The Group Project – Short Story
Mr. Watson glared at the class of sleepy, disinterested students in front of him. They really didn’t pay him enough to spend six hours of many days in front of this bunch for an entire year. And to top it off, the ridiculous Hubert Johnson was actually asleep. Mr. Watson only had one good eye, but he trained it with rage at the prostrate form of young Johnson. If Mr. Watson’s ears were not deceiving him, and they never did, Johnson had emitted a loud snore. The vast majority of the class was now paying more attention to the sleeping Johnson than to Mr. Watson himself, and this was absolutely intolerable. To top it off, Johnson’s crony Bob Brown had clearly taken it upon himself to help, and was gently prodding him in the arm. Mr. Watson advanced like a bird of prey upon the sleeping boy, clutching his meterstick like a weapon. With a crash, he brought it down upon Johnson’s desk. Johnson shot to his feet. He had an eraser-shaped red mark on his cheek from resting his face on said eraser. Mr. Watson gave him a venomous look and issued a detention before he stalked back to his place in the front of the classroom. He turned around and was secretly pleased to see that every student was wide awake now. He cleared his throat; it was finally time for the big announcement.
“Boys,” said Mr. Watson, “I am assigning you a group…”
Before he even finished the sentence, every student in the room was poking a friend in the shoulder or making eye contact with a prospective group project partner and nodding emphatically. Mr. Watson frowned. He had planned to allow them to choose their own partners, but this premature assumption made him grumpy.
“Want to be partners?” whispered Hubert to his comrade-in-arms, Bob.
Bob nodded and grinned. His smile was more open than usual, owing to the loss of one of his front teeth. Mr. Watson cleared his throat and scowled ferociously at them. They subsided, and he continued.
“I am assigning the lot of you a group project in science to be due tomorrow. You may…” he paused, watching with smug delight the class hanging on each word, “you may choose your own partner and your topic. Present a poster on any of the topics we have covered this year.”
The class chou-chou, Harris Hatpin, raised his hand. Mr. Watson trained his eye of fury on him. Evidently Hatpin wanted to know if they could choose a topic in maths, because Mr. Watson taught math as well. No, they could not. Mr. Watson wondered. There was no dumb question in his class, but some questions really pushed the limit.
The class set up a moderate babble, all loudly discussing prospective topics for the poster. Hubert, ever-inventive, wanted to present about different sugars. Mr. Watson, who was eavesdropping, was impressed despite himself – Johnson had clearly been paying attention. His secret and sudden enthusiasm dampened slightly as Johnson elaborated; it seemed that Johnson had spotted an opportunity to stop by the famous local sweet shop he frequented: Newton’s Candies. The students continued to talk and work, and the usually grumpy Mr. Watson looked around him and gave thanks to God for this peaceful classroom moment.
It was a snapshot of everyday life, and that in itself was special. 😊
