Snow

Winter arrived today. As usual this was announced with the whole of Akita turning white overnight. And in an equally predictable fashion, my reaction was akin to that of a particularly excitable puppy being thrown the squeakiest of all the colourful toys in the pet shop. My Junior High School kids, retaining a consistently cynical teenage attitude, seemed somewhat bemused by the huge grin on my face as I crunched fresh footsteps through the first snowfall of the winter. The next day however, my Primary School students seemed simply delighted that Mr Cooke had had the good sense to get into the playground 5 minutes before they did to start making a snowman. They were equally delighted when Mr Cooke threw the first snowball, which seemed to justify a snowball fight of me vs 50 seven year olds. There was only ever going to be one winner there.

I did have some help though. An utterly adorable 6 year old girl chose to fight on the side of the underdog, helping me by supplying me with snowball ammunition to hurl at her aggressing classmates. Unfortunately she took an average of 5 minutes sculpting each snowball into a perfect sphere, before reaching up to hand it to me with an adorably high pitched “here you are Mr Cooke”. I almost felt guilty throwing such an immaculate snowball, but her happy chuckle indicated she approved when the snowball found its target, as she then patiently set about sourcing the perfect snow for her next flawless snow missile. However given the sodden state of my clothing whilst teaching in third period, I think it is safe to say that the seven year olds were victorious.

As I write this I have just finished my school lunch, and can see the hordes massing outside the staffroom, dressing themselves in their battle uniforms of wooly hats and gloves, with coats thick enough to absorb any snowball impact. I shall face them on the playground battlefield, armed with nought but snowballs and a cute little girl (who I may use as a human shield this time).

Let Battle Commence.

Back!

I really need something a bit more waterproof. That was a whitewash of epic proportions, during which both my dignity and my hat was taken from me. Admittedly the hat was a loaned contribution to a snowman, so I did get that back, but my dignity is now officially the property of Class 1A at Yashima Primary School.

After the Yukigassen (snowball fight) we made a snowman the size of a small house, and I lifted small children up to decorate the head. Then a little girl decided the best place to launch a snowball fight from was the top of Mr Cooke’s head, so she promptly climbed on and ordered me to supply her with snowballs to hurl at her friends.

I honestly don’t remember if I ever had this much fun at breaktime when I was little. Maybe at that age you can’t fully appreciate it, but playing for half an hour in the snow, chucking snowballs and making snowmen, is still my overly childish idea of perfection.

Life is so much fun.