When I woke up on Monday, Feb. 5 to hear that we had school, I’ll admit, I was disappointed. Almost all the schools in the area—including Avondale, which I live half a mile from—announced that students would have the day off. But Troy didn’t. So, I slowly got out of bed, feeling like a zombie, and threw on the first jersey I could find. My mom always gets nervous when I drive, but there was a particularly worrisome look on her face that morning.

“Promise me you’ll be really careful,” she pleaded.

My dad had left for work before me and called to inform her on the poor conditions.

I nodded, grabbing my granola bar off the counter and headed out to my car.

After letting the heat run for a few minutes to defrost the windshield, I pulled out of the driveway with all the precision a sixteen-year-old girl can have while blasting Taylor Swift. My knuckles against the steering wheel turned white because of my tight grip.

I thought that the drive was going well—I was going about five miles under the speed limit the whole time—but then I had to do the Michigan left to turn right onto Long Lake. That part of my drive always induces anxiety, but this was particularly bad. I pulled out into the road in a narrow gap that I made every other day, and my car jerked to the left. Then to the right. Then back to the left. My heart was pounding as my car finally straightened back into the right turn lane.

Though I thought that we should have had a snow day that day, I didn’t harass administration. A majority of students simply expressed their discontent in small groups rather than making a public statement. And students’ reaction did not warrant Channel 4’s segment portraying students as ungrateful teenagers that dread coming to school every day. Not only do students have to respect administration, but administration has to respect us.