Group Work
Happy Thanksgiving. I’m in week 14 of our 16 week fall semester, that time of the semester when niceties are approaching their limits and the students and instructors have had enough of one another. Students are beginning to concern themselves with the final projects they were told to concern themselves with back in week one. Back in week one when I told them, “the semester goes fast, don’t put this off until week 14”…so it goes. I’d be surprised if went any other way.
There’s always a few of those high achiever type students, who consider anything less than 100% on any and all assignments a failure, and, of course, a few more students who consider anything not failing as “good enough”. Making these two ends of the academic ambition scale do group work together is a diabolical little game I like to play. A game played with the hope that both parties will come away with some life-lessons, a smidge of wisdom, and the same number of teeth they started the project with.
“Hope”, a four-letter word that often inadvertently winds up becoming the precursor to a variety of other four-letter words. Some of which I learned while handing my dad the tool he hadn’t hoped for while he was lying on the gravel in the driveway, wedged under whichever vehicle needed to be tinkered on that particular day.
“Tinkered” seems a bit too jovial of a word to describe any of the driveway automotive repairs I witnessed. You would be surprised how accurately you can judge the irritation level of someone just by observing the “attitude” of their cowboy boots sticking out from under a car. Perhaps I should have been less observant of dad’s “angry” Tony Lama’s, and a bit more focused on my tool gopher task. Group work…father and son tinkering on the car in the driveway…oh the lessons learned.
Dad learned that a career as an auto mechanic was not in the cards for his eldest son, and I learned that, with the proper motivation, dad, and his miffed Tony Lama’s, could slide out from under a car, across gravel, with impressive expedience and nary a hint of discomfort. “Ohhh, that wrench. Why didn’t you say something? I’m just standing here, you were all comfy in the gravel under the car.” Those words knew better than to move from my mind to my mouth.
There’s a meme that I share with my students at the beginning of group projects, “When I die, I want the people I did group projects with to lower me into my grave so they can let me down one last time.” The potential for group work to go south is quite high, but when it works it’s quite gratifying for all involved. Keep that in mind as preparations for all the holiday gatherings begin to unfold.
Be helpful. Do what you can, when you can, for everyone you can. Dazzle your host and hostess, leave them hopeful that you and your ugly sweater (or whatever you call your date) will come again.
Happy Holidays.