TITLE: Thoughts on Software and Teaching from Last Week's Reading AUTHOR: Eugene Wallingford DATE: January 09, 2023 12:19 PM DESC: ----- BODY: I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing here more regularly. In the early days of my blog, I posted quick snippets every so often. Here's a set to start 2023. • Falsework From A Bridge Over a River Never Crossed:
Funnily enough, traditional arch bridges were built by first having a wood framing on which to lay all the stones in a solid arch (YouTube). That wood framing is called falsework, and is necessary until the arch is complete and can stand on its own. Only then is the falsework taken away. Without it, no such bridge would be left standing. That temporary structure, even if no trace is left of it at the end, is nevertheless critical to getting a functional bridge.
Programmers sometimes write a function or an object that helps them build something else that they couldn't easily have built otherwise, then delete the bridge code after they have written the code they really wanted. A big step in the development of a student programmer is when they do this for the first time, and feel in their bones why it was necessary and good. • Repair as part of the history of an object From The Art of Imperfection and its link back to a post on making repair visible, I learned about Kintsugi, a practice in Japanese art...
that treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.
I have this pattern around my home, at least on occasion. I often repair my backpack, satchel, or clothing and leave evidence of the repair visible. My family thinks it's odd, but figure it's just me. Do I do this in code? I don't think so. I tend to like clean code, with no distractions for future readers. The closest thing to Kintsugi I can think of now are comments that mention where some bit of code came from, especially if the current code is not intuitive to me at the time. Perhaps my memory is failing me, though. I'll be on the watch for this practice as I program. • "It is good to watch the master." I've been reading a rundown of the top 128 tennis players of the last hundred years, including this one about Pancho Gonzalez, one of the great players of the 1940s, '50s, and '60s. He was forty years old when the Open Era of tennis began in 1968, well past his prime. Even so, he could still compete with the best players in the game.
Even his opponents could appreciate the legend in their midst. Denmark's Torben Ulrich lost to him in five sets at the 1969 US Open. "Pancho gives great happiness," he said. "It is good to watch the master."
The old masters give me great happiness, too. With any luck, I can give a little happiness to my students now and then. -----