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Never have I ever thought that I would be walking in a school's hallway after so many years... but here I am.
I reflected upon what it means to have something to pass on to the next generation more than I would like to admit: Arsenal Gear, the Patriots and all their control system was very much of a headache to deal with... and that would certainly be an understatement.
After taking a long but necessary time to grieve Snake's death, I decided to start anew: I started seeking out a career in education. For months, I was sending resumes left and right so that I could be hired as a Computer Science teacher in a high school (any high school, it didn't matter which). I realised I wanted to guide people, not just about academics-wise... but also emotional-wise. I don't know if I made myself clear enough, but those were my thoughts.
Yesterday, one of my colleagues handed me a letter from one of my students...
As soon as I read their name on the letter, I knew why they had to rely on a third person for me to receive this message...
It might be too much to say for my first year of teaching, but I'll say it anyway: this student... is probably one of the smartest yet shyest I have met so far: they genuinely care about their homework and they always get top scores in their tests... to which their classmates glare from over their shoulders.
As I dismiss my last class of the day, I stayed seated at the teacher's desk and read that student's letter a second time.
Hello Mr. Emmerich,
I apologise if this letter seems to bother you in the slightest: I am aware that it is just your first year of teaching and that you're always busy managing classes and such, but... I feel the need to talk to you.
I know this might not be exactly the most ideal medium to tell you this, but if I were to tell you everything face to face, my vocal chords would easily tie up. Therefore, what I can do is, at least, outline what is my problem and do the explanations later.
So, here goes nothing: I have been feeling insecure lately, more than usual. I have been feeling as if nothing I do is going to ever going to be good enough for others... Errors weigh on me more than they should. I'm so scared of following the wrong path that I overthink everything.
Please, Mr. Emmerich, you're the one I trust the most here at school, so I'll ask you this: could you help me snap out of it? Could you help me become confident again?
sigh... Physical letters are really a lost art, aren't they? When was the last time I wrote one? Never, maybe?
No, okay, maybe I have written one on paper: it's just that in the sea of emails I have to read and/or send for my job, physical letters get lost.
I stand up and leave the classroom. While walking down the hallway, I see my student coming from the opposite direction. When I call them by name, they immediately stop in their tracks and with each step I take to get closer to them, they take multiple small steps back.
"You wanted to talk to me, didn't you?" I ask them
"O-Oh, y-yes, r-right, talk... I, uhm... C-Can we w-wait until... M-Monday, please? I am not... really feeling well at the moment..." they answer.
"I might not have time on Monday, so it's best if we talk now."
They gasp and start walking back while still facing me.
"I, uh... I said in t-the l-letter t-that I... I preferred M-Monday, but... o-okay, we... we can talk now." they say, as we enter an empty classroom as they keep stepping back and I follow them. I close the door behind me, and invite the student to sit down, close to me (not too close!) and start speaking softly, making sure they're comfortable enough.
"Here we are... So, could you please tell me more about what you said in the letter?"
"It's... complicated..."
I see them bring their clenched hands close to their chest and gaze away from me with a nervous expression. I suppose this is what they meant by saying they feel their vocal chords tie up when opening up about their feelings.
"Hey, it's okay... Just look at me and take a deep breath, alright? Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."
As they try to get their nerves under control, I realise I have an unopened water bottle in my bag: I take it out and offer it to them. They look at it for one moment before shaking their head: timid rejection, but a choice nonetheless. I didn't want to force them to drink.
They speak timidly: "School is becoming... too much lately..."
"Too much? What do you mean by it?"
"I feel... so many eyes on me... constantly judging me... It's... It's suffocating..."
I remain silent, studying carefully the student's expression, before inviting them with a nod to continue.
"Everyone says... 'Try your best'... but it's more of a 'Do your best or else'... They could praise me one moment... but what if they secretly hate me? What if a teacher... praises my efforts in one moment... but fails me the next?"
"So you feel a lot of pressure on your shoulders."
"R-Right..."
As soon as they agree with me, I see them relaxing their position, their hands moving naturally to their lap.
I stay quiet for a few seconds, making sure to choose the right words to say... and when I do, I look at them in the eyes.
"It's not fair. It's not fair for you to feel this way. I can understand why though: for a student, whose mind is still developing, school is like... a demo version of life itself. Life can be scary. School can be scary too... but it doesn't have to."
They tilt their head slowly to one side, listening.
"You see, everyone should feel safe and free at school: free and safe to express themselves, free and safe to... just be. I have noticed that during my lessons you tend to fidget a bit... whether that's with your pen, your notebook. You seem to always be deep in thought, stuck in this... how do I put this... in this self-deprecation cycle. Is what I'm seeing true...?"
"Y-Yeah... E-Even when I saw you in the hallway... I was shaking like a leaf..."
"You wanted to back out: you had thought of the chance to talk to me right then and there and... It scared you."
They nod, and my expression softens.
"I don't have a magic wand, nor do I know a special command to make your feelings of inadequacy disappear... but hear this: the door to my classroom will always be open and I will always be available to talk with you. Whenever you need it."
"Whenever? Really?"
"Yes, really. You're safe with me."
I pause as I see the student's eyes lit up with some peace of mind, some hope for themselves. It's not intense: it's subtle, but it's a start.
"We don't delete the whole code just because of one bug: we debug, we apply patches. I want you to start looking at your 'errors' not as failures of your character, but as bugs in the system that we can fix together. You aren't a mistake. You're aren't an error, nor a failure. You're the programmer. And the programmer is doing just fine." I say, ending with an encouraging smile.
The student sighs, looking way more content, and smiles back: "Thank you, Mr. Emmerich, you're always so kind to me."
"I just... I just do what I can to help my students. Oh, one last thing..."
"Huh? What is it?"
"Let me tell you this: in programming, there is something called an infinite loop. The system keeps running the same logic over and over, without producing a real result, until the system crashes. That’s what overthinking is. You’re running a 'failure simulation' in your head, but the simulation isn't the reality. So... let's make a deal: when you feel that loop starting, I want you to 'break' the code. Stand up, walk away and come find me or just write me an email and we'll talk, okay?"
They make one of their typical shy smiles as they quietly nod. "Thank you again, Mr. Emmerich."
"No problem. Have a nice day!"
I watch them stand up and walk away more confidently than before.
I'm glad they decided to talk to me: not only I helped them, but it felt like, in some way, I was helping myself too.
If only... If only they could see themselves with as much as kindness as I do...
It's a long road, but it's one they're willing to take.