My son has started coding. He’s only five and I reckon we may have to expand the definition of coding a little, but he has joined something called Coding Club at his school. It involves him and his classmates sitting at computers and, well, I’m not sure what happens after that, since he observes a Fight Club-style omertà when it comes to anything he does at school.
He is familiar with computers and often joins me in my office – his baby sister’s bedroom – while I work on these very articles. It would be charming if I could say he’s helped much in their writing, perhaps offered a paragraph or two you’ve enjoyed – but this has not been the case. He mostly enjoys opening a new document and using the keyboard to write the longest, rudest words he can spell (‘poo-trampoline’ being a favourite) and I am left to do the grunt work myself.
