Since the dawn of time, mornings at America’s high schools have been plagued by an evil presence: a presence so horrid and widespread that it threatens to ruin the minds of the students quicker than listening to bad music: a presence which, unless contained, threatens to dismantle America’s schools in a thick gray haze.

Fortunately, I have come up with a plan to do away with this devious force: a plan so simple, it makes the act of chewing gum seem complex. Let’s bring nap time to high school.

Ah, yes … the wonderful carefree days of kindergarten: so restful, so peaceful. From these orange-painted walls come our savior, riding on the frothy wake of warm apple juice. In all its glorious splendor, the great goddess of sleep will come drifting down the halls, a feather pillow in one hand and a rubber mat in the other. With a silent, motherly kiss, all tired students will soon be resting peacefully in their designated homerooms.

Today, students are bogged down with overflowing amounts of stress. The days can be crammed with various duties, obligations and responsibilities. Having nap time will give each student one hour of the day to put all this aside and succumb to the gentle stickiness of a rubber mat. Nap time will also help boost student performance. Everyone knows that a well-rested student performs better than a tired one.

With lack of sleep, a student’s brain capacity begins to drop faster than the stock market. And without the occasional visit to lullaby land, students’ incoherent ramblings begin to make rap music seem intelligent. Is this the school we want? Of course not. Who knows, students might discover great bursts of creativity in their dreamy hour. Often the answer to a problem or dilemma will be revealed in a dream. As the great philosopher T. R. Wetrieb once said, “It is upon the sleeping hour that one will receive divine intervention in the form of clarity and a newfound spirit.”

Nap time would also serve as a way of raising money for our under-funded schools. Many scientific research companies pay people to allow them to monitor their sleep. Some pay in the range of $50,000 a month. If a high school would have 700 of their students participate in a nine-month nap time experiment, they would raise over $315 million – enough to buy every member of the math team a new protractor.

In my dream, I see a school where students don’t look like they’ve just chased three Valium with a quart of warm milk; a school where the students don’t stumble around like my cousin on New Year’s Eve. When the windows of sleep are cleansed, the students will see things as they truly are: infinite.