Victoria Shanghai Academy Robotics Competition.
“At that moment, the gears all clicked into place.” In general, as a child, my dad really wanted me to learn robotics and coding, as he saw it as the language of the future. To his credit, it really was, especially with the rise of artificial intelligence and robots being the clear direction of our future. Then again, for me (at least when I was about 8 years old), the only thing that truly felt interesting was playing around with the robots and watching them move around. The way that they are able to move because of each mechanism all clicking into place with different roles and code that you have to meticulously program for almost any scenario, seemed strangely intriguing. But more than that, tedious. Although I’d want to change this fact about myself, I don’t have very much patience, so especially as a hyper 8-year-old my passion towards robotics and coding in general diminished quickly. But another thing was simply because there wasn’t a lot of opportunity. Sure, I could code at home, but it really did feel different. Learning through YouTube tutorials and trial and error was miles away from being able to sit in a class and discuss the genuine faults and errors, instead of sitting in front of my laptop, punching in code that, to my dismay, just would refuse to work the way I thought it would. But even if the painted idea of being able to programme and build with ease was long gone, when the opportunity represented itself, it really felt like a waste if I didn’t take it. Obviously, that in itself wasn't simple either. But thankfully, with friends supporting me, it wasn’t too hard to get integrated into the team. Which also meant it was very easy to spend way too many lunchtimes in the rooms of the RedDoor building, a robot I barely understood. To this day, the definition of torque is still a mystery to me. At that point, it was sort of unrelated. The system was build, test, and try it again if it didn’t work. Looking back, it’s pretty similar to what it was when I was a child sat behind a computer trying to programme, but the outlier and difference here was the fact that I could discuss with a team. The element of being able to talk to other people who were also trying to solve the same things, checking what is wrong and spotting thing, that I couldn't. Being able to reach out and touch what I was helping make and see what others would think of it. The element of teamwork was even more important, in competition. Although the VSA robotics competition was only a scrimmage and not actually a tournament, being able to go to a competition really is different. Just the idea of there actually being stakes, instead of just a friendly practice, was already miles away from what I was used to. When the robot stopped working halfway, you might already be able to imagine the pure panic and dread that was immediately there. It wasn’t super major, just a few hicks in the launching system, as well as it being weaker than we anticipated. But that was still a lot more than we thought would go wrong. It wasn’t clear what was going wrong in the heat of the moment, and with back to back rounds, it really wasn't clear what was going on and even when we did find out, the time was already ticking away before we could fix it. So yeah, hopes were never high for us to win an award in the first place. It was never a shocker that we didn't exactly get to top 10. But 14th, for a first try, isn't bad at all, at the very least it was a start. Just because of how different it is, with how competitive and intuitive it can get, it felt galaxies away from what I was originally expecting from the idea of robotics in general. Maybe the gears didn’t click into place as easily as the saying always depicted, but each individual piece laid down does end up as a bigger picture. Or, in my case, a barely functioning robot that barely pulled itself to the finish line.
“If you can’t make it good, at least make it look good” It’s funny. We always spend a lot of time trying to make sure that our ideas are amazing, and they are the best that they could possibly be. Yet when we end up trying to present, and sell our own ideas out, we fumble and stutter over things that we created in our own heads. At the idea and thought of trying to pitch our ideas and say it to a crowd and public, so many times do we fear the idea of saying things wrong. Just for me, I always thought that it was more important to be able to present these ideas well. Even if the idea is not as innovative and interesting as some others may be, the way you sell it is always the point that marks success. After all, you can have a stunning and intricate design and idea, but if you fumble over answering questions and saying the words properly, then the convincing would be twice as hard. The way I see it, if you have an idea that shows and proves itself as something that would benefit others, it doesn't have to be groundbreaking, but as long as it’s good, you can make it sound great. Last year, when doing this competition, we had landed 2nd place, and for our first try, I would consider that a great first step. But, then again, it still isn't first place. So with a little bit of convincing from my parents to me, and some convincing between me and my good friend Annabelle WONG, we decided to try again, with the hopes of winning the grand prize this year, as well as hopefully beating out the shockingly younger children with the merch stall for the ‘Peoples Choice Award’. We already knew that we had gotten invited to present in the UK, however we still hadn’t presented yet, and nearing the end of last academic year, we finally got the chance to go and experience it. As a team, we saw so many genuinely impressive and amazing designs and ideas that were brought to life by others, and how they were able to illustrate innovation and bring it to life. With their Poster boards and physical examples, we were able to see how people from all around the world came up with their own ideas, and shared it back to our community. As a slight miscalculation on our part, we chose a seat at the very edge of the room. Being the first thing that you would see when you would walk in, we thought it would be a good idea. What we did not expect, however, was for the presenting order to be based on where we sat in the room. So sitting at the very back and edge meant that we had to go last. So one by one, we watched everyone else present their amazing ideas and concepts, until it was our turn. I distinctly remember sitting there empty-handed, no notes and flash cards whatsoever, while my partner; Annabelle, was scribbling away at questions they asked others, trying to pre-plan how to answer them with precision. Then there was me, who was still sitting there trying to do achieve the same thing, but without a pen and paper because I somehow forgot it. But by the time we were presenting, we pretty much forgot all about it. All that mattered in that very moment was the concept, using words to try to sell it. Explaining mechanics and hoping that the audience was still engaged, as well as trying to fix my bad habit of talking way too fast. Still, we were focused, and we were able to do it. And with a lot less stuttering than I had expected, might I add. So by the end of the presentation, we already knew that the decision was now out of our hands. At least we had done our best. Being entirely honest, after we had presented, and we sat back down at our stall, I realized that our idea was far from as complex as some other people were. While our idea, was fully based on the idea that it was so easy to implement, that it could be done almost immediately. Which really, is a double-edged sword, it was so basic that it could really be so simple and added in, but at the same time it was also so much less ‘new’ compared to everyone else’s work. For the second time, we sat down near the back of the room, with Annabelle, doing what she did best, which was scribbling notes about what they were saying in hopes of predicting outcomes, while I still sat there just waiting. Again. Because I still didn’t have a pen and paper. Until they did call out our names, at the very end of the ceremony, to say that we won the Grand Prize, and the People’s choice award. It’s funny, after the ceremony, the judges went up to us and told us that they were originally going to give us first place (for the record in this competition, there's third, second, first, and grand champion), but when they heard our presentation, and how we talked about it, they changed their minds. Just enough to boost us to ultimately winning that prize. From hearing that, I’d like to believe that means my ideas, are good, but how I’m able to present them makes them even better. Even if only a little bit.
BIEA STEM Innovation Competition (2025)
City U Stem Competition
'Microshield'
2025
“If you ever feel like the smartest person in the room, you’re not in the right room.” A common assumption that we make a lot, is that people get smarter as they get older. The masses of classes you take and everything you encounter while you age. The wisdom of the wise, and the foolishness of those who are young. Statements that are a generalisation for the most part, but still, within these sentences that have been spoken over and over again, there is still some truth. Entering a competition that was open for students in DP levels, much less a STEM competition, felt like a fever dream from the beginning. It’s not often you get the chance to compete with people that are up to 6 years older than you are, and even less so when you somehow get to the finals. The CityU competition was something that my friends and I joined on a whim. Just out of curiosity for how it would go, and what it would lead to. Pushed, by the mentality and idea of trying everything and anything, just for the experience. Actually seeing professors and people who can publish these ideas in the world, seemed like a good enough reason to join. Besides, what's one more STEM competition to try out? If I’m going to be completely honest, I speak for most of my team when I say, our hopes were not very high for this one. A pool of hundreds of students, each with their own unique ideas, their own stories, strengths, and weaknesses, where most of them, had so much more familiarity following them. Using that knowledge about my expectations, I’d like to know if you could picture my shock when I found out that we made it through preliminary rounds. Not only that, but also the fact that we were able to be the top 8 finalists, and we now had to make a sales pitch presentation, in front of some very important people, as well as the other 7 finalists. Going into this, I already knew that we were going to be at least a big behind, in terms of our idea, and maybe even the language that we used while we presented. I just didn’t expect us to be this behind. Now of course, I know that age is not an excuse to not try my hardest and reach for the stars, (or at least that’s what nearly every adult told me once I brought it up), but surely it’s hard to overlook it. They had mentioned concepts, diseases, and formulas that I had never once heard of in my life. What even are cataracts*? And how on earth did they design an app that would help prevent it? Walking up to that stage, might have been one of the longest walks ever. To see the stares of everyone who went before us, and the teachers that accompanied them. But at least for me, something clicks for me when it’s time to present. So slide by slide, and word by word, we did end up getting through it. And being totally honest, we got through it so much better than I thought we would have. By the end of it all, even if we didn’t win anything, we already got so far. I never felt like I was the smartest person in the room, but to stand where it feels like you were really so far behind? It was humbling, to say the least. So, even though we didn't win anything, we already got to stand in a room with people who have learned so much more, head to head, competing for the same thing, at the same level. Who knows what I’ll be pursuing in a few years. Will I still be doing these STEM competitions and trying to present my ideas to others? I really hope so, partially because I’ve spent way too much time invested in these, but more so purely because I want to keep growing. Perhaps, in a few years, I can stand in that room again, but this time with the experience that some others had. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone who's the same age as I was when I first did the competition. *after getting to the waves unit in science, I have learned what they are, but at that moment I very was clueless, regardless, the design was still extraordinarily impressive.
“It’s never over until the very last second.” People tell you that first impressions matter most, since you only get one. Well, my first impressions on the World Scholars Cup was overwhelming excitement, along with an even stronger sense of fear. The competition spanned over a weekend, and had an entrance fee that was high enough for me to stagger when reading it. With all things considered, weighing it out, I realised that the only people who would be willing to spend so much money on a competition, would be really confident in their skills to compete. From the sound of each individual round, it also sounded like the people who would join would be really eager to prove themselves too, and not only that but to move onwards to other rounds. With the collective end goal, of going to Yale to compete in what was named “the tournament of champions.” So yeah, pretty intimidating. But, as always, with, it couldn’t hurt to try (except for my wallet, which sustained a pretty decent amount of damage). This was a team event, and luckily, I had friends who were willing to join with me (and this was when I first realised just how grateful I was to have a lot of friends who are equally willing to spend a weekend and money on a competition for academics). We actually signed up the day before it was due, which lead to huge amounts of stress regarding if we were actually admitted or not, but other than that preparation for the competition was pretty easy. They gave us guiding questions, which we studied each topic to familiarise ourselves on the concepts, and how it would work, hoping that it would help us during the competition. Then off we went, to school we had never been to, to try to win a competition we were very scared of. There were a few rounds, and we started with the collaborative writing round, which was straight forward enough. But then, we got to the scholar's challenge. See, in the world scholars cup, they have a speciality called the Scholar’s Challenge, which is essentially a multiple choice test where you can choose more than one answer for each question, with the caveat being that if you chose 2 answers, and one of them was correct, you would only get half the points. So on and so forth. And at that moment, when looking down at the dreaded 120 question multiple choice test sheet, I realised I would be filling in a lot of boxes. Every question was hyper focused on specific examples which were linked to the guiding questions. From the looks on everyone's faces, we could tell that barely anyone had expected the direct examples to be used in the test. That’s when the confidence that we could win prizes really started draining away from me, and by draining away, I mean leaving absolutely nothing behind. Yeah, even after doing the test, I can still with confidence say I absolutely did not do as well as I had initially hoped. Thankfully, the round after that was the team debate challenge, which I was, at the very least, more prepared for than the previous round. Day 2 consisted of only 1 last round, with the rest being the award ceremony and the debate showcase. The final round was what is called the scholars bowl, which is similar to the scholar’s challenge, where there would be answers A, B, C,D, or E displayed on a screen, and we would get 15 seconds to discuss and press what we thought was the correct answer. Once again, as a group, we realised we absolutely did not know most of the answers. Being once again hyperfixated on examples that we just couldn't read through in one night, we didn’t have high expectations for winning anything there either, or at that point, winning anything at all. By the end of everything, I pretty much just told myself I’d be lucky to get one award (which is yeah, kinda pessimistic, but there really didn't seem to be anything that would set us apart, or get us any award.) Right before the award ceremony, there was a debate showcase (which I was lucky enough to be selected to present in), and a talent show. Really elongating the time that we would get to build up nerves to see the awards. Needless to say, we were very surprised when we got a trophy almost immediately in the ceremony, and out of all things, for the Scholar’s challenge. But even more shockingly, we were surprised by a few more awards by the end of the ceremony. Throughout the award ceremony, while we were given a very shockingly large amount of prizes, somehow that wasn’t the biggest takeaway for me. I had never thought we could even get one award, let alone 5 trophies, including getting third place overall. The pressure, fear of not getting further and not succeeding being the ultimate factors in limiting what ambitions there would be, and the optimism moving forward. Yes, it's common for people to tell you that being too full of yourself is bad, which certainly is true. But there should always, always be at the very least a small glimmer of hope that there will be success. Nothing is defined until the very last moment, which just means you have to keep on fighting, regardless of if you think you’re doing well or not. Even if it means being just a little bit too optimistic, I’d take that any day over being stressed about not succeeding, wasting opportunities. An opportunity to succeed is only wasted if you don’t make the best out of it till the very last minute and moment. Until that very second, it’s not over just yet.
Regional World Scholars Cup 2025
Inter ESF Cooking Competition
2025
“Live in the moment.” To no one's surprise, as soon as I heard about the cooking competition that our school hosted, there was absolutely no time wasted between me and that Google form. Cooking, has always been something I was passionate about, since I was young, and even up to now. There hasn’t been a single instance where I found a recipe that I thought was cool and did not immediately rush to make it. I grew up on cooking shows. The dramatized idea of needing to finish a dish in a few hours, where they would show the chefs in a kitchen working hard, and trying to finish their dish as best as possible, sometimes it would even end in tears. Master chef, the Great British bake off, you name it, I probably watched it as a child. Even though I watched it so much, I find that I never could get it. Staring at the TV, I would look with confusion as these people would start sobbing over their food, saying how it connects to them as a person and is a representation of them, to then bring out a plate of spaghetti. Not knowing any better, I just assumed the spaghetti was really, really good. I mean, it had to be for grown adults to start weeping, right? Well, kind of. As it turned out, I never understood because I had never tried. Food is something that almost everyone likes. I’ve barely ever met people who didn't enjoy eating, and sharing food with others. When I got into it, it felt like a way to share. A way to express and connect with people, because what better way to get to know each other than to be able to talk over a good slice of cake? Oh, the wonders of baking, and its ability to get people talking. In year 7, when my good friend, Ritsika, first joined the school, we really didn’t talk too much together about food, or anything in that sort. There was no fuse, nothing to start the conversation anyway, and up until that point barely anyone would talk to me about a thing that was seen as a tedious chore to most. Foolishly, I had forgotten that most people who like to cook, just like me, really liked to cook, and that's how I was able to get into a team for the cooking competition. Many discussions later, we decided on being able to combine 2 cultures and try to create a ‘fusion’ type dish. Partially because of indecisiveness, and partially because it felt like it wasn't fair to lean towards a specific profile anyway. After the long talks and planning, off practicing we go. Generally, baking or cooking was something I did alone, cutting vegetables, and standing by a stove while waiting for the pan to finally heat up, was understandably, not very appealing. But when I was first able to get into cooking with my friends, I started to understand all of those shows I watched as a kid. (Not to the point of crying over a bowl of cookies, but there was some resonating). Even in the practice, it was beyond cooking, beyond mixing together flour and watching my friend get burned by a chilli. It was being able to resonate, connect and truly feel like there was a soul behind the food. Being able to work together to end up creating a piece in the end, while still being able to learn and improve how to cook. Beyond everything, to see every single part of a learning experience, as just something that was enjoyable. The connection you get was the reason people were so moved by food. Not the actual dish. The competition, itself, was actually a lot less stressful that we thought it would be. Obviously, there was no actual large clock that is illustrated a lot in shows, but instead it was just like cooking in the kitchen when we practiced. The energy in the room was sort of tense, which was slightly heightened when I accidentally burned an element on our dessert (which I then fixed), yet there wasn’t the pressure of competing, at least not for me. It didn’t feel like I had to improve, like it had to be spectacular or amazing (even though I hoped it would be). It just felt, fun. Moving on to the ESF rounds, really was a bonus. It would’ve been enough to just go through it, and be able to bake with my friends, and come up with our own dishes. (We were still very happy we won the RCHK round, and we were also very proud that all the egg whites we were unable to use because we broke the egg yolks, did not go to waste. ) It was about the same story for the ESF rounds. There was a lot of cinnamon spilled, and a lot of worrying that there were overcooked scallops, but it was worth it. Not because we won (which I am ecstatic that we did), but because I was able to go through with the competition. We always think that we need to be doing things for the sake of the bigger picture. To be able to get some value, because time would be wasted if we spent all of our energy doing things that wouldn't add up to anything in the long run. The mindset that we follow, can be corruptive. Being able to do things that are seemingly not necessary, goofing off just a bit, and appreciating things as they are, in that time and place. There’s no need to be chasing after a prize or reward, and not everything we do has to have a reasoning behind it. It’s good to set goals, and reach for the future. But we also need to appreciate the present, and the gift that it is.
“It’s either sink or swim” Carnivals and game stalls have always been something that I loved. The atmosphere of the tents, and the cheering once someone wins a prize, accompanied by the ringing of bells whenever someone scores, and claims a ridiculously large stuffed animal. Then there was the element of it being a rare occasion. At least for me, it wasn’t very often where my parents would let me play a game that obviously had incredibly low chances of you actually winning. My favourite games, have always been the ones where you would try to fish things out of the water. I don’t think there's a particular reason, but it always seemed to intrigue me as a kid, and was the main reason as to why my parents could never let me near carnivals. I would immediately get drawn towards the funny fishing game, with the magnetic rubber ducks. When my friends first told me that they were going to do an international evening stall, my initial reaction was to ask what it was, and when I was told they were making a game stall it was, unsurprisingly, pretty much enough to seal the deal. Our idea was to create a stall based on the Japanese summer festivals, where they would have fishponds, and you would be given a few nets to catch the fish with. The idea was simple enough, and it sounded possible to execute. With a bit of planning and some preparations, we thought it would be smooth sailing (pun intended). Well, I can tell you now, after everything is over, it was not smooth sailing. Not even close. We had already figured out that there really wasn't much difficulty to it. Even if you got live fish (which we did not have), you could probably catch them in under a minute, if not in seconds. Originally, the plan was to buy paper nets online, and use those. But like always, it never seems to be that easy. The order was supposed to arrive the day of, but it didn't arrive on time. Asides from figuring out what we would do with over a thousand paper nets after international evening, there was the more immediate problem. How on earth are we supposed to host a fishing game with no nets? In a hurry, we started trying to brainstorm ideas. The easiest one being, to create our own nets. We found out that we could make a makeshift version of water-soluble glue with cornstarch and water, and we already had some nets that we could the handles of. So there, problem solved! Except we didn’t have cornstarch. I don’t think I’ve ever needed to go to a supermarket in more of a hurry in my entire life, and I don’t think I ever will. Some other people from the team and I went around, looking for where we might find cornstarch, only to realise, they did not have any cornstarch (which was a shock, what kind of supermarket doesn’t sell cornstarch?). In a panic, we grabbed 2 other types of starch, potato and sweet potato, because maybe it would be close enough to what we needed. Thankfully, it did work out just fine, and we were able to host our stall with not too many issues (other than the water inevitably becoming slightly murky due to the high starch content in our fishing nets). Even through all the distress, difficulties, and trying really hard to glue paper onto the fishing frames properly, I was able to rely on my friends to help me. In the moments of panic, it wasn’t just me, or just anybody else, but a team. To be able to lean back on somebody in a time of need, and to work together like one unit through all the challenges. You don’t really see the need of having someone there until you really do end up needing it. The urgency might not have been life-threatening (not even close), but even then, I feel like I learned something pretty significant. learning to trust that others will be able to help you, when you cannot succeed alone, to know that there will be someone you can go to for help, might have been the most valuable thing. That, or finding out that sweet potato starch, potato starch, and corn starch are pretty much the same thing. People like to say that you either sink or swim. But with the help of others, maybe there's also the option to float.
ESF International Evening 2025
Junior School Debating Competition 2025
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” Everyone’s heard it a thousand times. Something your parents say to you when you get mad at your friend for teasing you, or maybe something that your friend actually used to tease you, but there is little truth in that saying. We don’t exactly underestimate the power of words, most people recognise the fact that what you say and write can have detrimental effects, to both yourself and others. But something that does get swept under the rug is how you say them. The power of how you pronounce things, volume, energy, and gestures can effect greatly just how powerful your words may be. Presenting them in a way in which it is most effective, is like pushing words to their full potential. I’ve never been outstanding at things like writing, maths, or sports, but one thing that I’d consider myself good at is speaking. Yes, that may come from just how loud and talkative I am, much to my parent’s dismay, but I had never considered it to be useful in day to day life, much less in one of the largest debate competitions in Hong Kong. Debate has always been a passion of mine, being something that I’ve been pursuing since primary. But this year, it all feels like it's starting to click for me, like I’m able to understand and talk better and with more energy and passion than I ever was able to before. But it’s sort of difficult to realise until you get the sign, a marker and signal that there really is improvement, and for there to be proof. This year, JSDC was a bit rushed for us my team and I. Everything felt pushed to the edge just a bit too much and like the pressing deadline was too close to be able to perform well. Research was really the only thing that we could’ve prepared. Trying to understand each and every angle or aspect of text in order to be able to cover all bases, hoping that on the day it would be just fine. Sitting in an unfamiliar chair, in the house of one of my teammates with research that was foreign, finding new holes in arguments as we go along, while trying to keep up with what the opponents were saying– and oh god, is it already their 2nd argument? Through all the struggles and all the difficulties, there was still the glimmer of enthusiasm that never dimmed. The competitive mindset, wanting to speak as soon as possible with the slightest bit of rage and fire. Something that I can only seem to ignite in the midst of an argument. The undeniable burning desire to be right. And well, by that point, it didn't matter who won or who lost. It wasn’t that, it was never about who was ultimately ‘better’ by a metric value, but the need to be better, the need to prove myself. In the end, I’d still be lying if I said it didn’t hurt to see that we really didn’t win any more than I did last year. All the work and improvement to still make the same mistakes, essentially stopping us from qualifying to octofinals? Even if we should celebrate the small wins in our path to success, it really is disheartening to find out that it didn’t exactly 1work out as we might have hoped. Until the speaker awards came up. At that moment, when they were announcing and closing up the event, all that I could think about was what I must’ve done wrong, what to improve and move forward with in order to make sure that the outcome next year would be better. So really, the shock when I heard them announce my name for a speaker award was a lot more than I originally expected. It was the first name called, so it was only 15th place. But this was still groundbreaking, at least to me. It wasn’t the award, or the fact that I got anything at all, but it was the fact that I showed improvement in my work, Last year, I’d gotten 64th. This year, I got 15th. The feeling that the work I put in for years finally paying off, where I showed real progress and started to make changes in the way I talk, getting better and better, made it all worth it. Even if only for a while. There is still progress to be made, to be better and better and improve even more, beyond this point. There is still so much to improve. Public speaking is not contained, not limited by anything. The vast potential that there is, not just how you speak, project and use body language, but the passion that resides in every single phrase you utter out. Public speaking has already found a place in my heart, residing as a devotion that I will continue to grow. To use my voice for what I reach for, the far-fetched realities and the changes to be made. To use my voice, for what I love. In the end, I guess it really is true. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words undoubtedly will never hurt me.
RENMUN X 2025
“A journey of a thousand miles, starts with one step” Everyone always says that you need to take the first step into things, to try it, before judging if you like it or not. Well, that's exactly what I did with MUN. When I first joined, there was so much to learn and so much to cover. Basically, starting back at square one. Over time, after learning some basics, terms and how to do most of the essentials, it started to get, boring. Don’t get me wrong, I could see the appeal, and I tried to engage, but no matter how I looked at it, it felt miles away from being as exiting as what I expected. Now, looking back, it really wasn’t all too bad. The introduction took longer, of course, but that was because this starter lesson was for people who had never approached even the concept. I, had done debate for a few years at that point, and there wasn’t an intermediate class yet. My choice, at that point, was to choose on class or the other. There really wasn’t a correct way to pick the ‘better class’, but there was still what I thought I wanted, and given that I had already had my doubts on MUN, it wasn’t super difficult, so I did end up choosing debate. which is something I don’t regret doing. But wait, if I chose debate over this, why would I be writing about MUN? As it turned out, the schedule for debate would change. Instead of classes on Wednesdays, like it used to be, they switched to Tuesday. Met with the option of re-attempting MUN again, like the way too ambitious person I am, I thought at that moment, why not, there wasn’t anything stopping me anyway, so if there's no harm (and no cost), then the obvious choice would be to give it another shot. Everything deserves a second chance. Well, when I signed up, I ended up in the advanced class. Partially because of my debating knowledge, and partly because there were too many people in beginner classes, and honestly? Advanced classes were so much better. Maybe it was because I was with more friends, but it was probably just the change in pace. The new system, the different formats and learning every single time. Until I was thrown into the trenches of RENMUN, aka, my first MUN conference experience. There were a few things that went wrong from the get-go, like me not being able to go to the mock conference, and also me totally not forgetting to do preparations for the conference until the week of. Which, yeah, were mostly my fault for bad planning. But in the end, it didn’t take away from the experience. Everything was planned to a T, and it was so much genuine fun. Being able to combine my love for public speaking and the chaotic energy of putting together a bunch of nerds in a room, really did match every single expectation I had. My friends all told me that MUN and debate were super similar, and I’d get right into it, like they were barely different, and in theory, they sound like they are. Both are which you are arguing about a stance that you're assigned with (which I then learned wasn’t the case in MUN, since there are a few in between areas, but that was also something I had to find out the hard way), and you end up doing rebuttal, and needing to engage with the opponents. But being frank, I’m happy that it was so different. The style, the content and how you have to approach everything was so new and familiar at the same time. Like when you smell a scent that you’re sure you recognise, but you’re not quite sure from where or when. Learning everything all over again, was like being able to go back in time, and be able to explore all over again. Just like rewatching a movie, or playing the remake of a game from your childhood. MUN is far more research heavy than debate is. Facts and statistics, are your greatest weapon. Everything you need to know, is somewhere hidden inside documents, historical events and figures from different times. Most literally, it was a whole new world. And somewhere in between all the research about Syria and cybersecurity, somehow what I learned from this occasion, was to always take that first step. Because there was still a lingering piece of regret, that I hadn’t taken that first step. To shy away from the journey because of the short term negatives? It’s a shame how it takes actually making this mistake to truly get it. If I could go back, and stop myself, I would have without a doubt continued MUN. Being able to step up through certain difficulties, and just try. With hope that it’ll go well, with confidence that there will be success in whatever obstacles there may be, and to just take the leap of faith. The first part of success, is to start and try. Even if it sounds cliché, and like something you would find on a corny mug in a thrift store, it really is true. The first step, may not be the biggest one, but it’ll make the biggest difference in the journey. The first step, is always the start of something bigger.
“To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake, it is necessary to stand out in the cold” Although it doesn’t snow in Hong Kong, that doesn’t mean we still can’t appreciate the beauty of winter. However, in the case of RCHK’s Year 9, we would be appreciating the beauty inside the comfort of the Performing Arts Centre, in the form of the year 9 Winter Dance. This year, unlike the spring party, I was not the member of student council hosting it, although I was still a member of the focus group. Even though I was still part of the committee and planning just like last year, there certainly were major changes. With previous experience as well as a larger team, planning and execution went far more smoothly this year, or at least compared to last time Just like how snow piles up and gathers, being able to have the previous experience of hosting such a large scale event was one of the reasons it went significantly better this time, but another contributing factor, is the amount of people. This year's focus group was a step up from last year in terms of people, in which nearly half the year group was able to help out in setting up. And just like how each fleck of snow gathers into a snowball, all the work from everyone in the team truly showed. Even though I wasn’t the student council representative of this year, I along with Ritsika Chotwani were head of decorations. During the planning, we decided it would be best to divide into factions and work our way through it bit by bit. Or in other words, divide and conquer. As head of decorations, we ran into our fair share of problems. Most of them (unfortunately), were towards the end of the process, where it turned out that some of the things we had ordered weren't exactly what was advertised, as well as the expected chaos when trying to set up. Yet, it was still miles better than last year. To look back and see what was done last year and compare it to now, really made the previous year’s party seem mundane, or at the very least not nearly as vibrant. It really is shocking to look back and see how much only one single event worth of experience and time can help in the next, being able to navigate and know how many materials you would need, and how much time it would take. Just a little bit of trial and error, can lead you so far into the future. And even more so, the team of people, and how much of an impact having a bigger team would make. Especially in the last moments, where even in the beginning if it seemed like it was unnecessary, having the preparations and being able to plan properly. I would have wished that the first time we did the spring party, everything would have gone smoothly and as planned, to ensure that it’s easier for everyone. But then again, if we hadn’t gone through everything at that point, I’m sure that it would be far more difficult for me, and even others who went through the same experience. Having never gone through the challenges and obstacles, you’d never know how to tackle them when they arrive.
