Picture this. You’re in school, the teacher walks in, and suddenly - a pop quiz. Worth 50% of your grade. Panic. You didn’t study, you were out all night. You are completely unprepared.

Then the teacher adds “Open book. Working in pairs”.

You glance left and instantly relax. You lean back, grinning. Why? Because the smartest, most patient student in the class is sitting next to you. There’s nothing to worry about.

He looks at you and smiles. He knows you’re a donkey, but who is he to judge? He’s here to help. “I got you, homie”, you hear, and the two of you get to work.

That’s how I feel about LLMs. That’s how I use them.

I’ve never been a good student. I lacked patience and discipline. I was called “gifted” in primary school, doing the bare minimum still got me great grades. Then high school happened. Suddenly, “being smart” wasn’t enough. I put in zero effort and got bad grades. Overnight, I went from “gifted” to “failure”. Someone who “just can’t learn”.

It felt like grades were a mirror of my mind. Getting bad ones, day after day, was crushing. So I started skipping school. I couldn’t fail if I wasn’t there.

I barely made it through high school, and when the grading system was finally gone, it was just me, myself, and I. But the damage was done. I didn’t believe in myself. With every unprepared test and every bad grade, I reinforced the idea, that *I can’t learn. I can’t memorize. I can’t understand things that don’t click instantly. *I wasn’t just lacking discipline. I lacked companionship with myself. I didn’t believe I could become anything more than who I already was.

But there was one thing I was good at. Googling. Browsing. Digging. If information existed, I could find it. Looking back, that was my superpower. I wasn’t stupid - school just made me feel that way.

Later, I got a job as a graphic designer for a small company with a bunch of businesses. One day they asked me to make a website for a new project. I’d played with WordPress before, so I deployed a website quickly. It had a simple visual editor, but soon I realized, I couldn’t get the exact look I wanted just by toggling options.

At first, it was frustrating. Then it was… intriguing. It can’t be that hard to change colors or spacing, right?

That tiny thought changed the trajectory of my entire life.

I got obsessed. I consumed web dev content like a madman - but more importantly, I built things. Whenever I saw a website I admired, I wanted to recreate it. Coming from design, I was fixated on styling. So for at least a year, I made countless one-HTML-one-CSS websites. Just pure experimentation. I was completely sucked in. At some point, the number of recreated views went into triple digits.

Naturally, curiosity pushed me further - interactivity. *How does this modal work? This dropdown? This animation? *Another rabbit hole. Another explosion of knowledge. And for the first time in my life, learning was… fun. No one graded me. No humiliation. No pressure. Just me and my craft. Something I built myself. Something I was proud of.

It was the first time I started valuing myself. Something clicked. I finally had a thing I was good at - and it was mine. I fell in love. Not just with the craft, but with myself.

Eventually, I got my first web dev job, and from there, my career took off. I learned during work hours. I learned after work. I was hungry. My sense of worth became tied to my skill - not healthy, but it kept me moving. If I couldn’t implement something, it felt like a stab to my identity.

And then I hit a wall. I worked more hours but didn’t get further. Questions to the ideas I was working on didn’t have straightforward answers on Google. I lacked fundamentals. I often didn’t even know what I didn’t know. And that hurt.

I had a mentor at that first job - brilliant, but harsh. I learned a ton from him, but the cost was high. To ask questions, I had to shrink myself. I got called “stupid,” an “idiot.” At first it was tolerable - I was inexperienced. But over time, it started cutting deeper. It stopped being a good place to learn. I needed out.

I’m telling you all this, because my relationship with learning came from a very dark place. Learning was my escape from feeling like a nobody. Like, I wasn’t worth anything good.

And that’s where the real value of AI agents shows up.

They make learning easy. They make learning joyful. They don’t judge. They don’t get annoyed. They don’t belittle you. They give you a hand, every time.

You ask about something you don’t understand, and you get a clear, useful answer, you can build on. It’s not about asking perfect questions anymore - it’s about being curious. You can break anything down and tackle it piece by piece.

I love the atomic design idea from web dev. First, you build atoms - the smallest parts of a view, like a button or a text node. Then you get molecules, like a form, built from those atoms. And above all of that, are organisms, like a contact page, which is made from the molecules.

During the learning process, you flip the order. You start with the big thing.

How do you build a rocket? You get the answer, and then you go: *Okay, so a rocket is basically three big pieces strapped together - a fuel tank, an engine, and a guidance computer. *You zoom in on the engine. *How does this actually work? *It needs pumps. *How do pumps work? *Pressure and valves. Suddenly, you’re not studying “rockets” anymore. You’re studying fluid dynamics and metallurgy.

And that’s the part people overlook.

The learning side of AI has been here for a while, but everyone moved on to the next shiny thing. We chase breakthroughs and forget to appreciate what we already have. While brilliant minds got a toolbox to make the impossible possible, people like me, finally got the teacher they needed, when they were young - the one, who shows you, that learning can actually feel good.