Robotics Regionals- Post #255

Thursday

I woke up extra early, straightened my hair, and ran to Dunkin Donuts for a bagel before my mom dropped me off at school. I wandered around the hallways, got a phonecall (oops, still in school) from Tom telling me to get Nathan (his millipede) out of his locker, then ran around the school with Danica trying to find the rest of our team. That's right, it was day one of the UTC CT Regionals for FIRST Robotics.

Tom was already at the civic center in Hartford with Dave and Mr. Van Fleet. The rest of us hopped on a bus at seven fifteen and kissed the school goodbye. Me and Danica and Julie waved at people in cars (one waved back), watched the faces Mitch made when he lip syncs to his iPod, and determined that people think you're talking about them if you stare at the, look away, and laugh.

We qued up outside the front doors until they were ceremoniously opened and a flood of pumped, nerdy teenager poured through. We all headed for the pits, and were stopped for the first time that day with the reminder, "No pit without safety glasses." Within five minutes they felt completely natural, and within an hour we slipped them on and off entering and exiting the pits without even thinking about it.

Today was all just practice rounds, so it wasn't that busy (aka you could still see the staircases in the stands). However, today was the day of the faceoff for coach. Me, Tim, and John rotated the matches so Mr. Cormier could decide who he wanted to be coach for the competition.

John was up first. I don't remember individual matches because generally I'm panicing, but I talked to Mitch and Tom afterwards and they said John was okay, but he kind of just agreed with everything Tom said instead of giving them any new information. I decided to step it up a little.

I remembered from my brief period coaching at the scrimmage how difficult it was to see down at the far end of the field, so I went to talk to Andy. As robocoach, he is stationed on the other end of the field. However, after his fifteen seconds of hybrid mode are up, he has nothing to do. We came up with a series of hand signals to communicate his easy view of the robot down where we had trouble seeing it. Mostly we used "keep going" and "you're clear" but there was also something came out to "woah, hold on, traffic jam" and "crap, you're broken, forget about the ball and just get some laps done."

I relayed these signals to Tom and Mitch, as well as kept them updated on the time, and things seemed to go okay. Tim was up next. I told him everything I'd thought of. I don't know why. I guess I should have kept them to myself or something but it still didn't really feel like we were competing. He did just as well.

From what I can remember, it went like that for pretty much the entire day. Oh yeah. and I broke the robot every single time I coached. Cursed? We shall see...

Tim sang the entire bus ride home.

Friday

Friday I got another sandwich from Dunkin Donuts, got to school early again, and met up with Tom and the gang for the bus ride back to Hartford. I was resigned to failing the coach position because Mr. Cormier didn't mention it the ride up. Then, when we got to the civic center, he told Tim to go out on the field for the coaches meeting. I knew it was over.

Or was it? When we were sitting in the stands watching the first match, I was talking to Dave and he asked if I was going next. Confusion... I told him I thought Tim had gotten it, but he said no, Mr. Cormier wanted one more rotation before he decided. Wow. Nerves. This was the real deal, we were into the qualifying rounds! Panic time.

I ran my match again and then at lunch talked to Mitch and Andy. They both said they wanted me to be coach, and went to talk to Mr. Cormier. And I got it! According to my mom, who talked to him in the stands, it was to get balance in the team. Tom was his rock, the one who was calm and collected in every situation, and I was the energetic one who got everyone pumped.

And man, by the end of the day that was true. Through wins and losses, I got terrifying and psyched and better at plugging the control board in and feeding Tom and Mitch information. At the end of the qualifying matched, we were ranked fifteen out of sixty two. Wow. Last year we were twenty-five. That was a rush like no other. And, through all those matches, we only got one penalty for breaking the plane.

After the competition Friday, team 1991 held a social at the American School for the Deaf. It took us a while to get in because we had to wait for Mr. Cormier, but it was fun. They had a room for food, one for DDR, and a gym for basketball, scooters, or dancing. It was cool to just hang out after all the stress of the competition.

The ride home was amazing. Most people were sleeping, the loud ones were still at the party, and it was just me and Tom listening to his iPod at the back of the bus. And the streetlights were pretty. =] Saturday

Saturday was terror. I woke up late, rushed to get ready for Tom picking me up, and forgot to eat breakfast. We got a ride to the civic center with Jeremiah's dad, and I slept most of the way.

When we got there, it was chaos. Today was the big day - selection and finals.I was terrified. The top eight teams from the qualifying rounds get to pick two other teams to join with them for their final alliance. We were picked by the eighth seated team, and our first match was against the first seated team. Oh dear.

We didn't eat lunch. Instead, we sat on the floor huddled around one of Mr. Ellis' model fields, trying to find some loophole that could help us win. Anything. I was panicking quietly, but it was cool. Even though I was on an alliance with eleven guys, they still all listened, which was awesome.

Then...showtime. The first match was AMAZING! We lost (of course) but it almost felt like a win. We were ahead the whole first half because Andy got the ball of the overpass, in our possession, and across the line in hybrid mode while one of our teammates crossed a whole four lines. We hurdled, and even hit the Uberbots' ball back once so they had to go all the way around to get it again. The final score was 74 them, 70 us. Amazing.

Our second match wasn't as good, there was a weird glitch that froze everyone's hybrid mode and then they practically doubled our score. Ouch. But we went down fighting, and we playing hard.

Back at the pits, there was a sudden change. Our match was going to be replayed because of the hybrid glitch! We were pumped for a second chance, but things didn't go well. We got stuck on the overpass when the Uberbots ran into us in hybrid, then got penalties for another team getting us down, then our radio flew off when we knocked against the Uberbots so our robot was disabled. We lost by an even wider margin.

We stayed after to help clean up the field, which was cool, and then bring home the carpet to store in the house next to the school. The guys were all macho and whatnot, which was pretty entertaining. =] Then it was home and sleep.

All in all, though, it was a good competition. I had a great time coaching with great teammates, we did an amazing job, and we befriended some great teams and people we were allied with.

I can't wait for Atlanta.

--Iona

Why I haven't been posting - Post #254

CAPTs, CAPTs, CAPTs, tests, school is terrible right now.

Today's schedule, for example:

Period 7: Social Studies - current events quiz
Period 1: CAPTs
Period 2: CAPTs continued
Period 3: Symphonic Band - Opening Nights & John Williams practical quiz
Period 4: Spanish - chapter four test, part one
Period 5: Chemistry - periodic trends quiz
Period 6: Chemistry - quiz continued

Honestly, what are we supposed to be getting from this? For more on my disgust at standardized testing in general, check my newspaper article for the Electronic Eagle, our online student newspaper no one knows about.

Ughhh. I'm going to try and get some sleep before another day of this stuff. Enjoy having a real life.

--Iona

One day until regionals... - Post #253

Being myself, I tend to be involved with the nerdier of extra curricular activities. Marching band, concert band, jazz band, pit band, every type of band, newspaper, and of course robotics.

The FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition of Science and Technology) Robotics Competition is an annual competition for high schools around the country, and the world. Every year, a new game is developed, then revealed in an internet broadcast known as the “kickoff.” For the next six weeks, teams try to plan, design, and build a robot to compete in the game. When this build season is up, the robots are packed up and shipped off until the regional, where the teams uncrate their robot and compete against teams in their area. If they do well, they proceed to the national competition in Atlanta, Georgia.

Robotics has been on my mind a lot lately because this Thursday, Friday, and Saturday is the UTC Connecticut Regional at the Hartford Civic Center. It’s exciting…and terrifying. I logged around 110 hours in the six week building season. All that effort, all those long nights spent searching for the right drill bit or sanding again and again and again, they are all about this one weekend. If we do well, it’s a feeling of pride and satisfaction. If not, it’s bitter disappointment and a struggle to keep a brave face.

Robotics gets a bad rap from a lot of people who don’t know what they’re talking about. After all, building robots and being a fan of futuristic ideas has always been a characteristic of the stereotypical nerd or geek. However, this competition is so much more.

To put it in the words of Dave Lavery, NASA executive for solar system exploration, in his speech at the 2007 Kickoff,

“Over the course of the next six weeks you'll spend 4.2 million brain hours taking apart the problem we are going to give you. 4.2 million brain hours having fun, being passionate, thinking about what you want to do, having a great experience, focusing on something important. 4.2 million hours of brain power. Changing the culture of the United States. Changing the culture of the world. 4.2 million hours of brain power, doing something that has meaning. 4.2 million hours of brain power, and not a single one will be wasted on an irrelevant question like what the hell is Paris Hilton doing right now.”

Needless to say, his words were met with overwhelming applause.

But really, he’s right. FIRST is so much more than geeks building robots. I look at what it’s done for me, and I can see it. Not only did it give me the chance to connect with a guy I liked and have since been dating for almost a year, but it gave me confidence. I can walk into a workshop and feel reasonably confident using the machines. Drills, saws, even simple things like Allen wrenches and screwdrivers. It may seem silly to have this intense pride about knowing these things, but where else would I get this? There are no machines at my house. I have no room in my schedule to take a woodshop class. I have confidence in an entirely new area that I wouldn’t have otherwise.

It also makes talking to people a lot easier. These games the robots compete in aren’t individual. You’re on a team (called an alliance) of three robots, competing against another alliance of three. In the minutes before your match starts, you and your alliance partners have to be able to express clearly your strategies for the game, so everyone can be on the same page and the alliance can really work together as a team. This need for interaction can break even the shyest person out of their shell. Even when you’re building the robot in the beginning, a lot of times if you want to help you have to speak out and say so. Robotics pushes you to learn how to make yourself heard. This skill is important everywhere in life.

As a bonus, the people at the competitions are great. Obviously, robotics is not a club people join to try and raise their social status, so all the people at competitions are genuine, open-minded, and as a whole a great deal of fun to be around. In between matches there is dancing, trading team buttons (I have about forty from last year), and just making friends. Even through scoping out the competition, talking to other teams is sure to lead to an interesting conversation. Last year, a girl from the Uberbots even made me a pair of earrings, just because we’d talked and I mentioned how much I liked hers. FIRST runs on something called “gracious professionalism.” This idea of keeping malice and rudeness out of the competition has resulted in an almost totally friendly setting. The only enemy is the disappointment of loss.

There are four people on the robotics drive team. The driver handles the joystick that moves the robot around on the field. The switch operator handles the switches that, this year, raise or lower the arm and open or close the claw. The robocoach controls the robot with four commands during a fifteen second semi-autonomous mode at the beginning of the match. The coach communicates with all three team members and watches the field to give commands that keep everyone on the same page.

This year, the drive team was going to be Dave Van Fleet as driver, Mitch as switch operator, Andrew Frederickson as robocoach, and Tom Cosgrove as coach, but the SATs got moved to the day of the competition because of a snow day so now Dave can’t go. Mr. Cormier, the lead mentor of the team, moved Tom up to driver, and now the position of coach is open.

He says the spot is down to Tim Wilson, John Martin, and me. We’ll “try out” one last time in the practice rounds before the competition Thursday morning. I’m terrified. I want to be on the drive team so much. I’m just afraid that I’ll make a mistake and cost us the competition.

Tom was going to be the perfect coach. He’s compatible with…well, everybody, he sees everything and has an amazing reaction time, he knows the game, and he posses the incredible ability to stay calm under any circumstances. He would have been perfect.

I don’t have any of that, except maybe the ability to get along with people and the hours I put in. Tim knows the game well and is a senior, but he doesn’t get along with Mitch, he gets angry easily, and he didn’t put in that many hours. John knows the game and put in the hours, but he doesn’t get along with the rest of the team that well and doesn’t vocalize his ideas that clearly. When you have three seconds to get your point across, that becomes important. I don’t know what Mr. Cormier is going to do.

Ideally, I would make the drive team and somehow find inside me the ability to be the perfect coach. I’d coordinate hand signals with Andy across the field, keep Mitch and Tom in line, and help our alliance to victory. We’d place in the top eight for the qualifying rounds, get to pick out two alliance partners for the final, and go on to win the competition.

I’m afraid to hope that much though, because if it doesn’t (and it probably won’t) the feeling of disappointment will be too heartbreaking. It’s easier to aim low and take everything positive as a mildly pleasant surprise.

Every year, probably forty people join Team Max 1071, Wolcott High School’s FIRST robotics team. Maybe fifteen or twenty people end up at the competition. What some may call the “nerd elite,” the are the people who pour their heart into a competition that is encourage strong minds and strong morals, as apposed to just physical strength like most competitions do. I’m proud to be one of them. FIRST robotics is one group, no matter it’s nerdiness, that I will never be ashamed to say I am a part of. It’s not just a competition. It’s a way of looking at life that we will carry into the future, a dream of a world where people can get along through gracious professionalism and join their minds together to think through the planet’s problems. It’s excitement and determination and joy, but it’s also hope.

If that is nerdy, I don’t want to be cool.

--Iona