At Meridian Junior High, if you follow the low hum of conversation and the quiet concentration of students leaning over open laptops, you’ll find something unexpected happening. Inside Aaron Hale’s classroom, lunch becomes a hands-on lesson in curiosity, confidence, and the simple power of a teacher saying, “Sure, let’s try it.”

Aaron never intended to start a computer club. It happened almost accidentally. A self-proclaimed online bargain hunter, he found a deal on several gaming laptops and bought them with the idea of upgrading and reselling them. But then another thought came to him—what if these could be used in his classroom, and what if students helped upgrade them?

“I knew a few kids who were really interested in computers,” he said. “So, I brought in the tools, asked if they wanted to learn, and they immediately lit up.” Those first two students became the foundation of what would grow into an unofficial computer club with as many as fifteen participants working side by side during lunch.

Aaron’s path into teaching has been anything but ordinary. He grew up in Wingo, Kentucky, graduated from Graves County High School, and earned his bachelor’s degree in middle school education from Murray State University. When teaching jobs didn’t open up right away, he shifted into graduate school and earned a specialist degree in school psychology—a program he describes as “a little bit south of a doctorate.” More recently, he completed all the coursework for his doctorate through McKendree, leaving only his dissertation between him and the finish line.

His work as a school psychologist for JAMP took him into virtually every district in the region, but Meridian always stood out. “Meridian always felt like home,” he said. “When I went looking for a teaching job, it was the only place I called.”

Now in his fourth year at Meridian, Aaron teaches English Language Arts to grades six through eight—“I’m the only one we have right now,” he joked. But teaching English hasn’t stopped him from creating a space where kids can explore another shared interest.

The computer club began simply. Aaron showed the first students how to open a laptop’s case—using a guitar pick instead of a screwdriver so they wouldn’t damage the frame—and pointed out the internal components. It was the tiny springs and clips inside the machines that caught the students’ attention, the satisfying little snap as pieces released or settled back into place.

After Aaron demonstrated once, the students handled most of the work. “They were naturals,” he said. “I stood back and watched. They didn’t need me to micromanage. They worked together and figured it out.”

Word spread quickly. Two students became three. Three became ten. Eventually, so many kids wanted to participate that Aaron had to limit the group so everyone could actually work. Everything—from the laptops to the RAM to the extra SSDs—came out of his own pocket. He even purchased Steam accounts for students to use once the machines were upgraded.

“It’s worth it,” he said. “This is something that can save them money someday—or make them money. People are scared to open computers. But these kids? They aren’t afraid.”

Students didn’t just enjoy upgrading the computers—they took pride in them. When Aaron used the laptops during class for group activities, students instantly recognized the machines they had helped build. “They know the difference between #1, #2, #3, #4, and #5,” he said. “They know which ones they worked on. You can see that pride.”

Some even took the interest further. One student sketched a detailed drawing of a graphics card. Others began asking for more advanced projects. A few ninth graders have asked to come back this year to help build a full desktop PC from scratch.

Aaron is still trying to find a way to make that work, even though he no longer shares a lunch period with them. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “It matters to them.”

There was an attempt last year to make the computer group an official after-school club, but when the process stalled, Aaron and the students created their own solution: an unofficial computer club with its own officers and routine.

What makes the whole thing special isn’t the laptops or the tools or the technology. It’s the way something small—three bargain laptops and a handful of interested kids—became a place where students feel capable, valued, and connected.

And for Aaron, that feeling connects back to the school itself. “Meridian always felt like home,” he said. In his classroom, with students bent over open laptops and tiny springs clicking gently into place, it still does.