Introduction

Abstract

Back in the early years, smack dab in the middle of my undergraduate studies at the University of Washington, I was unmotivated, lackadaisical, and uninspired by my general course list. Physics. Chemistry. Philosophy. Dinosaurs (yes, dinosaurs). The classes came and went, and none of the subjects captured my interest, or managed to convince me to formally sign away my remaining two years of dedicated focus. One day, as I was munching on a stale cinnamon roll and frantically trying to sign up for courses after sleeping through pre-registration, my friend sat down across from me and inquired about the level of stress visibly present on my face. We chatted about my difficulty in finding a topic that I connected with] on a deeper level, and I had just about given up for the day until she said softly “why not computer or information science?” Full of ignorance and a false sense of understanding, I fired back with a hint of brashness: “you mean troubleshooting technical issues and plugging in ethernet cords? No thanks.” She laughed, shrugged off the sharp response, and proceeded to educate me for the next ten minutes about the power of product development, and the potential it had to change the state of the world. An architecture major, she likened software products as the virtual equivalent of constructing real-life dreamscapes with a blueprint, tools, materials, and labor. After ten minutes of drawn-out lecture, I decided to give in and slotted myself into an introductory computer science course. Hell, why not? The other majors weren’t clicking for me, so I had nothing to lose in this temporary pivot. Little did I know, those ten weeks to come would spark the drive I was desperately searching for, and completely immerse me into the challenging world of technological innovation and product creation.