When I close my eyes and think about all the things I would ideally be able to fit into a day, it’s not hard to list them off: a good workout; three healthy meals, sometimes shared with friends; attending all of my classes well-prepared, awake, and ready to learn; marching band rehearsal; ROTC meetings; 4+ hours of homework; at least 8 hours of sleep; a phone call to a friend or family member I haven’t talked to recently; at least an hour of quiet time for reading or meditation.  In the future, days would also include time spent with a significant other and, maybe eventually, even kids.

In practice, however, there is no way, at least that I can see, for all of these things to fit into 24 hours. And it is for this reason that I have not yet, and doubt I will ever be able to, strike an ideal work-life balance.

I didn’t grow up with strong examples of a good work-life balance. My dad’s job in the military demanded that he be ready to mobilize and fight at any time of year, even at any of the day; he was often deployed for weeks or months at a time away from our family, working around the clock and taking “go pills” (extreme military prescription energy pills) to fly for his missions. Even after retiring and moving into the private sector a few years ago, he continues to regularly work 12+ hour days and does overnight shifts on top of that almost every weekend. My mom, who poured all of her time into raising me and my siblings as a stay-at-home mom, also had a schedule that demanded all of the energy she possibly had to offer at all hours of the day. I was incredibly lucky to feel loved and supported throughout my childhood, but I realize now that I really never had any healthy examples of how to have a robust working life, while also participating equally in raising a family, let alone have hobbies or free time of your own.

To be fair, I really don’t think it’s even possible to have the perfect balance of family time and work time, especially in the military, and especially as a woman. Due to the nature of the career path I’ve chosen, I will be expected to put service before self (the first Air Force core value), perhaps being required to sacrifice my own security and desires for my job. On top of that, I know that if I have a family in the future, it will be very important for me to spend as much time with them as possible and to have a very active role in raising my kids, as a result of having an awesome stay-at-home mom myself. These two things – having a robust, demanding career, and putting stay-at-home-mom-levels of time and energy into a family – are simply not compatible in my mind. And maybe that’s okay.

When we are asked to picture our futures, often we do idealistically picture “having it all” – the flashy, big-money job; the picturesque family; a bustling social life. But when I consider what I really care about, and what I actually want my life to be, I’m not sure that’s what I really want. I have a hard time picturing myself in a super competitive, high-speed job long-term; I don’t even see myself in a typical 8-to-5 office job. Instead, I picture having a wonderful family who I spend a lot of time with, a few close friends that really matter to me, and a quiet job that might not bring in a lot of money but that I really care about, maybe in education or social work or conservation work. Just as the author of “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All” puts it, I would like to “stop talking about whether women can have it all… [and instead] properly focus on how we can help all Americans have healthy, happy, productive lives, valuing the people they love as much as the success they seek.” And even though I wouldn’t have time to fit in every single thing I would like to into my days, I would enjoy the things that I AM able to fit in – and I think that’s maybe as close as any of us can possibly get to “having it all”.

Being upperclassmen in college, my classmates are in the throes of securing the right internship, getting the right job, getting on the right career path – emphasis on “right”. There is so much pressure to do all of these things “right”, right off the bat – get the right experience, say the right things in your interview, etc. But my question is, why is our value as young people just entering the job force often correlated only with our classes or internship experience, rather than what we value and what we have to offer as people?

Now, since I am a ROTC cadet, I don’t have to deal with this stressful process if I don’t want to. My “job interview” is my performance in the program every day for four years. It becomes clear over that long period of time what one’s strengths and weaknesses are, how motivated and hard-working one is (or is not), how much one cares about the job. Small mistakes can be lost in the greater context of how one performs over the several years. Not only do the “interviewers” have the opportunity to really get to know the person who wants the job, but the “interviewee” has the opportunity to get to know the organization (the United States Air Force) better, consider whether or not they feel like they fit in with the culture, think about whether or not it is the place they want to work, etc. Of course, this extended process cannot be replicated in a typical job interview, but I do think it perhaps raises the question of how interviews could seek to know the person, in addition to their experience or skills.

I experienced first-hand the great contrast before how CS job interviews are typically conducted versus how I wish they were conducted when I interviewed for jobs for last summer. My top two choices for summer positions were a technical internship at a very large defense contracting company, and a position on a trail crew with an Americorps conservation corps. My interview for the CS/engineering position went well, I thought – the interviewer looked through my resume, asked me a couple of questions about specific classes I’ve taken, and my experience working with different programs or tasks. I got the position, and was poised to take it, as it aligned very well with where I wanted to be location-wise this summer, what I’m studying, etc.

But then I interviewed with RMYC, the conservation corps in Colorado. My interviewer didn’t really mention anything about my resume, except to comment that it must be cold and snowy up in Indiana. He then proceeded to ask me a few deep, personal questions: What did I think about leadership? How do I resolve conflict? What do I care about, or hope to get out of my summer experience? He listened carefully to my answers, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to me as a person beyond my resume. This position did require some technical skills – knowledge of tools, camping, hiking – but he didn’t ask about those things (which is good, considering I had never even touched a tent – let alone any trail tools – in my life!). He wanted to determine if I, as a person, was a right fit for the company and position – and only then talked about willingness and ability to prepare for the specific position tasks. I felt valued and cared about, and despite by complete lack of readiness for the job, I took the position. It ended up being perhaps the best experience of my life thus far.

Of course there are merits to considering technical knowledge and experience in interviews for technical positions; however, I think this often happens at the expense of really getting to know the interviewee. In order to get to know a person better, and in order to make that person feel heard, valued, and excited about the position, companies must go beyond those technical interview techniques to get to know the whole person. This may make the interview process slower or less “efficient”, but in the end will most likely lead to companies hiring the right people for their culture and that position, and creating a better relationship between them and their employees. And hopefully this would erase the idea that there is a “right” way to do things, instead making young people feel like they have value for the job as they are, and lessening the pressure to compete for the career paths that seem “right” on paper but perhaps don’t align with what they care about or are striving for.

We live in a society where people like to place things into boxes: this job is good/bad; this person is male/female; this opinion is wrong/right. Things that can be clearly defined and shaded into either black or white are neat and make sense; gray areas are confusing, messy, and disordered. It is in this gray area that computer science makes itself at home.

Computer science defies easy classification or “boxing in”. It is a discipline that has structures and accepted practices, but also one that is constantly evolving and adapting to the requirements of our current technology and industry. Computer science questions often have clearly defined boundaries, problems, and rules, but also require creativity to reach the best possible solution with the most efficient and useful approach. Code is composed of many steps, structures, and sequences that are connected together in a specific order, but is aimed at robustly solving a big-picture problem, the details of which may change. Code is often written by individuals, but computer science as a discipline requires collaboration in order to create methods and products that can fit our changing needs and goals.

Computer science is an art discipline, because it encourages – even requires – that individuals express their creativity in order to find the best way to solve a problem; over time, this process of risk-taking and imaginative problem-solving leads to coding practices being more refined and useful.  Computer science is a science discipline, because it requires a systematic cycle of trial, error, and observation in order to figure out what works best; computer science is never static, it is always expanding and changing as we continue to think and push our perceived boundaries. And computer science is also an engineering discipline, because it relies on some basic, measurable principles and rules (coding language syntax, x86, etc.) that provide a starting point for any new task or problem. Each computer scientist’s code is a result and an expression of their individual conceptualization of the problem at hand, foundational understanding of coding practices, and creative thought.

These seemingly paradoxical and conflicting attributes are what make the task of classifying computer science so messy; however, it is also these attributes and this messiness that make computer science so relevant and important in our world today. In my opinion, it does not matter for the practitioner nor for society how computer science is classified, because it is not the type of discipline that makes it so adaptable and modern; rather, it is how the originality of the individuals within the field, and how they share ideas with one another, are valued. Many other fields could benefit from the collaboration, idea- and information-sharing, and willingness to take risks that is seen pretty much across the board in computer science.

Computer science exists outside of any sort of “box”, resulting from the various talents, needs, and creativity of those who choose to become a part of it. It is this ability to change with our fast-paced world, derived from the contributions and ideas of the many people in computer science, that makes the discipline so essential and lucrative. Computer scientists don’t have time to hang out in boxes, because they’re too busy trying out new ideas and brainstorming new processes that will continue to push the field farther into the gray area.

In today’s world, coding is undoubtedly a skill that is important, marketable, and cool. Coding can be used to create products that make our world run more efficiently; it enables us to communicate with computers such that they operate as we direct them to; results of coding can, indeed, even improve our world, push the limits of what we thought was possible, and challenge us to do more and to think bigger. But is coding a superpower? I say no.

First of all, calling coding a superpower totally downplays the amount of hard work that goes into mastering new coding languages, syntaxes, and concepts. Like learning any other skill, learning to code, for anyone, requires a considerable amount of time and effort. Spending hours learn how to use a class, or create a structure, or trying to debug a program that was only missing a random semicolon is all part of the process of learning to code – it’s not something you’re born with, and it’s not something that you are going to be able to get right every single time. Coding is a constant learning process, and one that continues to morph and shapeshift as our needs and technologies continue to develop.

Calling coding a superpower also implies that the skill of coding is unattainable, or unavailable to the general public. While some people may be able to pick up on these things more naturally than others, anyone who is willing to put in the effort to learn can attain a reasonable level of coding skill. Unlike superpowers, which are inherently impossible for the average person to attain, all it takes to become good at coding is the drive to learn and to challenge yourself (which, in my opinion, is way cooler than just being handed a talent anyway). Moreover, while coding ability does depend on each individual’s motivation, it is also a result of collective contributions. The way that we code largely comes about by people brainstorming together and working off one another’s ideas, so also unlike a superpower, it’s an inherently community-oriented concept that grows as we do. Not only are individuals able to harness and obtain this skill, it is necessary that they do for the continuation of the relevance of coding.

Most dangerously, however, I think that thinking of coding as a superpower over-emphasizes its importance and necessity, and diminishes the contribution of other skills or tools in society. Coding on its own cannot save the world. People might be able to use coding skills and practices to create products, promote ideas, or spread information that may contribute to bettering the world, but it is just one of the tools that people have to affect change. Calling coding a superpower diminishes the value of other skills, talents, and even limitations that different people possess, thereby minimizing the ideas of individual responsibility and individual impact in the world.

Everyone, whether they can code or not, possesses something valuable that they can use to affect change; the real superpowers in our world are those unique skills or talents each of us finds and cultivates within ourselves to make the world a better place.

Hi there! My name is Megan, and I’m a senior Computer Science and Chinese double major at Notre Dame. I’m studying CS because I think it is one of the most important skills to have in today’s world, and I enjoy the way studying computer science topics challenges me to think and approach problems in new ways. Plus, learning how to communicate and interact with computers by using different “languages” is a super cool concept – and one that can be used to change the world.

Outside of class, I am active in several diverse roles on campus, including being the Cadet Commander of Air Force ROTC, playing the trumpet in University of Notre Dame Marching Band, and leading tours as a tour guide for the University. Last summer, I worked with an Americorps conservation corps for 10 weeks doing trail work in Colorado. This year, I have the opportunity to be a part of the McNeill Leadership Fellows Program through the Center for Social Concerns, through which I hope to integrate my summer experiences with my ROTC leadership training and Notre Dame experiences in order to connect more deeply with the community – locally, nationally, and internationally – through service and education.

While I do enjoy studying computer science and think that it is important in the world we live in, I don’t think it is the single thing that makes the world go ’round – and in my opinion, this is currently the most pressing problem within the computer science community. Computer science is NOT the only way to change the world; in fact, I think that the products of computer science skills can sometimes even inhibit change, relationship building, and human connection and understanding. It bothers me how much divisiveness, disconnectedness, and manipulation can result from the use of computer science skills and jobs; the most obvious examples of this come from social media, marketing tactics, etc. How can we personalize what we code so that it actually improves human relationships, social inequality, etc.?

In the scope of how the world operates, how can we view computer science skills, and the products that result from them, as one tool we can use to accomplish change, rather than the ONLY option or tool to use? How do we ensure that we are using technology for the common good, as a tool to serve the whole population, rather than to benefit those of privilege? At the same time, how do we use technology for our benefit, while also retaining some of the good old fashioned hard work and struggle that is, in my opinion, a critical part of the process of working towards a goal or objective. These are some of the questions I hope to explore over the course of this semester.

At the end of the day, while computer science skills can be used to affect change, it is important to remember that coding is just one tool in our collective toolbox for making this happen – it is NOT the end-all-be-all of how each of us can work to make the world a better place.