Those of you with young-adult children will know all about senioritis, a dastardly disease that, in its mildest form, merely drains its victims of scholastic enthusiasm but, at its worst, renders infected 12th-graders completely incapable of fulfilling their graduation destinies. Alas, our youngest, despite receiving both doses and a booster of the High Expectations vaccine, has finally succumbed to a moderate case, just like her siblings before her (we think she may have had it in October 2021, but we never had her tested).
Interestingly, I also seemed to have contracted senioritis this go-around, although I believe I suffer from the long-haul omega variant that is commonly found among parents of multiple kids. Unlike the original strain, omega attacks the part of the brain that makes you enforce rules and curfews and good decisions upon your teenage offspring. Where I used to care deeply about her grades and attendance and bedtimes, now I simply don’t give a darn. I literally can’t muster the strength to say, “No” when she asks me to call her out for first period. She’s been accepted to college and she’s worked hard. If she wants to sleep in and skip AP Lit, fine. I have those secretaries on speed dial.
See what I mean? The maternal apathy is impressive, especially given I’m a teacher. I would have never catered to the whims of my older darlings like I do with my baby. But that’s the insidiousness of senioritis. Those who thought they were immune because they’ve survived previous outbreaks are hit the hardest. Case in point: me.
Stay safe, friends. Senioritis is scary, but god willing, you can endure.
Peace out.
