Didn't see this one coming

In honor of National Candidate's Response Day, otherwise known as May Day, otherwise known as "Mayday" when the first two "holidays" are put together,  I give you my confession, basking in the security of knowing that no college admissions office is aware of the existence of this blog.

nuf said

I think it was Thoreau who said that "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." Good grief, was he right on. No other phrase can adequately describe the spring-of-senior-year experience.

Like the season, senior year comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. First semester, everybody's still coasting on the high of recent college visits while the anticipation of pending acceptances keeps us all hopeful and motivated. This is the time when we are in our annoying glory, patronizing juniors and generally obsessing over college. Constantly busy, but having fun in the meantime. Then February hits like an ugly car crash. You wake up one day, and something seems wrong. It isn't till the school day is half over that you realize what it is. You just don't care anymore. And you can't explain why. Perhaps it was the constant insanity of the past few months, or the tax on your emotions from one-too-many rejections, or you've simply reached your academic breaking point. Whatever it is, you don't have the mental stamina to keep going, nor the desire to do so. This, my friends, is Senioritis, and I am a victim.

I had never heard of the disease until last winter maybe, and blew it off as something the deadbeats who never tried anyways pulled as a last attempt at a plausible excuse and possibly garner some sympathy. I was the nerd of all nerds, who read the Odyssey at barely 13 and blogged about Platonism for fun. I would be impervious. Ah, such youthful naivete. What I didn't realize is that nobody is safe from Senioritis. It will find you.

To most, those infected look like they're just lazy. But is that really the case? Why are all those kids who made the honor roll and got straight-A's for the past 13 years suddenly in the same boat as the class clowns who never gave a second thought to homework?  The former  (and probably the latter, come to think of it) are just as confused as you, their concerned-older-acquaintance are. There is more to this situation than meets the eye. We know we should make an effort to study, that it's important to end the year well, that colleges will be checking up on us, but we are trapped in the clutches of indifference and can't find a way to escape. The graduation date sends mixed emotions of longing and terror. Quiet desperation.

There is only one month of school left. And less than four separating me from Calculus, also known as the class-I-never-imagined-I'd-take-so-never-prepared-for. Those darn honors programs. This post itself is an amazing example of what it's about. I should be fervently memorizing my pre-calc textbook, but instead I'm blogging about not doing it. I feel the panic setting in as I write this. (see chart above)

Off to make myself get through a lesson or two.