Title: Rewriting the Code: How Engineering Taught Me to Redesign Inclusion

A Spark in Second Period

The whir of the 3D printer reverberated through Room 202 like a heartbeat. I remember sitting at the back of my sophomore engineering class, fiddling with a filament spool, when Mrs. Ramirez wheeled in a new printer—the newest tech in our underfunded public high school in East Oakland. The excitement in the room was electric, but somehow, I felt like the signal never quite electrified me.

The problem wasn’t my interest. I loved building things. When I was eight, I built a gravity-powered pulley system to deliver snacks from my bedroom to my curious cat downstairs. But in this classroom filled with mostly boys—mostly white—I didn’t see that excitement reflected in a way that resonated with me. The curriculum was rigid, the examples abstract, and the pace unforgiving. Every blueprint seemed to be drawn for someone else—someone with a different background, a different learning style, a different future in mind.

At first, I thought it was just me.

Blueprints That Didn’t Fit

But that changed during a group project to design a low-cost water filter. While my teammates dove into equations and technical specs, my brain swam in images. I saw storytelling as a function equal to any formula. I wanted to understand who would use the filter. What terrain would it meet? Would it need to be held with small hands or gloved ones? I started designing with context—and suddenly, I found meaning in the math.

Mrs. Ramirez noticed, handing me an article one day titled “Rethinking engineering education: Why focusing on learning preferences could boost diversity in STEM.” It was like someone flicked the lights on. The article, based on a study by Sharon Tettegah, showcased how adaptive technologies and diverse content delivery—graphics, storytelling, simulations—could change not the material, but how it’s received. I wasn’t alone after all. The challenge wasn’t me; it was that education had been coded without my preferences considered.

I devoured that article, tracking down its origin on Modern Sciences and reading it again. And again. It was the blueprint I had been looking for—not for a machine, but for belonging.

A Shift in the Circuit

Fueled by this revelation, I initiated “Humans Behind the Hardware,” a student-led workshop series that paired engineering concepts with real-world narratives—from the challenges of building prosthetics in underserved regions to coding apps for non-native English speakers. I invited guest speakers from diverse backgrounds and leaned into technologies like AI-enhanced learning apps, allowing students to shape how they approached the material.

One workshop featured Tonia, a junior who had nearly failed her last math test. After using a visual-based simulation to model bridge structures, she lit up. By the end of the semester, her project on earthquake-resistant housing earned top marks. I saw in her the same recognition I had longed for—a visible way in.

Lessons in Rewiring

Stepping back, I realized that the true seed of innovation isn’t just in knowing how to build—it’s in understanding who you’re building for and how they learn. I once thought engineering was cold and robotic, absent of emotion. But now I see it as deeply human—a field that, when inclusive, has the power to shape futures with empathy and difference in mind.

I carry that lesson into my college aspirations—not merely to study mechanical systems, but to design learning systems attuned to every voice in the room. I want to be an engineer who doesn’t just ask “How?” but “For whom?” I believe in an inclusive future where the code rewrites itself to reflect every learner, every dream.

Because sometimes, the most impactful thing you build isn’t a tool, structure, or program.

It’s a space.

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Inspired by: "Rethinking engineering education: Why focusing on learning preferences could boost diversity in STEM" (Source: https://modernsciences.org/inclusive-engineering-education-learning-preferences-stem-diversity-may-2025/)