Programming is one of those skills you only truly master on the job. Classes and tutorials can help, but it’s in the chaotic trenches of live projects that your abilities are forged.
One way to accelerate this learning is pair-programming. In theory, it’s a structured practice: one person, the “driver,” writes code, while the “navigator” observes and ensures the work aligns with the overall system. At regular intervals, the roles switch.
In practice, though, pair-programming rarely follows such neat rules. It’s more like a mind-meld where half-baked thoughts are half-ways formulated. Time evaporates, and when you finally come to you see code that neither of you could have written alone.
The messiness isn’t failure; it’s where the magic happens. Pair-programming is powerful exactly because it embraces ambiguity.
Because coding is, after all, more craft than science. And true mastery of any craft requires surrendering to a certain amount of mysticism. Leonard Cohen put it best: “Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
I recently came across a term that made me think of this type of epistemological entanglement, the type where knowledge is created while bypassing verbalisation. That term was tradecraft.
Tradecraft is a word with a very explicit and extremely niche connotation. It signifies the kinds of skills that spies need to master in order to get through the day. Counter-surveillance tactics, clandestine communication methods, the art of blending into any environment—these are the hallmarks of tradecraft. And as the saying goes, they don’t teach that stuff at school.
These days, the word has slipped into broader usage, describing the tacit skills and practices unique to specialised professions. The “tradecraft” of journalism, for instance, includes cultivating sources, conducting interviews, and verifying facts—skills you only truly learn by doing, preferably while working alongside seasoned pros.
I like the idea of tradecraft because it highlights a kind of knowledge that’s hard to quantify but crucial in real life. It’s not the stuff of certificates or CVs, but the messy, intuitive expertise that separates true mastery from mere competence.