"Hold tight, my love"—How I Teach in 7 Weeks What Took Me 2 Years to Learn

There is a strange phrase in my web development class.

"Hold tight, my love."

I say it in every class. At first, students just assume it's some odd little pep talk of mine. "Hang in there, you've got this, you'll get used to it soon"—something like that, they figure.

And when I finally reveal what it means, they crack up every time. I have to admit, it makes me a little proud.

I'll tell you what it means in a bit. First, let me tell you where this phrase came from.

Two Years of Wondering Why a Single Tag Was There

Twenty-six years ago, I studied web development at BCIT (British Columbia Institute of Technology). It took a full two years. Looking back now, the question I struggled with most during those two years was actually pretty simple:

"Why does this tag even go here?"

When I first learned HTML, this is what I saw: a tag inside another tag, inside yet another tag. Some had to be closed once opened. Some had to be nested inside others.

And if the order was even slightly off, the whole page fell apart. It seems so simple now, but when you're just starting out, it can feel like a maze. Back then, HTML wasn't a language to understand for me—it was a set of rules to memorize.

So I started coming up with my own little tricks to remember it. One of them was this:

"Hold tight, my love."

At the time, it was just a private mnemonic I used for myself. I had no idea it would still be alive 26 years later—or that I'd eventually be using it with my own students.

Once a Week, for 7 Weeks. Is That Even Possible?

Years later, I found myself teaching web development at college. But this course runs only 7 weeks, meeting once a week. In other words, what took me two full years to grasp, my students now have to absorb in just seven sessions.

My first reaction, when I faced that reality, was: impossible. But there's one thing that didn't exist 26 years ago.

AI.

So Couldn't AI Just Teach It Instead?

In my classroom, students use Microsoft Visual Studio Code, and they have access to Copilot. If they wanted to, they could just say: "Make me an HTML page." And AI generates the code.

"Add some CSS too." Done. "Make the button look nice." Done. Incredibly convenient.

But I don't let students use AI from day one. That might sound strange—why hold back AI in the age of AI?

The reason is simple: without a foundation, AI stops being a help and becomes an obstacle instead.

If a student doesn't even know why a <div> is necessary, and AI hands them 50 lines of code, what happens? It runs. It might even look nice. But the moment something breaks, the student has no idea what went wrong or what to change.

All they can do is ask AI again. And bit by bit, that student stops being someone who's learning to code—and becomes someone who's just watching AI code for them.

I didn't want that. So for the first few weeks, I have students write every single line by hand, tag by tag. The old-fashioned way.

Sometimes I can see it on their faces—that look that says, why am I typing all of this out myself?

But that's exactly the time they need. You only really see the structure when you write it yourself: where a tag opens and closes, what nests inside what, how the code you wrote turns into what shows up on screen.

You have to live through that. Only after going through it does code stop being a string of letters and start becoming a language.

And Then, at Some Point, I turn AI on.

Once the fundamentals are in place, I introduce Copilot. And that's when something interesting happens. The students' attitude completely shifts. When AI suggests code, they no longer just accept it blindly.

"Is this the right tag to use here?" "Can I change this part myself?"

They start asking questions like these. That's why I don't introduce AI right away. I want them to struggle with the basics first—to actually write the code, make mistakes, and figure out what's going on.

Once they have that foundation, AI becomes incredibly useful. Now they can look at what Copilot gives them and actually judge whether it makes sense.

And Then, That Phrase

Whenever students are struggling, I tell them to hang in there. It's strange and hard right now, I say, but keep going a little longer and at some point it will suddenly click. And then I call out:

"Hold tight, my love!"

Some students laugh. Others nod. And so week one passes, week two passes— and when the final class arrives, I write four words on the board.

Hold

Tight

My 

Love

Then I tell them to look at just the first letters.

H — T — M — L

A brief silence. And then... the whole room bursts into laughter.

"Ahhh! That's what it meant!"

A tiny mnemonic I made up for myself, alone, 26 years ago—it's now become a little device that helps my students remember HTML too.

What took me two years to understand, my students now have seven weeks to discover.

And maybe that's what I'm really trying to pass on—not just HTML, but a little patience with the learning process.

Because sometimes the thing that makes no sense on week one suddenly makes perfect sense on week seven.

Until then—

Hold tight, my love!

* If you're interested, you can check out my earlier posts on Ubuntu: Building Tomorrow's Tech on Yesterday's Hardware.

* The top image was created by Nano Banana 2