What About My School?

For those of us in the news business, it’s a busy time of year: winter. You know the drill: reporters on every mountain, endless video of salt spreaders and pothole patchers, and wise old news anchors reminding you to protect your pipes. But by far the most cherished tradition is the school-closing list.

I asked some older friends about school closings in the pre-broadcast days. How did they get the word out?

One former principal said, “We didn’t close much. Most of the schools were in neighborhoods. Some kids had to walk a mile or two, but if we had heat, we had school. If we didn’t, the kids would turn around and walk home.”

But eventually, schools started closing, and superintendents learned the quickest way to spread the news was to call radio stations. The deejays took nonstop phone calls, with school officials trying to get through. At the same time, kids were calling to ask if their school was closed. The radio guy would compile an alphabetical list, meaning the students of Walker and Whitfield counties would have to sit tight as he waded through the Andersons, the Bradleys, and the Cobbs.

When I got into radio, I learned the rules: be nice to the callers, read the closings on-air frequently, and make sure no one was tricking us. Sometimes a bold 6th grader would call in, trying to lower his voice, and say, “This is Superintendent Elliott from Dade County. All schools is closed today.” I’d say, “Uh, really, Mr. Elliott? I’m a little busy right now, could I have your phone number? I will call you right back.” (Pause) “Click!” Busted. We had to be careful in the days before Caller ID.

Later, TV got into the act. The expansion of local morning newscasts provided more time to show the school closings list. It also inspired a few pranksters. One morning a guy called my channel, asking us to add “Anthony’s House of Cheese” to the list. A producer, flooded with legitimate calls, dutifully took down the information and entered it into the computerized list. For several hours, at the very top of the business closing list, was “Anthony’s House of Cheese.” We later realized there was no such place. But all day, some guy was laughing as he watched this go out to thousands of people. We tightened up after that. Although to be honest, if someone ever opens a House of Cheese, I would be most appreciative.

Since those days, Facebook has become a popular source of information. When the first snowflake falls, people flock to my station’s Facebook page for updated school closings. As the School Patrol reporter, I pitch in to post the latest information. But no matter how clear we try to be, there are constant misunderstandings. We’ve learned that many people confuse Chattooga County in northwest Georgia with “Chattanooga” County in Tennessee, which does not exist. Unfortunately, not everyone is aware of that.

So I have a plan. One day, perhaps my final day on the job, if it’s really, really snowy, and truly every single school is closed, I would like to issue this statement:

“We are announcing with 100% certainty, that EVERY SINGLE SCHOOL in the universe will be closed today. This includes all schools in every city, every town, every county, public, private, boarding, religious, home, charter, technical, elementary, middle, high, colleges, junior colleges, universities, online, virtual, vocational, medical, dental, barber, beauty, business, GED, adult, preschool, pre-K, kindergarten, nursery, driving school, Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, and even schools of fish. Every one of them, in every state, in every commonwealth, in every nation, on every continent, on every planet will be closed today. There are no exceptions. Enjoy your day off, everyone!”

Within a few seconds, I guarantee my phone would ring. The caller would ask, “But what about my school?”