Der sner

Was in the Science lab, sorting out the next lesson during breaktime.

The school I teach at takes ages six through fifteen. The children were all playing noisy games but I had tuned out their whoops and calls, concentrating on what I was doing. Gradually, the noise started to rise, the children started screaming and at first I thought there was a fight outside.
There must be a condition called Post London Stress Disorder, a fight amongst primary school children was my first thought.

The noise of them screaming continued for some time and I started to hear that it was not with fear or malicious excitement but joy. I wondered if Father Christmas and all his Nisse gnomes had arrived in the playground.

I turned around and could see white flakes in the sky, so I went over to the window to watch the snow. The children were running around and I could hear chairs scraping upstairs while children upstairs did what I was doing.
I remembered the first time it had snowed during a lesson, all the children ran to the window shouting “IT’S SNOWING!” and at that moment (maybe because I was tuned into it), I heard the children outside “DER SNER! DER SNER!”

The moment was at once foreign and familiar. I laughed out loud but I felt tears forming.