From the Archive

Group Effort

Written by Theresa Cleary
Illustrated by Mike Tofanelle

I sat at my desk with my fingers crossed as Mrs. Hursting* announced group assignments for our class project on famous authors. I glanced at my best friend Jenny across the room and held up my fingers to show her I was hoping for the best. She smiled and showed me her own crossed fingers.

"Group Two," Mrs. Hursting announced. "Teresa Berens . . ." Here we go! I thought. "Denise Kettering . . ." Well, OK. "Frank Nelson . . ." Oh, no. "Jenny Wallis . . ." Yes! Yes! Yes! "And Jeff Zimmerman." Please, God, tell me I heard her wrong.

But I already knew my ears hadn't deceived me. Besides Jenny, I didn't have anything good to say about anyone else in our group. We had the class nerd, the class clown, and Denise, who hadn't opened her mouth to talk yet this quarter. Maybe Jenny and I can transfer out, I thought.

*Names have been changed.

"There will be no switching groups," Mrs. Hursting said.

So much for that idea.

"Starting today at the end of class, we'll have 15 minutes for groups to get together to discuss their plans."

As class continued, my mind wandered. I still couldn't believe the people Jenny and I had ended up with. Frank was always cracking dumb jokes, Jeff was such a geek that no one at school wanted to hang out with him, and Denise probably wouldn't open her mouth to participate. I can't work with these people, I thought. They're too . . . different. From the beginning I was convinced our project would be a disaster.

Before the end of class Mrs. Hursting called for group time. As the five of us pulled our desks together I gave Jenny a can-you-believe-who-we're-stuck-with look. I could hear the other groups planning what they wanted to do for their projects while we sat looking at each other. Frank started cracking jokes, Denise bit her nails, and Jeff looked at his shoes. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Anyone have any good ideas on which author we can cover in our project?" I asked, breaking into Frank's monologue.

As four pairs of eyes turned to me, I knew with a sinking feeling that because I'd spoken first, I'd just been designated the group's leader. Oh, well, I might as well make the best of it.

"How about this," I said. "We'll find a local author, do an author biography, read selections from his or her work, and then take questions from the class."

All I got were blank stares.

Finally Frank broke the silence. "Sounds boring to me." Jeff, Denise, even Jenny, nodded. I felt betrayed.

"OK, then come up with a better idea," I challenged. Before the discussion could go any further, the bell rang. Our group broke up quickly.

That afternoon Jenny and I sat in her basement and discussed the project. "We'll never get an A," I moaned. "We've got such a lousy group."

"I'll bet if we put our heads together, we can come up with a unique idea," Jenny said. "You're so busy complaining about the others that you haven't given anyone a chance."

I knew Jenny was right. I was the one who usually went around preaching acceptance. Yet here I was, with the perfect opportunity to put what I believed into practice, and I couldn't get past the fact that our group was, to put it kindly, unique.

Lord, is it possible to use that to our advantage? I wondered.

When our group met the next day, I sat back and let the others brainstorm ideas. It was exciting to hear one idea lead to another and then another, improving each time. I realized this was a way of coming up with ideas that I'd never used. I always sat down and mentally went through all my options before coming up with the one idea I thought was the best. That's what I'd done yesterday when I'd shared my idea for the project–the one that was shot down.

As the discussion continued, I got caught up in the growing excitement. Frank had come up with the idea of using Mark Twain as our author. He said he was willing to get up in front of the class and do a comic monologue in the Twain tradition. Denise added that she knew how to do stage makeup and could help Frank look the part. Jeff offered to research some interesting little-known facts about Twain, and Jenny volunteered to gather selections of his work for our group to read.

"How about if you and I write the monologue together?" I heard myself ask Frank. Once again four pairs of eyes turned to me. "I–I thought that with my writing skills and your comedy skills, we could come up with something really good," I finished a little less confidently.

"Sounds great to me," Frank said. "Maybe we can work on it after school today in the library."

"I'll meet you there to do my research," Jeff said.

"Me too," Jenny added.

"This could actually be fun," Denise said. "I might as well come too."

As the bell rang and we all headed in different directions, I couldn't help marveling at the unique way God had brought our talents together. Frank would use his flair for telling jokes. Denise would work on his makeup behind the scenes so she wouldn't be uncomfortable in front of the class. Jenny would use her love of reading to pick out selections from Twain. Jeff would use his researching skills, and I would use my writing abilities. It couldn't have worked out more perfectly if I had planned it.

All along I'd doubted God's ability to use five people who were so different from each other to come up with a grade-A project. I should have known better.

In two days I'd realized that just because someone is different, that doesn't make him or her any better or worse than anyone else–especially in God's eyes. No matter our grade, I knew that was the real lesson to be learned from this project.