Ernesto Cuesta Alvear: The power of (bad) professors
This piece was written in the fall of 2025 by GRAD 5144 (Communicating Science) student Ernesto Cuesta Alvear as part of an assignment to write a personal narrative about his research.
It was a very hot summer in a small and crowded classroom. I was in my third year at the university and had just started to take specific classes that belonged to my major, and I was very excited to finally start learning about telecommunications engineering. My friends and I were curious and a bit scared because this class had a reputation for being challenging.
Suddenly, while we were making plans to go somewhere on the weekend, a man with gray hair approached the classroom door, holding his briefcase full of papers. This was the professor. He looked at us sternly, judging our laughter, and we immediately understood we needed to head to our tables.
Without saying a word, the professor started writing on the board. We all looked at one another in surprise. Finally, after filling half of the board, he started explaining the concepts we needed to learn for the day. I was already confused, and the explanation confused me even more. I remember feeling anxious about not being able to pass the course.
The first three weeks went by with the same routine, and then I was sitting in the classroom for the first exam. My hands were frozen in anxiety. The professor did not show up, but two teaching assistants observed the class. When I looked at the exam, I saw that the problem statements were very difficult, and I did not remember seeing those types of problems in class. I looked at my friends, and they were as shocked as I was.
At the time the exam finished, I was hopeless and everybody was silent. With our faces expressing disappointment, I did not feel the need to ask about how the exam was for everybody else. That was one of the most discouraging days up to that point in my life.
One week passed, and the results came up with no hope for any of us. Only two students passed with the minimum grade. The class average was 7 out of 20, and I was exactly at that score. Average — but failing.
Before the second exam, everyone agreed that we needed to change our learning strategy. Fortunately for us, there was a fourth-year student — top of his class — who offered lessons for groups of students. I did not hesitate for a moment to give it a try and signed up for his next class with a large group of friends.
We all met at his place, where he arranged tables and chairs in front of a whiteboard. As soon as we were all seated, the show started. The way he explained the concepts from the first classes was inspiring — I felt excited, as I was able to understand everything that I did not with the professor. The lesson finished, and I headed home full of hope and joy.
When the second exam was finally on my desk, I smiled. The problem statements were easy to understand because I knew the concepts and how to apply them to solve the problems. I finished the exam before the time ran out and was not surprised to see that my friends were also finishing it.
When the grades came out, we were very proud but not surprised. Most of the students who took the group lesson got the maximum grade, including me. I felt grateful to have had the opportunity to take the group lesson. And there was another, even more important feeling: I felt hopeful. The teaching style that had the power to transform a 7 into a 20 let me know that my lack of understanding was not my problem.
This particular moment of my life changed my vision of how engineering should be taught. After that day, whenever I had the opportunity to teach something to a friend or others, I tried to communicate as best as I could and make sure the person understood my explanation. Now, years later, as a Ph.D. student in engineering education, I feel that this episode influenced my decision to research and learn about engineering education and how undergraduate students can get the best out of their class experiences.