Why Aspiring Developers Still Need to Learn Object-Oriented Programming
Dr. Kai Dupe • October 3, 2025
Object-oriented programming, at its core, is about modeling software systems around “objects” that represent real-world entities

In today’s fast-moving world of software development, it might seem tempting to skip over traditional programming paradigms like object-oriented programming (OOP) and head straight into newer trends like functional programming, data-driven frameworks, or AI tooling. However, OOP continues to be a critical skill that aspiring software developers should master.
Object-oriented programming, at its core, is about modeling software systems around “objects” that represent real-world entities. This approach, which emphasizes encapsulation, abstraction, inheritance, and polymorphism, has been the foundation of most enterprise applications for decades. Whether you are working in Java, C++, C#, or Python, OOP principles show up everywhere. Even if you never create your own elaborate class hierarchies, understanding how objects interact is key to working with frameworks, libraries, and APIs that dominate modern development.
One of the main reasons OOP remains important is that it teaches developers how to think about software design. It enforces structure and modularity, making systems easier to maintain and scale. For instance, when designing a large application like an e-commerce platform, OOP concepts help developers break down the system into manageable components: products, users, orders, and payment modules. Each of these components can evolve independently while still interacting through well-defined interfaces.
OOP also supports the collaborative nature of modern software development. Teams can work on different parts of the codebase with minimal overlap, which is essential for building complex systems across industries such as finance, healthcare, and education.
Even experts in programming education recognize its enduring relevance. In his book Code Complete, Steve McConnell emphasizes that, Good object-oriented design makes code more understandable, more maintainable, and less error prone. This insight highlights why OOP continues to be taught in nearly every computer science curriculum — it fosters long-term skills that apply regardless of language or framework.
Of course, OOP is not the only paradigm developers need to know. Functional programming, declarative approaches, and event-driven systems are all valuable tools. But a strong grounding in OOP provides a solid mental model that makes it easier to pick up these other paradigms later.
For aspiring developers, the message is clear: learn OOP, master its principles, and then branch out. OOP may not dominate every cutting-edge domain, but it is still a cornerstone of professional software development — and will continue to be for years to come.

Stepping onto the campus of Morehouse College this past weekend for Admitted Students Day was more than a visit—it was a moment of reflection. As I watched young Black men walk with purpose across the yard, I found myself asking a simple but profound question: What would it have been like for me to study computer science here? My journey into computing was shaped in environments where I was often the only Black man in the room. That reality brings with it an unspoken weight—the need to prove you belong, the awareness of being watched, and sometimes, the quiet isolation that comes with underrepresentation. Standing at Morehouse, I realized that this burden is not a given. It is a condition of the environment. At Morehouse, the environment is different by design. Here, Black men are not anomalies—they are the standard. I imagined what it would feel like to learn algorithms, data structures, and software development in a space where my identity was not questioned but affirmed. Where excellence is expected, not in spite of who you are, but because of it. As a computer science professor, I understand the academic rigor required to succeed in this field. There is no shortcut through recursion, no bypass around debugging, no substitute for disciplined problem-solving. But what struck me during my visit is how much context matters. When students are free from the psychological burden of proving they belong, they can redirect that energy toward mastering the material. They can collaborate more openly, ask questions more freely, and take intellectual risks without fear. I also thought about legacy. At Morehouse, students walk the same grounds as Martin Luther King Jr.. That kind of history does something to a person. It raises the bar—not just academically, but personally. It invites students to see their education not just as a pathway to a career, but as preparation for impact. Leaving campus, I felt inspired—but also reflective. I cannot rewrite my journey, but I can appreciate what spaces like Morehouse offer the next generation. For a Black male pursuing computer science, it is more than a degree. It is an opportunity to develop skill, confidence, and identity in alignment. And that combination is powerful.

If you walk into most computer science classrooms today, you might assume that computing has always been a male-dominated field. As someone who has spent decades in the industry and now teaches the next generation of developers, I can tell you—that assumption is not only common, it’s historically inaccurate. In the early days of computing, many of the first programmers were women. Ada Lovelace is widely recognized as the first computer programmer, having written what we would now call an algorithm for Charles Babbage’s Analytical Engine. Fast forward to the 1940s, and women were programming some of the first electronic computers, including ENIAC. These were not peripheral roles. These women were solving complex computational problems, often inventing programming techniques as they went (Abbate, 2012). So what happened? From a systems perspective, the answer is not mysterious—it’s structural. In its early stages, programming was considered clerical work. It required precision, patience, and attention to detail—qualities that, at the time, were socially assigned to women. But as computing became more central to business, government, and innovation, its status changed. What was once seen as routine work became prestigious and lucrative. And when that shift happened, the demographics shifted with it. By the 1980s, we see a clear inflection point. Personal computers entered the home—but they were marketed primarily to boys. This created an early access gap that translated into confidence, experience, and eventually career pathways. At the same time, hiring practices and workplace cultures began to favor men, reinforcing a feedback loop that pushed women out of the field (Hicks, 2017). Over time, the narrative changed. Computing was no longer something women had built—it became something they were seen as entering late. But that narrative is not just incomplete—it’s a distortion. Understanding this history is not about nostalgia; it’s about accuracy. When students learn that women were foundational to computing, it reshapes how they think about the field. Diversity is no longer framed as a modern intervention—it is recognized as part of computing’s original DNA. In my classroom, I’ve seen what happens when students encounter this truth. It disrupts assumptions. It broadens participation. And perhaps most importantly, it changes who students believe belongs in this space. So, if women were the original programmers, what happened? Part of the answer lies in systems—education, marketing, hiring, and culture. But another part lies in storytelling. The stories we tell about computing shape who feels invited to participate in it. As educators, technologists, and leaders, we have an opportunity—and a responsibility—to tell that story more accurately. References Abbate, J. (2012). Recoding Gender: Women’s Changing Participation in Computing. MIT Press. Hicks, M. (2017). Programmed Inequality: How Britain Discarded Women Technologists and Lost Its Edge in Computing. MIT Press. Evans, C. L. (2018). Broad Band: The Untold Story of the Women Who Made the Internet. Portfolio. Shetterly, M. L. (2016). Hidden Figures. HarperCollins.








