What a Snow Day Taught Me About Teaching, Technology, and Family
by Jessica Grono
When I was a child, a snow day meant sleeping in, sledding, and hoping school would be canceled.
Today, as a teacher, snow days look very different.
Many schools now use Flexible Instruction Days (FID), allowing students to continue learning from home instead of missing a day altogether. As much as I still love watching the snow fall outside my window, I knew this winter storm would mean teaching from my dining room instead of my classroom.
I have to admit—I was nervous.
Teaching has always been something I love, but teaching virtually presents its own challenges. Living with cerebral palsy adds another layer to those challenges. I can’t quickly adjust my camera, plug in cords, or troubleshoot technology by myself. I also worried about whether students would understand my speech through a screen.
So I did what every teacher does.
I prepared.
Probably too much.
I tested Microsoft Teams several times. I organized my lessons. I double-checked every link and every activity. I wanted everything to run as smoothly as possible because I knew that if something went wrong, fixing it wouldn’t be easy.
One person made that morning much easier.
My son, Jason.
His school also had a Flexible Instruction Day, but unlike mine, his teachers posted assignments through Google Classroom rather than requiring him to be online live. That meant he was available to help me get everything ready before class started.
He propped up my iPad, made sure everything was positioned correctly, and admitted my students into the virtual classroom.
Watching him confidently handle the technology while quietly helping his mom made me incredibly proud.
As parents, we spend years helping our children.
Sometimes, without even realizing it, they grow up and begin helping us.
That morning was one of those moments.
My attendant had even done my hair the night before, and somehow it still looked presentable the next morning. I wore comfortable pajamas that looked enough like a sweatshirt for class—one of the little adaptations that most people never think about when you can’t dress yourself independently.
Once class began, something wonderful happened.
The students showed up.
They smiled.
They participated.
They asked questions.
And the worry I’d carried into the morning slowly disappeared.
One of my biggest fears had been whether students would understand my speech through the computer.
They did.
Not one complaint.
Not one awkward moment.
Just learning.
Of course, technology reminded us who was really in charge.
At one point, my iPad tipped over, and the entire class burst into laughter.
Honestly, so did I.
Sometimes the best teaching moments aren’t the ones we carefully plan.
They’re the ones that remind students—and teachers—that we’re all human.
What I’ve learned over the years is that relationships matter far more than perfect lessons.
Students learn best when they know their teacher genuinely cares about them.
Whether we’re sitting together in a classroom or meeting through a computer screen, kindness, patience, and encouragement always translate.
Looking back, I still believe nothing replaces the energy of teaching in person.
I love walking—or in my case, rolling—into a classroom filled with students.
I love the conversations, the laughter, and the little moments that can’t be recreated online.
But that snowy morning reminded me that good teaching isn’t defined by a building.
It’s defined by connection.
It also reminded me how grateful I am for the people who quietly make my independence possible.
My attendant.
My colleagues.
My family.
And especially my son, who never hesitated to help his mom before starting his own schoolwork.
Sometimes we measure a successful school day by finished lessons or completed assignments.
I measure that day a little differently.
A class full of smiling students.
A few unexpected laughs.
A son willing to help.
And another reminder that even when the classroom changes, the heart of teaching never does.
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