My Most Patient Cryptography Student Had Feathers

My Most Patient Cryptography Student Had Feathers

~ The only student who couldn't walk out of my lecture ~

Most of my blogs are about learning things the hard way.

This one is about learning things the weird way.

 

Back in my college days—whether it was third year or final year, I honestly don't remember—I had a subject called Cryptography. Unlike some subjects that felt like punishment disguised as education, Cryptography was actually interesting. I enjoyed learning about secret messages, encryption, keys, and all those mysterious concepts that made me feel like a part-time spy.

 

There was just one small problem. I never bought the textbook. For the entire semester, I survived using library books, shared notes, and occasionally borrowing books from friends in other departments. Somehow, through a combination of luck, friendship, and academic acrobatics, I managed.

 

Then came exam time. Two days before the semester exam, reality hit me. I needed the book.

 

Desperately.

 

So I approached one of my friends. She was from my village, and thankfully she owned the Cryptography textbook. She agreed to lend it to me.

 

But under one condition. "You can keep it for only one day. I need it back by tomorrow evening."

 

Honestly, her condition was completely fair. After all, it was her book. I had two days left for the exam, but only one day with the book. I accepted the deal immediately. I started studying.  Everything was going well for a while.

 

Then I hit a problem. I realized I was reading and understanding the concepts, but they weren't staying in my memory. I've always noticed something about myself. The fastest way for me to learn something is to teach it to someone else.

 

So naturally, I looked for a student. My first target was my mother. I began explaining Cryptography. My mother listened for approximately three seconds before rejecting my free educational services.

 

Apparently, she had no interest in encryption algorithms. So there I was.

A teacher without a classroom.

A lecturer without an audience.

A Cryptography expert without a victim.

Then I noticed the chickens.

 

We had a few chickens at home for eggs. Since childhood, I had spent enough time around them that some of them even recognized my voice. A brilliant idea entered my mind. Or what seemed brilliant at the time.

 

I selected one chicken.

Not an aggressive one.

Not a rebellious one.

A calm, obedient, innocent chicken.

 

The poor thing walked toward me happily, probably expecting food.

To gain its trust, I offered a few peanuts.

The plan worked.

 

Then I gently wrapped it with an old cloth, leaving its head and neck visible. The chicken was never harmed and was simply wrapped gently so it wouldn't run away during my "lecture."

 

The chicken had no idea that it had just enrolled in a Cryptography course.

 

What followed was probably the longest lecture in chicken history. For nearly one and a half hours, I explained Cryptography.

Encryption.

Decryption.

Keys.

Algorithms.

Concepts.

Examples.

Everything.

Without interruption.

 

Think about it. Most humans struggle to survive a 40-minute lecture. This chicken somehow endured two lectures back-to-back.

 

At one point my mother walked by, looked at the scene, and asked: "Why are you torturing that poor chicken?"

I replied confidently: "I'm not torturing it. I'm teaching Cryptography."

 

I don't think that explanation helped my case. By the time the lecture ended, I had covered almost the entire syllabus. The chicken looked emotionally exhausted.

 

Honestly, I think it understood neither Cryptography nor why it was chosen for this responsibility. But something magical happened. By teaching the concepts aloud, I remembered everything.

 

Exam day arrived.

I wrote confidently.

Results day arrived.

My friend—the actual owner of the book—scored 81 marks in Cryptography.

I scored 82 marks in Cryptography.

Just one mark more.

Naturally, I expected congratulations.

What I got instead was a loving fight.

She looked at me in complete disbelief and said: "How dare you score more marks than me using my own book?"

 

Honestly, it was a valid question.

She bought the book. She owned the book.

She generously shared the book.

Meanwhile, I borrowed the book, borrowed the knowledge, taught Cryptography to a chicken, and somehow ended up with one extra mark.

I was shocked.

She was shocked.

The chicken was probably still recovering from my Lecture.

The credit doesn't belong entirely to me.

It belongs to the most patient student I have ever taught.

 

After the exam, I offered the chicken extra food as a thank-you gift.

Peanuts.

Treats.

Good food.

Everything.

Yet every time it saw me afterward, it looked nervous.

As if it was thinking: "Please don't teach me Cryptography again."

And honestly?

I can't blame it.

 

What I Learned

Sometimes learning isn't about reading more. It's about finding a way to explain what you've learned. My study partner just happened to have feathers. And while Cryptography taught me about secret communication, that chicken taught me something else: If you can explain a concept clearly enough for a chicken, you'll probably remember it for the exam too.

📖 “Some people use flashcards.

Some people use mind maps.

Apparently, I used livestock.”

🐔‍Anyone can learn from anyone and anywhere.

🖋️ Until next line of code…