The beginning of this week marked the Minnesota Academy of Science state science fair. Having moved on from the Twin Cities Regional competition, those of us that competed at state found an upping of standards, higher stakes, and a stringently professional atmosphere (on the fair floor, anyway). The science was impressive.
I arrived at the Sheraton half an hour late. Luckily, the frenzied atmosphere provided good cover and I was able to check into my room and set up my poster without making my tardiness apparent. By the afternoon, I had passed safety inspection and had the remainder of the day to myself. Station e-27 was ready to go.
We listened to a commencement speech, ate dinner, and us Wayzatans succumbed to StarCraft. I spent the latter part of that Sunday night catching up on US History readings.
By 9am the following morning, I was awake and ready. The projects were set up in a brilliant ballroom and each one shone with it’s individuality. The ones along the wall were the most spectacular; laced with electricity and denoted by an “e-” before the station number, these posters were usually accompanied by laptops and lights.
The judges were excellent–much better than those at the regional fair. There were no more troll judges, no more “hurr-I’ll-pretend-to-know-what-I’m-talking-about” judges and most appreciably, no more “you’re-just-a-kid-and-you-can’t-do-science” judges.
My project was significantly revamped this time around. Although much of the content and data remained the same, I changed the context of my project into one that garnered diabetic-sympathizers more directly. It worked.
I realized that my hard work payed off when I looked down at the handful of shiny medallions and trophy on my way home. But the real glory belonged to friend, competitor, and future scientist, Evan Chen, who out-shined us all. He was among the few who will represent our region at the Intel International Science and Engineering Fair. In addition to receiving many other prestigious awards, E-Chen brought home a three-foot tall gold trophy; you could see the smile seeping out from under his austere, pseudo-modest mien. No matter how much we hate to admit it, we’re all jealous of him; but at the same time, we’re exceedingly proud. Same goes to Alec Spencer, who was selected as an alternate for ISEF.
Monday night was similar to the previous, with the exception of an euphoric Skype session and a failed dance. During the two minutes I spent in the then project-free ballroom, I found a giddying level of amusement in watching fellow scientists let loose in the face of excruciating hip-hip and childish strobes (some were more amusing than others). Nonetheless, middle school and high school students on the same dance floor is a recipe for failure of epic proportions. I spent the duration of the dance elsewhere and eventually found myself on Skype.
Sleep was the only casualty of that weekend. The death of my grades followed soon afterwards.
