Last fall I took Comp 11, the basic computer science class at Tufts. For an Art History/Classical Studies double major, that move seemed insane. But I needed a math credit and a bunch of my friends had taken the course, so I figured why not try something completely new? If you asked me to sit down and make Ticketmaster in C++ (our first project) I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do it without a substantial amount of review. But if you asked me about the big ideas, I could tell you no problem: abstraction, modularity, and divide, conquer, and glue.
Out of these, it’s divide, conquer, and glue that has stuck with me the most. Basically, the idea is that every problem can be broken down into smaller ones that are more manageable and easier to solve. Ticketmaster is insanely complex, but when you take it apart, you see that you need an array of seats, which is filled by an input, and then printed (shown) to the user. If you scan the array and there are seats, you put the input name in the specified number of seats. If there are no seats, you tell the user to try again. Now, that’s still relatively complex in terms of the knowledge needed to code just that program, but the step-by-step explanation sounds better than “make Ticketmaster,” right?
This mindset has followed me well past the Comp 11 final exam. It’s helpful when I’m writing any old essay for a class, but the true value of this big idea shows when I’m looking down the barrel of something so incredibly large. For me right now, it’s job applications, but I suspect for a number of you, it’s college applications. You’ve been hearing about them for years and now it’s almost over. Some of you are already finished with your applications, and to you I give a huge virtual hug and hearty congratulations. On the other hand, I’m sure some of you are still working, and I’m here to say that’s okay too. For me, the 2010 holiday season was a mad soul search combined with a scramble to spell check EVERYTHING, and a last minute check to make sure that I had not mistaken 700 characters for 700 words (which I did—twice!).
It all felt so huge and so hectic and impossible to handle. I was working right until the last minute, and I remember how those last few essays seem the hardest. You’ve already written everything that needs to be written and now you have to do it again? And in 250 words? Yikes. It was at this point that I panicked hard. I remember more than multiple writing sessions ending in tears and self-imposed isolation until I had written something, anything. Here’s where I could have used divide, conquer, and glue.
Rather than allow my senior-self to freak out about those four untouched applications, I wish I could tell my senior-self to take a deep breath and unpack those essays into their component parts. Take a sip of tea and jot down how these problems can be “solved.” Take those observations and write some small ideas or phrases, and then stitch them together into a coherent essay. Leave that aside, do something else, then come back for a final revision. Not bad, huh?
Easier said than done, my senior-self wants to say. That’s true, but remember that these last essays are no different than the ones before. You all might be feeling the crunch (I certainly did), but remember that these staggeringly large essays can be taken apart. Your job is to break each question down until you feel comfortable tackling it. Even the broadest “let your life speak” can become a narrow essay on how your mom always bought you those magnetic words and you learned how to write a haiku by rearranging them on the fridge. So while the deadline looms large (you can do it!) and you get started on those last few apps, remember to divide, conquer, and glue. Good luck!