The Art of Doing Nothing

Prompt: Is “doing nothing” a good use of your time?

Senioritis traditionally emerges during the second semester of senior year. With standardized testing and application deadlines in the rearview mirror, most seniors–myself included–put their academic studies aside to focus on having the best last semester of high school. There’s a carefree nature to the spring of senior year that feels like the prospect of summer vacation–a semester, in other words, of doing nothing. 

Now that I’m a senior with raging senioritis, I’ve been determined to make the most out of the rest of senior year. Although I haven’t learned much in the classroom, I’ve learned to embrace the contrasting forms that “doing nothing” has taken over the past couple months.

In January, I learned that the act of doing nothing could be destructive. Without a clear end goal in mind, the days blurred by. Without schoolwork, I turned to social media apps and into the realm of infinite scrolling. My weekly screen time, previously below an average of two hours a week, spiked to four, then five, then six. My newfound freedom became a pair of golden handcuffs that was holding me back.

For how much I looked forward to experiencing senioritis, I felt lost and overwhelmed, drowning in the instant gratifications that replaced the few hours of meaningful work that I used to complete on a regular basis. Without direction, my time was being wasted before my eyes.

But was I really doing nothing?

As the semester progressed, I found myself looking forward to track practice the most–much, much more than the hours I’d spend on YouTube and Instagram. Long runs gave me an outlet away from the screens: miles and miles of the unchanging Midwest landscape. There was something calming about it that my phone screen couldn’t provide. Even though I was exerting myself, I felt closer to the essence of “doing nothing” than when I was exploring the depths of Instagram reels. 

When I returned to Kenney from my runs, I’d come back tired, but refreshed. When I finished scrolling social media platforms, I was left with no willpower to accomplish anything. Both activities qualified as doing nothing, but only one was rewarding and meaningful in the long run. Even when I wanted to do nothing, I had to choose to be intentional with my actions in order to avoid destructive spiraling.

I’ve gradually shifted my attention away from social media and onto other aspects of high school that I value more. I’ve found that there are two most common types of senioritis, one destructive, one constructive. The constructive version is the kind that's shown in the movies, the kind that I was looking forward to: pickleball with friends, genuine conversations in the senior lounge, eight hours of consistent sleep. 

Nothing great can happen without a cost. With every yes that I’ve said to an opportunity, there’s a no that I implicitly said to a different opportunity. Spring semester of senior year gave me the academic freedom that I looked forward to during junior year, and opened up my schedule to all possibilities. Without a clear direction, I took on the responsibility of finding that direction for myself. I intentionally choose to spend as much time with my classmates as possible. I choose to endure the middle distance track workouts and the five-hour-long meets with my teammates because even though the situations weren’t the most comfortable, I could choose to make them fun, to make core memories out of the most improbable scenarios.

I’m still active on social media, but I’ve become aware of the consequences that result from overindulgence, on losing the clarity of having a direction to aim for. To practice the art of intentionally “doing nothing”, I’ve accepted the uncertainty and uncomfortability that comes with senior spring. Because the magic of senioritis happens not despite that uncertainty, but because of it.