When I was in kindergarten, I didn’t pass tying my shoes. I don’t recall what I did pass, nor can I find the little card with everything that I passed. No, I remember only what I didn’t pass: tying my shoes.

I wonder how kindergarten teachers have modified that checklist nowadays with the advent of Velcro shoes with colored lights that flash every time a kindergartner moves. Do they assess to see if kindergartners can “Velcro” or not?

And what about lacing shoes? Burkard Polster wrote a book called The Shoelace Book A Mathematical Guide to the Best (and Worst) Ways to Lace Your Shoes. Polster is a math lecturer at Monash University in Australia and a self-described Mathemagician, mathematical juggler, origami expert, bubble-master, shoelace charmer, and Count von Count impersonator. Polster posed the following questions as a means to solve problems with your shoelaces, such as broken shoelaces or shoelaces that come undone and trip you.

“What is the shortest way to lace your shoes?”

“What is the strongest way to lace your shoes?”

“How many ways are there to lace your shoes?”

And he answered them with pretty, spherical diagrams and really complex mathematical formulas.

Now before you can say “Who cares,” I will share that the last question intrigued me the most. Among the seven variations he found, described, diagramed and formulized were: 1) criss-cross lacings, 2) simple and super straight lacings, 3) zigzag lacings, 4) bow-tie lacings, 5) star lacings, 6) devil lacings, and 7) angel lacings.

I recall the blank computer screen that became a world of color, words, and images with code and numbers for the colors. I was amazed! My 20-something classmates were slightly amused at my reaction.  

I never knew there were so many different ways to lace your shoes. I am only familiar with the criss-cross method. And, based on the complexity of the diagrams for the other ones, I don’t know that I’ll even try learning them. Good thing I wasn’t assessed on shoe lacing too.

I tried to find a current kindergartner success assessment checklist, but I couldn’t find anything simple like I had growing up. Now there are tables and charts and pages upon detailed pages with criteria for reading, writing, math, science, and social studies all tied to Department of Public Instruction guidelines and regulations.

I didn’t see anything there about the ability to use a computer, but I bet most kindergartners are familiar with computers before they enter school, either in utero from Mom using her iPad or resting on Dad’s hip while he’s keyboarding (not to mention playing computer games).

Recently, I became aware of Code.org, a nonprofit organization formed to “grow” computer programming education. Its slogan is “Anybody can learn.” Its website quotes Steve Jobs in The Lost Interview: “I think everybody in this country should learn how to program a computer because it teaches you how to think.”

Yes, anybody can learn. I am proof of that. I first learned how to code in 2009-10 as a baby boomer in a classroom of millennials at UW-Eau Claire. When my advisor heard that I was computer science major, he called me into his office and tried to talk me out of it. I pointed to the poster hanging in the hallway: “Computer Science. Not for Geeks Anymore.” And when I shared that I was going for the certificate in Web design and development, a look of relief spread across his face.

I agree with Jobs that learning to code expanded my thinking capability. Most of the time, it made my head hurt … literally. I would not have passed my courses if not for aspirin, my 20-something classmates, and my stellar tutor from the “Geek Girls” Women in Technology group on campus.

For years before when I was the content specialist in a different work world, I had collaborated with computer programmers and Web developers to produce websites. We might have met in a conference room where we’d brainstorm, and I’d sketch out the pages on a whiteboard. More likely, we’d meet in a bar after work, and they’d leave with sketches on cocktail napkins around 7pm. By 7am, the next day, I’d have a website to review. Amazing!

So when I learned to code, it was with the wonder of a kindergartner. I recall the first time I created “Hello World” with a photo of my professor’s puppy dog. I recall the blank computer screen that became a world of color, words, and images with code and numbers for the colors. I was amazed! My 20-something classmates were slightly amused at my reaction. And why not? They had grown up with computers.

I had not. For me, computers arrived about the time I was their age. So when I came across Code.org and was asked to sign my name to the petition saying “Every student in every school should have the opportunity to learn to code,” I did. “Coding for Kindergartners” has a nice ring to it. And with homegrown companies like JAMF Software springing up in our midst, why wouldn’t we start teaching computer programming in kindergarten, right here, right now, in the Chippewa Valley?