The Human Factor

My favorite part of the movie Sully and its portrayal of the events of the “Miracle on the Hudson” is when Sullenberger, played by Tom Hanks, is testifying in a tense investigation of the events which happened. This scene involved simulations where the plane successfully returned to the airport after hitting the flock of birds*. Sullenberger tells the investigators they failed to account for the human factor. Their simulation knew what would happen and was prepared to encounter it.

*I am assuming, dear reader, you know of this story and the fact that Sullenberger, pilot of US Airways Flight 1549, did not have the ability to return to the airport, but instead landed in the Hudson River. If not, a quick Google search will give you a better understanding, but watching the movie will stir a certain something up in your soul.

I’m in the middle of my summer residency for my Creative Writing & Literature Master’s program through Harvard Extension School. For something like ten years, I’ve wanted this degree and for some reason or another*, it didn’t happen until now.

*Fear. Self-doubt. Time. Money. Fear. Self-doubt.

The residency consists of three weeks: one full week (Monday-Sunday) of mandatory, on-campus instruction and two weeks of hybrid learning: student’s choice to Zoom or attend in-person.

When making my choice, I didn’t have much to guide me aside from looking at the facts. The facts said I needed to be there for a full week and the facts said that staying in Cambridge for two more weeks meant more money on lodging and food, and more time away from my other responsibilities.

But I forgot to account for the human factor.

Our class reading was held in a room with a gorgeous, gigantic fireplace which I still can’t get over

With every day that passed, my classmates and I grew closer and closer together, thanks most certainly to our shared passion for words but also our phenomenal teacher who led us with grace, understanding, and determination for our success*.

*The day I knew I liked her was the day she noted our somewhat slumped afternoon behavior and promised chocolate the next day. Yes, we are all adults. And yes, the chocolate worked.

By the end of the week, my classmates were not just my classmates any longer, but they were my people. This place was now my place.

In sharing your art with others, you make yourself vulnerable. You show the inner workings of your mind. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even if what you are writing is under the overarching genre title of Fiction. Each person in my class met the others with not only respect for the craft but joy for our stories’ futures.

And by Sunday night, I was a blubbering mess as I realized I didn’t want it to end.

I didn’t want to let this beautiful community slip from my fingers. I felt that the further I got from this place where the this is what I am meant to do feeling had been strengthened and the people who understood me were huddled, I’d somehow lose it all.

Reading an excerpt of my fiction

I feel like I’ve just graduated high school and it’s impossible now for everything not to completely change. Only I’m hoping instead of that bittersweet, unspoken we know we probably won’t see each other again; I’ll find in the days to come that my world has broadened and my community enlarged, all because of one lifechanging week.

You can make all the plans you want and they can sound right on paper, but if you don’t account for the human factor, you still might’ve made the wrong one. But the good thing about the human factor? It keeps on existing, for better or worse. I’m hoping going forward, for the better.