The Cost of Feelings

circuits and dreams

Anita slid into a seat near the front of the lecture hall, her fingers drumming nervously on the desk. Around her, students settled in, some chatting, others hunched over textbooks or staring intently at laptops. She felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves; this was what she had worked so hard for—a chance to study electrical engineering, her own choice, a course she had dreamed of. It felt almost surreal to be here.

The professor, a tall woman with a brisk, confident stride, walked to the front and began writing on the board. "Welcome to Electrical Circuits 101," she said, turning to face the class with a small smile. "In this course, we’re going to break down the fundamentals of how electrical circuits work, and by the end, you’ll be designing your own."

Anita’s heart raced. This is real, she thought, her mind already buzzing with the possibilities of what she would learn. She could still remember the hours she’d spent reading borrowed books and watching online videos, trying to understand the basics of current, resistance, and voltage. This was her chance to finally put all that self-taught knowledge to the test. And it felt like so much more than just a course; it was a pathway to something bigger, something she’d been working toward since high school.

Back home, the expectations were high, but different. No one in her family fully understood what she was studying or why she was so determined to pursue engineering. They only knew that she was supposed to be their hope, the one who would finish college and bring them a better life. Her mother’s tired hands, worn from years of work, and her father’s quiet pride filled her mind as the professor continued to speak. They had given everything to see her here, and she couldn’t let them down.

“Let’s start with the basics,” the professor said, clicking a remote. A slide appeared with diagrams of simple circuits, symbols representing resistors, capacitors, and batteries. “Understanding these components is essential because they’re the building blocks of everything we do in electrical engineering.”

Anita’s eyes widened, her attention glued to the screen. She felt a familiar thrill. Resistors slow down the flow of current; capacitors store electrical energy. She was already ahead on the theory, but this was different. This wasn’t reading alone in her room or watching videos—this was the real deal. And she was here to prove herself.

As the lecture progressed, she scribbled notes, not wanting to miss a single detail. They discussed Ohm’s Law, the relationship between voltage, current, and resistance. She felt a sense of clarity and purpose that she had never felt before. Every formula, every diagram felt like a piece of a puzzle she’d been piecing together on her own. Here, in this classroom, those pieces were finally forming a complete picture.

But even with her excitement, she couldn’t ignore the whispers of self-doubt. She looked around, noticing students who seemed at ease, some even bored, as if this was all old news. Her stomach tightened. They probably came from families who could afford the best schools, the best resources, the best tutors. Meanwhile, she was here on a scholarship, her textbooks used, her laptop secondhand, and her family stretching every dollar to keep her in school.

For a moment, she wondered if she could keep up. She thought of all the late nights studying, the moments she had doubted herself, and the fear of failure that never fully left her. No, she told herself firmly. She had worked just as hard, if not harder, to be here. She had earned this. And no one would take it from her.

The professor paused, scanning the room. “Now, can anyone tell me why current is different across series and parallel circuits?”

Anita’s hand shot up before she could think twice. The professor raised an eyebrow, calling on her with a nod.

“In a series circuit, the current is the same through each component,” Anita said, her voice clear. “In a parallel circuit, the current can vary depending on the resistance of each branch.”

The professor’s face lit up. “That’s correct. Well done.”

A flush of pride rose in Anita’s cheeks as she sank back into her seat, a small smile creeping onto her face. She could do this. She was doing this.

The class continued, moving into more complex circuits and the concepts of Kirchhoff’s Laws. Anita could feel the intensity of the material ramping up, and she did her best to keep pace, taking notes as quickly as she could. By the end of the lecture, her notebook was filled with sketches, equations, and margin notes. She felt exhilarated but exhausted, her mind buzzing with information.

As the students packed up to leave, Anita lingered, watching the professor erase the whiteboard. This wasn’t just a classroom to her—it was a doorway to a future she could hardly believe was within reach. It was her dream, her choice, her path. And for the first time, she felt like she could really make it, that she could live up to the hopes her family had pinned on her.

With a deep breath, she gathered her things and headed for the door, ready for whatever challenge would come next.