As I face my computer screen, completely aware of my article deadline, I can’t help but think “a nap would be nice right now,” or “wouldn’t I much rather waste my time and do absolutely nothing?” The irony in facing senioritis while writing an article on senioritis might just be the definition of the word itself.

It’s now February and, for many of us seniors, we have been accepted into college and have learned that we’ll end up some place or another close (enough) to where we want to be. Our seven semesters of high school have finally paid off and, while it might seem perfectly logical to try and push through one more, eight just isn’t happening; seven is the lucky number, after all. It comes down to this: English is now the only class we need to graduate; thus, it becomes the only thing we remotely care about. This drop-off in the level of caring, though many deny its existence, is better known as “senioritis.”

Now that first-semester grades are done, which are the last set of grades many colleges ask for, we seniors have faced an imperative realization: Grades no longer matter as much as we once thought they did. We have lost all sense of motivation, to the point where a B in Ceramics almost seems acceptable, and coming late every day is no big deal.

To the teachers that tell us to “pick up our slack,” to the teachers that say “senioritis isn’t real,” and to the teachers that claim “this is an honors class – do your work”: Many of us are too “far gone” in senioritis, and the only cure is graduation.