In 1984, I was a 4th grader at a new school. I was shy, uncomfortable in my own skin, and had only one friend, another odd boy who I had met in the course of avoiding everyone else at outdoor playtime.
In the middle of the year, our class received a shiny new Apple II computer, which came with a copy of the Logo programming environment. Computers and programming were relatively new concepts to me and my buddy, but we’d had more experience than most. This was enough for us to dub ourselves the resident computer experts, and we happily took control of this new class resource, oblivious to the fact that we were hogging the allotted computer time.
The teacher said, “Boys, let Rachel have a turn at the computer.” We turned and cast our eyes downward at Rachel. She was smart, shy, and self-effacing, and curious to see what interesting things the Logo “turtle” could do.
Of course, neither of us noticed that she was a potential friend, nor did we acknowledge that she shared our basic enthusiasm. First one, then the other of us, made noises of disdain.
‘“But she doesn’t even know how to program.”
“She doesn’t even know anything about computers.”
When her eyes fell sad, we both realized our mistakes, but the damage had been done. If memory serves, Rachel never bothered to show interest in the computer for the rest of the year.
What could have been different?
Oh, so much!
I could have made space to accommodate her at the outset, and shared our experimental results with her.
I could have just shut up and given her a turn.
This is one of those moments that I wish I could replay and re-do.