As I begin to write this month's column, I'm sitting in my fourth-period physics class, gazing longingly out the open window and failing miserably to understand anything about electrical circuits (shh! don't tell my teacher).

It's not my fault; after all, it's a mathematically proven fact that no high school student can focus for extended periods of time when the first waves of spring finally begin to drift in off the breeze. So, instead of doing the responsible thing (a.k.a. attempting to pay attention), I think I'll bask in the glory of the same daydream every teenager has at some point during their school career: I'll think about everywhere I'd rather be right now.

The first place that comes to mind is outside, anywhere outside. It seems almost cruel and unusual punishment to be shut up in the dark prison cell that is my school on a day like today (although, please bear in mind, that in my agitation I'm exaggerating tremendously). I wouldn't even mind sitting in the parking lot as long as I could feel the 70-degree weather and the sun giving me a tan. That's all I want, for now.

But of course, after fantasizing idly about this for a few minutes, I'm getting a little greedier in my imaginary wanderings. Why stay on school grounds when I could go, figuratively, anywhere? Why not picture myself at Centennial Park? There, the dream gets a whole lot better -- I can see my friends and I having a picnic, going paddle-boating, playing soccer barefoot.

As my teacher moves through his lecture on currents and charges, I decide that Rita's is precisely where I'd like to be now. Who wants to study physics when I could be learning the chemistry of a Mango Italian Ice, or the mathematics involved in creating the specific ratio of custard to juice to ice in a Birthday Cake Gelati?

I wonder distractedly if I would be able to convince my teacher to take us all on a field trip to Rita's, in the interest of scientific curiosity. No, I suppose that would be a hard sell. I content myself with my make-believe Rittachini Chill and move on.

A fantasy road trip is next on my mind's menu. I can almost feel the steering wheel beneath my fingers and the music, turned up as loud as possible, sending hammering vibrations through my seat. Naturally, the windows are rolled down, and the wind is coming at me at 70 miles per hour, messing up my hair. My friends and I are heading off for crazy adventures in...

Ocean City, I decide. As the closest beach, it seems an appropriate place to start. Just thinking about the rolling waves (usually too cold and too dirty) and the golden sand (usually too hot and too crowded with the towels of other beach-goers) is enough to make me want to get up and leave, right here in the middle of physics, and head off in an eastward direction. But, I tell myself, it's too early to start pining for Ocean City. There'll be plenty of time for that next year, when I have Senior Week to look forward to.

Instead, my mind flits between other beaches I'd like to lie on at the moment:

Myrtle Beach, S.C.

Key West, Fla.

Santa Barbara, Calif.

Cancun, Mexico.

Kauai, Hawaii.

Nice, France.

Capri, Italy.

Salinas, Spain.

Palm Beach, Aruba.

I can't decide between the last few -- they're all equally enticing.

My Californian/Mediterranean/Caribbean daydreams are abruptly cut short when my teacher asks me how my progress on Assignment 31 is coming along. I'm tempted to ask if Assignment 31 has anything to do with tropical coasts -- because if so, then I'm already way ahead of the rest of my classmates. Unfortunately, I know the truth: that my homework has absolutely nothing to do with my far-fetched fantasies. Far from being ahead, I'm woefully in need of some catching up.

So maybe I've wasted the last half hour of physics, and maybe (actually, most likely) I'll pay for it tonight when I have much more homework to make up than usual. But hopefully I've provided you with some entertainment, and managed to pass along my fervent desire for summer to be here as soon as possible.

Sara Olson is a junior at Marriotts Ridge High School. You can reach her at cdumler@theviewnewspapers.com.

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