FIRST Robotics - Seeing my Old Life from the Other Side

If you ask most people what sport they played in high school, you’ll hear soccer, football, or lacrosse. They were a member of the swim team, or the track team, or maybe even wrestling. You ask me what my sport was? I’ll tell you the FRC.

I competed in the FIRST Robotics Competition for three years during high school. For a skinny, athletically-uninclined individual such as myself, that six-week build challenge was my sport, and I treated it as such. I trained in computer-aided design, in driving the robot, in strategy, and in presenting for awards, and I led training for my fellow teammates so that when we pulled up to the competitions, we would be ready to perform. FRC was my life, the success of the team became my legacy, and the skills I developed during my time competing are what made me the person I am today. I still keep up with its community, and I couldn’t imagine my life without it, but now that I’ve graduated out of the program, I’ve had to rethink my relationship with the program.

I volunteered last weekend at the Blacksburg district qualifier, a late-season competition with some of Chesapeake’s most competitive teams. I was a robot inspector during load-in day, making sure that each team’s robot was compliant with the rules and regulations, and during matches I was a referee, watching the robots like a hawk as they flew across the field with my flag at the ready. I was excited to give back, to help run the event, and it was fun being in those roles and seeing the process from the other side, but it was also a true wake-up call to the fact that I was no longer a student in the program, no longer one of the competitors.

The first sign came from my very first inspection. After going through the standard routine, and clearing them to compete the next day, I stuck around for another minute so I could compliment them on their robot. As a student, I used to always go around the pits, asking my fellow competitors about their robot and telling them how pretty I thought it was. I tried to do the same, but standing there with my tablet in hand, a neon yellow “robot inspector” hat on my head, and a volunteer badge around my neck, my presence was that of an authority figure, not that of a peer. My sticking around to compliment them was met less with a sense of flattery and more of “what is that guy still doing here?” One of the girls even referred to me as “sir” the entire time, which was not something I had been expecting. My interactions were truly all positive, they were just different from what I had been expecting.

It was much of the same as a referee while matches were going on. With the outcome of a match often within my control, penalty points making all the difference in close matches, it’s important to not only be impartial inside, but to also maintain the outward appearance. There were a few times when my friends would come onto the field, or where a fellow grad was back from college and with their old team in the stands, and I would go to greet them, but be met with a notice from my fellow volunteers that I had to be more conscious about my presentation. I was welcome to do as I pleased, but only while I was out of uniform. So long as I looked the part, I had to embody it.

Despite all of this, despite the shock of change, I’ve come to find a new appreciation for my place within the program. I may not be a competitor any more, or even “one of the kids”, but I can still find purpose in doing my part to keep these events running. I won’t be building any more robots on the field, but I can help make sure that the students who do get the absolute most out of it.

Featured image thanks to Zach Clarke and FIRST Chesapeake.