Administration team leaders included me in a group chat about plans for a snow day. I didn’t think it could be real. Then the flakes started falling.
By Jeff Goldberg ’26
The world found out shortly before 6:00 a.m. eastern time on a frigid Cleveland morning that Saint Ignatius High School would be closed due to inclement weather.
I, however, knew two hours before the first cancellation calls went out that the decision might be coming. The reason I knew this is that Principal Dr. Anthony Fior had texted me the snow day plan at 4:44 a.m. The plan included precise information about snow accumulation predictions, road conditions, and the timing of the announcement.
This is going to require some explaining.
It began, as so many stories of administrative overreach do, with a Remind notice. I had, like other students, added my mobile number to the Remind App. I assumed it would be used for, at most, reminders about blue blazer days and schedule changes. I was wrong.
On that fateful morning, a Remind notification appeared on my phone. A new group: “Snow Day PC Small Group.” PC, I gathered, stood for “Principal’s Committee.” The members: Dr. Anthony Fior, Assistant Principal for Academics David Sabol, Assistant Principal for Discipline Mr. Kevin Sheridan, Associate Discipline Czar Mr. Rory Hennessey, Head of Security Mr. Timothy Higgins, and inexplicably, Mr. Popelka.
The conversation began innocently enough.
Dr. Fior (4:44 a.m. ET): Team update. Time now (0444et): Radar is showing significant lake effect. Just confirmed with City of CLE: plows are a go, but conditions are deteriorating rapidly.
Mr. Sheridan (4:45 a.m. ET): What are we thinking, Doc? Double-digit accumulation possible. The boys are gonna be hyped.
Mr. Sabol (4:46 a.m. ET): Let’s see the updated forecast. I’m worried about the AP Calc kids. They have an exam scheduled.
Mr. Popelka (4:46 a.m. ET): The tears will be real.
Mr. Higgins (4:47 a.m. ET): Calc can wait. Safety first.
Mr. Sheridan (4:48 a.m. ET): Attendance issues will be a nightmare if we try to hold classes.
Mr. Hennessey (4:49 a.m. ET): THEY HAVE HAD 13 HOURS AND 42MINS SINCE SCHOOL LET OUT TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET HERE.
Mr. Sheridan (4:50 a.m. ET): Why are you yelling?
Mr. Hennessey (4:50 a.m. ET): STUDENTS R SOFT
Dr. Fior (4:51 a.m. ET): Rory, you have caps lock on.
Mr. Hennessey (4:51 a.m. ET): ????
Then, the emojis began. Dr. Fior, a man of few words but many expressive thumbs, unleashed a flurry: ❄️. Mr. Sheridan responded with a string of wildcat ∇emojis, the school’s mascot: . Mr. Hennessey simple posted a lone American flag.
It was then that Dr. Fior laid out the plan:
Dr. Fior (4:52 a.m. ET): Decision time. Accumulation is exceeding predictions. Road conditions are becoming treacherous. I’m leaning toward a snow day.
Mr. Sabol (4:53 a.m. ET): I concur. Let’s do it. But someone needs to tell the parents. And the faculty. And the kids.
Mr. Sheridan (4:54 a.m. ET): I’ll handle the students. My Twitter game is strong. They’ll know before they even wake up.
Mr. Hennessy (4:54 a.m. ET): YOU REALIZE THATS IMPOSSIBLE KS?
Mr. Sabol (4:54 a.m. ET): ikr
Mr. Higgins (4:55 a.m. ET): Someone needs to make sure to post to Remind and school socials.
Dr. Fior, seemingly overwhelmed by the logistical nightmare of canceling school, simply responded with a single, resolute emoji:
At 4:59 a.m., Dr. Fior posted the final word:
Dr. Fior (4:59 a.m. ET): Snow day declared. But we do want to make them sweat, so official announcement will be going out in T-minus 1 hour. Stay safe, everyone. And try to learn something.
I watched, stunned, as the school’s Twitter account lit up with the news. Students erupted in digital cheers. The collective agony of parents was almost palpable.
Having come to this realization, one that seemed nearly impossible only minutes before, I removed myself from the Remind group, understanding that this would trigger an automatic notification to the group’s creator, “Dr. Anthony Fior,” that I had left. No one in the chat seemed to notice that I was there. I received no subsequent questions about why I left—or, more to the point, who I was.
The world learned of the Saint Ignatius snow day at 5:00 a.m. I learned of it, and the inner workings of the Principal’s Committee, 1 hour and 16 minutes earlier. And now, dear reader, so have you.
