Senioritis

  Colby Itkowitz

  The blinding whiteness of the blank Word document mocked me. How desperately I wanted to fill the space with eloquent prose. The blinking cursor ticked away the seconds in its own Morse code— reminding me that I hadn’t successfully written one sentence of my term paper since my six-hour battle began.

I was racing the clock. I typed a few words. I stopped. My valiant efforts were continuously thwarted. Was it my fault there were so many demands for my time?

First there was the realization that my unpainted toe nails looked awfully dull poking out from my shower flip-flops, then there were back-to-back reruns of Dawson ’s Creek, the phone call from my ex-roommate to accompany her on some quick (2-hour) errands. Who could ever work under these conditions? Maybe I needed a stroll through campus or a drive to clear my head—

Or maybe I just needed to graduate.

After four internships in my field and my major requirements all but completed, I was restless.

I’d spent approximately 136 hours in the back of lecture halls and another three million in front of this very same computer. Sitting through 17 more hours of lectures only to fulfill some University graduation requirement seemed pointless and increasingly tedious.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy learning. Sit me down, engage me in intellectual discourse, but please don’t expect me to regurgitate it in the form of papers and tests. That’s when the plague will hit. The familiar high school syndrome returns with vengeance; the “been there, done that” emotion that emerges at the threshold of any new chapter. It’s a condition that’s long vexed teachers and professors nationwide. They may call it apathy or laziness, irresponsible or pathetic. But, for me, I’ll just coin it “senioritis 2.” The second time in my academic career that I’d been labeled “senior” and the second time I was all too eager to dismiss the title.

It was becoming paralyzing. I needed an intervention, a professional to right my academic wrongs. I made an appointment with student counseling. Maybe they had a secret potion specifically to cure senioritis locked away only to give those brave enough to come forward and admit they have a problem. “Hi my name is Colby and I have senioritis.”

I sat across from the graduate psychology student.

“So you can’t concentrate,” she asked.

“Yep. It’s awful.”

“Hmm.”

She looked a bit dumbfounded. I told her I’d been distracted, unmotivated and restless. She told me to focus, prioritize, look at the big picture, find my own space—pleasant cliches, but not the solution I’d been seeking. She did offer one condolence, a light at the end of a four-year tunnel: “you’re not alone. A lot of seniors go through it.”

Maybe I should get that verified.

As one of the 63 students to make up Hofstra’s first official Honors College senior class, I visited the Dean of the Honors College , Stephen J. Russell, for some reassurance.

“Not with this 63,” he told me. “I’ve seen some restlessness to get on with things mixed in with some nostalgia—but not energy shortage. They are uncommonly motivated and uncommonly talented.”

So I was the lone honors student, one out of 63 suffering from impending senioritis collapse. I thought I should pay the Honors dorms a visit to learn just how my peers had succeeded in fending off the infection.

I knocked on the door of room 207 in Liberty Hall to find Melissa Zam, a psychology and pre-med major, lying on her bed watching “Super Nanny,” her science books sprawled on the floor.

“I’m procrastinating a lot more than I usually do,” Zam told me. “But I wouldn’t call it an ‘itis,’ yet.”

Hesitant to label herself while still trudging through the remaining weeks of organic chemistry, Zam hinted that the real senioritis victim was her roommate. Not yet returned late Monday night from a weekend home to New Jersey visiting her boyfriend, the roommate needn’t worry about intense studying. Her last semester class load includes photography, ceramics and fitness for life.

I could only wish. If only amid my lethargy, I could downright stop caring.

But I still yearn to see that beautiful capital “A” adorn the bottom of an assignment. It’s the mere thought of compiling an A-worthy paper that is exhausting. The mere act of sitting in front of a blank computer screen and trudging through even one more assignment in my college career is excruciating.

While surfing the Net avoiding an ominous 20-page political science paper, I stumbled across CollegeSeniors.Net: “Online Resource For College Students Suffering From ‘Senioritis’.”

“Nevertheless, one key to beating senioritis is to simply understand, realize, and accept the genuine FACT that you have NOT graduated yet,” the site reads. “And that there is a very real chance you'll either miss your chance altogether OR wind up spending at least one more semester in school!”

Well, that’s not very encouraging. But it gave me an idea.

I would write my own article about senioritis to show my fellow seniors they’re not alone. I’ll call psychologists across the country for input and thoroughly research the causes. I’ll perform case studies and release my findings to an eager and attentive…

Oh! Dawson ’s Creek is on. The one where Joey realizes for the first of three occasions that she loves Pacey. I love this one! Hmm…maybe I’ll just take a short break to watch. I’m sure I’ll still be motivated in an hour. Or maybe I’ll just put off starting that article until tomorrow…