Today, I had a really great conversation with a fellow Recurser who said something that truly got me thinking. We were talking about our preparing for interviews, and the books we were using to review, and the ways that we liked learning. And I mentioned that I really wanted to have a deep understanding of data structures and algorithms (and computer hardware and software, and databases, and math and logical reasoning, and so on…) because during school I never felt like I got to learn for the sake of it. With all the things that there were to get done in and out of school, I often found myself jerryrigging my understanding well enough to do just well enough but never to my liking. We talked about how incredible it was to be able to learn about these concepts in depth and feel like you’re a part of the continuity of all the things that people have learned and discovered. How strange is it that it took hundreds, thousands of YEARS and countless minds and incremental progress handed down and stirred over and over to bring into form the concepts that we take for granted today. That we teach people concepts that were at one point the cutting-edge of mathematical and computational thinking, expect them to absorb and perform them within the matter of a few weeks, starve many of them of the joy and curiosity that they actively wish for, and then often refuse to provide context for the things they’re learning for the sake of practicality.

Despite the near constant barrage from school, I somehow managed to protect my desire to learn for the sake of it. In fact, it may just have been seeing how many things there were to learn that kept it alive. I always wanted to understand things to the deepest level possible, so that they could feel like truths. The first time I understood proof by induction was like finding out the universe was hearing my cries for justification all along. I had many math teachers who tried to be encouraging, but often seemed to fallback on a fixed mindset based sink or swim approach. Once a teacher of mine attempted to have us “guide our own learning” by removing all structured lectures and “allowing us to teach ourselves.” Having no framework, no reference, and very little time to make sense of what that would mean, I floundered HARD. Mustering up the courage to ask for help was rebounded by a hearty “FIGURE IT OUT!” and a self-assured smile. What I was asking for then was just a bit more perspective. I watched as my peers separated further and further into two groups of varying performances, and I was unfortunately (to me at the time) in the half that was struggling. What this mentality failed to account for, and what I had never even considered then, was that learning was often a group effort. All of the people who created the axioms and tools you use also had to arrive there on the basis of what others had left for them. Not to mention, many of those top students had private tutors or often came from families with STEM backgrounds, who were available to them to answer their questions, guide their learning, and fill in the gaps. None of this I could see. None of this my teacher could see. And when I asked what I could be doing wrong, I was told in response: “Some kids just don’t have it.”

I was crestfallen. But what evidence did I have to fight it? Maybe this was just my wall. But I wanted so badly to know, to understand what was in front of me. I knew that somehow to someone that it made sense. If it did make sense, and the math was right, then eventually I could come to understand it. And if it didn’t, then maybe my confusion was actually a math-redefining discovery that should have been making national press. So, I figured, where was the loss? The answer was in the form of a high speed curriculum that flew past in the blink of an eye. At night, nose to my textbook, I thought about how if only I had more time, more sleep, more energy, then maybe I’d find out that it was all intelligible to me. And often, when there was time, it later was. But constrained by the clock, I began to wonder if someone with a brain like mine was truly capable of learning anything complex in a world like this.

I hate for this to sound like a bitter diatribe against school and teachers. I loved a lot of aspects of school, and when the circumstances permitted, I flourished. But I often found myself wishing to just have the time I needed to learn for its own sake. So when my fellow Recurser provided me with this wonderful context, it had brought me the perspective I so long wished for: “When you’re studying like this, looking for the why and the how and the when, you’re doing just what they would have had to do. You can think of yourself like a researcher, too.” I don’t think I can quite overstate how freeing a thought this is for me. To realize in that moment, that yes, this curiosity, this desire to stay with something and understand it fully is not just some impractical quirk, but something that, honed and nurtured correctly, can be an engine and support for dancing with the most incredible sorts of ideas. In the years gone by, I’ve learned how to manage deadlines and curiosity for its own sake. Schedules aside, things need to get done. But this conversation helped me to realize the freedom I have now to learn - anything, EVERYTHING, in my own time at my own pace.

So when I sit down, reading about binary search trees, creating chunks of information in my head, I try to remind myself not of the interview deadlines, but the joy I’ll have the day after I get the offer, and after I start the job, and well into my software engineering career. Of all the different ways I might use them, or the ways they may combine with other things I’ve yet to learn, or foundation they could provide for some incredible feat I’ve yet to accomplish. I’m a sucker for schmaltz, and you could probably only believe how sincere I am about this if you know me. But I’m glad I finally have my answer to why I’m learning: simply put, it’ll be fun!