Earlier this year I mentored three Brooklyn high school seniors during the 2016 New York City FIRST Robotics competition as they faced severe challenges personally and at their school. Using low-cost parts and scrappy ingenuity the team built a machine in seven days that earned them a spot in the NYC FIRST Regional finals. I share their story here as a tribute to their determination and spirit.
I’ve been a fan of Dean Kamen’s FIRST Robotics movement since 2005 when my friend Killian described his work mentoring a FIRST team in New York’s Lower East Side. FIRST is often billed as sports for nerds, one where anyone can turn pro. Each Spring over a thousand students from the NYC area and some from countries like Brazil, Turkey, and The Netherlands gather at the Javits Convention Center for the FIRST NYC Regional Championship. During ten weeks preceding the event, teams work feverishly to build robots per that season’s game rules announced in January.
Between 2012 and 2013, I helped establish NYC FIRST, a New York-based nonprofit organization that helps FIRST’s efforts in the region. In 2013, while helping judge the NYC Regional at Javits, I met two remarkable students from Harlem’s Frederick Douglass Academy that transformed my appreciation of FIRST’s reach. One of them shared, “Because we are in Harlem, it’s hard to get involvement from the community. Everyone’s out for themselves. In our robotics team kids look out for each other. It’s a family. They take ideas home and believe that they can accomplish great things if they work together.”
They also described how FIRST had sparked their interest in technology and science careers.
Meeting them also convinced me that I needed to go further in my support of FIRST than the nonprofit efforts and work directly with students. In late 2015 I asked Pat Daly, the organization’s executive director with an inspiring devotion to the FIRST community, for her help in finding a team to mentor.
Meeting Tevin and Charles
On January 9th she invited me to the launch of the 2016 Season at Long Island University. There I saw dozens of teams anxiously pack into an auditorium to hear Dean Kamen announce the new season’s game and also to collect robot parts that would seed their work.
At the event I met two students, Tevin and Charles, who invited me to visit them at their high school nearby in Brooklyn.
A Stunning Discovery
I visited the school in late January. As Tevin and I entered the robotics lab I noticed a teacher sitting at a desk reading a magazine. Assuming he was the team’s coach, I shook his hand and introduced myself. He said, “Hello,” then returned to his magazine. I found his response oddly indifferent.
The lab itself is located behind an eight-foot high chain-linked fence. Charles and another team member, Tommy, greeted us and the three shared some sobering facts:
Not only was the teacher I had just met not their coach, the team didn’t have one. No teacher was willing to sign-up for the job. Most FIRST teams have at least one teacher guiding the team’s efforts and championing their needs at the school.
They had no mentors. A typical FIRST team has at least one and often several mentors from the tech industry.
They had only three active members with a couple of occasional participants. Most teams consist of between 6 and 12 members.
They had no money. They described a painful struggle to get the school to buy them parts and tools (their workspace had only a few). Tevin’s request for a simple soldering iron had gone unanswered.
They were regularly getting kicked-out of their after-school workspace.
The school had canceled its computer science classes after the teacher who taught them left months before. Only one of the students had basic programming skills.
At the end of my visit, Tevin asked if I would be willing to mentor them. Because I was new to mentoring, I had assumed that I would join experienced mentors and coaches to accelerate my own understanding of the process. I worried that I was the wrong person to help Tevin’s team given their specific challenges; with six weeks remaining before competition they needed a seasoned expert.
Ultimately, I realized that I couldn’t say no; I didn’t want to join the list of people that had turned their back on the team.
Game Summary
The simplified goal of the competition was to build a robot that picks-up a boulder (simulated by a rubber ball) and while navigating obstacles (draw-bridges, gateways, moats and ramparts, other robots blocking access), transport it to the opposing team’s castle and score by pushing the boulder into a ground-level opening (the low goal) or launching it through the castle’s tower (the high goal) for more points.
Build Deadline: February 23rd (All robots had to be completed and ready for competition)
The following week I returned to the school and met another member, Alba. I asked the team if they had closed on a design, particularly on how to capture the ball and launch it. Given time, tools, and parts constraints,
Charles replied despondently, “We’re planning to go for the low goal and just push the ball in.”
Tevin nodded in agreement, “Yep.”
I told them with a smile, “No, we’re going for the high goal. Just wait, we’ll find a way!”
The team needed a specific chassis component sold online by a single supplier. The part was popular among other FIRST teams nationwide but because the team had no money to buy it earlier, the part was now sold out. I immediately posted a request on Facebook to see if my tech friends had a CNC machine that could custom-build the part. Within minutes many responded with offers to help. Eventually Charles, a mechanical wizard, came up with a work-around that eliminated the emergency.
A failed appeal to the school's principle (T-13 days)
In early February I learned that school would not be held during President’s Day week. Most NYC teams would be working from morning til night each day to complete their robots on time. That would be a week before the build deadline, and the team didn’t have even a basic working robot yet. We urgently needed the school’s support.
On February 10th, Pat Daly and I met with the principal and assistant principal to introduce myself and discuss the team’s needs. Before I could offer context, the principal shared a seemingly well-rehearsed narrative about the robotics program:
The school has a long history of dedication to robotics
The present team consisted of twelve students
All of them know how to program exceptionally well as the school has a strong computer science program
Each year she recruits students to the school, and the robotics team is a highlight of her message to them
I suddenly realized that she was unaware of my work with the team. I also was surprised by the divergence between her story and the circumstances shared by its members.
When she finished, I respectfully shared that I knew the current team well. I summarized the low participation (only three active members, not twelve), the team had no money* and the school wasn’t supporting their needs, and more urgently, that they frequently were being asked to leave their after-school work space.
*I would learn only after the season was over that the principal indeed had funds allocated for the program. Why she didn’t share that information on our first meeting is still a mystery to me.
I mentioned that regardless of the disparities, I was there to offer help, and for now asked that the school allow the team to work in their lab through the holiday week. Here is how the conversation went:
“Absolutely not. They can’t work here. We are having asbestos removed from the building,” the principal answered sternly.
“Has anyone told the team this?” I asked.
“No, we haven’t told them.”
I took a deep breath and asked, “What would you recommend they do? This is a critical week for them.”
The principal’s reply has become burnt into memory, “I don’t know!” as she shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I’ll just have them work out of my home.” I said.
“You can’t do that – it’s not legal.”
“OK, with less than two weeks left, that would mean their season is pretty much over.” I replied.
I asked Pat if she thought we could find them space with another team. She mentioned that she would certainly try. We thanked the principals for their time, and left.
I called Tevin and broke the news to him: they didn’t have a place to work next week but I promised we would find a solution.
The urgency was this: Because the school’s administrators hadn’t helped the students plan ahead, much less tell them that the school would be closed, we had only two days to find another space and move all of the team’s parts, tools, etc. or else they would be locked away for good until Monday February 22nd –ONE DAY before the build deadline.
The situation was stunning: I couldn’t believe the indifference the administrators had shown a program they themselves used to recruit other students to their school.
Pat Daly, her assistant, and I quickly started contacting other teams and local hacker collectives, like the New York Resistor in Brooklyn, but the latter’s insurance restricted youth from using their space. The situation looked pretty dire.
Angels to the rescue: George Westinghouse High School
One of the core principles that makes FIRST so powerful is its emphasis on collaboration. The competition itself rewards teams that help one another. Thankfully that spirit was alive and strong among the staff at George Westinghouse High School whom NYC FIRST’s director had contacted. Despite having its own FIRST program, they offered us space in their computer lab (and, critically, access to their amazing machine shop) and would allow the students to move their equipment in on Friday afternoon, just before the school shut-down.
A new problem: an adult was required to be with the team during every moment of their work at Westinghouse. Since I had existing scheduling conflicts during parts of the week, this was a serious issue. The team had no dedicated coach from the school and now it had become a small crises. I sent the following note to the school:
"The surprise news of [the team] losing their workspace at Science Skills really caught all of us off guard and without proper preparation. Do you have any suggestions for teachers or others who might step in to help be with them during their work when I cannot join them?"
After a few exchanges it was clear no one would sign-up to help. I changed my plans to join the team.
Building a robot in seven days (T-8 Days to Build Deadline)
On Monday morning I arrived at Westinghouse with Tevin to begin our work. Here’s how it looked when we started:
We focused on building the embedded Java code and electronics to remotely control the robot using two joysticks we had obtained at Best Buy that morning. By the end of the day, we had the basic remote-control logic, electronics, and mechanicals working (thankfully the robot survived the server rack crash):
Aiming high: Building the Transport and Shooting Mechanism (T-5 Days)... And more unexpected challenges.
We still didn’t have a plan for how to pick-up, transport, and shoot the ball. Eventually we found one based on using wheels and a custom aluminum channel.
After a quick sketch and cardboard mock-up, I ran to pick-up a ZipCar and rushed to a sheet metal shop in Red Hook. The owner cut and shaped a piece of pristine sheet metal to our specs. He refused to let me pay after I told him the team’s story.
In the few days that the team worked at Westinghouse, we hit one unexpected challenge after another.
Another failed appeal to the school’s administrators… On several instances the students discovered that they had left critical parts back at their school. I sent an email asking the assistant principal if someone at the school would help us retrieve them. Her answer:
“The students could probably ring the bell and ask the custodian politely.”
No offer to use her authority and call on our behalf. Her suggestion didn’t work; we had no choice but to order replacement parts and pay for expensive overnight shipping.
I asked the assistant principal if the school had budget to order parts in light of this. I did not hear back, and on February 19th I sent another inquiry –
“Did you see my note about budget for parts?”
She never replied.
Later, once the season was over, the principal would tell me that she had “$3,000 left in the school’s robotics budget that must be used by the end of April or else it would be lost.”
Some of the students also faced serious personal crises throughout the week, including one involving the threat of home eviction. The Westinghouse coaches and mentors proved to be a godsend, especially one who was an expert at machine shop tools and equipment. One of their team’s mentors – a master programmer who works at Bloomberg – was very generous with his advice. There’s a special place in heaven for all of them.
After more machine shop work, several over-night mini-CIM motor and part orders, mechanical, electrical, and software fine-tuning, we had our shooting mechanism:
Success!! Putting it all together (T-2 Days)
On Sunday evening, February 21st, two days before the final build deadline, we finally had our working robot.
We discovered that the mechanism didn’t have enough force to launch the ball high enough to reach the castle tower. The team devised a clever algorithm: reverse the gears to pull the ball into the channel further and create further “runway,” then instantly and rapidly reverse the shooting gears. It worked, as you can see in the following video. Before leaving for the night we were eager to run one final test: aiming for a mock-up of the castle tower built by the Westinghouse team’s mentors and coaches.
Off to Javits
The day finally arrived to transport our robot to Javits, where we were happy to hear that NYC FIRST staff had placed our work pit next to our Westinghouse friends.
No uniforms!!
I immediately noticed upon arriving at Javits that all other teams present were wearing custom uniformed t-shirts. I learned the team had no uniforms and quickly found a remarkable soul, Randy Quiles, owner of Rebelution Ink in Williamsburg Brooklyn. Randy transformed my rushed, stick-figure design into a slick version befitting the team’s personality, and worked late until 11PM the night before the competition so that I could pick them up just in time.
The design I gave Randy:
And his transformation:
NYC Regionals - Game Time!
On the morning of March 12, the team arrived to this sight – The Netherlands team pumped-up for the two-day competition:
Needless to say their energy, size, and beautiful attire were an impressive sight, and more than a little intimidating to our team.
Once inside, I surprised the team with their new T shirts. Game on!
We also took note of the incredible machines others had built, some even with rivets and elaborate optical targeting systems! Much more complex than our humble robot!
Competition Drama
The time had come for our first round of competition. Tevin, Alba, and I headed to the arena to join our alliance team. While waiting to enter the field, Tevin accidentally dropped the laptop – and the keyboard popped-out! My heart sank as I imagined the team’s hard work leading up to this moment. That laptop represented our remote link to the robot’s brain – we were toast without it.
I rushed over to help. Fortunately, Tevin and I were able to reconnect the keyboard and control the robot. I was completely in awe of how cool and calm he remained throughout.
Our first round was a success – our alliance won!
Over the remainder of the competition, we had a mixture of wins and losses, yet overall exceeded our expectations and at one point ranked 20th. A few of the team member’s parents dropped by to say hello, and I shared how proud I was of each of their kids. I also met Charles’ dad, whom I had learned was also named Clyde!
Finally, on Sunday, the quarter finals were over. The top teams would proceed to the finals later that evening. As we regrouped, I asked the team if they thought we might reach the finals. All agreed that the chances were extremely slim. I asked if they would be disappointed with that outcome, and they replied, “No way. We’ve come a lot farther than we expected.”
“AGREED! Let’s clean up and go grab some pizza.”
An awesome surprise
As we were cleaning up our work area, the competition’s announcer requested that each team send a representative to the arena where the finalist teams would be announced. Tevin rushed over. As expected, our team was not selected. However, each of the winning teams was invited to select a team to join their final rounds.
Suddenly, we heard a team announce their selection – a student’s voice uttered our team’s name! All of us froze for a second, stunned at the news, then shouted in jubilation with a round of high fives.
Our alliance team lost in the end, but in my mind the Brooklyn Science Skills team won more than just a game.
Epilogue
A few weeks after the competition, Killian, my friend who had inspired my own initial interest in FIRST, came through again. He had been following the team’s progress via my Facebook posts and without solicitation invited them to visit his engineering team at Facebook’s New York offices.
What a treat for these kids! The students enjoyed taking selfies in front of the Facebook and Instagram signs inside, but none of that compared to meeting with Killian’s team. They shared practical academic and career advice about their studies and path to jobs in technology.
Commentaires