Greater Boston had the first major snowstorm of the season this Valentine’s Day. School was canceled, and to get the word out our town took the opportunity to try it out its new parent communication system. That meant that at 5:30 AM I was jolted from a hard sleep by the ring of the telephone, two feet from my head.
Panicked, I struggled out from under the weight of the winter blankets, wondering who could possibly be calling before daybreak. In the seconds it took to answer the phone, I already had a short list: my sister, my cousin, maybe. Or a friend? Which friend? And… for God’s sake… WHY?
Turns out it was none of those people. It was the Superintendent of Schools, calling with a cheery prerecorded message that went something like: “Good morning! This is the Superintendent of Public Schools. I’m calling to tell you that due to the hazardous driving conditions today, there is no school for any school….” She went on to detail who should still report to the schools (custodians, principals) and who should stay home (everyone else).
I think I might have appreciated the heads up, were I not so freaked out by the pre-dawn call. In the time that I had to lie back down–waiting for the adrenaline to recede, my heart rate to return to normal, and sleep to overtake me once again–I had time to consider whether the superintendent’s call was really an improvement over the old way of announcing the business of no-school days. How many other parents were jarred awake by the phone? How many others were lying there as I was, considering whether it was worth trying to go back to sleep?
Who else was caught in this paradox of being awakened… to tell us we didn’t have to get up?
The Usual Way
Before the town implemented their parent call system, we used to check for school cancellation by checking the local cable station or the town Web site. To my kids, raised on a steady diet of digital media, that’s the “usual way.”
But what I consider the “usual way” of no-school announcements seems ridiculously quaint now. Whenever I describe it, my kids listen with a look of blank puzzlement, like I am describing what it was like to churn our own butter.
But here’s the story: When I was a kid, my older brother and I used to wait (yeah–I tell my kids–wait) for the radio announcer to read a long alphabetized list of school closings, which he did every 10 or 15 minutes or so. Then, we’d listen to the names of all the other towns on that excruciatingly long list–places where we imagined that lucky kids were already whooping it up–for the end of the alphabet. If we were very lucky, he’d read the name of our town–thick in the middle of the Ts. The elation was loud and instantaneous.
My daughter’s fourth grade teacher, Mr. McCall, grew up in a town near my hometown, and he remembers that the horns at the fire stations would blast simultaneously to announce a no-school day. Shivering but hopeful kids would wait by the front door, cracked open, so as not to miss the blast, trumpeting one of the most special occurrences of the entire kid year.
The other day, from his own home in the pre-dawn darkness, Mr. McCall received no less than four no-school announcements: via the cable station, via his teacher “phone tree,” and then via two superintendent communiques: one recorded call to the town teachers, and a separate call to the town parents (because his son attends public school here). “What do you think of that?” he mused in his classroom the other day.
Always-On
It occurred to me, as I lay there in the dark the other morning, that the town’s new call system was yet another way that information is being delivered to us–always-on, round-the-clock, instantaneously accessible information. It’s been a long time since I heard a newspaper thump on my doorstep that contained anything that was truly news to me (and these days, I don’t even bother subscribing to the hard copy at all). From the publishers’ end of the business, it’s hard to offer news that’s not old news, too, which is probably why they deliver an increasing amount of commentary and analysis rather than the straight story.
So What’s the Lesson?
I’m not entirely sure what the lesson is here–that too much information isn’t necessarily a good thing? I’m not sure I could argue that point with much conviction, because more access is typically always better than less. Is my point that the next generation is being raised with different expectations–in that they’ll rarely have to wait and wonder for anything–from a winter storm warning to an election result? Well, yeah… but, so?
All I know is — that morning, the superintendent’s call literally exhausted me. And it made me wonder whether there’s a certain amount of “information fatigue” we are all subject to–especially when it’s pushed to us. Though the younger generations–including our kids–seem able to adapt and filter information far more readily.
So what’s your take on all this? When does a lot of information become too much information?
photo credits: Elizabeth Blair York and Tig Tillinghast
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Ann- How well I remember the radio announcer’s voice when he uttered those beautiful words, “No school. All schools. Worcester public and parochial.”It was the only time that us Catholic school kids wanted to be associated with “the pubs.”
I couldn’t agree more that there’s too much information. There seems to be too much of a lot of things these days. The other day at CVS it took me 5 minutes (seemed like 5 hours) just to pick out toothpaste. Too many choices. On the “news” front, I think that by now I’ve seen just about every member of Congress on TV yammering on about the Iraq vote,yet I’m still trying to form a picture about what’s actually going on.And when my husband scrolls through the “on demand” movies to see if there’s something worth watching, I can barely stand to look.
Too much of everything! Yet never satisfying, never enough…The paradox of modern life.
Boy! If someone woke me before I had hit the snooze alarm at least twice, I’d be totally fahtootzed (sp?)
It would be so much better if the school system used the technology to let you call them and punch in the name of your school or town or whatever to get the information when you are awake.
Sometimes I think going to the woods to live in a hut with a bow and arrow and my trusty Labradoodle puppy is very appealing.
Ann – I love your descriptions of the “old way,” and they brought back fond memories of the anticipation snow days always brought when I was a kid.
Now, as a parent, I get to see the other side, and as my little Texas town hasn’t quite adapted to the Digital Age, I spend 15-20 minutes trying to find information online about which schools are open and which are closed, because it makes a difference in how I have to plan my day. I usually get very annoyed for the last 10-15 minutes, because I think necessary information should be at my fingertips (I’m spoiled like that – Plus, I have a pretty small window to get ready and leave for work).
However, as public schools cater to EVERYONE, they must also inform people who don’t have Internet access when school has been canceled, which is why announcements are still made by TV, radio, and telephone. The more rudimentary, the better, but that means we sacrifice some immediacy to ensure the proper authorities reach everyone.
Assuming schools are adept at using the digital tools at their disposal (such as the Internet), it might be beneficial to provide a means for parents to “opt out” of the phone calls so that they can find the information at a time more suitable to them.
Personally, I’d like every school to either be reequipped with town bells or lighthouses (able to be remotely operated, of course), so that when they need to communicate a universal message, they can do so without requiring people have access to specific technologies in order to get the information in the same timely fashion as everyone else.
Thanks for the comments, all.
I started to wonder whether our kids have been robbed of the excitement of those early morning radio announcements… but you know what? They were plenty excited anyway — I realized that doesn’t really matter how you get the information. Snow days are still a magical thing.
These times — what I’m starting to think of as the “Too-Much-Information Age” — is interesting because the access and availability of information (and everything else — including toothepaste, Maureen!) has exploded both so dramatically and so quickly. And sometimes, it’s just exhausting.
My guess: The school’s likely think they are providing great customer service. I’m not sure I disagree.
Ann,
In my opinion, you’re absolutely right. What’s wrong with turning on the radio or local news station on TV to find out whether school has been canceled or not?
When I was a kid, going to parochial school in Burlington, VT, we automatically knew school would be canceled in two situations: a bad ice storm making it impossible to walk or be driven to school, and -25 degree weather. Otherwise, we knew we had school. In this day and age of “too much information”–aptly put, many people are yearning to simplify their lives. I count myself among them.
As for the school – I bet they did come up with this “great” idea and think how they were really addressing a parent’s need to know. However, they didn’t take the follow-up step before implementing it to realize… hey, not everyone is really going to appreciate a 5:30 am phone call, so what is a better idea (perhaps they could have polled the parents about how they’d most like to hear such news)? In your community, Ann, they’d likely have realized that 99% of the parents were probably “on” the Internet 24/7 anyway (it can’t just be you, can it?), so email would have been the more appropriate solution. As for too much information, in general.. I’m like B.L. and would be heading toward that hut in the woods if I could. As I get older and as the world gets more always-on, I am definitely self-limiting to keep my brain from exploding with choices. I completely agree with author Barry Schwartz – choice is a paradox and less sure seems to be more (for me).
I don’t mean to come off criticizing the school’s new call system… the truth is, it’s a pretty forward-thinking move. EARLY.. for me… but forward-thinking nonetheless. And the next time the phone rings at 5:30… well, I’ll be a little more prepared.
I’m not musing on the always-on availability of information… than I am criticizing any one individual or institution.
Well count yourselves all very lucky! I grew in Phoenix, AZ. No snow days, ever. However, Monday, January 27th was a snow day! In Tucson! It was magically bizarre.
I was ill yesterday and spent the whole day in bed – totally unplugged. Other than feeling yucky, the absence of constant input was lovely.
I don’t have a radio in my car. I’m forced to think while I’m driving and talk to my daughter when she’s with me. I recommend it. Granted, I used to listen to NPR when the radio worked and I do miss that sometimes.
(No tape or CD player either.) I could replace it but I’m too busy to bother.
There was a story on the news yesterday about cyber bullies. Mean kids posting mean things about other kids. It’s crazy! One 13 year old boy committed suicide because a bunch of kids joined in on bashing this poor guy. You know the whole school read it. Except for those kids that have parents that aren’t too plugged in to notice. It’s mind boggling the things you have to be aware of to protect your kids.
Great story telling, Ann. I practically heard the blasted phone ringing and felt the accompanying flood of anxiety. It made me think that I would turn off the ringer the next time a snow day was anticipated – unless the city offered an opt-out option.
Andrea’s suggestion of e-mail is spot on. The difference is that a phone call forces information on you, while the e-mail allows you to access information when you are ready. On our one snow day this year, I sipped a cup of coffee and checked the school district website, which had up-to-date information in plenty of time for morning planning. An e-mail would have been even better.
Some people prefer what others see as TMI. The trick is to provide access to info in several formats, so that we all have options for how to receive it.
That sounds like doing something new because they can, not because they need to. It seems pretty unnecessary when you could just get up when you want to and check the web. I’m having trouble understanding how jarring parents awake at 530 is an improvement.
Or maybe I just hate mornings…
Just a reminder folks: There are parents who cannot afford a computer. In addition, there are more than a few kids whose parent(s) leave for work before the kids arise, leaving the kids to fend for themselves, thus an early call is imperative.
I like the idea that suggests giving parents a variety of notification options and then ask how each would like to be notified.
Okay, so I don’t have children. However, I did recently weather the great blackout/windstorm of November 2006 in Seattle… and if my friends and neighbors had to rely on the radio, t.v., or Internet to learn whether or not their schools had power, they would have been out of luck. I think that the telephone system that you describe, Ann, is great: our phones still worked when we had no power (or heat) and no access to the digital age. I’m all for the phone calls — even if they are at the crack of early.
People, you’re getting too old.
My grandparents were thinking TV is too much information. Their parents were most probably considering post office to be like that?
And well, you are parents now.
OK, i agree phone call in the middle of the night is somehow a … weird way of distributing information?
Still, our kids and their kids will live in another world. Don’t try to judge it, try to accept it. We have created it? Do we like it? Not. But it is pretty normal for our kids. I see them communicating 24 hours per day. Mobile, non-mobile, life. And the schools are encouraging it.
I can even get the name of almost any country capital in 1 minute if i send the question to my nephew by sms. He knows them. He loves information. If he doesn’t speak/receive information for 1 hour, i think he gets annoyed?
And yes, i’m filtering information on daily basis more and more. The more i do it, the more i like my life. You got through my filter again Ann, congratulations.
Generally, the schools have a lousy image. Overpaid teachers, kids who don’t learn and are bored, substandard test results, administrators who avoid controversy and count the days to retirement… it ain’t pretty.
Now they want to give you a head’s up to make other arragements with your “rug rats” because the baby sitting service, aka school, is not going to open for business today. Mr./Ms. Principal wants to be your pal and tell you all to stay home and be safe. Hey, he/she gets up early to go to work…why doesn’t the rest of the world operate on school time?
Just a sign of the times.
PS The world is a great place to live when your kids are done with school! Trust me….
I remember my first snow day when I was in grammar school at Plymouth River in Hingham – the look on my mother’s face when she finally got us to school and discovered it closed?
Priceless.
Thanks for the link and it’s a great picture — not mine, though.