A scene:

A father sits with his daughter at the kitchen table. There are two
computers out. It is warm. Hot chocolate sits in front of
them. Marshmallows pepper the surface.

An idea:

The complexity of the task escapes neither of them even as they work
through the project together; they are writing a code to solve the
Trainyard puzzles presented by the App Store on the iPhone--it's an
algorithm that they have created, having already solved every level
available. This is just for fun, just for learning, just for the thrill.

The present:

The girl loves to code. She thinks maybe it is what she will do with her
life when she grows up. She thinks maybe she will be like her father.

The future:

The class isn't hard. The problems aren't fulfilling. She wonders whether
she is learning anything. She isn't sure how to focus on the
work. Sometimes, she considers not doing the work at all.

A quandary:

How hard should she work to get an A? How many hours of coding without
satisfaction is it worth? How many APT's can she do before dawn? Should she
give up sleep for a grade?

The reality:

She learns. She grows. Programming becomes rote. She knows how to solve all
the tasks. The problems are smaller.  Stupider. They feel more like
mistakes. Less like a lack of knowledge. Her eyes still strain to see the
computer screen. She still feels no satisfaction when she is done.

The end:
She has learned, but at what cost?