by Amber Heart
As he began to close the loop of his run and get closer to home base, Silas slowed his pace down significantly into a light jog. Feeling invigorated, refreshed, and accomplished, he slowly let his body adjust and cool down. Right on cue, at the perfect time, he felt his phone begin to ring in the strap on his arm. He looked over to see who was calling and then pushed a button on his earphones to answer it.
“Hey Kalyn, what’s up?” he began, in between measured gasps of air. “Everything OK?” he interjected, before she could get a word out, unsure about why she had reached out to him so unexpectedly. Before Ava was born, getting a call out of the ordinary never really jarred Silas; he had at least wait to find out what the call was about first before reacting one way or the other. Now, charged with the responsibility of loving, molding, and protecting a baby, he couldn’t help but always be on guard.
“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” Kalyn assured, sensing Silas’ concern and wanting to assuage it as soon as possible. “It’s just that I’ve got someone who insists on talking to you,” she bubbled, before relinquishing the phone.
Knowing that Kalyn’s announcement could only mean one thing, Silas’ heart melted a million times over – so much so, he stopped in his tracks and waited with bated breath to hear what would come next.
“Here’s daddy,” he heard Kalyn say from a distance, almost cooing. “Say hi,” she insisted.
“Pop!” Ava chimed, intermittently and on repeat. Neither Silas nor Kalyn could figure out when she started calling him that or where she got the name from but, for whatever reason, it seemed to stick.
“Hi baby!” he gushed, getting back into a slow walk and feeling his heart swell in his chest. “It’s so good to hear your voice!” he beamed, listening carefully as she babbled on. Without knowing what she was saying, save for a few distinguishable words, Silas lent an attentive ear. He even interlaced a “Really?” or a “You don’t say!” into the conversation every now and then just to assure her that he was paying attention. After a few more words back and forth, he heard Kalyn’s voice again in the background.
“OK, say goodbye to Pop!” she instructed, using Ava’s word of choice this time around.
“Bye!” Ava said, right before Kalyn took reign of the phone again.
“She insisted that she talk to you,” Kalyn announced, “she’s been saying ‘Pop!’ all morning long.”
“That’s my girl,” Silas said, his breathing even, his heart rate consistent, his spirit dancing with pride.
“One more thing, “Kalyn said, as if she had just remembered something, “I know it’s not your weekend, but can you keep Ava this Friday and Saturday?”
“Mmmm,” Silas said, dubious about whether this was the real reason for the call. He’d had Ava the weekend before and having her two weeks in a row was not at all in his plan. But, as he had learned from prior experience, when it came to his baby, remaining as flexible as possible was the name of the game. “Well, school starts today,” he murmured – not saying no, just thinking out loud. “I’m not sure what my workload will look like this weekend…”
While waiting for him to sort it out, and give a definite yes or no answer, Kalyn was initially quiet. But as time inched on, she became increasingly impatient. “I’ll be back to get her no later than 3 o’clock on Saturday,” she blurted out, “if that will help.”
Silas quietly weighed his options.
“It’s just – I’ve got to run out of town early Saturday morning and I need to make sure that she’s taken care of.”
“You know what, yeah, I can keep her,” Silas said, settling the issue for himself and giving Kalyn an answer in one fell swoop.
“Cool!” Kalyn gushed, shortly before signing off.
Suddenly at his front door, and at the end of his workout, Silas made his way into his small apartment and over to the shower. He had about an hour and a half before his first class would begin. He quickly got dressed, grabbed a banana and a mug of coffee, and headed out of the door. Though he was in reasonable walking distance, Silas decided to drive in. Along the way, the gravity of his latest undertaking seemed to become more intense the closer he got to campus. After parking, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently gave himself a pep talk. From the outside in, it almost looked as if he was in the middle of a prayer. He had been thinking about getting back to this point of his life for quite some time, and now that it was here, it almost felt surreal.
Realizing that a journey of a thousand steps starts with the first one, he opened his door, planted his left foot firmly on the ground, and brought the other leg out before standing upright. As he began to walk toward Harrison T. Wilson Hall for his Discrete Mathematics course, the last two years of his life flooded through his mind. In a relatively short time, he had become a full-time app developer, welcomed a new baby into the world, and generated a considerable amount of savings. Now he was coming back to complete his degree, after experiencing several bumps and bruises along the way, and working harder than he ever had in his life. He was more than ready to get back to it, to make his mark, and most importantly, make Ava proud of him in the long run. Though he had to psych himself out a little, he made a lofty, highly-motivated commitment: he was going to make this year his best ever and do all he could to secure a comfortable future for himself and Ava.
Chapter 2
With a staggered schedule, Silas took one set of classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and another set on Tuesday and Thursday. On the way to his last class of the day, on his first Tuesday back at Stronghold, he had been to all but one of his courses for the semester. Much like he remembered, the first day of class – in each case – was a review of the syllabus, a preliminary Q&A, and a small assignment. Given the familiarity of it all, Silas felt like he had a solid opportunity to ease back into his studies and he planned to seize it whole-heartedly. If his time in the corporate world had taught him anything it was that time management can make or break you – the sooner you can get something done, go for it. With that in mind, he very deliberately started on the assignments he had been given shortly after receiving them. He had never subscribed to that philosophy before and had always been rather laid back about his studies. But, this time around, he was genuinely, purposefully invested in learning from past mistakes and quite consciously going about the process of setting himself up for success. Silas reasoned that if he was going to have his best year, as he had promised himself, his level of dedication was definitively going to be a deciding factor. Besides, knowing that he would have a very active toddler on his hands over the weekend, he decided that his best bet was to get ahead of the game and stay there.
Silas arrived to his Humanities class about five minutes early and staked out a seat as close to the front as possible. Because he was tall, and self-conscious about blocking the view of those behind him, his initial instinct was to just sit in the back. But, given his ambitions, he knew that really wasn’t an option. Based on past experience, Silas had an intuitive sense about the correlation between where a student sat in a classroom and what their grade was. On some level, he reasoned, that the closer a student sat towards the front, the more likely they were to be engaged and to not only pass the class but get an A. With the first row nearly full, Silas settled into his seat on the second row, closest to the wall. Realizing that he still had time before class started, he looked around and tried to absorb his surroundings. He had hoped to see a familiar faces or two but couldn’t even find one in the crowd that had already assembled.
About three minutes after class was set to begin, Dr. Alan Byrne darted into the room, carrying an unexpectedly chic messenger bag and looking like an eccentric genius. With his uber-alert facial expression, wild gray Einstein-esque hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a slightly disheveled look, it was clear that his focus was not his physical appearance. Instead, based on the way he presented himself, Dr. Byrne’s driving passion appeared to be scholarship and everything else – including his own personal aesthetics – played secon
d fiddle.
“OK,” Dr. Byrne announced, simultaneously trying to get his bearing and alert the class that their session was about to start. “Come on in,” he said, waving his hand inward, “we’re going to get class started in a few!”
As more students began to trickle in, Dr. Byrne paced the floor, rubbing his hands together and looking a little wide-eyed. He was clearly in his element and looking excited, as if he was about to dig into one of his favorite meals. After a second or two, he went back over to his desk, reached into his bag, and pulled out a handful of paper squares. “I’ll explain this later,” he assured, walking toward the first row of students. “Take one number and pass the rest down,” he instructed, “don’t worry so much about which number you get for now. Again, I’ll explain more about what this all means in a little while.”
When Dr. Byrne got to the end of Silas’ row, the Professor hastily handed the person closest to him a set of squares. “Get one for yourself and pass the rest down,” he commanded; a directive he repeated over and over again. Silas watched carefully as each person in his row pulled a number from the set. He couldn’t help but wonder what the exercise was about and which number he would get. By the time the paper squares got to him, they were a set no more. Because he was at the end of the row, he actually had no choice but to take the last number left. Watching the person beside him haphazardly choose the topmost square and, ultimately, seal his fate, he rethought the strategy of sitting so close to the wall.
“Here you go, man,” his closest seatmate said with a snicker.
“Yeah, thanks,” Silas replied sarcastically.
As soon as he got a chance to, Silas took a look at his number – it was seven. While that part of the suspense was over for now, he still only had an incomplete bit of information and he didn’t quite know what to make of it. More precisely, he wasn’t even sure if the number he had pulled – or rather, had been handed – was a good one or not. Anxious to learn more, and feeling the anticipation get to him, Silas channeled his nervous energy into a likely place – in no time, he felt his right knee begin to shake uncontrollably.
With the last number distributed, and his students’ anticipation hanging heavy like a thick fog, Dr. Byrne knew that he had a rapt audience. Seeing the class eager and ready to hang on to his every word, he strategically decided to table the discussion of the numbers and what they meant for the moment. He wanted to keep them on the edges of their seats for at least a couple of minutes more. Instead, he dove into the first class of the semester by discussing the syllabus and his expectations for the course.
Figuratively taking the temperature of the room after a while and noticing that engagement was beginning to wane, Dr. Byrne quickly wrapped up his initial discussion. “Now,” he stated, clapping his hands together, alerting everyone that the moment they had been waiting for had arrived, “let’s talk numbers – more specifically, the numbers you have in your hands!”
As if a switch had been flipped, the mood of the classroom changed markedly. Students begin to sit up, look straight forward, and give Dr. Byrne their full attention once again. Everyone was clearly on tenterhooks, ready to find out more about whether the number they had meant a good thing or a bad one.
“So, the numbers you have are a key part with your first assignment – the one that I’m going to give you today. Take a look down at the number that you have once again.”
Following his directive, everyone took a peek at the numbers they had drawn earlier. From Dr. Byrne’s perspective, the faces of his students quickly disappeared and he was dutifully was met with a sea of foreheads and crowns.
“Your first assignment,” Dr. Byrne said before pausing dramatically, well aware that he was about to lower a major boom, “will be a group project!”
Collectively, yet relatively quietly, the class emitted a somber moan.
Dr. Byrne nodded knowingly, he had expected that reaction; it was the same one he had received every single semester since he started at Stronghold. “The numbers you have,” he pointed out, undeterred, “were distributed to help facilitate the assignment of two-person teams. Whatever number you have, there is only one other person in this room who has the same one – the person who holds the match will be your partner. It’s just that simple.”
Just then, the anxiety level of the classroom spiked up a couple of notches. Not only was this a team project, something a clear majority of the students hated, but fate would control who they would be teamed up with. The number each student held in their hands would determine who they would be linked with and, in a major way, impact the kind of experience they would have completing their first project of the semester.
“Your assignment will be due in a week and here’s what it is – it’s very simple, actually. Basically you and your partner must visit an art exhibit...”
Silas took out a pen and started to jot a note, echoing Dr. Byrne’s overview of the assignment.
“And, just so we’re clear,” Dr. Byrne assured, beginning to address a common question he got every year, “there are a multitude of art houses – varying in the size and types of collections – to choose from in the DC Metro area – and just about any one of them will do.”
Once again, the class quietly groaned.
“As a unit – as a team – you and your partner must select a painting and write a paper about it. In particular, the two of you will need to discuss the painting’s history, reveal key insights about the painter, tell me why you chose the piece, et cetera, et cetera. A more detailed overview of the assignment has been provided in the course shell online, but for now, I think you have a pretty good idea about what’s required.”
Silas twirled the paper square he had been holding, with a hand-written seven etched squarely in the center of it, between his index finger and thumb. This time, his nervous energy pooled in his fingers and seemed to linger there.
Dr. Byrne continued. “I know that many of you don’t like teamwork and I hear that; trust me, after over 27 years in this business, I’ve heard every argument against it. But, for a large majority of you – believe it or not – it will later become an integral, inevitable aspect of your professional lives. Right now is as good a time as any to start flexing that muscle and building your capacity to collaborate with other people in a substantial way!”
Silas completely understood where Dr. Byrne was coming from. He had experienced it first-hand at VivaTech, as a software engineer, developing apps for a wide and varied set of clients. Each project was a collaborative effort; not once did he develop an app completely on his own. At each turn, Silas always relied on at least one other person – someone with a slightly different skillset – to complete a task. Despite a clear understanding of the assignment’s motivation and agreeing with Dr. Byrne that teamwork is an unavoidable aspect of most contemporary professions, Silas was still not looking forward to this project.
“I’m giving you this assignment,” Dr. Byrne explained, “because I want each of you to get well acquainted with the collaborative process. The way I’ve designed it, your team will have to make decisions together, to select a piece (painting), and to negotiate what its meaning is. You will also have to jointly develop a coherent, insightful discussion explaining the history of the piece….” Dr. Byrne paused, as if another thought had distracted him. “In the real world,” he continued, “true work product is cooperative, it’s negotiated. To achieve that, successfully, you will have to effectively express your ideas to others, listen to – and place value on – other people’s views, and seamlessly coordinate the thoughts and talents of a group in a way that respects everyone’s contribution. As you know, it’s a messy process and can be very, very hard to do! But, I’m telling you, if you can accomplish this, you will be well ahead of the curve.”
Silas found himself nodding and feeling a little more open to the constructs of the work ahead.
“OK, “Dr. Byrne said, walking to the front of the classroom and standing behind his desk. “I’m goin
g to give you the rest of today’s class time to find out who your partner is and start figuring out your game plan for moving forward. This assignment is due one week from today! I’m going to call out each number, starting with 1. When your number is called, I want you to stand up – the other person who stands will be your partner. I want the two of you to go outside to the hallway and figure out when you’ll meet to work on the assignment and other logistics.”
Silas thought that sounded easy enough and, as silently as he could, took long, deep breaths to quiet his nerves.
“Alright, we’re going to start with number 1,” Dr. Bryne announced, clasping his hands together in sheer enthusiasm. “Can I have the two people with the number 1 stand, please.”
Out of his periphery, Silas could see one of the pair rise from his seat.
“OK,” Dr. Bryne continued, “Please meet outside so that you can get your group in sync. OK, number 2, please…where is group 2?”
As the professor continued to call out numbers, Silas nervously turned the number around in his hand, occasionally looking around to try and figure out who his partner might be. Though he agreed on the importance of teamwork, and understood the inherent value of the assignment, he was still quite anxious about partnering with someone who might not take the assignment as seriously as he would. Before he knew it, Silas’ was about to get called.