It is not the first time that I’m blowing my trumpet, and it certainly will not be the last time. However, in my little world, I do praise myself when I come up with something extremely smart and genius.
Let me throw you back to the beginning of the story. Electronics engineering workshop—without a shadow of a doubt, I was the best man in the hall because when it came to building circuit boards, nobody could touch me in my class. Yes, there might have been much smarter or much more determined people who studied more, and they could easily beat me in theory, but when it came to the workshop, nobody could touch me. I would say I designed nicer and better circuit boards than some of the teachers. One day, we had a substitute teacher who was allowed to use some circuit boards from the cabinet of our regular teacher, Mr. Prince.
Mr. Prince was a very quiet guy with a huge black beard and longish hair. He didn’t really speak much, and he could come across as quite boring. He told us about electromechanical measuring tools in the theory class, but we also had him in the workshop, where he taught us about circuit boards—how to design them, how to make them, how to cut them, and how to populate them. We spent quite a few hours a week together.
He looked after his stuff—the tools, the boards—everything was always locked away. There was absolutely no way to steal anything from his class because before the students could leave the workshop, he double- and triple-checked everybody’s drawer. Nothing could have been missed. However, when we got the substitute teacher, he was quite easygoing and let us access all the circuit boards that were Prince’s favorites, built by students in the past.
One particular circuit board played with my imagination—it was a light chaser, just like the one from Knight Rider, the series with David Hasselhoff. It used an IC called UAA180 and an array of LEDs that chased each other, just like in the Pontiac from the show. I had worked with this IC before and actually built it at home, but it’s always better to have two circuit boards than one. Those ICs were extremely expensive back in the ’90s. Before anyone could see anything, I just slipped it into my pocket and took it home.
A week later, when we had Mr. Prince in the theory class, he came in and immediately asked, “Who took the PCB from my cupboard while we had the substitute teacher?” Naturally, nobody raised their hand, and he said, “This will have consequences.”
He continued with the class, but the next week he asked again, “Who took the PCB board?” He started coming up with stories that he would call the police, take fingerprints, and so on. Nobody saw me taking the PCB, and I didn’t really care about the PCB itself. But that UAA180 IC was a fun tool for a 16-year-old who was really into electronics. Of course, at the time, there were no CCTV cameras or mobile phones with cameras in schools. So, nobody saw me put it in my pocket. However, since I was the best in class and always talked about the PC boards I built at home, some of my classmates started looking at me after Mr. Prince said he would penalize the whole class if the board wasn’t returned.
I thought to myself, “You have absolutely no chance. I’ve soldered everything off this board and thrown it into the river. You’ll never find it, and the components are safely in my drawer at home.” Even if the police came to my house, they’d never find the board. I hadn’t done this because I felt guilty, but the UAA180 kept me awake all night.
By the third week, Mr. Prince really put his foot down. He said, “Either it turns up within a week, or I’ll start the investigations.” By then, half of the class was looking at me during theory, and during breaks, they started getting on my nerves, telling me to admit I’d stolen it. Nobody saw me, so there was no issue. However, when half the class believes you’ve done it and more people join in, it feels like it’s true. Returning the PCB was out of the question—it would mean admitting I stole it, which would definitely lead to me being kicked out of school. I had prior warnings for fighting and disrespecting classmates, so this would be the final straw. At home, my father would have killed me.
I was in a situation where there was no way out. I didn’t trust a single person in the class because I knew that if Prince started pressuring them, they’d rat me out. The problem was I was running out of time. He gave the class until Wednesday to return the PCB or he would escalate the issue to the director. Logically, he knew it was me—it was obvious because I was the best in the class and had the most interest in electronics. But he had no proof, and I denied everything.
At home, I was extremely sad. I considered mailing it back, but even that wasn’t an option—the post office had cameras, and it wouldn’t arrive by Wednesday.
On Tuesday night, just before I fell asleep, a higher power came to me. It was something indescribable, the kind of inspiration that happens once in a blue moon. I had the solution. If you don’t trust classmates, teachers, or friends, and you can’t use the post, what do you do?
Remember the chess player? There’s always a move!
Suddenly, I had a flashback to 1985. I was sitting in a Catholic church, saying my prayers, and learning about confession during Religious Education (RE). My mother was very religious, so I’d been taught that a priest cannot reveal confessions to anyone, even under threat of murder.
The solution had been in front of me all along, but I hadn’t seen it for weeks.
I put on washing gloves at home, cleaned the PCB with alcohol, wrapped it in bubble wrap, and placed it in a small plastic bag secured with a red rubber band. I isolated it in the inner pocket of my jacket and went to school.
On Tuesday, our first class was RE, and it was voluntary. Seventy percent of the class skipped it, but I stayed. The teacher, Mr. Pranić, was from Yugoslavia—a gentleman in his early 50s with grey, gelled hair. He never bothered me, and I never disrupted his class. Instead, I spent most of my time designing PCBs on paper.
After class, I followed him and told him I needed to speak privately. We went to the top of the school, an unused, abandoned area. I confessed everything: how I stole the PCB, how I couldn’t trust anyone, and how I needed him to return it discreetly.
Mr. Pranić listened and agreed. I told him to wait a minute after I left to avoid suspicion. He did as promised, and later that day, I saw the plastic bag in Mr. Prince’s cabinet.
The next day, Mr. Prince came to class with the PCB. He said, “In mysterious ways, the PCB has been returned. I don’t know who returned it, but I’m glad to have it back.”
I thanked Mr. Pranić later, knowing he saved me. Without him, I’d have been expelled and my life would have not been the same.