Learning coding from boredom
I think the point of math class is probably to teach people math, but what many of the best developers I know actually learned in math class was how to program.
Nearly every high school math class I took was really, really boring. Not through the fault of the teachers; they were actually awesome. But I consistently knew just enough to be bored, yet not enough to actually skip the class. At first, I tried to act like I was paying attention, which meant that my face had to be vaguely directed at the teacher, even if I was actually studying the posters on the wall. It was in that mode of thought that I finished off Algebra II able to regurgitate π out to maybe 50 decimal places.
But that only lasted so long before it occurred to me that, “hey, I know how to program!” combined with “hey, I have a programmable calculator!” meant the inevitable “hey, I can program this thing to do my math homework!” So I began writing programs to do factoring, to solve equations, to help rotate ellipses and parabolas by arbitrary angles, and pretty soon reached a point where doing a lot of homework mostly involved firing up the right program, plugging in some numbers, and writing down the result.
While I’d done a fair amount of programming by this point, my calculator programs were the most exciting to me because I was really using them. Yeah, okay, the what-kind-of-rock-is-this database I made for science fair taught me more about data structures, but these were the first programs where I cared about the user interface, where I spent time refactoring so that extending the thing would be easier, or where I’d spend 20 minutes optimizing just to shave off a second or two.
That’s my story. But I know a lot of developers who have almost the exact same story. Some couldn’t use their programs on assignments; some wrote video games instead of math helpers. But in all of these cases, people started getting passionate about what they were writing. And when I’ve talked to them about why this was the first time they really cared, I always get back the same answer: because for the first time, they had end users they cared about. Themselves.
My high school also had a CS course. I didn’t take it. No one I knew who really liked programming took it, in fact. And those who did take the class universally went on to do something, anything else, when they got to college. What was painful for me was that even as a clueless high school student, I knew why: because the whole damn course was totally irrelevant to them! No bearing on what they were doing at all. Here the programmers-to-be were writing toy programs that they were using daily, even competing to see who could make the fastest, most useful ones. The AP class? Write another three implementations that sort random numbers. Yip-de-frickin’-do.
It’s not that you shouldn’t teach that—and, in fact, the number of applicants here at Fog Creek who don’t grok basic algorithms drives me crazy. But it’s completely the wrong way to introduce people to programming.
Programmers like to program because they can do cool things, or because they can solve problems, or both. It’s both creative and it’s practical. If the goal of a high school course is to get people interested in programming, then the course must build around these two pillars.
You wanna appeal to the first group? Show them Mindstorms so they can show their friends a cool robot. Show them Twilio so they can see how to make a little voice-controlled system. Show them LÖVE so they can put together a simple video game.
You wanna appeal to the second group? I think you could do worse than to introduce them to something like VBScript or AppleScript so that they get a flavor of manipulating the applications they use every day. If the total lack of ideological purity of those two bugs you, then introduce them to some Greasemonkey, or some light shell scripting, or maybe even (gasp!) TI-Basic.
When you attack programming this way, students get hooked. They become their own critics and their own users, so they genuinely care about improving their work. They’ll naturally hit the limit of what they can do, and the good ones—the ones who are going to go on to become programmers—will naturally want to start learning more of the theory, the underlying technologies and techniques, so they can continue to improve their craft. When those students get to an AP prep class later in the curriculum, they’ll be ready for it and enjoy it, because they’ll understand why it matters. It will have become relevant to them.
I’m lucky right now to be working with Bayside High School in Queens, who’s developing a program for CS students that looks a lot like the above, with introductory classes focusing on tangible results students can play with immediately (web applications, little GUIs, and dumpster-diving through massive datasets) rather than wading knee-deep into theory right from the get-go. But there are many, many high schools out there who have nothing remotely like this, who teach programming the same way they teach math. If the high school in your area’s like that, volunteer to teach something more inspiring. The students will love it, and we’ll get more impassioned developers as a result.
I can still recite about 25. Why I’ve forgotten about half the digits of π, but can still happily rattle off the advertising jingle to Kanine Krunchies, which isn’t even a real product, is anyone’s guess. ↩︎
Anyone else think Texas Instruments has the best racket ever? ↩︎
My teachers took what in retrospect was an unbelievably forward-looking attitude to this: as long as I was writing all the programs myself, and could explain how they worked, it was fair game. I have no idea what would have happened otherwise. ↩︎
I know some of you want me to mention UserRPL here, but I think it’s time to admit that the HP-48 is the Amiga of graphing calculators. ↩︎
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