Hi, my name is Nicholas Liebmann, and I've been obsessed with technology ever since I saw the movie Spy Kids. In college, I wanted to study Computer Science, but I never had the grades. When I had to declare a major, I was told the next best alternative was a program called Computational Mathematics. I applied and got rejected because the Math Department required a cumulative GPA above 2.0 for all completed math courses. I think I had a 1.87. I've been a terrible student for as long as I can remember. In school, I mainly got C's and had failed tons of classes. I failed Calc 2 four times between my Freshman and Junior years. I also got caught cheating on my very last final exam in college. I shouldn't have my degree. However, my university gave me a choice: be expelled, or receive my degree with the phrases "Cheater" and "Academically Dishonest" plastered all over my transcript.
Taking shortcuts, cheating, and lying got me to the Spring 2018 semester. It was the second semester of my Junior year, the very beginning of my upper-division classes, and I still wasn't officially in the Math program. Reality set in a week before school started, so I decided that if I didn't pass all my classes, I would drop out. Of course, nothing actually changed until I received the lowest midterm grade of my entire life. My score was an 8%—the lowest in the class, with the next lowest being a 31%. Continuing my habit of trying to weasel by, I figured I would go to office hours and beg for help. In a jam-packed room, I got absolutely torn apart by my favorite teacher of all time, Professor Roger Dodd. He read me like a book. Within seconds, he realized how little work I had actually done and let me have it. He yelled at me for a solid two minutes, filling me with embarrassment, humiliation, and disgust. In the silence after he finished, I realized I had nothing to say because he was right about everything. As I stood there with my back against the wall, I saw no purpose in trying to conjure a lie or an excuse. In that moment of reflection, it became crystal clear: I had been doing absolutely everything except trying. I immediately left his office and went straight to the library.
During my walk, I tried to rationalize a short-term and long-term plan while managing a flood of emotions. But then I had a revelation: overthinking everything was just another excuse to avoid doing the actual work. This realization made my plan simple. My ultimate goal was to learn what I needed, but my immediate plan was to shut down the noise and prioritize doing something—anything. I figured the best starting point was the textbook, so I checked it out and found a seat. Opening it to page one, I saw nothing but equations, letters, figures, symbols, and very few English words. The decision that changed my future was the one I made right there on the second floor of the MLK library. The text felt impossible to read, and I weighed my options: quit and say adios to college, or just figure it out. I spent three days in the library trying to read one full page. I wanted to quit twice every hour, but I couldn't accept the idea that I was okay with failure. That drive to prove myself capable became my motivation. I was confident in my abilities in other areas of life, just never in education. I decided this was my opportunity to either prove I was truly incapable of learning, or achieve something I once thought impossible. That provided enough fuel to keep me in my seat. The constant self-doubt actually ended up becoming useful; it made me realize that just "reading" the page wasn't good enough, and mere "understanding" wouldn't cut it either. I knew that if I struggled this much with page one, the rest of the book would be brutal. This insight shifted my intention entirely. I decided I had to master every single detail on that page to the point of absolute certainty and clarity. I don't remember everything I did during my time at the library, but I will always remember the moment I finally finished reading page one, and just how proud I was of myself.
Learning became addicting from that point forward, and the library became my training center. At the brink of COVID-19, I was just three weeks into my final semester. In May 2020, I was given my Academically Dishonest B.S. Degree in Applied Mathematics. My dream had always been tech, so in June 2020, I made it my personal goal to make that happen. I taught myself software engineering by looking up my old college's B.S. program, locating the Software Engineering major and its class requirements, and working my way down that list while buying every course's textbook. I spent two years reading all 18 textbooks, followed by a year of coding projects to ensure comprehension and get general practice for the craft. I never found a job. To be completely transparent, within that three-year period, I never even made it past the second round of interviews. I had previously proved myself to be a liar and a cheater academically, so I wanted to prove to myself that those attributes weren't who I really was. I wanted to earn a job in a highly competitive field I had no prior knowledge of, because the only way to truly earn a spot there was by putting in the honest work.
Of all the dumb ideas I've had in my life, that was the dumbest by far. Lying and cheating are a big part of what made the tech industry what it is today, and for those looking to make their initial break-in, it's a dog-eat-dog world. I understand the competition and the risks that come with doing what needs to be done—that's business. However, for me personally, it's not a path I want to revisit. I spent four long, miserable years of my life trying to do literally anything I could to earn a job, and ultimately, I failed. But the difference between this failure and my Linear Algebra test was that this time, I actually had something to say: I tried my absolute best. I truly believe I could have been a phenomenal engineer, yet I never got the chance. That sucks... but it's okay! I proved to myself that I can accomplish incredibly difficult things, and even in the face of failure, I stayed true to who I am and who I want to be.