I have senioritis so bad I should have bumps. School is so boring and I don’t care and everything is so irrevelant [sic].
It’s diary week here at Minnesota Transplant where we plumb the depths of five years of Judy Bloom diaries I kept in high school. (Author of “Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret” and other teenage fiction, Judy Bloom was so popular and so beloved, by me anyway, she was writing and selling blank books! That’s an author’s goal to which to aspire!)
A month after writing about senioritis and paying no attention whatsoever to the relevancy of spelling, I wrote: “I am so sick of school. I got a zero on my last Advanced Topics test. I was so bored at school.” Under the subject of a book to remember from May, I wrote: “‘Of Human Bondage’ — the book I never read for Thematic Writing.”
W. Somerset Maugham’s semi-autobiographical novel is thought by some to be among the best novels of the 20th century, but I guess my 18-year-old self preferred reading “Smart Women” (one of Bloom’s adult novels) and going to prom (which was “OK,” according to my diary).
With perspective that comes with age (and step-parenting), I don’t know how my parents could stand me back in 1985 as I wrapping up my senior year. I could hardly stand myself.
Coming Thursday: The best cure for senioritis — graduation.