Majorly @@ -- this is the story* of how I won the ArsDigita Prize*.
Prelude It was toward the end of the school year. The days were long and lazy, summer was fast approaching. So I sat at my computer, surfing, little knowing that I would soon come across a link that would change my life. I was on the MacAddict web site, reading the news like I did every day, when I found a news item that sparked my interest. It was something about a $10,000 prize for kids who designed web sites. Interesting, I thought. I mused that perhaps next year I might have a chance at winning this prize. I was even more excited when I discovered that along with the prize, a free class on designing such web sites was being given. I asked my parents if I could fly to Boston to take the class, not really expecting I could, but hoping anyway. Much to my surprise, they said yes. I went there and took the class, taught by Philip Greenspun, one of the cast of characters that would begin to have major influence over my life. I came back charged, knowing just what to do. I hurried home and quickly began work on my website. I spent the summer programming, designing and managing it. I did little else that summer. My parents quickly became accustomed to the fact that I would spend my days up in my room, typing away at my computer. The night before school started again, I came downstairs and proudly announced to my mother, Im done, before promptly collapsing on the bed in exhaustion. Miracles Can Happen Throughout the rest of the school year, I continued to work on, revise, and (several times) rewrite, my website. At school, I explained the design and plan to my good friend Josh, and we discussed it daily. Josh agreed to help work on it, but his job often changed, along with my plans and thoughts for the site. The weekend before the contest began accepting entries, I rewrote the site again in a weekend. I continued to work and refine it, accepting comments from parents and friends. I urged Josh to complete his portion, so that we could add it to our entry. As the deadline for entries grew closer, we grew farther apart. I was worried that we would not complete the whole site in time to submit it, so I submitted a portion of the site that had been completed. I didnt think that it was to likely it would win, but I thought it was better safe than sorry. Eventually, it was time to click the button and submit the real entry. It was an event of great fanfare in my household. My mother, excited by the prospects of me actually winning, quickly informed the members of the various email lists that she subscribed to of my site and the contest. Before long, hundreds visited the site and left feedback in my email box. While the comments were pouring in, I did my best to respond to each, and take all suggestions into consideration. I integrated most of them into the site, and sent them kind letters thanking them for their feedback. Days later, when the torrent of email had died down some, I received an important message in my mailbox. It was a letter from the people awarding the prize, kindly informing me that the smaller entry I had submitted was rejected. I had never been so excited at a rejection notice in my life. If they rejected the smaller entry, that means that they had likely accepted the larger one, or at least it made it through the first screening round. I hugged my family and quickly called Josh on the phone. Later, I received another message. It read: Dear Aaron, Congratulations on building a great Web service. We've selected you as a Finalist for the Second Annual ArsDigita Prize. I jumped for joy! My dreams had come true. Miracles can happen. The Main Event I got of the plane, slightly dazed and confused from the long trip. Our plane had been delayed several times, and we had to spend long waits on the runway. When we finally got out, my Dads phone rang. It was for me. It was a reporter from the Chicago Tribune, who had asked to interview me. Previously, I had been interviewed by the Boston Globe, and was very pleased with the results. The reporter was kind enough, and sure enough, a kind article about me appeared on the Chicago Tribune website the next day. As we settled into the hotel room for a good nights sleep, I bubbled with excitement over what would happen the next day. I slept soundlessly, and the excitement was still there the following morning. We quickly ate breakfast and took a cab over to ArsDigita World Headquarters. From there, they had us carry the books that were being awarded as prizes to the actual event, on Vassar Street. As we brought the books in, I saw Josh there, waiting for me. I was terribly excited to see him, but his mood didnt seem quite as bright as mine. Something seemed to be nagging at him and he acted rather uncomfortable. Soon after I had settled into my seat, I was invited up on stage to receive the prize. Before the awards, Philip demoed each of the sites. As he got to mine, my heart leapt -- would it work? would it crash? -- luckily, I survived unscathed. They handed out the awards, and announced the winner of the grand prize. It wasnt me, but that was all right, at least I got to be there. When I had my check firmly in hand (or at least I thought) I left the stage to show it to my mom. As I opened the envelope, I found that not only wasnt there a real check inside, but that they had even credited me with the wrong web site. But I didnt care, I was to excited for such a small thing to bother me. We took a break and went outside for doughnuts and coffee. I caught Josh trying to leave, and asked him where he was going. He mumbled something to me about having to meet his father, and I encouraged him to hurry back. He mumbled some more and left. My excitement was dampened by his disappearance, but I tried to make the best of what was left, hoping he would soon return. We filed back into the auditorium and listened to Philips class on web sites. Hes an amazing teacher, filled with dynamism and excitement, and he knows exactly how to communicate with the audience. His lecture was exciting and educational, even though I had seen it once before. It was some great entertainment. We took a break for lunch and went outside with Philip for some pizza. Unfortunately, all the famous people who were supposed to join us for lunch had canceled on us, so we only had Philips company to enjoy. Everyone felt nervous, and the group had trouble breaking into a conversation. Instead, we asked Philip our questions and listened to his stories in reply. I had many questions, so I fear I may have hogged some of the time, but it was an exciting experience none-the-less. We went back for the second part of the lecture, which was just as exciting as the first. Afterwards, we had time to go back to the hotel and get ready for dinner with Philip. Again, more famous people were supposed to join us, but they too canceled. It was another chance to talk more with Philip, others who worked at his company, and a good friend of his named Rajeev. Rajeev seemed very interesting, and my dad and him hit it off quite well. Sooner than I would have liked, the night was over, and I went back to the hotel for at least a night of rest. The next day was the Jewish Sabbath, a day where I am not allowed to do work or use modern inventions like computers or cars. So instead, I waked to services at the Harvard Hillel with my father. It was a beautiful modern building, and we walked upstairs to the services which were packed with Orthodox Jews. My dad commented that many often argue that orthodox Judaism is a religion for old dumb people, yet here most were bright young Harvard students. Quite a change from the usual stereotype. The services were packed, partially because some were celebrating a recent marriage, but mostly because of the many Jews near Harvard. It was a wonderful experience, that put a bright spin on the rest of the day. I decided to go back to see the second day of Philips lecture, although my dad chose not to. I was a little late, coming back from services, but they were glad to see me just the same. In the mean time, my brother Noah had decided to join us, after being so excited at what I had done. The lecture was again amazing, and during the breaks I had the opportunity to chat with people who worked at ArsDigita. On the whole, they seemed an extremely kind and especially smart group of people. A powerful combination, especially with a corporate culture that demands them to Get Stuff Done. The following day, programming boot camp began. We were dropped (literally) on the doorstep of ArsDigita, waiting for them to open. Despite the fact that their working hours read 0:00 to 12:59, they were closed, so we waited for someone to let us in. Soon enough, someone did, and we were lead up to the Boot camp room where I would spend the next week. It was a room filled with Aeron chairs and flat screen monitors -- the computer equipment and furniture that every geek lusts for. I took my seat and set down to work. Slowly, the room filled up with other prize finalists as well as adults who had decided to take the intensive programming course. It was hard work, but very exciting, and a ton of fun. The next day, my dad had arranged for a tour of the Media Lab, the exciting section of MIT doing ground-breaking work. However, the tour quickly turned into a quick circle of the building, with a few sparse comments. We then rushed over for my appointment with world-famous photographer Elsa Dorfman. Elsa is a good friend of Philip, and part of the prize is a picture at her photo studio, on her extremely rare, extra large Polaroid camera. We didnt receive copies of the photo until months later, when an extremely large package arrived in the mail from ArsDigita. I opened it up, assuming it was the photo. The photo was sandwiched between two large pieces of cardboard. As I opened it up and took the photo out, I discovered that the photo was normal 3x5 size, but printed on a very large, very blank, glossy sheet of paper. I laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. The next day, we were taken to meet another of Philips friends, Alex Slocum. Alex dropped out of high school (as did Philip), went to MIT (as did Philip), and became a professor there (as did Philip). Unlike Philip, however, he was given tenure and claims it was against his will. On the door to his office, is a picture of a malfunctioning robot, with the words Dumb Software written under it. (In a move of reciprocity, Alex commented, his friend has the same picture with Dumb Software as the caption.) Inside, Alexs room is an absolute mess, filled with half completed inventions and prototypes. Alex bursts with excitement, jumping out at you with every new idea. At MIT he leads PERG, the Precision Engineering Research Group, which requires students to invent, build, design, test, market and prepare a patent for an item of their own creation. This was learning at its finest, Slocum informed us. There was no nonsensical cranial regurgitation as in normal school. A revolution was at hand, Slocum explained to us, and the Internet was the force needed to carry it out. His words struck a strong resonance with me, and caused me to spend much of my summer researching the problems (and possible solutions) of education reform. But thats for another story. Meanwhile, Slocum explained his ideas to us, and, of course, demonstrated them. He managed to pull an example out of the mess with ease, and show how it worked right before our eyes. He showed us robots that drove along curving metal tracks, plastic pieces to help water plants, new materials for building things, and many more ideas that I couldnt begin to keep track of. He was an incredible person, amazingly able to be both a specialist and a generalist at the same time. He was able to see the big picture, but also quickly focus down on details. He dropped out of his explanation of how his inventions would save the world, to give us a quick lesson on some tricky advanced math. I left his room with my head spinning, too dazed to say much more. Soon on the tails of this experience, we were taken to the Media Lab again, this time for the full tour, as arranged by ArsDigita. A graduate student there took us around, sharing with us his detailed knowledge of many of the projects there. I was struck by the incredible thinking and work that was going on there, but saddened by the fact that little of the technology had the opportunity to make it to the general public. Soon enough, it was time for my trip to come to an end. We said our goodbyes, finished up our business, and flew back home to Chicago. Life seemed back like it used to be, but I knew it would never be the same.
Part of LogicError. Powered by Blogspace, an Aaron Swartz project. Email the webmaster with problems.