Senioritis: technically, the word means “inflammation of the senior,” but high school students know it better as the term for that second semester state of brain-dead apathy. Some students start early, but seniors usually experience it after finishing their college applications; with essays written and transcripts sent, the goal often becomes keeping C’s to a minimum. That goal may serve a student who simply wants to enter college, but in the big picture, senioritis just doesn’t make any sense—and I’m not just talking about the literal definition.

People often give in to senioritis simply because it’s tradition: how can any student resist what is virtually pardoned laziness? As seniors, we claim that we have the right to lethargy because we’re burnt out from slews of applications and standardized testing. A week or so of slacking is understandable, but after that week, we should be perfectly capable of getting back into gear. That doesn’t necessarily mean foregoing all weekend fun à la junior year, but at the very least, we should show up to school and get our weekly homework done. Senioritis doesn’t give us the right to abandon responsibilities that we’ve already taken on. It’s only fair.

Senioritis is also a waste of money. Beyond the fact that it leads to an alarming frequency of In-N-Out and Chipotle runs, it makes us squander an education that doesn’t cost a dime. I’m going to assume that most seniors will wind up paying for college. Many of the top academic destinations for Gunn students cost upwards of $40,000 a year, but right now, we have the opportunity to learn for a grand sum of nothing. The situation would be different if Gunn were a mediocre school, but it’s at the top of the top. Very few things of such high quality will be free later in life.

I can already hear people complaining that in spite of Gunn’s reputation, many of their classes are useless. First of all, I’m sure they’re not that bad compared to what’s offered in dilapidated inner-city schools; second, with a little effort, one can always glean something valuable from class. It’s tempting to write off a class after seeing no immediate benefits, but we can’t predict what we’ll need in a few short months. College is already an intellectual leap, and that leap is going to be far harder for students who drop their duties altogether. I’m not saying that senior year slacking will create an abyss of F’s later on, but no one wants to re-learn study skills—I’m sure it was annoying enough the first time.

Cutting down our slacking will let us enjoy our last year the way it should be enjoyed. Think about how nice it’ll be to drive to the beach, filled with the knowledge that nothing is waiting at home: no SATs, no personal statements—and no, not even a single Spanish assignment. I can tell you right now that the ocean will look a whole lot bluer.