Riding in Triumph

Our last event at the NC Science Olympiad state contest was Helicopter. We had prepared and engineered based on a 50 foot ceiling. We walked into the designated contest area. The ceiling was barely higher than the ones in our house. The room was a narrow lobby, no seating for anyone to watch. Spectators could stand along an adjoining stairway on either end of the narrow room. The venue for the event had changed just 3 days ago, so we didn't have time to restructure or change our helicopter. Ben, Asherel's team mate, tested the copter with a taller protective spire on top, but it took so much time off the flight that we decided it really was best to take our chances and let it fly as it was. Our fear was it would be smashed and broken against the low ceiling.

The kids felt they had done well on their other events so I was not as anxious for them as I might have been as they entered the helicopter room. I got a front row perch along the stair railing. I heard a lady behind me say, "Oh, those are the Science Hounds. They are good!" I beamed inside. We are the Science Hounds Club.

Asherel and Ben chose the perfect position in the room, away from walls and obstructions. They wound the copter. This is always tense as the key is to wind the rubber to the maximum tension without breaking it. We purposely broke rubbers over the year to get a sense of how many winds it could take. I was holding my breath. They stopped winding and as they were attaching the rubber to the copter, there was a loud "twang" and I knew some attachment on the copter had broken. Ben hurried to our repair kit and rifled through, looking for the super glue. He pried open the cap and squeezed. I could see the glue had congealed. (Note to self: should have gotten brand new glue for the repair kit.) After a hurried consultation with Asherel who was still gripping the wound motor tightly against the point where the attachment had snapped, Ben found our pliers in the kit and snapped off the top of the super glue. A mess of it spilled on his fingers, which he was careful to keep spread apart so they wouldn't glue together. Meanwhile, what was their coach doing? I am not allowed to say a word once they are on the floor, so I was quietly and unobtrusively hyperventilating.

Ben hurried back, glued the broken part together, sprayed on the accelerant to speed the drying, and took the copter carefully from Asherel. Just as he was about to release it for flight #1 (we are allowed 2 flights in 8 minute time limit), the helicopter rotors snapped as the broken piece flew off and the copter was destroyed.

We had a back up helicopter, which was almost as good as the first. The timer looked annoyed as the kids raced to prep copter #2. He kept glancing at his watch. The kids looked intent, but not overly frenzied or worried. I knew well over half their time was up, from when I had seen the timer start his watch. I also knew copter #2 was the one Ben had added a spire to, and then taken it off. Of the two copters, it was likely the weaker one structurally, therefore. And copter #1, the stronger, better copter lay in smithereens. I resisted looking at my watch or taking my pulse. Since the kids could see me, I knew I needed to look as though I was not in early stages of cardiac arrest. I prayed, "Oh please Lord, let them get that copter off in time." After this incredibly hard year of work, I couldn't bear to think they would not even get in a single flight. Ben's mom, Rebecca, was quietly resting her head on a garbage can.

They wound copter two, and I saw them conferring. Asherel was shaking her head, and Ben paused. I knew this was the tense moment when they had to decide whether to add more winds. The more winds, the longer the flight, but it must have been close to the breaking point. Ben stopped winding and I exhaled. My fingers were turning blue as he removed the tight rubber from the winder and carefully slipped it onto the copter prop hangar wire. I heard a snap, but thankfully, it was the snap of the rubber slipping in place.

Then he stepped to the middle of the room, held the copter aloft, and released his hand. The helicopter went up and then started dancing all across the ceiling. It wove back and forth, sideways, diagonally, and once even threatened to tip over (disaster!). I had started my video at lift off. I could barely breathe as i watched the seconds tick away. I knew some copters had hit 2 minutes and more. Their flights had been straight up and down. This flight was wild. One minute....one minute thirty...oh no....don't hit the wall! Whew! Watch out for the light! Oh my! Two minutes...it is still right up on that ceiling! At 2:15 it started to lose height and landed at 2:19, the best flight that copter had ever done. The crowd along the two stair wells exploded into applause.

The kids grabbed their copter and rummaged for another motor for flight number two. Just as they began winding, the timer walked over to them.
"Time's up," he said.
The kids looked disappointed, but they knew flight #1 was good, and flight #2 only enters consideration in case of a tie.

As I discussed the event with our club coach a few minutes later, we reread the rules, feeling fairly certain that the timer had started too soon. The club coach, Amy, felt we needed to enter a formal concern since according to the rules, the time was not supposed to start until the copter was released. Our team had never released the first copter, so no time should have started till the second copter lifted off. They would have had plenty of time for flight two. On our protest, we wrote that we didn't need to do a second flight unless there was a tie, since that would decide our placement. We left my cell phone number, but as the last hour before awards ended, no one had called. They had either denied the protest, or there was no need for a tie breaker.

When it came time to announce the helicopter awards, I gripped Rebecca's arms. The top ten places receive medals. When they hit 7th place, I began to get nervous. I knew we had a good flight, but was it good enough at the State level? I had heard of 3 minute flights prior to the event. 3rd place? nope, not us. My heart was pounding. 2nd place...not us. Oh no...they hadn't even been in the top ten! And then, yes folks, and then, they announced the NC State Helicopter Champions of 2012- the Science Hounds. Ben sprang to his feet. Asherel just sat there a moment, looking a little stunned. I lost my voice shrieking and threatened to capsize the stadium, jumping up and down.

The Science Hounds club racked up medal after medal. My team did well in Trebuchet, the other event I coach, but at 13th, didn't medal. However, it was a good score. The top two teams go on to Nationals. We knew we had to be close. Our club came in third in the state overall. Our incredibly hard year of Science Olympiad ended with triumph, almost making it to Nationals!

Funny how so often when all looks lost, when what one's hope had rested on lies blasted to smithereens at one's feet, is sometimes when triumph raises its whirling rotors. This was just a contest, and one that in the grand scheme of things doesn't matter in and of itself. What does matter is that maybe the kids...and maybe I....learned that until the time runs out, never give up. Always work as though being lifted up is possible, and out of wreckage, hope can still soar; redemption is still possible.

Isaiah 58:14
then you will find your joy in the Lord,
and I will cause you to ride in triumph on the heights of the land







-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org