Thursday, September 27, 2012


Senioritis: n. A crippling disease that strikes high school (or in my case, college as well) seniors. Symptoms include: laziness, an over-excessive wearing of track pants, old athletic shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, and sweatshirts. Also features a lack of studying, repeated absences, and a generally dismissive attitude. The only known cure is a phenomenon known as graduation. (

This year will be the fourth time I will have experienced the wonderful and terrible disease.

The first time: End of my junior year of high school
I honestly don’t know why I felt so entitled. I was 17 and knew what was up. Clearly.
Let me first explain my high school because it’s probably different than yours. It is run on what is called a “Modular Schedule.” On a “normal” day, there are 18 “mods” each 20 minutes with a 3 min between each mod as “Walking Time.” A normal class is usually 2 mods and sciences are usually 3 mods, however, I once took a class that was a four mods, but that was an isolated incident. Schedules are made around a 6 day week (A through F)- so constantly rotating. And every student has a unique schedule- made just for them by a little old lady in the scheduling department. When does mod 5 begin? Oh like 9:52. What? Looking back, it’s a nightmare. For the administration and teachers. I loved it; but I totally understand why some of my teachers would just throw up their hands sometimes and tell us to leave. 
Back to my pre-senior senioritis. Seniors have the privilege of leaving school early if they have no class at the end of the day. At the end of my junior year, three of my letter days ended with at least 6 free mods: that is essentially 2+ free hours. There was no way I was spending those in school. There is fun to be had.
What kind of fun? The dog park.
Yes, I would strategically park my car, sneak out of school, and go to the dog park. Because I love my dog that much. My friends never quite understood my excitement, but I was and still am unashamed. And by God, no one, especially not anyone in the “Administration” (because back then, their authority was super skep) was going to stop me.

The second time: Senior year of high school
Yes! Senior year! I get to leave early right? Wrong. The scheduling fairy was not kind to me this year. But, you might ask, how will you make time to go to the dog park?! Well, my dog needs me. I guess I’ll just have to skip class. That was pretty much my thought process. My dad also supported my love of the dog park (probably because my German Shepherd-Rotweiler-Akita was still a puppy and she had some mad energy). I would call him from the bathroom, “Hey, dad, I’m going to call you from the nurse’s office in like 5 minutes to go home sick. It’s so nice outside, I want to go to the dog park.” I would go to the nurse’s office and she would look at me like, Like hell, you’re not feeling well. But my dad, being the best in the world, would inform the nurse that I haven’t been feeling well and would give his blessing for me to go home for the day. My mother also contributed to my senioritis in her own way. While my mom would refuse to lie on the phone to the school nurse, she would write me notes on days that I just didn’t feel school was worth my time, and decided I could be more productive by staying at home. This happened more and more frequently when the weather was nice.
Another thing that makes me a terrible student is that I feel a need to multitask. Early fall of my senior year, I started knitting in class. I started with scarves, and then I made a friend of mine a pair of mittens. Then another friend requested mittens. Then another friend paid me to make her a pair of mittens. Needless to say, I made a little business of knitting in class. Knitknitknit, copy down a physics equation, knitknitknit, calculate something, knitknitknit, conjugate a verb.  However, by the spring, my English teacher forbade me from knitting in her class, which I thought was just a huge injustice. She was also the teacher for my last class and forbade me from leaving with the bus-riders, something I had succeeded in doing the previous 3 years to get to rowing on time. I'm totally an 18 year old bus rider. Yeah, she was not fooled.
The third time: Senior year of College Part 1
I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea, but this was the year I decided to take three language classes- two German literature classes and Latin speeches/erotic poetry/Aeneid. The German was the first to go. Mostly because all the stories we read ended with suicide, homicide, and a general sense of WTF. Another problem with my German class was this extremely exasperating girl who we called “Stephanie.” She was so aggravating that we invented a drinking game all about her. So depending on how irritating she was, I could be in an unfortunate state before 11am. Drinking not only made “Stephanie’s” quirks more bearable, but I always felt I spoke better German after a few drinks. Germans drink before 11, why shouldn’t I? (Also, proof drinking makes me a better test taker- studied at the HofbrÀuhaus before an exam… A+. The test taking experience was also ten times more enjoyable. Fact.)
I don’t, as a general rule, skip classes, but when I did it was Latin. And only in the spring, and only when at least two other friends were skipping. Because, number 1 there aren’t that many people in 300 level Latin anyway, number 2- less people in class= I have to translate more. Which I CAN do, except when the teacher would ask questions like, what is the gender of this? Bitch, please. That shit’s not in my head. That’s what a dictionary is for. (Why yes, that escalated quickly.)

The fourth time: Super Senior year of College, aka Senior year Part 2
Worst discovery of my life: Pintrest. More terrible than even Facebook, because I tend to look at funny pins and proceed to chuckle in class when the teacher is talking about something entirely not funny. Another terrible hobby: blogging. I tend to write my blogs in classes where I can’t be on Pintrest. Issues.
This newfound love of blogging really stems from my love of telling stories. And now that my best friend has graduated and I have no one to tell ALL the ridiculous things that happen to me -(sitcom worthy situations mainly brought about due to my misunderstanding how normal life works or that period in my life where I’m pretty sure I was dating a spy)- anyway he suggested I write a book about my life. That seemed like a rather large endeavor, so I thought I’d start small.
My life is fairly ridiculous, so if you have any suggestions of things you’d like me to talk about feel free to suggest anything in the comments.

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