I remember my senior year in great detail, though I often wish I didn’t, as I care to keep very few memories from that time. It was then that I chose computer science. I have no complaints, as those experiences shaped who I am today, and I suppose I should be grateful. However, that time, I discovered a natural dexterity for writing (no shit, Sherlock) at least in my native language. A career in journalism or communication (the deep, meaningful kind, not some showbiz or corporate puppet) began to emerge as the true counterpart to my technical path.

Then there was my Senior year Literature teacher, one of my favorites along with my Calculus teacher. She had watched many presentations with blazing projectors, PowerPoints (fun at that time), and other technical aids, but she saw the mediocrity and dullness in how topics were presented. Trust me, I was one of those students. I was dealing with a literary subject that didn’t interest me at all, and the teacher (from my earlier years) at the time didn’t help. On top of that, I must admit I was going through a period of depression that heavily affected my school duties. But let’s move on, this blog is not supposed to dwell on my traumas, but rather to release me from them!

Fig 05. Another place where the opinions (sometimes!) worth a shot.

The reference cards, the respect

All this preamble serves to make a point about the opinions of my teacher during my final year of high school. To paraphrase her, I remember something like: “Let’s define the topics to study and show. But after seeing the presentations of the last few years, I don’t want to see a single computer, transparency, or even a billboard. It is going to be you, a marker, the board, and only if it is needed, reference cards.”

I want to highlight the respect we had for our senior year teacher. She had the style of a middle-aged woman who was extremely cultured and very well-spoken, such that every time she emitted an opinion, it was worth the effort to listen. Twenty-four years ago, she already saw the misuse of technology. She never opposed taking advantage of it. She would say, “search wherever you want, use all the internet you want, but HERE it is you and your reference cards.” It is funny that there are more than twenty years with that memory in my head, and it came to my mind again more than a month ago when I was doing the final touches for my Dispatch. Analog photography, manual focus, manual exposure, no digital retouch, no AI… independent thoughts… I think you get the idea.

The wish, the unresolved doubt

At the end of the year, when the majority of us had our paths and careers defined for that new part of life, full of illusions and expectations, that teacher told me something that still echoes in my mind (paraphrasing again, but in her kindest tone and with that deeply cultured aura): “I hope you have much success in your career choices; you have the talent, but I will never forgive you for not studying journalism or literature.” I think I don’t need to explain how well I did in her class; nor what I ultimately chose for a living. I mean, again… you get the idea…