Monday 20 May 2013

The First Goodbye

So…my Division B Science Olympiad career has ended.
I never thought this day would really come.
            Even a week ago, when I wrote that earlier blog post, I knew it was ending, I knew that was my last Division B competition…but I also felt like it was still so far away. And now it’s done. It’s gone.

            This Nationals, I didn’t do nearly as well as I would have liked (aka highest placing was 26th and in an event I didn’t even like), but despite that, I’m very happy with how things turned out. See, this Nationals, I really realised what I loved and what Science Olympiad really meant to me. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t feel a whooshing sensation of disappointment (mostly in myself) and sadness when I didn’t get called up for my best and favourite event, but later, after that had blown over, I realised that I wasn’t nearly as upset as I should have been. In past years, I’ve almost cried when I didn’t get top ten or top twenty or whatever my goal was. This year, I was disappointed, but I wasn’t upset. And when I thought about why, that’s when I consciously realised what I’ve known all along.

            Science Olympiad isn’t just about medalling or winning—not even at the national level.

            I can tell you right now why I did so horribly in Reach for the Stars. It’s not because I’m bad at the event, or because I don’t know astronomy. The reason is because while the test writer is very good, they asked specific questions using things that you will never, ever, ever apply in astronomy—and that’s not what I studied. No, I can’t tell if an image is infrared or x-ray sometimes if there’s no reference point, or if a random cluster of dots happens to be Scorpius (especially without the constellation boundaries or RA/DEC), or if a random photo is short or long exposure just by looking at it. But I can tell you all the spectral lines of each type of star. I can tell you all about black holes, Hawking radiation, the Schwarzschild radius and metric, and accretion principles. I can tell you about Thorne-Zytkow objects, Herbig-Haro objects, Bok globules, emission nebulae, and absorption nebulae. I can tell you how to apply the Doppler shift, Planck’s Law, the Stefan-Boltzmann Law, the LRT, Wien’s Displacement, Hubble’s Law, and any number of others like that. I can tell you the exact triple alpha process, or how a star is born, or how Cepheids work as “yardsticks”, or what a star population is, or how an H-R diagram works and the math behind it. I can tell you about binary star systems, multiple star systems, how to find the mass of a star, spectral lines and spectroscopy, parallax (trigonometric or stellar) and the distance modulus. I can tell you how to read a light curve, how to identify a type of star or system by reading the light curve, how to read a radiation curve, how to find the temperature and luminosity, and how to apply bolometric measurements. I can explain the Big Bang and redshift, why stars seem to change brightness over time, the internal processes of stars, how they are born, the processes inside by which they live, how they die, what happens after they die, the limits of their mass, the effects it has on the interstellar medium...I could go on, because I know so much more, but I think you get the idea. I know astronomy. All the thirty one teams that beat me...how many of them can tell you about all of those? How many of them know half of Carroll and Ostlie by heart? How many of them help write an astronomy blog not only for Science Olympiad, but to expose others to the wonders of astronomy?
My failure at Nationals wasn’t because I didn’t know things, but because I knew all the wrong things for that specific event. In fact, there are quite a few people who told me that I wasn’t studying for Reach for the Stars at all, but rather Astronomy—in Division C. As Reach for the Stars is the Division B version of Astronomy in C, I didn’t see the problem with that. But I am also glad that I didn’t focus on the simple, plain Reach for the Stars things, but went above and beyond. I now have at least two years’ worth of college information in my brain about astronomy. And that’s the thing—when I didn’t medal, I knew it wasn’t because I failed, or didn’t know enough. It was, quite simply, because they tested on things that you would never use in real astronomy and therefore I didn’t study (and the notes restrictions didn’t help either).

But this is what made me honestly, consciously realise what Science Olympiad is about. It’s not just about medalling, but about learning. It is about learning, meeting new people, and gathering new friends. I learned so much about astronomy through Reach for the Stars (even if I did do horribly). I’m more suited to Astronomy because of that—because that’s what I know a lot about. Over the past four years I’ve done SO, I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of knowledge I’ve gained. I know all about aerodynamic principles now, about optics, thermodynamics, electricity, fluids and mechanics, forensics, heredity, chemistry, and so, so much more. As a direct result of Science Olympiad, I can now tell you the abbreviations of all 50 states, or the most dedicated hockey fans (Flyers), most of the Jewish holidays, the cost of a five day trip across the country, and a whole bunch more that I probably don’t need to know. I’ve made the best friends of my entire life (as I’ve mentioned before), I’ve found purpose and everything I really wanted, and I found science.

I think I’ve always known this all along—I’ve mentioned it several times before, and argued with people several times before using these arguments, and written essays (to use the term loosely) on it before. But now...now I really think I truly understand that concept. See, this Nats, something happened that went along the lines of this.
We were studying in our dorms (three other people and myself), and one of our test collaborators said that she had a test she wanted to give to me. I said okay, but that I would do it later when my partner wasn’t busy. I casually mentioned to her about putting it up on the test exchange of scioly.org or maybe put up a few notes on it, and the immediate response of everyone in that room was, “Why would you ever put tests up on the exchange or help write the wiki? That’s just helping other teams!” At that moment, I was stunned, and the only coherent words to come out of my mouth was, “Well, why not?” because I couldn’t think about just how wrong their logic was.
I have never written a single test that has not been put up on the test exchange, whether by me or if I asked someone else to do it for me. I have written half the Thermodynamics wiki and the Reach for the Stars wiki, in addition to helping and editing many, many other wiki pages, and in fact now hold the title of WikiMod. What if every other person in Science Olympiad felt the same way as my teammates did? Those people in the room relied heavily on the test exchange for practise, and on the wiki for information, and the recently upgraded image gallery for ideas. Would they have that if other people didn’t contribute? See, the point of Science Olympiad isn’t to keep everything to yourself in hopes of beating everyone else out there. It’s also to teach others and expose them. That’s why I do so much with scioly.org and why I am voluntarily giving up dozens, if not hundreds of hours this summer to host a summer study session for SO.

I guess at this point, I’ve done all that I can do with Division B SO. Nats this year was a perfect goodbye—it really was. Maybe I didn’t medal. That’s okay. This year, I found myself having lots of fun, even though I was stressing like crazy. I hung out with some people from Kansas (lesson learned: if you want to find someone, just stand outside their group’s door and stare at them until they get uncomfortable and go, “Can I...help you?”), met some people from Georgia (long haired hippies, hehe), went on some roller coasters, had a group of green-haired Californians scare the heck out of half my team (you’re still awesome, Paly, don’t worry), managed to break campus rules and get away with it (they weren’t major rules, I promise, it was just some printing things...), and basically had a blast.
That’s the difference between some teams, I think. I can compare two of the top teams from Nationals this year—I’ve heard a lot about both. Both teams take SO very, very seriously (hah, understatement of the century), but from what I’ve heard, their team dynamic is totally different. One of the teams was about winning, winning, winning. People on their team get so stressed that they will literally cut off all friends and human contact around Nats and alienate themselves. Sometimes they will seriously hurt people with what they say or do, no matter if it is inadvertently or not. They don’t stand with messing around during Nats—everything must be totally serious, and no one is really truly enjoying themselves. They stress, just stress and completely forget how to take things down a notch. SO, to them, is just a competition, just something to win and show off with. The other team...well, when we walked in on them, they weren’t stressing. They were having fun and joking around with each other, and the board with all their events on it had quite a few self-deprecating jokes. Yes, they want to win. Yes, they are uber-competitive. But they don’t forget that that’s not all there is to SO, and they have fun with it. They’re one of the most respected teams in the country, and in my opinion, one of the best not only because they are so freaking good (which they are), but also because they lose themselves not in the competition of SO, but in SO itself. (and also they’re nice people). It actually turned out that this second team placed higher than the first team whose purpose was wholly focused on winning.


But my team also isn’t what I remember it being a few years ago; it’s no longer the perfect team I dreamed of being a part of when I got older...and because of that, I’m now ready to move on, and find another start in Division C. Maybe I can help the team grow, help it mature and make it a real team. Maybe I can do more with my high school team, and become more involved than I ever did in Division B. Maybe we can even win States next year and still go to Nationals, and I can still keep competing. And I also know now that I will never, ever be done with Science Olympiad, no matter how old I get.

Tuesday 14 May 2013

Not Ready

     This is my last year in Division B Science Olympiad.
     I guess I always knew it was coming; I just didn't realise it would be quite so soon. It's two days from Nats, and suddenly, it's hitting me hard right now. I always knew it, but I never realised it. This is my last Nationals as a Division B'er. This is the last year when I can medal in the events I spent years mastering. This is the last year of being a true Science Olympiad family (unless the high school can get their shiz together). This is the breaking up of the middle school, moving on, and the ending of something so good and so great that I almost can't bear to let it go.

     I'm not ready to move on. I'm not sure I ever will be.

     Two years in Division A SO, and I was completely ready to start Division B. Four years in Division B SO, and I never want to leave. Through my experiences in SO, I have gained the best friends of my life, I have learned responsibility and management, I have learned what it means to be a true leader, I have learned what it means to play for the team, and so much more. I have stuffed my head full of knowledge that I never would have known otherwise--and I have made the best friends of my life.

     Sure, we have a Division C SO team, but it's not the same. The Division C team is a bunch of disjointed, disoriented mess that's not quite together yet. This is the last time as a concrete team.

     Six days. Six days and this is all over. Six days and the absolute best time of my life comes to an end.

     I remember when I was in sixth grade and made Nats for the first time...I was so young then. I was the youngest person going--one of the youngest people to ever go on the Nationals trip with my team, at eleven and a half years old. I remember thinking that this was great, and I didn't ever want to stop. I remember realising that eventually, I would have to stop, but that wouldn't be until I finished ninth grade, and that was so far away back then. I was so sweet and innocent back then...I was still a nerdy loner, yes, but I didn't scare people and I didn't have much malice towards anyone.

    It's been three or four years since that day. Since then, I have moulded myself into someone almost totally unrecognisable from that sweet, shy sixth grader who walked around with a smile. I'm cynical and cold now, sarcastic to everyone, unappreciative and arrogant, and more jaded than any teenager has a right to be. I'm loud and opinionated, and I will correct you if I think you're wrong. I'm not afraid to flaunt my talents, I'm not afraid to make a very strong impression. I now view the human race with disdain and contempt, and am often pretty malicious. I scare people--I really do. Not just fun scare them, but scare them in a way that they will go to lengths to avoid me. I never intended to do that, but that is how it happened, and I'm not sure if I regret that.
    The path that has been taken to achieve that was...undeserved of anyone, if I do say so myself. It was incredibly tough, and for a lot of it, I was alone and didn't have anything or anyone to fall back on, so I turned inward and kept everyone else out with iron walls. I was scared, I was hurt, I was terrified of what people could do.

    The only thing that has kept me from totally collapsing inwards on myself is Science Olympiad. Through it, I found a few pillars to lean against when I got tired, people to help me carry my load when I was about to be crushed by everything, and I found a purpose. I found passion and a burning desire to learn, to know.

     And now...now I'm losing that. I won't ever completely let go of Science Olympiad--I don't think that's possible for me--but I'm losing so much of what I loved.

And I'm not ready.
Not yet.