Having secured the flyer in a prominent position, she made her way across to the bookstore counter.
“I’ve n-never taught anybody before,” Sam told her. “I mean, I’m not qualified. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“At the beginning,” she shot back, responding to his uncertain expression with a dazzling smile. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve never taught before. These kids know nothing. They don’t come from families with computers at home. Anything you could help them with would be so, like, amazing. Sorry, I don’t know your name,” she said, reaching her hand across the counter. “I’m Bronnie.”
“Sam.”
As he shook her hand, he seemed to notice her for the very first time.
“I’ve seen you working at the computer,” she said.
He held up his arms in mock surrender. “A geek.”
“Didn’t mean it that way,” she said cheerily.
“But it?
??s true,’” he countered, with a shrug.
Holding his gaze she said, “You have no idea how much you could help these kids. Even the stuff you take for granted would be a revelation.”
I knew the most likely cause of Sam’s reluctance. In the past he had told both Franc and Geshe Wangpo that he just wasn’t “a people person.” And here was Bronnie asking him to stand up in front of a group and teach.
Bronnie hadn’t taken her eyes off his and was still smiling warmly. “Of all the voluntary activities you could do, this would use your abilities best of all.”
It was the V word that did it. Voluntary. Little did Bronnie know that she had hit on one of the key variables in the happiness formula.
“I would help, of course,” she offered.
Could she see his resistance beginning to crack?
“The Internet people across the road are donating their facilities,” Bronnie explained. “It would only be one hour, in the late afternoon. Basic word processing, perhaps spreadsheets—that kind of thing.”
Sam was nodding.
“Oh, please say you’ll do it!” she gushed.
A smile formed at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Okay, okay!” he said, looking down at the counter. “I’ll do it.”
Sam took his teaching responsibilities very seriously. He had soon downloaded some tutorials for beginners, watched some YouTube videos on Teaching 101, and had begun making notes. Several times during quiet moments in the café I heard him asking the waiters about this word or that concept: was it something that young Indians would understand?
I don’t know when Sam’s first computer skills class took place. It must have been one afternoon after I had already gone home to Jokhang. But soon a perceptible change came over him. He was spending less time behind the counter in the bookstore and more time talking to customers. Something about his posture had changed, too. He looked taller somehow.
His early classes had gone well enough for him to continue. I knew this from a remark Bronnie made when she came to visit him at the café one morning.
“You were amazing last night,” she told him, her eyes sparkling.
“Oh, it was only …”
“Two hours of questions!” she said, laughing. “That’s unheard of.”
“Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.”
“Including the geek who can’t teach?”
“Even him.”
“Especially him, I’d say.” Leaning over the counter she took his hand and told him something that made him explode with laughter. Yes, Sam—belly-laughing. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t heard it with my own charcoal ears.