PAKISTAN: She Didn’t Know How to Start a Laptop. Now Her Classmates Ask Her for Help.

Muniba began her studies with no computer, confidence, or clue how to code, but persistence turned her into a student others rely on.

If I can’t ace everything, I can still try, and that’s enough.

How does it feel to sit in a room full of strangers, even though you’ve seen them every day, week after week? For me, it felt suffocating. As an isolated, introverted kid, even starting a conversation felt impossible. Asking for help felt like breaking a mountain into pieces.

Trauma held me back from many things, including being steered away from computer science into general science.

Still, I found my way back to computers in the 10th standard. I vividly remember my first day in the lab. I didn’t even know how to start the computer or open Microsoft Word. My classmates buzzed with questions for the teacher while I sat silent, my throat tight with tears.

Before I could break down, the teacher came over to help. She was strict, but I admired her. I wanted nothing more than to impress her and stay in her good graces.

Soon, we progressed to coding. I remember we received summer vacation homework to create a file with 20+ codes and understand them. My two-month break was filled with computer paper and colorful pens as I decorated my coding file just the way the teacher suggested. I felt proud of my creative work, yet I cried at night.

At that time, I didn’t have a computer or laptop, making it impossible to practice as our teacher instructed. The taunts from my past echoed every time I forgot a step in a code. I broke down trying to learn all that coding. 

I was scared of disappointing my teacher and not passing my exam with flying colors, terrified that I had filled a whole register learning just those 20 codes. I filled an entire register trying to memorize those 20 codes, and it still never felt like enough.

When school started, I presented my coding journal to the whole class. My heart raced, and the hair on my neck stood straight. But my teacher’s words made my heart swell with happiness: “This is one of the best creative journals in this batch,” she said. “I see you worked hard, Muniba.”

For me, it was worth every tear and restless night I endured.

As time passed, I became a popular student in my computer class due to my work. I became a known name in the computer class. I even carried my journal on non-computer days so classmates could ask for help. Every little interaction chipped away at my loneliness.

Just before the finals, we had a grand test. I sat in the third row and prayed for code number four, the easiest. Instead, I got code eight — the longest, and the one I struggled with most. Worse still, I was the only one who received it.

I tried to remember it, but halfway through my coding, I teared up because the test was worth 15 marks, which was too much for me to lose. I panicked, and tears streamed down my face. The sound of my sobs broke the pin-drop silence of the class, and I caught whispers and laughter directed at me.

Head down, paper stained with tears, I looked up to see my teacher approach and ask what had happened. “I studied well,” I managed to say through hiccups, “but I forgot this. I don’t know what comes next…”

My teacher looked at my paper and nodded. “You wrote much more than I expected from the students, since this one is really hard,” she said. “I’ll give you a chance; write down whatever other code you have studied, and I’ll give marks according to both.”

I wanted fairness; I couldn’t just write one of my favorite codes and ace the test. I asked my teacher for another code number, and she gave me number twelve. It wasn’t easy either, but I got it right.

That moment taught me something I carry to this day: If I can’t ace everything, I can still try, and that’s enough.

That’s strength.

I’m still not a tech wizard. Even today, when someone asks me to use Excel, Word, or Google Meet, I get confused. But I try. I learn. I believe. Because falling doesn’t make you weak.

Giving up does.

Sometimes, our biggest victories are hidden within our hardest days. 

Have you ever faced a moment where you almost gave up, but chose to try again anyway? Maybe in sharing, we can remind each other that strength isn’t in always winning, but in never losing hope.

STORY AWARDS

This story was published as part of World Pulse's Story Awards program. We believe every woman has a story to share, and that the world will be a better place when women are heard.