Page 7 of Gay for Pray
“Now that we’ve gotten into the material,” she says, “it’s time for your first big assignment of the semester.”
Everyone around me tenses. A few people groan before theycan stop themselves, and I imagine one of them is Jude, though I don’t turn to confirm that suspicion.
“You will have some time for this,” the professor continues, “but don’t put it off and try to get it all done at the last minute. We all know that doesn’t work.”
A few nervous chuckles ripple through the room. Most of these people will put off the assignment despite this warning and then scramble to finish it right before the due date. I won’t have any such troubles, however, partly because I won’t be wasting whole weekends recovering from parties.
“I want you all to develop your own thesis,” Professor Demsky says. “This can be any topic that’s covered in class. If you’re concerned your topic isn’t on the syllabus, come talk to me and we can figure out a way to make it work. It has to be related to the subject of the course, but I’m willing to afford you all some wiggle room there. The important part here is the practice of developing and defending your own argument.
“Near the midterms, you’ll all present your topic to the rest of the class. You should be prepared to do more than just read your paper out loud in front of everyone. Think about how you can present ideas and arguments in a way that helps other people understand this information. Sometimes, that means making itinterestingand not just informative, but I’ll leave that determination up to each of you. I want to see what you come up with without me telling you what to do.”
I try not to scowl. It would be better to get straightforward instructions instead of having to guess what she wants, but it’s not that different from delivering a sermon, I suppose. You have to do more than present the information. You also have to make all your parishioners want to listen to you for half an hour on Sunday morning.
“One other thing,” Professor Demsky says, cutting through the bubbles of chatter that sprang up in response to the first partof the instructions.
Then Professor Demsky says something that turns my stomach into a lead ball.
“This will be a group project.”
A hush sweeps through the room. Everyone hates group assignments, and few people as much as me. If I had to rank the things I hate the most in the world, group projects would probably fall one rung above Jude himself.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” Professor Demsky calls above the din that greets this news. “Relax, it’s not that bad. You can divide the project however you want. Each group of two simply needs to give me a completed paper and a completed presentation. One of you can write and one of you can present. You can both do half of each. I don’t care how you divide the work.
“The point here isn’t to have two people do one project. The point is to learn the value of collaboration when it comes to philosophy. A lot of us have this image of the lone philosopher sitting in his armchair smoking a pipe and issuing kernels of wisdom as they strike him, but in reality, philosophy is a collaborative practice. We learn by sharing ideas, by working together, by arguing—politely—with each other to develop new theories. You and your partner need to do more than divide up the work for the assignment. You also have to find common ground and a common thesis to collaborate on. You can do that however you see fit, but I will expect to hear what your topics are by next Monday.”
She goes into the schedule for the project, when each step will be due and the checkpoints we need to meet along the way. Then she releases us to go find our own partners.
I hate that she leaves this part open as well. Professor Demsky does not value structure as much as I’d prefer, and that’s evident in the chaos that follows when the entire class is suddenly on their feet trying to figure out who will partner withwhom.
I stand as well and scan the room, but I don’t know most of these people. I’ve had class with a few of them, but I never bothered to remember their names or anything about them. As a sophomore, I’ve theoretically had time to get to know a few of them, but in practice I’ve kept to myself, assuming the other students can only hold me back. Maybe I’ll get lucky and do the project on my own. I count out the class, trying to determine if we’re an odd or even number of people, but it’s too hard with everyone moving around.
I edge toward the back of the class, hoping to figure out who’s left over in this process. Whoever it is is probably a weak student. I’ll have to carry them through the project, but that’s fine by me. Hell, I might even tell them to leave the whole thing to me so they can’t hurt my grade.
I search the room. People are already clustering together, moving desks around, exchanging phone numbers and contact information. I can’t spot anyone who seems to be alone.
Then Jude appears at the back of the class looking just as alone as me.
Our eyes lock as a horrible inevitability passes between us. I search again, desperate to find any way my worst fears might not come to fruition, but the class is settling down, leaving us more and more isolated. The truth becomes clearer with every second that passes. A guy in the back of the class, catching me obviously freaking out, smirks and chuckles. Even he knows how disastrous this is, and he’s just some random frat bro stranger.
He’s the only one left.
He’s the only one without a partner.
Not only am I going to to be stuck with him in choir, I’m going to be stuck with him as my partner for this project. Jude is going to occupy every moment of my sophomore fall semester, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to get away from him.
God help me.
Chapter Five
Jude
I PAUSE AT THE doors of the library and take a deep breath. In my entire freshman year at A.S.S. Uni., I managed to avoid this building. I didn’t set foot inside even once, but now I have to break my streak for the worst possible reason.
Theodore is waiting for me.
I check the text message he sent. It contains nothing but a room number, but even that feels like too much. When I said I wanted to meet guys and get numbers this semester, I didn’t meanhimorhis number. My resolution to find a man is not going as planned.
I adjust the bag hanging across my chest, checking the laptop inside it. I pat my pockets for my keys and wallet. I look around as though I might have forgotten something. Then I’m out of delaying tactics. I must accept my fate and go to the library with Theodore.
