My First Lines of Code
I remember the first time I wrote code—in 5th grade, scribbling basic HTML and CSS in Notepad. It wasn't much, just a simple website with a bright background and some overly-large text, but watching it come to life on the screen felt like magic. It was the first time I realized I could build something from nothing, and that feeling stuck with me.
By high school, that curiosity became something I could shape. I found my place in ROP class that blended classroom learning with hands-on industry skills. In Multimedia Design, I learned Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, and Web Design (though DreamWeaver is all but a relic now). I wasn't just writing code; I was creating and experimenting, and I couldn't get enough of it.
Outside the classroom, I stayed busy. I wrestled, raced BMX—becoming a national champion for my age bracket—and played in a band with friends. These experiences taught me how to push through challenges, adapt quickly, and collaborate with others.
But as high school ended, so did that sense of direction. I knew I enjoyed technology, but I didn't think it was something I could persue. I didn't have anyone around me to show that tech could be a viable career. I always assumed it was only for the smart kids.
Searching For Direction
Starting college as a first-generation student was a reality check. With no clear direction and average grades, I sought advice from my academic counselor. His advice was practical but limiting—suggesting a path in liberal arts.
So, I chose Economics, thinking maybe I’d go into business. I dabbled in Political Science, picturing myself in activism or public policy. I was in honors courses and felt like I was on the right track, but the truth is, I had no idea what I really wanted. I was throwing pasta at the wall, hoping something would stick.
Eventually, I decided to step away from school to pursue non-profit work. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I could have made. Not only did it give me the space to reflect and figure things out, but it opened doors to the incredible field of Social and Human Services.
Somewhere along the way, something changed.
Finding My Path to Tech
During the pandemic, I suddenly had a lot of free time. My company shut down, and there are only so many guitar pedals you can collect before you start losing your mind. I found solace in tinkering with Raspberry Pi and Python to pass the time. While diving into Computer Engineering as a hobby was fun, I realized I wanted more.
I decided to enroll at a local university to study Computer Science, and from day one, I was hooked. I explored topics like Finite Automata, Software Engineering lifecycles, Discrete Math, Lexical Analyzers, and Operating Systems. I wasn’t just interested—I was obsessed.
But as much as I loved learning, something felt off. I could grasp the theory, but I couldn't connect it to real-world software.
The STEM Education Gap
For years, there’s been a conversation about whether universities are truly preparing STEM students for the real world. Although it’s nearly seven years old, Matt Bettis captured this well in his article 'How STEM Education Is Failing Students and How to Fix It'.
He points out how schools focus on academic achievement but often neglect to teach resourcefulness. You can master the textbooks and pass the exams without ever applying those skills in meaningful, practical ways.
The reality is, universities can only take you so far. My school held ABET accreditation, meaning the curriculum was on par with more prestigious schools and met industry standards—yet when it came to recruiting, companies weren’t looking in our direction. I assumed that as long as I followed the path laid out in front of me, opportunities would naturally follow.
Looking back, I realize that wasn’t the case. I relied too much on the idea that earning a degree was the ticket to success. But success in tech isn’t about the coursework. It’s about creating your own momentum through projects, networking, and staying curious outside the classroom.
I wasn’t failed by the system. I failed to recognize what I could control.
Chasing the Web Dev Dream
During the pandemic, tech bootcamps and influencers flooded the internet, promising “Get a job in 3 months!” Even though I was already enrolled in a 4-year university, I bought in. I believed there was some hidden shortcut to success, and apparently, it started with JavaScript. Frameworks and tools felt like magic, letting me build quickly while skipping the hard parts. I thought this was my breakthrough moment.
I did everything by the book. I learned JavaScript, HTML, and CSS like a proper front-end developer. Then I found React and started building more complex applications. Wanting more, I dabbled in cloud databases and backend systems. My database design class helped more than I expected, but outside of that, I was stuck in a cycle of learning “just enough” to move on but never mastering anything.
The problem? I spread myself thin. I learned a little bit of everything but never specialized. Decision fatigue became my biggest obstacle, more than any lack of resources or talent.
At the time, it felt like tech was booming and there was space for everyone. But I’ve realized that the “quick ticket to success” narrative doesn’t hold up anymore. The industry is shifting, and those who stand out are the ones who commit, dive deep, and build real expertise.
Leaning on Tools, Losing the Skills
Just when I felt like I was starting to make progress, AI changed the game. Suddenly, the skills I spent two years developing felt obsolete overnight.
And the truth is, I was already heading in that direction. I realized I was leaning too heavily on tools, which inspired me to strengthen my foundational knowledge. Productivity hacks, automation, and pre-built templates let me skip the hard parts, but they also kept me from understanding what I was doing. It felt efficient, but in reality, I was just auto-completing my way through development.
Don’t get me wrong—making technology more accessible is one of the best things to happen to society. Everyone deserves quality resources and education. But it forced me to confront a tough reality:
The tech you choose matters less than the abilities you build.
There’s no shortcut to success. Networking and connections help, but your skills and dedication carry the most weight. Learning to build websites is great, it’s fun and practical (well, aside from CSS), but the key is to pick a direction and stick with it.
At the end of the day, there’s no easy path—just your path. The one you carve out and stay committed to. Find what excites you and learn everything you can.
Swimming Toward Growth
Now, with a freshly minted Computer Science degree, I’ve been reflecting—not on whether I’m employable or smart enough, but on how I approach learning.
I worked hard, earned my degree, and built some exciting projects along the way. At first, I felt like I was treading water, but I knew growth was possible if I changed how I approached things. I spent too much time chasing productivity hacks, automation, and quick wins. This meant skipping the messy, difficult, and, honestly, the most rewarding parts. I was building to impress, not to understand.
Now, it’s sink or swim, and I’m choosing to swim. I’ve stopped treating tools like magic shortcuts and started breaking them down piece by piece. I’m asking why things work, not just how to make them work. It’s not about getting hired as fast as possible; it’s about becoming the best developer I can be.