The Plattsburgh Bookend to My Freshman Year Walk of Shame Appearance

I began my computer science degree by executing a simple program. My code was to read in a series of grades, sort the list and compute the average. At the time, the assignment seemed monumental and had me on serious edge. But the numbers scrolling down the screen by week’s end, I knew I would eventually graduate, and I celebrated with a rather odd appearance on the Plattsburgh walk of shame. However, the actual proof that I could finish what I started came five years later. A moment of truth that revealed itself in one last program.

The drama began unfolding with my third try at a course known as Introduction to Programming Languages. Two previous withdrawals, the third time around registered a “D.”

In turn, my Computer Science GPA dipped under 2.0 in my 9th semester. I could not graduate, but I think I would have had I not signed up for courses in the spring of 1987.

Since, I was going to be there, I think the department wanted to make sure I wasn’t just going to be goofing off. Otherwise, they would have granted my customary “C,” and I would have run off with my diploma before they change their minds.

Either way, the “D” wasn’t a complete failure. The course taught an inexplicable programming concept called recursion, and I was actually able to master the idea in learning LISP. On the other hand, Prologue was a complete mystery and doomed my average.

Nonetheless, I got the main idea, and little did I know, one of courses I was taking in my final semester was steeped in recursion. Oh my, I was worried now, and failure here might sink my GPA even further. Never being able to catch up, I feared I could be here forever, and believe it or not, I continue to have a recurring dream that reminds me of the possibility.

Either way, one task would essentially encompass my grade in my Artificial Intelligence class. I had to write a program that could play checkers. The game playing algorithm was developed in the 1950s, and to finally graduate, I was taking on history.

The primary hurdle is getting the code to mimic what’s known as “look ahead.” My look ahead bottoms out at two. In other words, my move and what will my opponent’s move be. By comparison, masters can look ahead 15-20 moves, and IBM’s Deep Blue tallies up to 40.

This is where recursion comes in, and here’s the closest I can come to an explanation. It would be like being hit with an uncomfortable remembrance that you push down to alleviate the pain. The only thing is the moment keeps returning until your memory can no longer hold them, and finally when hitting a critical mass, each remembrance pops off the stack in reverse. I think computer scientists just tipped their cap, but the rest of you are still lost. Like I said, inexplicable.

The next step has the programmer developing the move generator. In other words, taking one board state at a time and calculating all the possible moves. So if I was a real glutton, I would have taken on chess.

All the varying pieces and multidimensional moves, that would have made me certifiable. On the other hand, maybe I sold my talents short by taking on checkers. But when the smartest kid in the class had the gaul to do tic-tac-toe, I knew two things. My choice was more than satisfactory, and he was a wimp.

I also provided for a scenario that was highly unlikely. That would be a king surrounded by three checkers, which leaves the possibility of jumping in three directions. Easy enough for a human to confront but a computer - I exponentially increased the difficulty of my task. It was also something the professor wouldn’t check when testing my program.

But plotting my course, I eventually realized that my diligence may have had me biting off more than I could chew. It all hung in the balance and suddenly 2000 lines of code made the triple jump. What a feeling, and the specs verified the success in human terms.

My two move look ahead was at the distinct disadvantage to my program's three, and the program beat me. I had my degree, and while not as amusing, I didn’t need a walk of shame to prove it.

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