Note: Thank God Spring Break's next week...

“I’m willin’ to bet my lifesavin’s that damn near nobody wrote a thing for today’s class…” I growled to myself as I splashed cold water on my face to start my morning, “If I wasn’t a responsible student, I would’ve gone back to bed after feeding the dogs today.”

For context, last week, I wrote the first draft of a one-page project proposal for my Research Writing course, assuming that I’d get a peer-review day that Thursday. But, when I woke up in the morning, I just had a gut feeling that I was the only student in my class who actually bothered to write a rough draft. A gut feeling that instantly put me in a shitty mood. 

I tried everything I could to shake that feeling before arriving into class. I woke up early for a reason: to have plenty of time to mentally and physically prepare myself for the day. But not even a long, hot shower, followed by a hearty breakfast and a little walk around the park with Toby, could ease my bad feelings about that day. 

Despite my grumpiness, I forced myself to go to campus. I drove a longer route to give myself some time to think and listen to music, praying to God that my gut feeling about that day’s class was wrong. I mean… I didn’t want to think that 90% of my Research Writing class was that incompetent. The professor sent out emails and posted an announcement in huge, bold letters that our project proposal rough drafts were due that day, as we’d spend the majority of Thursday’s class peer-reviewing each others works. My peers couldn’t possibly ignore so many reminders and deadlines. After all, we were in college! 

When I arrived on campus, I begrudgingly plodded towards my class, hoping that my peers weren’t as irresponsible as I figured they would be. 

Once in class, I sat down at my usual spot towards the front, pulled up my rough draft on my laptop, and watched as other classmates trickled into the room. A few minutes later, the professor burst in, excited as ever asking, “Who’s ready for peer-review day?!”

“I am…” I timidly responded. 

“Anyone else?” the professor asked the class. 

Silence. Painful, utter silence. 

“Well! Regardless, today’s still a peer review day. So, I suggest you pull up your rough drafts, and group up with four other people you’ve never worked with before!” 

Clearly, the professor was frustrated, though he tried very hard to hide it. 

After shuffling around, I found myself grouped up with three other gals around my age, all of whom looked at me like I was the group leader or some shit. 

“Good thing you wrote something, because none of us did.” one of them nervously giggled. 

“Yeah, I was gonna stay up late last night writing my draft, but I figured that someone else would’ve written something, so I didn’t bother.” another woman in my group shrugged, “We all get graded the same anyways…”

The third girl remained silent, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as though she had no idea where she even was. 

I struggled to hide my anger, as I was goddamned pissed. 

“So… uhhhh… do you just wanna look at my draft and give me some pointers?” I sighed, doing my best to not show my frustration despite the death glare I was giving everyone. 

“Sure, sure!” the first girl smiled (she was clearly the “spokesperson” of the two others). I turned my laptop around so they could read through the first draft of my one page proposal. While they read it, I glanced over at the professor with a “help me” look in my eyes, as he was prowling around from group to group. A few days before, I’d emailed him expressing some concerns with my fellow classmates, specifically on their apathy and unwillingness to participate. I didn’t (and still don’t like) to be the only one in the class to speak up during discussions. I’ve never enjoyed being in the spotlight, and since this semester began, I’ve felt like I’ve been having one-on-one discussions with the profs, all while everyone else sat back and watched. I’ve been having flashbacks to my public speaking course, in a way, and I’ve been getting really, really sick of being “the professor’s pet”. 

Thankfully, my prof understood where I was coming from, and said he’d figure out how to best get me out of the spotlight. When the prof realized that I was the only student in my group who actually bothered to write anything for that day’s class, he rapidly switched gears. 

“Alright!” the prof announced to the whole class, “By a show of hands, how many of you actually have something written down?”

Only I and two other students, out of a class of thirty, raised our hands. 

“Ok… Let’s disband our groups…”

I’ll admit, at this point in the class, I was feeling smug. So smug, in fact, that I cracked open a soda to watch what I figured was about to happen. 

The professor, calmly but clearly frustrated, began to cold-call students, asking what their project proposal was on, and what they were doing to write it. Now, he didn’t do this to shame anyone. He wasn’t meanly ripping into students, one-by-one, and interrogating them on why they didn’t write a single sentence for what was supposed to be “peer review day”. Rather, he was trying to figure out where the majority of the class was, so that he could help everyone get up-to-speed. 

I don’t think he came up with a solution within those five minutes he spent asking students what their project proposal was about. Because, at the end of class, he simply reminded all of us that the final project proposal was due in T-minus four days, and that was that. 

Still, I was left with the question, “What the hell's going on?!