The Boy Who Failed Every Test — But Could Not Stop Wondering

Every school report card told the same story. My name, my marks — always near the bottom of the list. School, college, engineering — I scraped through every one of them with just enough marks to pass, never enough to impress. Teachers looked past me. The system measured me and found me ordinary.

But there was one thing no exam ever measured: the fire in my eyes the moment I picked up two wires, connected them, and watched something light up that had never lit up before.

While classmates memorised textbook answers, I was pulling apart old electronics to see what lived inside. My question was never "what mark will I get?" My question was always "what happens if I try this?"

Low marks never meant low curiosity. And curiosity, I would discover, is worth far more than any grade on paper.

After Engineering, the Real Education Began

My engineering degree gave me a certificate. But embedded systems gave me a language — the language of microcontrollers, of code speaking to hardware, of tiny chips that can think because a human taught them to.

I went deep. Arduino, sensors, motors, Bluetooth, WiFi, IoT — every late night was a lecture no university had ever offered me. I was not studying to pass. I was studying because I had to know. I had always had to know.

Then I joined a STEM education company, believing I had found my place. The support I needed was never there. The vision I carried was never shared. So I did what a builder does when the walls around him are too small: I walked out and built my own.

Eleobo — Built From Nothing, With Everything I Had

I started with a name and a dream and very little else. What followed was not a glamorous startup story. It was long nights writing curriculum, recording videos, designing circuit boards, 3D printing robot parts, laser-cutting acrylic, coding apps from scratch — and doing it all alone before anyone else believed it was possible.

I built apps that put electronics and robotics into young hands. I designed training kits that a child could assemble and call their own. I wrote the books — not because a publisher came to me, but because the children needed them and no one else was writing them.

I collaborated with over 16 schools. I stood in front of classrooms where the students looked just like the boy I once was — curious, overlooked, underestimated. And I showed them what that boy had become.

Over 1,000 students trained. Dozens of national, district, and sub-district winners produced. A community of over 80,000 across social media. A website. A Google Play store presence with apps downloaded over 10,000 times each.

All of it built by the boy who barely passed his exams.