Snow Week Math

The alert on my phone buzzed around 7:30 p.m. When I glanced down, it was another message from the school district saying that classes would remain closed for another day due to winter weather.

I wasn’t surprised. Growing up and living most of my life in North Carolina, I’ve learned how we respond to even the hint of snow. Grocery stores empty. Driving becomes an adventure. Daily routines quickly fall apart.

It meant another day of remote learning at home. My kids are better at this now than they were during the early COVID years. They know where to log in and what needs to be done. Thankfully I no longer have to hover over every step.

Still, it changes the feel of the house and the flow of the day.

I glanced outside at the snow and then back inside at the rising noise. I reluctantly opened my calendar and started scanning the week ahead. Meetings. Writing time I had blocked off. Deadlines that didn’t care about the weather.

The week rarely goes as planned.

Interruptions are never convenient, but over the years I’ve learned you just have to adjust. I started asking myself how I was going to move the work forward this week and how much extra energy this was going to cost me.

There were three things that were important to me. Finishing my next article. Preparing slides for an upcoming speaking engagement. Updating an online course for the next term.

Each one deserved focused time. Each one carried its own responsibility. Something was going to give.

In a normal week, I can keep those lanes separate. I’m able to protect blocks of focused time and give each piece of work the attention it needs.

The snow had other plans.

Nothing became less important. There was just less room to separate it. All three priorities were now competing for the same hours, the same energy, at the same parts of the day.

I’ve learned that progress in one direction quietly slows down the others.

When Wednesday morning arrived the article draft was still sitting there two days behind.

I closed the file. I decided the course prep and speaking slides would get my time and the article would wait without me reopening the question every morning.

The week simply felt different after that.

The two priorities I kept didn’t get any easier. But they stopped fighting with the third one for my attention.

When I sat down to work on the slides, the pull toward the unfinished article wasn’t there anymore. Neither was the guilt. I could stay with what I’d chosen without the other thing lingering behind me.

The work wasn’t done by Friday. I knew what I’d committed to and what I’d left open. There’s something relieving about that kind of clarity, even when the to-do list is still long.

How many directions are you working in right now? I’m talking about real priorities, the kind where all of them feel necessary at the same time.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how often this shows up in my own work. Especially during those uncooperative weeks. Note: there are many of them.

The kids finally went back to school after a few delayed mornings. As I’m writing this, another round of winter weather is already on the forecast with more closures likely.

The work keeps moving. So does the need to decide how much any single week can realistically hold.

The hot chocolate, sleds, and patience are ready.

Until next time.