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“For those who might not know our story, Owen and I were raised three thousand miles apart—him in California, me in Massachusetts. But the entire continent between us was bridged by technology, and it was our love for it, our passion to learn more, that brought us close as we grew up.”
“Our parents were far from well off. Owen’s family lived in a commune where people traded their skills for the vegetables others grew. My dad drove a Boston city bus. My mom cleaned apartments.”
Some of the Netto execs exchange glances and raise their eyebrows as if to say this is all new to them. Then they look back at me with renewed focus.
“My school had half a dozen outdated computers donated by a company that was throwing them out because they were obsolete. And I was extremely fortunate that a teacher saw something in me and spent extra hours after classes showing me how to use them. I will be forever thankful to Mr. Fernandez.”
I look around the room and make eye contact wherever my gaze lands. I want these parents to understand their kids could grow up to be me, for the kids to see they could grow up to be me, that a future like mine is possible for them.
“It was due to that teacher and to Owen using the computers at the local library in his small hometown in Northern California, that we became constant email correspondents. It’s how we became friends as well as family, and talked about wild ideas for a future where we would start our own tech company.”
Some of the parents nod and shrug like they know how it goes when your child’s school isn’t funded as well as others. Their empathy gives me an inner lift that makes my voice stronger.
“Those daily emails were a lifeline for us both for years. We had a dream to go to MIT together… and we made it happen.”
Smarts. The third thing I check off Charlotte’s list of presentation essentials.
“But we were lucky. We succeeded despite our circumstances, not because of them. When we were growing up, a place like this would have made all the difference in the world to us.” I gesture around the room at the computer set-ups, the music recording booth, the video editing station, the repair area, and all the various other forms of new kit the kids are itching to get their hands on.
We wouldn’t have arrived at college several steps behind everyone else, never having touched the latest tech—our only knowledge of it purely theoretical and gleaned from what we’d read.”
Some reporters have their heads down, taking notes. Others hold up their phones to record my speech. Media coverage is vital to us spreading the word. I need them to see how much we mean it, what a great cause we are to support.
“It’s our mission—our passion, our purpose—to provide opportunities to as many kids as we can so they can learn about tech in a way they would never be able to otherwise. For them to arrive at college right in step with kids more fortunate than them, not several steps behind.”
At a sudden burst of claps from behind me, I turn to see Priya smile and blush. She must have been so excited she couldn’t help herself.
“Our staff members are fired up about it all too,” I tell the crowd. A chuckle ripples around the room, lifting my rising confidence.
“This project has lived in our hearts for a long time, and we could not be happier to see it come to life. We intend to open these learning centers in every community that needs one. But Plainsville will always be special.” I catch Charlotte’s eye and hold onto it with all my might. “Because it will always be the first.”
“Now.” I turn to the children. “These geniuses of the future are pretty eager to get their hands on the computers, phones, and other equipment provided by our incredibly generous sponsor, Netto, including the brand new Tablet XK12, which just launched on Friday and features its innovative new chip and camera.” That’s the credit checked off the list.
“So, I’d like to ask our wonderful crew of staff and volunteers”—I turn to the row of people lined up with Priya behind me—“to get out there and start sharing their knowledge with these young minds.”
Some of the kids bounce in their seats, others say “yes!” as the crew fans across the floor.
I’m finally starting to enjoy this just as I get to the end.
One last chance to give it my all.
“To everyone who’s made this possible when it seemed impossible”—I wink at Charlotte, who gives me a knee-trembling smile—“you know who you are. Thank you. And with that all said, kids… have at it!” I fling my arms wide.
Hopefully that covers “charm” and I’ve checked the final thing off Charlotte’s list of presentation essentials.
Several kids lunge across the table to grab the nearest XK12, while others get up and race to get to the other side of the room where the music, video, and programming stations are set up.
The rest of the smiling crowd erupts in applause. Even the reporters are clapping.
But only one person’s reaction really matters.
Charlotte holds her arms high in the air, clapping over her head as she bounces on the balls of her feet.
A cool wave of relief that the presentation is over washes away the remainder of my nerves. On an adrenaline high from managing to pull this thing off, I step away from the lectern and head straight to her.
But I’m halted by a hand on my shoulder. “I think I’m out of a job,” Owen says, pulling me into a hug. “You fucking aced it,” he says quietly into my ear.
He releases me and thumps me on the upper arms. “You even brought a lump to my throat. And I already know our story.”
