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The first time it must have been an easy call. There was an inch or two on the ground and the forecast called for a change to rain by mid-morning. So he let things go on as usual.

How could he have known that after the change to rain it would shift not just to snow but to blizzard conditions, the likes of which had not been seen in decades? And that the height of the blizzard conditions, when wind whipped the snow through the air and you couldn't see feet in front of you, let alone across the street, would come right when school got out? He thought it was a smart move to keep the kids at school and hold the buses, not realizing that the parents would be waiting at the bus stops for kids who didn't arrive for hours.

We shoveled out for days. The aftermath for him was just as ugly.

This time he was cautious. The weather report said snow, then rain, then snow, so he must have assumed that the morning rain would turn to snow and, not wanting to be caught twice, he called it off.

How could he have known that, looking outside and seeing the dribs and drabs of yesterday's new inch of snow beneath a steady squirt of rain, lots of parents wouldn't even check the television? And that dozens of kids would arrive at school to find a dark building, no principal, and no teachers? He must have sat by his office window all day, as the rain came down, praying for it to turn to snow, rush hour be damned.

Now there are little flakes flitting through the air, and he must be hoping that they'll get bigger, that there will be some accumulation already, please, so he doesn't get slammed again in the emails, in the paper, by the parents gossiping outside the school.

I'm glad I'm not the new school superintendent in Town, solely responsible for calling snow days.