A quiet moment before the names are called

I was looking over my notes from last week, trying to remember the main point of the lecture. The professor was shuffling papers at the front, and that familiar low hum of anticipation filled the room. Everyone was waiting to hear who they'd be working with.

The shuffle of papers, the glance around

You can always tell who wants to be in a group and who doesn't. Some people are already leaning towards their friends, while others are just staring straight ahead at the board. I was somewhere in the middle, hoping for a few familiar faces but not really minding either way.It's one of those small, repeatable moments in a semester. It happens at the start of a lesson, and then it's over, and you're just in it. You get a fresh set of voices to listen to, a different perspective on the same old problem set.

When the wheel decides for you

There's a kind of relief in not having to choose. You don't have to scan the room and make eye contact, trying to form a group on the spot. The wheel just tells you where to go. It takes the social calculus out of it, which is honestly a bit of a gift.You end up with people you might not have talked to otherwise. Sometimes it's awkward for the first five minutes, but usually, someone breaks the ice by asking about the first question. You're all in the same boat, after all, just trying to figure it out.

A shared starting point

It creates this tiny, level playing field. No one is the expert yet; you're all just opening your notebooks to the same blank page.

The quiet work begins

And then the talking starts, low and focused. Someone reads the prompt aloud, and you're off, digging through your notes together, pointing at lines you'd highlighted.