Mom shakes her head and laughs. “You don’t ride a miniature horse. The staff take them to visit patients at the children’s hospital or assisted-living facilities. Because they’re loving by nature, they make great one-on-one companions for trauma victims.”
I backtrack to make sure I understand what she’s saying. “So there’s a charity that takes miniature horses to visit people who are sick or sad?”
“Exactly. Maggie just got back from visiting a school in Northridge that got damaged by an earthquake.”
A plan begins to form in my feeble mind. Maggie just might be the solution I’ve been looking for.
“How long is Maggie going to be here?” I ask.
Mom glances at the clock. “Maybe another hour.”
I tell her I’ll be right back.
If there’s one person who needs a pick-me-up from a pint-sized horse, it’s Carly.
I’VE CREATED A MONSTER
The squeal of delight that comes out of Carly when she sees Maggie almost sends the poor horse galloping out of the office. Carly realizes her mistake, lowers her voice, and approaches the miniature horse slowly. As soon as Maggie finally lays eyes on Carly, the lovefest is mutual. Maggie gets up on her hind legs, leans in toward Carly, and nuzzles.
“She’s hugging me.” Carly’s voice is barely a whisper but I can tell she’s about to explode. “A baby horse is hugging me!”
Mom explains that Maggie is actually not a baby but a full-grown adult horse. “You’re right about one thing, Carly—that is definitely a hug!”
I hope Mom doesn’t have to perform an extensive exam on Maggie because I’m not sure she’ll be able to tear Carly away.
I try to guide Carly and Maggie toward the waiting room seats where they’d be more comfortable but neither of them will move. I know this is a massive detour from focusing on my coding assignment but helping a friend in need is a bigger priority. Carly really needs this.
Mom talks us through the exam she’s giving Maggie—weighing her, checking her teeth, recording her heartbeat. She puts on her reading glasses and checks out Maggie’s front right hoof. “She’s got a hairline fracture here. She might need to see a farrier.”
I explain to Carly that a farrier is someone who specializes in horse hooves. It only happens once in a blue moon, so I never miss the opportunity to teach something new to Carly instead of the other way around.
Mom has always loved Carly and it’s nice to see them bonding throughout Maggie’s examination. I didn’t say anything to Mom about how Carly’s been acting lately but it almost seems as if she can tell that Carly needs some extra TLC.
“How about if I talk to Nancy at the equine-therapy organization?” Mom suggests. “Maybe see if you can spend more time with Maggie.”
Carly smiles as if she just won a lottery worth ten billion dollars.
“Would you mind keeping Maggie company while I make a few notes in her chart?” Mom gives me a wink as she leaves the room. I always knew moms had superpowers with their OWN kids, but mine seems to know what other kids need too. Maybe being a vet enhances her empathy for ALL creatures.
“This mini horse is too cute for words.” Carly snaps several selfies with Maggie. “My phone is going to run out of memory with all the photos I’m taking.”
I’m not as batty over the miniature horse as Carly is, but it IS pretty funny petting a horse the size of a Labrador retriever.
“Can you imagine if we took Maggie to school?” Carly asks. “Kids would go nuts!”
“She DOES go to schools,” I respond. “I guess we could ask.” As soon as the words leave my mouth and I see Carly’s eyes light up, I realize I’ve made a giant mistake. This idea is now permanently entrenched in Carly’s brain.
Let’s just hope my mom can pull enough strings to make this happen.
DAD TO THE RESCUE
By the time Carly leaves, it’s nearly six o’clock and Dad is putting the finishing touches on the chicken Caesar salad he made for dinner.
“Mom says it’s okay to start without her since she’s still working. What do you say we make this a living room picnic and throw on some old Looney Tunes?”
I tell him I’d love to watch classic cartoons, but I’ve put off my coding homework for long enough. “I should take this plate to go.”
Dad nods and serves some salad onto a plate. “One chicken Caesar for the road.”
I thank him and run up to my room to begin a night in front of the computer screen.
The assignment is to write a “computer program” for completing a commonplace, everyday task—like making a PB&J or tying your shoes. I flip open my laptop, crack my knuckles like all the hackers do in the movies … and that’s as far as I get before texting Umberto for help.
When he doesn’t respond, I try calling but get his voice mail. “I’m in over my head,” I say after the beep. “All I’ve ever coded before are those simple Angry Birds block patterns and writing my name in binary. This JavaScript format doesn’t make any sense. Call me back!”
As soon as I set down my phone, I hear two tiny taps on the side of my door. “Knock, knock,” Dad says. “Homework trouble?”
Instead of answering, I launch myself facedown onto my bed and let my legs hang over the edge.
Dad walks to my desk and picks up my assignment sheet. “Okay, so step one is to pick an everyday task. That shouldn’t be too hard. What’s something you do every day?”
“Yearn to be in comedy class,” I mumble into my comforter.
“Right now you look like you’re ready for bed, so why don’t you write code for that?”
I grunt into my pillow but Dad pulls me by the feet until I get up.
“So what are the steps in getting ready for bed?”
“Brushing my teeth?” I sit up and see Dad’s gaze shift the way it does when he’s got an idea. He sets down my assignment sheet and opens one of my sketchbooks.
“If I were animating Derek getting ready for bed, I would start with a storyboard.” His pencil moves across the page making the familiar rectangular panels he does every day for work. He hands me the book full of panels ready to be filled.
“First, I take a shower.” I draw a stick-figure version of me under running water. “Then I put on my pajamas.”
My pencil moves to the next box and I start to smile. Drawing has always been the easiest way for me to understand every subject in school—why would coding be any different? By changing how I think about approaching coding assignments, maybe I won’t find them to be such an enigma. Nice job, Dad.
He pats me on the shoulder and leaves me to my work. Not long after, I have six completed storyboard panels:
All I have to do now is follow the example on the assignment sheet and translate my drawings into code. THAT’S the tricky part.
I focus on the first drawing of stick-figure Derek in the shower and try to remember when Ms. Felix had us write our names in binary. I take my time and copy the sequence of commands and punctuation marks that translates my commands into the language of a computer program. Then I go back and swap out the pieces from the sample task with the steps of getting ready for bed.
It takes every ounce of willpower not to rush, but I’m glad when I double-check the assignment sheet and find a line in the instructions I had missed: MAKE SURE TO INCLUDE EVERY NECESSARY STEP. SKIPPING OVER JUST ONE COMMAND WILL RENDER YOUR CODE INOPERABLE.
I look over my six little Dereks in their story panels and the heavy feeling that my work is far from over starts to sink in. You can’t brush your teeth without grabbing some toothpaste and showers don’t just turn on by themselves. It kills me to have to go back and add in the additional steps, but the last thing I need is another graded assignment handed back to me with See me written at the top.
After what seems like an eternity, I finally hit save and I can’t believe my eyes:
// A program to get ready for bed.
var self = {
name: “Derek”,
a
ge: “12”,
job: “student”};
var house = {
address: “123 Internet Street”};
function getReadyForBed(){
// Use the Bathroom
self.walkToBathroom();
house.turnOnWater(“warm”, “bathroom”);
self.takeShower();
house.turnOffWater(“bathroom”);
self.dry(“towel”);
self.dressUpperBody(“pajamas”);
self.dressLowerBody(“pajamas”);
self.brushTeeth(“120 seconds”);
self.floss();
// Take Care of Bodi
self.goDownstairs();
house.turnOnLight(“kitchen”);
house.turnOnWater(“cool”, “kitchen”);
self.fillBowl(“water”);
house.turnOffWater(“kitchen”);
self.placeBowl(“floor”);
house.turnOffLight(“kitchen”);
self.goUpstairs();
// Wrap Up
self.greet(self.mom, self.dad);
self.walkTo(“bedroom”);
house.plugInPhone();
self. setAlarm(“6:30 a.m.”);
self.sleep();
}
getReadyForBed();
It took a lot longer than I wanted, but I did it—I wrote my first computer program without the help of a tutorial! My huge grin is interrupted by an even bigger yawn, and I decide it’s time to follow my own instructions and hit the hay.
I spend the rest of the weekend recovering from all the work with lots of YouTube. When I get to school on Monday, Umberto grabs me before I get to my locker.
“I’m sorry I never got back to you this weekend.” He pants as he catches his breath. “I got my phone taken away at the dinner table on Friday. Matt kept sending me videos of his routine and that made me laugh while my grandmother was telling us about her hip surgery.”
I tell him it’s okay and fill him in on Dad’s brilliant strategy to use drawing as a way to visualize coding. “Wait until you see what I did!” I dig into my backpack to show him the printout of my program, but the paper slips from my hands and slides across the hall.
I rush to retrieve it, but two black combat boots get to it first.
“Hi, Jade!” Umberto says.
I glare at him, but I’m also curious what the class genius will say about my program.
She looks it over and hands it back. “This yours?”
“Yeah.” I reach out to take it, still unable to read her reaction.
“Weird. I don’t know anyone who takes a shower with his clothes on.”
I guess I didn’t translate my drawings into code as well as I thought I did.
Jade drops the paper into my hands and walks off without another word, taking my self-esteem with her.
MS. FELIX SERVES UP SOME CODING
It’s not even lunchtime yet and Carly’s asked me a dozen times when she can see Maggie again. I begin to wonder if calling her over to meet the mini horse was such a good idea. The last thing Carly needs is something else to obsess over—not to mention we’re all pretty sick of feigning excitement whenever Carly shows us another picture of Maggie on her phone.
“If I hear one more comment about that pipsqueak pony, I’m going to puke,” Matt says.
“You’re just mad I called Carly instead of you,” I reply.
“That’s not true!”
“It’s a LITTLE true,” I say. “I only hope Mom can talk Maggie’s organization into letting Carly spend more time with the therapy horses.”
Matt buries his head in his hands. “Please don’t say there are MORE of them.”
As we head to the cafeteria, I make a mental note to restrain my equine enthusiasm around my best friend.
When I get to the front of the food line, Ms. Felix gives me the sign with her spatula wave. “You ready for class?” she asks. “Lots of new stuff to cover today.”
I nod and smile as if I am. Before I move down the counter, I linger a few seconds to see if she might scoop a few extra meatballs on my plate, but she doesn’t. Claudia Jordan is behind me and nudges me to move on.
I spot Umberto at our usual table and am a little discouraged to see HE got extra meatballs. Why did I think Ms. Felix would reward a slacker like me?
When Umberto opens repl.it—the sharing platform we use in class—I’m shocked to see how many pages of coding he did. “Dude, how long did that take you?”
Umberto shrugs. “I don’t know—two hours?”
His comment makes me almost choke on my meatball, and Ms. Tatreaux hurries toward me like she’s about to give me the Heimlich maneuver. Luckily, I swallow before half the school can watch a kindergarten teacher save me from choking.
One of Umberto’s great qualities is that he never rubs how smart he is in your face. Instead of gloating about his coding skills, he changes the subject and asks me if I noticed Ms. McCoddle’s new tattoo. She got a rose on her wrist last year and just added a new one of an orchid on her other arm.
“If she keeps adding flowers, we’re going to have to start watering her,” Umberto adds.
I nod as if I’m listening but all I can think about is how my coding assignment is so much lamer than Umberto’s. And according to Jade, my program calls for a fully clothed shower. I don’t even want to THINK about the perfect lines of code SHE came up with.
Why did I ever let my parents convince me to take this impossibly hard elective?! Matt may be the one in comedy class, but the joke’s on me.
LESS FUN BY THE MINUTE
My rants must be getting on Umberto’s nerves because as we head down the hall after school, he stops in his tracks and almost shouts, “Derek, you VOLUNTEERED to take this class; no one coerced you to learn something new.”
I beg to differ, but I know that arguing with him won’t make things better. The first thing I see as we enter coding class is a crowd of kids surrounding Jade’s desk.
“Pirate Kittens is more fun than Candy Crush!” Maria says. “I can’t believe someone I know made such an awesome game.”
“It’s so fast,” Taylor adds. “And the graphics are incredible.”
Has Jade always gone to this school or did she transfer into this class just to make me look bad? I sneak a peek over Maria’s shoulder in time to see Jade navigate to her dashboard and hit share.
“Now you guys can play Pirate Kittens whenever you want,” Jade says. “Knock yourselves out.”
The horde of eager gamers race to their phones to enjoy the game.
“I’m too busy to play any new games,” I tell Jade. “You don’t have to share it with me.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t.” She doesn’t even look up.
“Good afternoon!” Ms. Felix bounces into the room as if she hadn’t already worked a full day. I wish I had some of that energy right about now.
What’s Jade’s problem, anyway?
Ms. Felix asks us if we watched the tutorials and did the assignments. She’s thrilled when every hand goes up.
“Before you took this class, how many of you used to watch coding tutorials on YouTube?”
Almost half the class raises their hands. I had no idea so many kids watched YouTube to LEARN things.
“How many of you already know JavaScript?” she continues.
The number of raised hands decreases but Umberto, Taylor, and Jade continue to hold theirs up.
“Anyone know Python? Or HTML?”
The only hand left up belongs to Jade.
Ms. Felix digs around in her giant purse and pulls out her phone. “It used to take a whole room to harness the computing power you kids now carry around in your pockets.”
This isn’t going to be one of those “In my day” speeches, is it?
Ms. Felix waves her phone in the air. “But these devices are also like slot machines—we check them a zillion times a day to see if we've won. Even if you get mentioned in a post or someone shoots you a text, you’re still losing be
cause you gave away your attention for free.”
I’m confused—is Ms. Felix for or against technology?
“Over a billion people on the planet use smartphones—and only two companies control almost every one of them,” she continues. “The reason I’m teaching this class is so you kids can have a stake in how your brains get used. I want you to be in control of where your minds go, not a roomful of engineers competing for your attention 24/7. Technology isn’t neutral. Kids who code will be shaping the future of the planet. THAT’S why I’m here. It’s why you should be here too.”
I’ve heard rumblings about the “attention economy,” mostly when Mr. Ennis taught that YouTube class. But I’ve never heard anyone be so urgent in her or his views as Ms. Felix is now.
Do any of my classmates think about this stuff or am I the only one happy to just swipe and play? Are we going to learn to make games and apps in this class or what? Is it bad that I just want to animate some of my stick figures and have FUN?
Finally, Ms. Felix glances at the list of students in front of her. “Okay, Jade, why don’t you share your work with us?”
“I already did,” she answers.
With everyone but me.
“Let me rephrase the question,” Ms. Felix says. “Why don’t you come on up here and show us what you’ve created?”
Jade plods her combat boots to the front of the room. “It’s nothing extravagant,” she sighs and pulls out her phone. “Mind if I mirror?”
My Life as a Coder Page 3
