Chapter 2
With a staggered schedule, Silas took one set of classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and another set on Tuesday and Thursday. On the way to his last class of the day, on his first Tuesday back at Stronghold, he had been to all but one of his courses for the semester. Much like he remembered, the first day of class – in each case – was a review of the syllabus, a preliminary Q&A, and a small assignment. Given the familiarity of it all, Silas felt like he had a solid opportunity to ease back into his studies and he planned to seize it whole-heartedly. If his time in the corporate world had taught him anything it was that time management can make or break you – the sooner you can get something done, go for it. With that in mind, he very deliberately started on the assignments he had been given shortly after receiving them. He had never subscribed to that philosophy before and had always been rather laid back about his studies. But, this time around, he was genuinely, purposefully invested in learning from past mistakes and quite consciously going about the process of setting himself up for success. Silas reasoned that if he was going to have his best year, as he had promised himself, his level of dedication was definitively going to be a deciding factor. Besides, knowing that he would have a very active toddler on his hands over the weekend, he decided that his best bet was to get ahead of the game and stay there.
Silas arrived to his Humanities class about five minutes early and staked out a seat as close to the front as possible. Because he was tall, and self-conscious about blocking the view of those behind him, his initial instinct was to just sit in the back. But, given his ambitions, he knew that really wasn’t an option. Based on past experience, Silas had an intuitive sense about the correlation between where a student sat in a classroom and what their grade was. On some level, he reasoned, that the closer a student sat towards the front, the more likely they were to be engaged and to not only pass the class but get an A. With the first row nearly full, Silas settled into his seat on the second row, closest to the wall. Realizing that he still had time before class started, he looked around and tried to absorb his surroundings. He had hoped to see a familiar faces or two but couldn’t even find one in the crowd that had already assembled.
About three minutes after class was set to begin, Dr. Alan Byrne darted into the room, carrying an unexpectedly chic messenger bag and looking like an eccentric genius. With his uber-alert facial expression, wild gray Einstein-esque hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a slightly disheveled look, it was clear that his focus was not his physical appearance. Instead, based on the way he presented himself, Dr. Byrne’s driving passion appeared to be scholarship and everything else – including his own personal aesthetics – played second fiddle.
“OK,” Dr. Byrne announced, simultaneously trying to get his bearing and alert the class that their session was about to start. “Come on in,” he said, waving his hand inward, “we’re going to get class started in a few!”
As more students began to trickle in, Dr. Byrne paced the floor, rubbing his hands together and looking a little wide-eyed. He was clearly in his element and looking excited, as if he was about to dig into one of his favorite meals. After a second or two, he went back over to his desk, reached into his bag, and pulled out a handful of paper squares. “I’ll explain this later,” he assured, walking toward the first row of students. “Take one number and pass the rest down,” he instructed, “don’t worry so much about which number you get for now. Again, I’ll explain more about what this all means in a little while.”
When Dr. Byrne got to the end of Silas’ row, the Professor hastily handed the person closest to him a set of squares. “Get one for yourself and pass the rest down,” he commanded; a directive he repeated over and over again. Silas watched carefully as each person in his row pulled a number from the set. He couldn’t help but wonder what the exercise was about and which number he would get. By the time the paper squares got to him, they were a set no more. Because he was at the end of the row, he actually had no choice but to take the last number left. Watching the person beside him haphazardly choose the topmost square and, ultimately, seal his fate, he rethought the strategy of sitting so close to the wall.
“Here you go, man,” his closest seatmate said with a snicker.
“Yeah, thanks,” Silas replied sarcastically.
As soon as he got a chance to, Silas took a look at his number – it was seven. While that part of the suspense was over for now, he still only had an incomplete bit of information and he didn’t quite know what to make of it. More precisely, he wasn’t even sure if the number he had pulled – or rather, had been handed – was a good one or not. Anxious to learn more, and feeling the anticipation get to him, Silas channeled his nervous energy into a likely place – in no time, he felt his right knee begin to shake uncontrollably.
With the last number distributed, and his students’ anticipation hanging heavy like a thick fog, Dr. Byrne knew that he had a rapt audience. Seeing the class eager and ready to hang on to his every word, he strategically decided to table the discussion of the numbers and what they meant for the moment. He wanted to keep them on the edges of their seats for at least a couple of minutes more. Instead, he dove into the first class of the semester by discussing the syllabus and his expectations for the course.
Figuratively taking the temperature of the room after a while and noticing that engagement was beginning to wane, Dr. Byrne quickly wrapped up his initial discussion. “Now,” he stated, clapping his hands together, alerting everyone that the moment they had been waiting for had arrived, “let’s talk numbers – more specifically, the numbers you have in your hands!”
As if a switch had been flipped, the mood of the classroom changed markedly. Students begin to sit up, look straight forward, and give Dr. Byrne their full attention once again. Everyone was clearly on tenterhooks, ready to find out more about whether the number they had meant a good thing or a bad one.
“So, the numbers you have are a key part with your first assignment – the one that I’m going to give you today. Take a look down at the number that you have once again.”
Following his directive, everyone took a peek at the numbers they had drawn earlier. From Dr. Byrne’s perspective, the faces of his students quickly disappeared and he was dutifully was met with a sea of foreheads and crowns.
“Your first assignment,” Dr. Byrne said before pausing dramatically, well aware that he was about to lower a major boom, “will be a group project!”
Collectively, yet relatively quietly, the class emitted a somber moan.
Dr. Byrne nodded knowingly, he had expected that reaction; it was the same one he had received every single semester since he started at Stronghold. “The numbers you have,” he pointed out, undeterred, “were distributed to help facilitate the assignment of two-person teams. Whatever number you have, there is only one other person in this room who has the same one – the person who holds the match will be your partner. It’s just that simple.”
Just then, the anxiety level of the classroom spiked up a couple of notches. Not only was this a team project, something a clear majority of the students hated, but fate would control who they would be teamed up with. The number each student held in their hands would determine who they would be linked with and, in a major way, impact the kind of experience they would have completing their first project of the semester.
“Your assignment will be due in a week and here’s what it is – it’s very simple, actually. Basically you and your partner must visit an art exhibit...”
Silas took out a pen and started to jot a note, echoing Dr. Byrne’s overview of the assignment.
“And, just so we’re clear,” Dr. Byrne assured, beginning to address a common question he got every year, “there are a multitude of art houses – varying in the size and types of collections – to choose from in the DC Metro area – and just about any one of them will do.”
Once again, the class quietly groaned.
“As a unit – as a team – you and your partner must select a painting and write a paper about it. In particular, the two of you will need to discuss the painting’s history, reveal key insights about the painter, tell me why you chose the piece, et cetera, et cetera. A more detailed overview of the assignment has been provided in the course shell online, but for now, I think you have a pretty good idea about what’s required.”
Silas twirled the paper square he had been holding, with a hand-written seven etched squarely in the center of it, between his index finger and thumb. This time, his nervous energy pooled in his fingers and seemed to linger there.
Dr. Byrne continued. “I know that many of you don’t like teamwork and I hear that; trust me, after over 27 years in this business, I’ve heard every argument against it. But, for a large majority of you – believe it or not – it will later become an integral, inevitable aspect of your professional lives. Right now is as good a time as any to start flexing that muscle and building your capacity to collaborate with other people in a substantial way!”
Silas completely understood where Dr. Byrne was coming from. He had experienced it first-hand at VivaTech, as a software engineer, developing apps for a wide and varied set of clients. Each project was a collaborative effort; not once did he develop an app completely on his own. At each turn, Silas always relied on at least one other person – someone with a slightly different skillset – to complete a task. Despite a clear understanding of the assignment’s motivation and agreeing with Dr. Byrne that teamwork is an unavoidable aspect of most contemporary professions, Silas was still not looking forward to this project.
“I’m giving you this assignment,” Dr. Byrne explained, “because I want each of you to get well acquainted with the collaborative process. The way I’ve designed it, your team will have to make decisions together, to select a piece (painting), and to negotiate what its meaning is. You will also have to jointly develop a coherent, insightful discussion explaining the history of the piece….” Dr. Byrne paused, as if another thought had distracted him. “In the real world,” he continued, “true work product is cooperative, it’s negotiated. To achieve that, successfully, you will have to effectively express your ideas to others, listen to – and place value on – other people’s views, and seamlessly coordinate the thoughts and talents of a group in a way that respects everyone’s contribution. As you know, it’s a messy process and can be very, very hard to do! But, I’m telling you, if you can accomplish this, you will be well ahead of the curve.”
Silas found himself nodding and feeling a little more open to the constructs of the work ahead.
“OK, “Dr. Byrne said, walking to the front of the classroom and standing behind his desk. “I’m going to give you the rest of today’s class time to find out who your partner is and start figuring out your game plan for moving forward. This assignment is due one week from today! I’m going to call out each number, starting with 1. When your number is called, I want you to stand up – the other person who stands will be your partner. I want the two of you to go outside to the hallway and figure out when you’ll meet to work on the assignment and other logistics.”
Silas thought that sounded easy enough and, as silently as he could, took long, deep breaths to quiet his nerves.
“Alright, we’re going to start with number 1,” Dr. Bryne announced, clasping his hands together in sheer enthusiasm. “Can I have the two people with the number 1 stand, please.”
Out of his periphery, Silas could see one of the pair rise from his seat.
“OK,” Dr. Bryne continued, “Please meet outside so that you can get your group in sync. OK, number 2, please…where is group 2?”
As the professor continued to call out numbers, Silas nervously turned the number around in his hand, occasionally looking around to try and figure out who his partner might be. Though he agreed on the importance of teamwork, and understood the inherent value of the assignment, he was still quite anxious about partnering with someone who might not take the assignment as seriously as he would. Before he knew it, Silas’ was about to get called.
“Alright. Next. Seven, please. Where are my two sevens?” Dr. Byrne asked, actively looking around the room. “Ah, here they are,” Dr. Byrne exclaimed as Silas quickly gathered his book and notebook for the course into his arm. “Please,” Dr. Byrne continued, “please meet in the hall. Just try to keep the noise down. We don’t want to disturb the other classes that are underway. OK, now…where are the eights?”
As Silas walked toward the door, he realized that this was the moment of truth he had been building up to all class period. Finally, he would escape the suspenseful grip that had been holding him captive ever since Dr. Byrne started doling out small stack of numbers to each row. He looked behind him, to catch an initial glimpse of his partner, and was inevitably stopped in his tracks. Silas couldn’t believe his eyes or his fortunes, for that matter. In an interesting twist of events, he saw the girl who had captivated him so during his morning run walking down the aisle and heading out to meet him. He wondered how he had missed her on one of his earlier scans of the room but was too excited to really ponder the oversight.
Reminiscent of his time on the trail, Silas’ mind began to race – surely, this pairing had to be a special kind of fate! Earlier the previous day, after being quite smitten with her, he had decided against doubling back to strike up a conversation with the beautiful runner. But this encounter – the one that was about to happen – was sort of like his second chance, his second bite at the apple. In a way, though, this setup up was much better than anything he could’ve orchestrated beforehand; instead of just being some random guy on a running trail, he would actually have an opportunity to interact with her in a partnership. From that perspective, this interaction would inherently be deeper. It would provide an opportunity to not only say hello and hope that she would agree to give him her phone number but to actually team up and create something meaningful. Silas could hardly reconcile the sheer serendipity of the moment and reeled in his anticipation as best he could.
Silas stepped into the hallway first and waited for him to join her. As soon as they locked eyes, he realized that hers were actually blue and not the vivid green he thought he had seen the day before. Green, blue, or purple – it didn’t matter; to him she was absolutely sunny. He smiled in her direction, hoping to lay the foundation for an inviting exchange and a fruitful partnership. But, to his dismay, Silas’ warmth was met with a cold glare.
“Look,” his partner began, as soon as she had fully cleared the line between the classroom and the hall, “I hate group work. But let’s get this over with.”
Just like that, the mood changed. Silas was no longer hopeful; in fact, he was a little crestfallen and feeling like the potential of the moment – at least for the outcome he wanted – had all but fizzled. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to bring the discussion back to the center. “What’s your name, again?”
“Oh, it’s Chance,” she said nonchalantly, switching her attention to her purse and frantically searching for something inside. “Here,” she finally said, handing him a card nestled between her pointer finger and thumb. “That’s got all of my contact information on it,” she added dismissively.
“Alright,” Silas replied, before flipping it over and writing “Humanities Partner” on the back.
“Let’s not make this too complicated,” she said, as he opened the cover of his notebook and stuck her card into its pocket. “I think we should just meet at the National Gallery of Art on Thursday, choose a piece and then figure out who will write what part of the paper in one fell swoop. That work for you?”
“Uh, yeah,” Silas managed to eek out, his head reeling. This wasn’t the interaction he had hoped for at all.
“Good,” she said, curtly ending their conversation.
As Chance walked away, seemingly in a rush to get to her next destination, Silas ran his fingers through his dark brown hair and sighed. “What just happened?” he wondered, trying to process everything. “Be careful what you ask for,” he thought, realizing how badly he wanted to just have a chat with the girl from the trail the morning before. “You just may get it!”