Illustration by Lizzie (@ooutofhere)

There’s a certain sigh that escapes when the lecturer recites the words “This will be a group project”. It's a sigh that carries equal parts of dread and hope in most people — dread because you know the inevitability of what’s coming, threaded with a sliver of hope, thinking maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

Group projects are messy, not just because of the assignments themselves — though that is one aspect of it, but because of the people. Whether for better or worse, everyone carries invisible baggage into the group, whether it’s part-time jobs, family responsibilities, or personal struggles — struggles you wouldn’t necessarily share with a stranger. Others simply… don’t care as much. 

There’s always a catalogue of group project stories that sound like myths and legends but somehow keep happening every semester. If you’ve been around long enough, you’ve probably heard the tales. For instance, the ones who always seem to have the most creative excuses ready to avoid doing any work. Or the classic meltdown where a project spirals so badly that everyone is ready to file a complete report with evidence for peer evaluation day.

Then there are the classic tales: we all know the one who’s so eager to volunteer as leader and then disappears without a trace in an instant, or the infamous language barrier, or the group mate who vanishes completely throughout the whole assignment — till you begin to question if something had happened to them, but miraculously, only shows up on presentation day. No matter how hard you try to talk to them, somehow it's a struggle to get them to answer you, let alone get their part done. If it is done, it's done without any effort whatsoever, plagiarised or most likely entirely generated with AI. Some remain utterly silent, you never hear their voice once, not even through the group chat. There are those who are only there to cause more trouble than their worth, whether it's arguing against every point you try to make, disagreeing with the whole group or just being downright rude. Somehow, no matter the semester, the ending is always the same: a last-minute scramble, a heroic few holding the line, and the tale passed down to the next batch. They sound outrageous, but if you’ve ever survived a group project, you know these stories are part of the collective lore.

Here’s the thing I’ve realised: as unfair and exhausting as these projects are, they leave an imprint. You remember the sting of staying up all night fixing someone else’s slides or work, from minor adjustments to completely redoing their entire part. However, you also remember the unexpected kindness of a teammate who is there every step of the way, who helps you out when everything crumbles apart.

But then, there are those once-in-a-lifetime group projects — the rare ones where everything clicks, everyone pulls their weight, laughter fills the room, those laughters turning into friendships no matter how short-lived or lifelong; and for a moment, you feel a sliver of hope in teamwork and in humanity. That's why, as much as I dreaded hearing the words “group work”, I sometimes wish we had more of them. I would have gotten to know more incredible people and collected more memories to carry with me. 

Group projects aren't all just about the assignment. They teach you the hard lessons of patience and resilience, and empathy. They remind us that not everyone moves at the same pace, that effort looks different for different people, and that sometimes, it’s not always fair. So yes — group works are a series of unfortunate events. But they’re also a series of very human ones. And maybe that’s why we remember them so vividly, long after the assignments have been forgotten.