<h1>Hello, World!</h1>
That simple line of HTML launched a fascination and love for this hocus pocus people call “coding.” I was first introduced to programming in high school (class of 2007, baby!), but never pursued it beyond that initial web design class and some super awesome petpages on Neopets. Instead, like the daring heroine in your favorite fantasy novel, I “refused the call” and tried a bunch of other stuff instead.
First, I got a degree in English Literature, my other true love. Talk books with me, and we’ll be best friends in no time. As it turns out, however, there isn’t a super high demand for literary analysis and Shakespeare quotes in the professional world. I did a little of this, a little of that, and then I went back to school.
This time, I enrolled in an alternative licensure program for elementary education. Basically, it’s a coding bootcamp for teaching. You teach in a real classroom, by yourself (none of that student-teaching nonsense), and go to class on Saturdays for two years. So I was a second grade teacher, and I loved it… Well, most of it… Okay, only parts of it. Teaching is rough. It takes a toll on your body, on your emotions, on your relationships, and your sanity.
I loved my students. It was such a joy to celebrate their successes and support them through their struggles. One of my proudest moments was seeing the lightbulb go off when I explained that, “No, honey, black and white pictures from the olden days aren’t that way because EVERYTHING was black and white in real life. They just didn’t have color cameras yet.” Seeing an entire classroom of tiny humans realize that their great-great-grandparents didn’t live in the boring Kansas of The Wizard of Oz made my entire teaching career worth it.
I also loved my coworkers. I was blessed with the best teammate ever (she’s coming over for dinner tonight), and the rest of the teaching staff was equally amazing. They taught me the value of solid professional relationships, how to recognize when someone needed extra support, and how to graciously accept help (even when I was cranky and didn’t want it). I will be forever grateful for the lessons my teaching family taught me.
Despite the many wonderful people involved in my teaching career, I quickly felt like it just wasn’t the right fit. I felt stifled creatively by a rigid curriculum, unrealistic testing expectations, and silly rules. For example, our district had a “no unnatural hair colors” rule, and apparently, “rainbow hair” is considered unnatural. I love children, but I don’t love being responsible for keeping them alive. This is why I have dogs. When a student’s heart stopped briefly in the middle of my writing lesson, I knew for sure that my own heart could not take it anymore. I resigned from my full time teaching position at the end of that year and began the difficult process of soul searching while getting up at two in the morning to teach English to kids in China. I knew I needed to find something radically different from what I was doing, but I didn’t know where to start.
This past April, something magical happened. I traveled to Silicon Valley on a business trip with my technical writer husband. While he spent his days working at the Clover headquarters, I got to explore the area. The most amazing thing happened: I found a bunch of nerds! They were Just. Like. Me. People were walking around with cool hair, expressive outfits, classic novels, and fancy-pants computers, all while sipping their tasty bubble tea.
We went for dinner with my husband’s team one evening, and they were simply the most encouraging bunch of strangers I’ve ever met. Despite my very limited technical knowledge, they made me believe I belonged in this space with them. I could (and should!!!) join them on this magical technical adventure. I returned home excited and inspired, and I’ve kept up the momentum ever since.
Now I’m here, a full-time Software Engineering student at Flatiron School. I’m finally “answering the call” on my personal heroine’s journey, and I can’t wait to see what the universe throws at me next.