THE TRUTH ABOUT FAITH?

By Miss. Dunne

Everyone fears something. Spiders. Clowns. Student union emails. Me, I fear Faith.

Now, I know what you’re thinking — “Miss. Dunne, isn’t Faith just a student?”

To which I say: no. Faith is not just a student. Faith is an institution. Faith is a force of nature wrapped in african pride and trapped in a group project with people she considers emotionally substandard.

From the first day she entered my class, I knew she was built different. She didn’t say hello. She didn’t smile. She made direct eye contact for exactly 1.5 seconds, nodded once like a mafia boss approving a minor request, and then settled down with a kind of silent rage I’ve only ever seen in tech support queues.

She is the backbone of her group — which is ironic because she clearly hates every single one of them. And me. Possibly the camera crew too. She doesn’t raise her hand. She raises her eyebrow. She doesn’t ask for clarification — she gives it, usually followed by a passive-aggressive sigh that could kill a plant. And yet… she gets things done. Part of me wishes I was a little bit like her when I was younger.

She carries this aura about herself like the entire group project was on her back like a war hero carrying wounded soldiers across a battlefield. She does three people’s work, corrects the fourth’s spelling mistakes, and rewrites the fifth’s script — all before noon, and without breaking eye contact.

But here’s the truth about Faith:

She pretends she doesn’t care. She acts above it all. But deep down, she’s the one who cares the most. About the project. About the grade. About doing things right. She is the glue, the general, the reluctant saviour.

I once tried to compliment her after class. She stared at me shook my hand, spoke then left. It was one of the most emotional moments of my teaching career.

So here’s to Faith.

May her eye rolls be eternal and her group members be able to get along better with her.