Winter in Utah is always unpredictable. Some years have been warm enough to play football while wearing shorts on Christmas Day, and others you feel as though you’ll freeze solidly the instant you leave the house. This year has been one of those cold, snowy years.
The Friday before we got out for our Christmas winter break, in the middle of the day, we got one of the worst snow storms that we have had in recent memory. We had hail and snow and wind pounding down on us as like buckshot. It was an early out day, and our students were set to go home right in the middle of the blurry, white chaos.
Minutes after classes were released, our director did an all call throughout the school asking for all available adults to come out and help with carpool duty, which is essentially getting the kiddos into their cars and avoid anyone getting hit or missed.
What a sight it was: at least a dozen adults trying to herd over 500 kids to an endless line of waiting cars as snow and ice pelted everyone involved. Students waited for their rides under umbrellas or the entrance of the school. One teacher stood in the middle of the driveway directing cars to available parking spaces, and came in after carpool completely soaked to the bone and shivering from the freezing cold.
I have never had issue helping with carpool duty as I don’t teach the last 30 minutes of the day and going outside isn’t as big of a sacrifice for me as it is to the majority of the other teachers. I went out to help, and within 2 minutes, I was back in. While out shuffling kids around, I pivoted on the school entrance walkway and somewhere between the frozen ground, falling snow and hail and my boots (even though they had traction, it was no match against the snow and ice) my lack of grace and elegance took over.
The next thing I knew I was flat on the ground and sopping wet. Time stopped as 500 little pairs of eyes were focused directly on me, and my now bruised ego. I scampered to my feet and went to grab a coat that my coworker offered to me. I was back out with the students within minutes and came in with the rest of the teachers. Lucky for me, and the rest of the staff, the director did one more all call giving permission to head home and be safe from the weather. I didn’t waste a minute taking advantage of that early out opportunity.
An hour after getting home, I started to feel it. My hand hurt, my shoulder ached and my wrist popped. However, I figured it was just surface. By the next day, I had a bruise that extended from the middle of my palm to half way down my wrist and my shoulder hurt so badly that I was in tears. I conceded temporary defeat and asked my mom to drive me to instacare.
I was reluctant to go in feeling that it was a waste of time, but figured it was worth just checking it out. Well, after 2 hours, I left with the diagnosis of a broken hand, sprained wrist and a dislocated shoulder. I got put in a hard splint and sling and told to do not use my arm until I see an orthopedist.
So, one detail I omitted is that my injury is on my right hand and arm, and I am right handed. Very right handed. With not being able to use them, it has made writing, typing and teaching a huge struggle!!! Wish me luck as I try to deal with this adventure of teaching without writing.