Shannon Newton
President, ATA
It’s that season again. Not allergy season or hunting season—graduation season. The time of mortarboard squares, inspirational speeches and fresh futures sprawled out before young achievers marching to “Pomp and Circumstance,” but lurking beneath the celebration lurks a phenomenon we’ve all experienced: senioritis.
We recognize it instantly—that strange cocktail of anticipation and exhaustion that hits when the finish line comes into view. Suddenly, the determination that carried you through years of deadlines and all-nighters begins to sputter and fade. You’re planning your next chapter while still needing to finish strong in this one. The burden of present responsibilities collides with dreams of future release, creating a peculiar paralysis.
For graduates, at least there’s a calendar date circled in red, a defined moment when they can slide that tassel across their cap and officially declare, “I’m done.”
The freight industry has no such luxury.
We’ve been grinding through what data discloses as the longest freight recession ever. Each quarter, we’ve told ourselves (and economists have forecasted) that recovery lies just around the corner—that the election results, a soft economic landing or some return to certainty would eventually signal our own turning point.
But unlike education, business doesn’t offer neat semesters with scheduled breaks. The economy doesn’t pause for commencement ceremonies. There are no folding chairs being arranged on metaphorical football fields for us. The industry is collectively experiencing senioritis without the promise of graduation.
We’ve all seen how senioritis transforms straight-A students into just-get-me-through-Friday survivors. The perfectionist finally throws up her hands and accepts “good enough.” The once-passionate debater now just wants to make it to the bell. It’s not excitement; it’s exhaustion. And in times of prolonged economic strain, even the most resilient businesses can experience this same fatigue—an acknowledgment that the future will arrive whether we sprint or stumble toward it.
This isn’t unique to freight. Every sector facing prolonged uncertainty eventually contracts this condition—the premature relaxation of standards, the conservation of dwindling energy reserves, the quiet resignation that perhaps excellence isn’t sustainable indefinitely.
What makes senioritis bearable for students is knowing it’s temporary. The challenge for our industry is finding ways to push through prolonged exhaustion without a defined endpoint. We have to somehow maintain momentum when the fuel gauge reads empty and the next station remains out of sight.
Perhaps what we need at our annual conference isn’t a graduation, but a recommencement—a collective decision to begin again, to find new reserves of purpose even as we acknowledge our fatigue. Because unlike seniors counting down their final days, our industry’s story continues far beyond this difficult chapter.
