective drives, more text deliberations happen from district and regional standpoints. When texts turn into calls, you know snow day potentials are increasing. Conversations can span from two-twenty minutes, depending on the weather and road severities. The last call he normally makes is to THE Dallas Ackerman. Famous for tweeting and inspiring a Liberty North football play, calls with Dallas are never not serious (except when they aren’t.)  When Dallas is on the phone, a district-wide call will probably follow. When this phone call takes place, however, greatly varies. If snow is called for at night, the select Squad members will get up at 4:00am to drive roads and make a decision before sunrise. Needless to say, I’m normally asleep when this happens. 

          As my “adjacent to snow day power” position is unique, I’ve definitely had my fair share of snow day stories. Most notably, was when the Liberty North Barstool account dmed me on Twitter for an inside scoop. I realized I’d finally arrived when big shot @LNHSBarstool contacted me not once, but twice, as a freshman. Since then, the rest is history. I’ve learned to not only embrace the snow day inquiries but comments after decisions have been made too. While hearing people talk negatively about your dad is odd, to say the least, I’ve learned to take it all in stride, whether in response to snow day decisions or otherwise. Why? Because nine times out of ten, those same people will be the ones praising you the next time he actually cancels school. So Liberty Public Schools? Bring it on! I’ll gladly answer your snow day questions, though be prepared for a dash of my signature sarcasm. 😉

That’s all for Supt’s Scoop,

Madison