These teens want to nap

Anton Anderson, an English teacher who has suffered his share of drowsy students during his 34 years at the high school, formed the club in 1998. He envisioned a tonic for the demands of school, sports, social lives and college preparations.

‘‘These students are being shuttled constantly from one place to another,’’ Anderson says. ‘‘The club is really hitting a need for these overstressed kids.’’

For the first few years, only one student attended faithfully. Then two of Anderson’s sophomore students, Jenna Goldstein and Kelly Hannigan, answered his appeal to try it out. They came prepared to crack up at the corny relaxation tapes and meditation exercises. But they got hooked and soon they were bringing their friends and boosting the club in the school bulletin.

Now they’re seniors, presidents of the club and proud that its membership includes ‘‘artsy kids and jocks, all kinds of people and all grades”.

Hannigan, a swimmer, looks forward to the afternoon respite. She winces when she talks about the swim team’s 5:30 am practices. ‘‘When I get out, I’m energised. But by first period of classes I’m already drifting off.’’ After the co-presidents run down the club’s agenda (new sweatshirts on the way, volunteers needed for the homecoming float), it’s lights out. Eyes closed, hands resting on his thighs, Anderson plays sandman.

‘‘Imagine that your consciousness has been removed from the center of your mind. It becomes a ball of light,’’ he said. Light or no light, the students have probably been fighting this drugged feeling all day.

As they finally surrender, chins meet chests, heads loll back and prone bodies arrange themselves on the floor. Within minutes, the sound of deep breathing drifts through the dark room.

In the classroom Anderson continues his quiet narration. One power napper’s snores rise above the meandering strings of the New Age music. Several students on their way to sports practice hoist their bulging backpacks, pick their way out and gently close the door. A few minutes later, the lights come up. Students rouse each other. They stretch, yawn and rub their eyes. ‘‘I can’t feel my legs,’’ says a new member. (LATWP)