Like many places around the world, I feel that as AI continues to advance, the entry barrier for junior developer positions is getting higher over time.
I majored in Computer Science at the undergraduate level and graduated early in February 2026.
At university, we learn the fundamentals — and that foundation is important — but to be honest, it feels far from sufficient to meet the current expectations placed on junior developers today.
Because of that gap, I spent a long time thinking about which programming language truly aligns with the way I think.
Among the various languages I encountered during my studies, I eventually chose C#.
The reason was simple:
I am someone who feels comfortable and mentally stable in systems that are clearly structured and well-separated.
Not only in programming, but even in daily life, I tend to feel at ease when rules and boundaries are explicit.
C#, with its emphasis on structure and clarity, matched that mindset well.
Since then, I have been studying it deeply.
At first, I learned by building projects — with a lot of help from AI.
And those projects were fun.
But at some point, a quiet doubt began to settle in my mind.
Was I really studying?
If you handed me a blank sheet of paper and a pen, could I write code on my own without AI?
Or was I just following along, mistaking AI-assisted output for my own understanding?
For a while, I convinced myself that the projects I built with AI were my work, and therefore my skill.
But when I reflected honestly, I realized something uncomfortable:
the only thing that had clearly improved was my typing speed.
In the end, that meant the results were not truly mine.
This reminded me of something from the past.
In many East Asian countries, people traditionally used the abacus.
Even after calculators became common, abacuses were still widely used.
Why?
Because calculators show only input and output, while the abacus reveals the process of calculation.
Many students continued to learn with abacuses precisely because they helped develop a way of thinking, not just producing answers.
The feeling I had back then is very similar to what I feel now with AI.
When using a calculator, it felt like the part of my brain responsible for understanding numbers gradually weakened.
Likewise, I started to wonder whether the problem-solving part of my brain was becoming inactive as I relied more on AI.
I remember the dull headache I used to feel during university when I struggled through assignments on my own — that painful but strangely meaningful feeling of thinking hard.
Sometimes I ask myself:
Is that part of my brain slowly fading now?
Because of these doubts, I’ve decided to refocus on the fundamentals.
I am still just an aspiring junior developer, so I cannot claim that my conclusion is correct.
But based on my experiences so far, I suspect that the essence of coding lies in discomfort:
the mental strain, the moments of being stuck, and the frustration of hitting a wall.
It is probably through those moments that true problem-solving ability grows.
Of course, there will be times when that frustration feels overwhelming.
Moments like:
- Why can’t I understand this part?
- Am I simply not talented enough?
- Why can’t I find this bug on my own?
- If AI can write code anyway, why am I doing this?
Those thoughts make it very tempting to compromise with oneself.
Whenever that happens, I want to come back and reread this post — to remind myself why I chose this path and regain some motivation.
Since childhood, I’ve been drawn to the humanities and philosophy, and I’ve read many classical texts.
While it’s hard to say exactly how, those works helped me endure difficult periods in life.
Classics, in a way, train us to think deeply about what it means to be human — they feel like manuals for understanding life itself.
In the same way, I cautiously suspect that the true essence of programming lies in developing the ability to solve problems independently.
Just as muscles grow through repeated training at the gym, perhaps the ability to think also grows through repeated struggle.
If you feel that my thinking is flawed, incomplete, or needs correction, I would genuinely appreciate your honest feedback in the comments.
It would give me another opportunity to reflect more deeply.
Thank you for reading.
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