Having To Go To School on Saturdays in the Winter

I grew up in the Appalachian mountains, so winter never left us wanting for snow. Most days in January and February brought at least a dusting, even if it was nothing more than flurries drifting across the yard. But every so often the sky would open up and drop six to twelve inches on us in one long sweep. That was usually fine, because around here snowplows and salt trucks were everywhere, and you were rarely stuck at home unless you chose to be.

Our school calendar always included a handful of snow days. But sometimes our allotted snow days were used up before winter was over. And when we went past the number the school board had planned for, the solution in those so called good old days was simple. We went to school on Saturdays to make up the time.

It sounds strange to younger folks, but what surprises me is how many people my own age have forgotten that Saturday school was ever a thing. When I tell them we used to drag ourselves out of bed and head to class on a Saturday morning, they look at me like I am making it up.

There was no worse feeling for a kid than walking into school on a Saturday. If there was any small mercy, it was that the day was shorter. At least I do not remember them being full days. A regular school day ran from 8:30 to 3:30. A Saturday session, if memory serves, was 8:30 to 1:00. There are a lot of years between then and now, so forgive me if that time is a little off.

Looking back, it was a complete waste of the teachers’ time. Nobody learned a thing on a Saturday. We were too busy grumbling about the cartoons or wrestling shows we were missing. Gym class still happened, lunch was squeezed into the shortened schedule and whatever time was left for actual teaching was barely enough to get anything done.

I cannot recall a single lesson from any of those Saturdays. But I do remember something I taught on one of them.

In January of 1987, we were hit with a big snowstorm right after New Year’s, followed by several more. We did not go back to school after Christmas break. It was the middle of January before the roads were clear enough. My family had just gotten our first VCR in late 1986, and when that first Saturday school day showed up on the calendar, I spent the morning teaching my mom how to record on it. I was determined not to miss my Saturday morning cartoons. I even left her a list of times, channels and shows, and expected her to run downstairs every half hour to switch the channel so she could catch each one. She did a wonderful job and did not miss a single show, bless her heart.

I kept that homemade VHS tape for years, but somewhere along the way it disappeared. I never figured out what happened to it. For the time I had it, though, it was the one good thing that ever came out of going to school on a Saturday in the dead of winter.