Not simple

"All right, let’s try this again. Okay, did you… Do you have the wire?"

"Okay. Did you get the wire out? The red wire?"

"No, no, no. No, the red one. Show me the red wire. The red one."

"Yes, good. Now, you’re going to plug that red wire where the blue wire goes in the board."

"Put the red wire where the blue wire goes in the board, okay? But don’t let them touch."

"You see where you took the blue one off? Yes, now put the red one…"

"No, don’t put the blue one back. Put the red one where the blue one was. And put the blue one where the red one was. But be careful, they’re oppositely charged, so keep them away from each other. Make sure you hold them apart from… "

"No, hold them apart."

...

"Oh… Are you okay?"

"Well, it was worth a shot."

~

I love my students. I do.

But this scene is SO accurate that I am using it when people ask me "what do you do for a living?"

THAT.

I do THAT.

And not just because students, or anyone really, approach a Heat Transfer class at 7.45 in the morning on a Monday with less enthusiasm than the Fandom Menace watching an episode with the Martez sisters (all the references to the 1500+ horrible hate comments under the Star Wars account today's post is purely coincidental).

But because people learn differently.

Our brains are unlikely wired.

Visual learners, listeners, experimentalists, theorists.

To reach all is not simple.

Especially when, for you, is trivial like putting a red wire where the blue was, and for them is like calculating the re-entry trajectory of a Reusable Launch Vehicle. With an abacus and a pencil.

You need understanding. You need empathy.

You need to remind yourself that you were them, once.

That you are still them, about everything you do not know.

And you need patience.

A LOT of it.

[In the photo: another of my new Teeturtle adorable t-shirts]