Page 7 of Trick Play

Kennedy: At least a code red.

Lauren: GIRL! I’m coming.

Kennedy: You’re in the middle of accounting. Do you get out before noon?

Lauren: Yeah

Kennedy: Would you mind being here when I get out? I might need backup. Or someone to restrain me

Lauren: Or help you drag the body to the trash shoot?

I let out a giggle and looked around, but no one was paying attention to me. A syllabus sat in front of me, but I didn’t remember how it got there.

Clements was talking, and I tried to focus, but Lauren sent another message.

Lauren: I’ll bring the gloves, tarp, and shovels. The acid might take a while to get ahold of.

We might have been watching too many true crime shows lately, but at least I knew she was loyal.

“I’ve made a major change to the curriculum this year,” Professor Clements continued, “and I’m excited for you guys to be the first group to experience it.”

A few people groaned. No one liked being a professor’s guinea pig. They always thought their ideas were cutting edge and so innovative, and maybe after a few semesters they got to that point, but it never happened the first time around. The grading structure wasn’t ever fair. There were errors in the tests. Generally, the professor was working out kinks as they appeared, making us run behind schedule only to have to cram the last week or two to catch up.

It was necessary—a course that never changed was as boring for the students as it was for the poor professor teaching it over and over again—but it sucked being the test subjects.

“There will still be texts to read and study, but no book.”

That earned a few cheers. No need to buy a three-hundred-dollar book? Yes, please.

“I’ll provide the reading material through our online classroom. I’ve also changed the project from a research paper to something much more meaningful.” He scanned the class with a growing smile. “You’ll apply what you learn through the lectures and reading, and submit a collection of photographs you take.”

Huh. I liked that idea. I hadn’t done any photography since my sophomore year when I decided I wanted to pursue the design side of art, so getting back to that would be fun. Much better than a ten-page paper about an assigned topic that had no practical application for me.

“And to make things interesting, we’re going to hold a gallery event at the end to share your work with the class. One group’s collection will be selected for display in the main hall for the rest of the school year.”

That sounded fun. It was rare to get to see everyone’s work since we usually submitted it online for grading.

A guy on the far side of the room raised his hand.

“Yes, and please tell me your name?” Clements said.

“I’m Brady. I was wondering, you said one group. Did you mean more than one person’s work will be displayed?” There was a hopefulness in his voice that made me pause. I hadn’t picked up on that.

Oh no.

“No this will ….”

Please don’t say it!

“A group project.”

Just like that, all the excitement and joy were sucked out of the room. There were no two words any college student hated more than group projects. It was complete crap. Professors claimed they wanted us to experience working together since that’s how most businesses worked, but there were so many things wrong with that idea. I was pretty sure it was just so they had half as much grading to do.

In the “real world” we would spend eight hours a day working at the same place. We would have time together to get a project done that didn’t require coordinating schedules. Plus, not all of us lived on campus. There were a good number of students that lived at home or in Pittsburgh and commuted in. Not to mention, a majority had jobs.

Real world? Yeah, that seemed a whole lot easier than college life.

“There will be class time set aside to collaborate and work together, but the photographs will have to be taken on your own time.” Clements continued as if he didn’t make himself enemy number one of the entire class.