Student Life

Nobody Around Me Understood What a Developer Does

Being a developer in Pakistan, and why nobody around me understood my work.

Nobody Around Me Understood What a Developer Does

At family gatherings, someone always asks what I study. I tell them. Then they ask, "What will you become after this?" I say, "A developer." After that, the room goes quiet.

People are not rude. They just don't know what to say. In our society, some jobs are well known. Doctor. Engineer. Government officer. Bank manager. Everyone understands these jobs. Nobody is sure what a developer does.

So they ask me questions.

"So you repair computers?"

"You make Facebook?"

"Is it a government job or a private one?"

Every question is small. But after hearing them for years, they start to feel heavy.

My family was never against me. They were worried. They wanted me to have a safe and settled life. For them, a known job meant a safe future. A developer's job looked uncertain. I understand this now. But at that time, it hurt.

I learned everything alone.

I did not have a teacher or a mentor. No senior told me what to learn first. I learned from YouTube videos, internet forums, and my own mistakes. [Add your real start here: the year or semester you began, and the first thing you tried to build.]

Coding can be strange. Sometimes you sit for six hours on one bug. Then you find out that one small letter was wrong. You feel stupid and smart at the same moment.

The problem was that I had nobody to share this with. When I fixed a bug after a long night, I wanted to tell someone. But if I said, "I fixed it," people asked, "What did you fix?" I could not explain it in a way they understood.

So I stopped explaining.

My code editor, where most of my learning happened. (Screenshot by the author)


In class, I saw my friends preparing for careers that everybody respected. Their families were proud. Mine was confused. I started asking myself, "What if they are right? What if I am wasting my time?"

People told me that the job market is hard. They said you need a big university name or a strong connection. Some of this is true. Not everyone gets the same chances.

Some nights I closed my laptop and thought about quitting. I thought about taking an easier path, one that would make family gatherings simple.

But the next day, I opened the laptop again.

I kept coming back for one reason. Code is fair. If my work is correct, the website opens. If it is wrong, it shows an error. It does not care about my family name. It does not care who I know. It only checks my work. In a country where many things depend on connections, this felt good to me.

I started building real things.

At some point, I stopped watching only tutorials. I started building websites that real people could open on the internet.

My first projects were not good. Some were slow. Some looked bad. Some failed, and nobody even noticed. But I learned something from each one. I learned how to plan a project. I learned how to fix a problem when something breaks. I learned how to finish what I start.

Over time, I built several live websites. Each one was proof. Not only for other people, but for me. [Add one real moment here: the first time someone used something you built, or the first time someone asked you for help.]

Then something changed. At family gatherings, people stopped asking, "What is your real plan?" They started asking, "Can you help me with something?"

They never understood my explanation. But they understood my work.

Image generated with AI. Proof is louder than explanation.

When I was starting, I wish someone had told me three things.

First, feeling lost is normal. Everyone who learns to code feels lost at the start. It does not mean you are not good enough.

Second, slow progress is still progress. Some weeks I felt I had learned nothing. But after a few months, I looked back and saw that I could build things I could not build before.

Third, you do not need to be the best. You only need to be better than you were last month.

What I understand today

For a long time, I thought I needed people's respect first. I thought they had to believe in me before I could do this properly. I was wrong.

Respect does not come before the work. It comes after the work.

There is one more thing I learned. I sit in a small room in Pakistan. But the website I build can open in another country at the same time. The internet does not ask which city you live in. It only checks if your work is good.

I am still learning. I still get stuck on bugs. Some nights a small error still makes me feel small. I do not have everything figured out. But I no longer wait for people to understand me.

If you are a student like me

If you are building something and nobody around you understands it, I want to tell you a few things.

  • Build real projects. Do not only watch tutorials. One small project on the internet teaches more than ten courses.
  • Show, don't explain. People may not understand your words. They will understand a working project.
  • Find one person who understands you. It can be a friend, a senior, or someone in an online group. One person is enough.
  • Be patient. Nobody claps while you are still learning. That does not mean your effort is wasted.

Right now, people may not understand what you do. That is fine. Keep building. One day, you will not have to explain it.

Have you felt the same way? Tell me your story in the comments.

pakistan software development coding self-taught developer student life

More Stories

Student Life

Nobody Walked With Me at the Start

Starting a business is not easy. I know, because I started mine in my second semester of BSCS, with no money, no mentor, and almost nobody beside me. I didn't have a grand plan. I didn't have investors, a business backgr…

Society

Degrees in Hand, No Destination: Youth Unemployment in Pakistan

Introduction Pakistan is one of the youngest nations in the world, with young people making up the largest share of its population. This demographic strength could be the country's greatest asset, yet it is increasingly…