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I taught people how to use their computers for twenty years. As a single parent of four I had a lot of jobs. One was as an evening instructor at the College of the North Atlantic. I taught a lot of computer courses over the years but mostly I taught an introductory course for folks who had never used a computer.

I loved teaching that course. People would file in first night nervous and unsure, and I would spend the next few weeks building their confidence.

I especially liked the first evening, getting to know my new students and telling them, “No one has ever failed this course. That’s a promise – and a threat.”

One particular student stands out. It was a typical crowd on the first night, a few seniors, a few young people. One student came in and went straight for the back row. She was visibly nervous, more than a little scared. She had on a lot of weight and could just manage the computer chair.

It soon became clear she was painfully shy and more than a little socially awkward.

The course was two nights a week, seven until ten, with the first half being teaching and the second half doing. The only way to learn is to do. I would spend the second half floating around the classroom spending time with each student, to get an idea what they wanted to learn and why.

The first time I sat with her, she told me she would never learn how to use a computer. She was stressed.

I calmed her down, telling her that computers were easy to use, a terrific tool and not just for work. I promised her she would learn to use one and be happy she did. Her weak smile suggested she doubted that was true.

Over the next few weeks, the other students made great progress.

She struggled. Even after two weeks she couldn’t really master the mouse. Hand-eye coordination wasn’t her strong suit, and paired with debilitating self-doubt even using the keyboard was a struggle.

I knew she could not use all of my time, but I did tend to spend twice the time with her as with the others.

I remember driving home one night thinking to myself, “I am bloody well going to get her comfortable with this.”

A lack of confidence, compounded with a lack of education, made it even harder for her. In the days before the internet (yes, it was that long ago) it was sometimes tricky to find something to motivate a person to use a computer. Word processing or spreadsheets didn’t appeal to her. I borrowed some games from my teenaged son and installed those on the computer she was using. That worked.

As the weeks passed, I began to worry she might be the first student to ever fail. Not on my watch, I thought. I offered her weekend tutorials, both of us coming in on a Saturday afternoon – on my own time – for some more one-on-one. She appreciated the time I was giving her, and her confidence was growing. Truth be told, it was very rewarding.

The weekend before the last class and the exam she sat in the glow of her screen, looked at me smiling and said, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m ready.”
The last class was on a warm May evening. The exam, such as it was, was really just a way to end the course. Strangers a mere five weeks ago, my students were now my friends – friends who could use a computer.

So, when she didn’t show I was more than a little disappointed. To be honest, I was pissed. I know everyone is different. I know some react to stress differently. I know it wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it really ticked me off.

I surprised myself how unprofessional I was being. I was angry.

But I had a busy life, and in a few days, it was forgotten. I sent in the marks to the office, with her entry marked incomplete.

Fast forward to the fall. I was busy at my day job when the phone rang. A voice asked me if I had a student named Kathy in the spring? It all came rushing back. I did, I said. He said he was a family member and he and the rest of the family wanted to know how she did.

Being a professional, I did not go on a rant about the hours and hours of extra time I had spent with her, only for her not to show for the exam. The thanks I get! Instead, I said he should ask her.

He said he’d love to because he knew she had worked so hard at the course, but she had died the day before the exam.

Ivan Morgan can be reached at ivan.morgan@gmail.com

Correction:
NL Hydro will pay government $2 billion over six years to pay for rate mitigation (roughly $333 million a year). In a recent column I reported it was $740 million a year. A clever fellow of my acquaintance drew my attention to this. I am an obsessive fact checker but, apparently, not perfect. Any journalist worth his or her salt would check a primary source. I didn’t. I relied on another media report, and it was wrong. My total bad.