Why Computer Science Matters Now

Teaching the Future: Why Computer Science Matters Now

In my classrooms, in my school, in my town, and beyond, challenges have been pressing in from every direction. Yet amid the difficulties, there has also been resilience, perseverance, and success. And as the school year winds down, I find myself reflecting on why I teach computer science, engineering, and technology, and why I believe this work matters more than ever. I believe it’s vital for our students to become problem-solvers, creators, and innovators — not in the future but right in our classrooms every day.

Here’s where I’m coming from on this question of CS education. I teach in a science and technology department. Officially, we represent three of the four letters of STEM, and the “M” for mathematics is never far away. Sometimes there’s an “A” for art, too, and I welcome that blending. My students come to me from many paths, but they all arrive at the same crossroads: a place where creativity, technology, knowledge, and problem-solving intersect. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what problem-solving really demands from a student, and how we can help them grow those skills.

Our students desperately need to learn problem-solving. And by that, I don’t mean just giving them practice problems or projects; I mean empowering them with all the capabilities that help them to tackle and solve problems. There are so many aspects to solving a complex problem:

• Recognizing when they are facing a problem
• Building the confidence to decide to address it
• Developing practices to begin exploring it
• Exercising creative license to imagine solutions
• Gathering resources and knowledge to implement solutions
• Collaborating with others to multiply their capabilities
• Finding the motivation to follow through
• Reflecting and evaluating to improve in the next round
• Communicating what they did and what they learned

Together, these capacities shape not just competent students, but adaptable, creative individuals. I know this from personal experience.

These are the very capacities I needed to develop as a student in my youth. I had a very mixed relationship with mathematics growing up. When we were asked to do arithmetic drills and memorize multiplication tables, I felt bored and frustrated. It often seemed pointless; I didn’t want to be trained to act like a calculator. But at home, I was drawn to the electronic calculator I had. I loved discovering that pressing “=” over and over repeated the last operation, and I’d play with it, watching patterns emerge. There was joy in exploring, testing, and seeing what happened when I pushed buttons. Not because I was told to, but because I was curious. It’s a very small example, but playful, self-directed exploration became a foundation of my future learning.

That sense of discovery came rushing back when I first encountered programming. When Somerset High School got its first Apple computer lab, I was just beginning to mess with the BASIC programming language. I taught myself little bits of code to make pictures appear on the screen. It seemed like magic: combining my love of doodling with this futuristic technology. From thoughts to something you could see flickering on a screen. And once I got the hang of it, I found myself teaching other students and explaining concepts to classmates. Drawing consisted almost entirely of plotting pixels on the screen. So if you wanted a line, you had to use mathematics; linear functions helped with that. If you wanted a circle, the Pythagorean theorem and trigonometry were suddenly relevant. If you wanted to trace out the motion of a projectile, you would find that the quadratic equations would help you with that. These were things we learned in math class, so when talking to other students, I could refer to the academic language of math we had become familiar with. That early experience of learning and sharing knowledge planted a seed in me that would grow into my motivation to teach. The power and possibility of seeing an abstract idea visibly brought to life enthralled me, and I experienced an excitement that I hoped other people could share as well.

Today, I see my students standing at the same threshold I once crossed. They have grown up surrounded by powerful technology, but most of the time, young people experience that technology as consumers. They swipe, click, and scroll through beautifully packaged digital worlds, but they don’t yet know they can shape those worlds. The moment they realize they can become creators (that they can build, design, code, and innovate) is transformative. Suddenly, technology is not just something they use; it’s something they can control and expand. That shift empowers them by letting them see new possibilities for their own activity and participation. They should realize that they, themselves, can be innovators. They can do things nobody else has ever done. This personal discovery can transform them from passive users to confident creators.

To unlock this transformation, we need to think differently about what a technology classroom is. I notice that when I speak to many educators from other disciplines, their ideas about the significance of a technology classroom are focused on the equipment — on the technology that we use. Some are impressed by this technology, and others see it as inferior to core academic disciplines. But looking at a technology classroom as merely a room filled with technology relegates our students to being learners who are only gaining proficiency with technology. We all use technology; that’s a means to an end, and has never been a very robust educational goal. A technology classroom should be one where students create technology. It’s where they meet opportunities to apply their knowledge from all disciplines in creating physical and digital artifacts. And that creative, interdisciplinary space is exactly what prepares them for the rapidly changing world they will step into.

This matters more than ever because the world students will enter is changing fast. AI and automation are rewriting the educational, working, and home landscape. Some see this as the dawn of an age where education, or particular disciplines, become obsolete as we automate away things we once believed only humans could do. While this challenge feels new and is arriving with unprecedented speed, the reality is that the idea of specific skills becoming less relevant over time is nothing new. The days of schools needing to churn out shopkeepers whose primary mathematical skill was manual calculation are long gone. As the world’s needs have changed, so has education. Tools, languages, and standards will continue to shift, and educators will have to adapt alongside them. But while the content we teach evolves, the human capacities driving innovation remain constant. We must remember that, even as we rethink assessments and curricula in an AI-augmented world, some essential skills will always be necessary: adaptability, creativity, resilience, and the ability to tackle problems with no obvious solutions. A technology classroom should not be a place where students merely learn to operate the newest devices or follow prescribed recipes. It should be a playground of exploration, experimentation, and invention, where students become accustomed to this mindset and see themselves as the ones in control.

It’s not just our students who need problem-solving. The entire world needs it, too. We live in an era where technology touches nearly every part of our lives, from healthcare to communication to transportation to entertainment. Even for those who will never pursue a career in computing, understanding something about how the technologies they use are built, where they come from, and what their limitations are is essential if people are to see the world as being filled with human-made artifacts, not magical ones. We are as much at risk from techno-superstition as we have ever been from other kinds of magical thinking. That’s why cultivating broad technological literacy is not just an educational mission — it’s a societal imperative.

Society increasingly depends on a population that is not just a mass of passive technology users, but one that includes people who can grasp the mechanics, ethics, and social implications of these powerful tools. If we want a world where citizens can engage thoughtfully with the technologies shaping their lives, we must foster a general technological literacy that goes deeper than surface-level usage. Only with this deeper literacy can we hope to raise a generation ready to confront both the opportunities and the risks of an increasingly digital world.

And as our young people venture out into this world that already seems foreign to the previous generations, students need to become the digital citizens who take the reins of physical and digital society. They need to be able to question how their data is used, able to understand the limitations and biases of algorithms and models, able to spot when a technological solution is appropriate and when a certain path forward might cause more harm than good. This is about more than careers; it’s about empowerment, participation, and responsibility. The challenges that lie ahead — climate change, inequality, global health, political polarization — will all intersect with technology in one way or another. To tackle them, the world will need not just engineers and coders, but citizens who understand how technology works and how it shapes society. Cultivating these qualities in our students is educational and civic preparation.

As I reflect on the year, I can acknowledge the exhaustion and the struggles. But what sustains me is seeing my students grow into problem-solvers. Seeing the light in their eyes when they realize they can make something new. Watching them collaborate, innovate, and communicate their ideas. That’s why I teach computer science. That’s why it matters. And as long as we keep nurturing this spirit, we’re not just preparing students for the next tool or trend; we’re preparing them to shape a future that none of us can see.