Many schools have a kid who never makes it to class but who becomes essential nonethless. Sometimes this kid lives in the theater department. Sometimes in the hallway. Now this kid often works tech.
A Max of Rushmore type.
During my two weeks at African Leadership Academy, I’ve never seen Iyed, a young man from Tunisia, in class. But then again, I’ve never not seen him in the common learning space either. He’s always there, fixing the copiers, upgrading the projectors, debugging whichever computers the full time tech guys can’t handle.
Is his GPA 0.0. or is he running this place?
In the afternoon, Iyed meets with those in his start-up. Median age of seventeen, he’s not sure which of the crew has coded the most apps.
Thinking of the tech that may be required to move this newsletter to the domains under which I write, I approach the team as they huddle around a whiteboard of profits made thus far:
Hey, do you guys know about Word Press?
Too respectful to laugh, they stand silent.
. . . Hey, do you astronauts know about G-force?
But, after some embarrassment on my end, I strike a deal and will be getting some good work from them.
If you need tech work done, let me know. I’ll know the boss.