When we were younger, adults used to tell us we were capable of doing something if it was "as easy as riding a bike." I could handle this analogy, understand this concept: my own training wheels came off with relative ease, and I avoided any traumatic experiences when learning to pedal.
But when I walked into my first computer science class two weeks ago and heard the professor draw an analogy between learning CS and driving a car, I knew I was in trouble.
For those of you who are faithful readers of my column, you are well aware that driving is not my, ahem, forte. Most of my driving experiences have become painful memories for my insurance company and me. Therefore, I was not sure that learning computer science via automobiles was the best modus operandi for yours truly.
Perhaps learning CS was not a good idea, period. As an applicant to the McIntire School of Commerce, CS 120: Introduction to Business Computing, is a required course. When I read the course title, I secretly hoped that the word "business" had been inserted to alert the digitally-handicapped that this computing class would cater to our needs and, more importantly, our skill level. In my mind, I regarded CS 120 as a cousin to "Biology for Poets" or "English for Engineers" - a class that takes students completely out of their academic element and plays nice.
Then I found out that the class actualy was located in the E-School.
Have you ever heard stories about Thorton Hall stacks? Think Alderman, but with robots. I mean, "computers." I had heard many harrowing tales of students who spent much of their University career within those stacks, some of whom last saw the light of day when Nixon was president. As an undergraduate still in the College, I tended to walk past the E-School at a rapid pace, usually wearing garlic around my neck. But this was a fear I would have to overcome in the name of the Comm School.
The CS class in which I enrolled was located in Olsson Hall, a building whose name appeared on my ISIS registration and immediately made me think, "Oh, okay, like Mary Kate and Ashley." That should give you some idea of what we're working with here.
A dear friend of mine, who happens to be a systems engineer, promised to be reachable by cell phone on my first day of class, in case I needed help navigating my way in the E-School. I did. Through a set of directions that sounded much like, "Turn left, go through those two doors, walk down the stairs, pass the lab, and go to your right. No, other right," she guided me via cell phone to my classroom. Technology can be a wonderful thing. Sometimes.
I was relieved to find that our lecture hall did not contain any computers, except for the professor's laptop that he would use in demonstrations. As for the professor, it was comforting that he looked more like a human and less like the R2D2 image I had conjured. I was feeling good about myself, confident that I could get beyond the glossy surface of e-mail and Instant Messenger, and delve into the world of interfaces and code.
That's when he dropped the bomb: "Programming has much in common with learning to use a car."
In his example, he explained how a Visual Basic interface had features just like a Nissan Sentra. I have never driven a Nissan Sentra, and it probably is to the advantage of anyone who owns one. He showed us how several elements in a computer's interface are hidden from the user so that the user is not able to tamper with them, much like how many components of a car's engine are hidden safely under the hood to prohibit the driver from disturbing them. I sunk down a little lower in my seat because I was certain he was about to add, "Drivers like YOU, Lytle."
Fortunately, the first homework assignment did not require any knowledge of automobiles or safe driving, and my roommate was able to work on the project with me. Everything was going smoothly until I decided to implement a "shortcut" to speed up the homework process. My "shortcut" cost my 20 extra minutes and completely deleted all the work we had done thus far. After that, we decided that I would read aloud from the textbook and forego all keyboard privileges.
Despite my inaptitude for computer science, I am trying to keep it all in the context of the Comm school. Perhaps I one day will work for a company that needs a Power Point presentation or a new computer data system for its employees. If the boss should call on me to perform the task, my CS 120 knowledge will come in handy. I will come to the rescue and design an interface that will revolutionize the company.
It will be a completely different story if the boss asks me to valet his Nissan Sentra at the company picnic.
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