The Skull Drawing Incident
Like many students, I once had to take an art class. It wasn’t an elective I was particularly excited about, but I figured it would be a fun way to spend some time drawing. Most of the class is a blur now, but one experience stands out vividly.
One day, we were given about 30 minutes to draw a skull. As soon as I heard the assignment, I felt a wave of excitement. “Oh, this is easy!” I thought. I had drawn skulls so many times before—I knew exactly what I was going to do.
The problem? The skull I had drawn so many times was a simple, cartoonish 2D skull. It was something I could sketch in seconds, and in my mind, that was the way to do it. I didn't realize that the assignment was asking for a detailed, realistic 3D skull. Even when the teacher placed a model skull in the center of the room, it didn’t register. I had already decided what my final product would be.
When time was up, the teacher had everyone stand and show their work. She started separating students into two groups—those who had done well and those who hadn’t. As I looked around, I saw that every other student had drawn a realistic 3D skull. The embarrassment hit instantly.
Then, the teacher got to me. I remember how she lingered, how she seemed to take extra time before placing me in the not good group. Looking back as an adult, I wonder if she thought I was being defiant. My drawing was so different from everyone else’s that she made a point of singling it out, even poking fun at it in front of the class. Cue the laughter and whispers from my classmates. I hadn’t just failed the assignment—I had, in some way, gotten in trouble for it.
Am I Still the 2D Skull Kid?
Lately, I keep coming back to this memory. How much of my job search is me submitting 2D skulls to companies looking for 3D skulls? How do I even know?
I look at my knowledge, my experience, my projects—both published and unpublished—and I feel like I should be a strong candidate. I feel confident that I can fulfill the roles I’m applying for. Just like I felt confident in my skull drawing all those years ago.
But the silence, the lack of response, the rejections… they make me wonder. Am I misunderstanding what’s being asked of me? Am I not seeing the model skull sitting right in front of me?
And yet, I know I’m putting in the work.
I’m going back to finish my degree, and in just about two and a half months, I’ve completed 30% of it. I’ve gained hands-on experience in data analysis, SQL, Python, JS, App Scripts, and automation—not just in theory, but by actively volunteering these skills in real-world settings, all while holding management or administrative positions. My bosses have all sung my praises.
I’ve completed EDX certifications. I apply to entry-level positions. I submit what I believe are solid test entries when given coding challenges. I try to demonstrate that I don’t have an ego about learning or being wrong—that I’m eager to improve and grow. I try to show that I want to add value beyond just writing code.
I want to work. I want to contribute to a company’s success. I want to keep learning.
And yet… are these all just 2D skulls?
I feel like I’m walking the walk, talking the talk—doing everything I can. But still, silence.
I don’t know what else to do, so I’ll keep going. Keep learning. Keep searching for new ways to stand out.
Because maybe, just maybe, I’m not a 2D Skull Kid forever.