I find myself deeply resonating with the vision of revolutionizing inclusivity within the field of robotics. While robotics is undeniably a realm of constant innovation, centered around the progress in machine learning and automation, there's a critical need to revolutionize the mindsets of those steering this progress. One fundamental observation is that many engineers and computer scientists may inadvertently overlook the transformative potential their technology holds for diverse communities. This insight became vividly apparent to me through a firsthand experience I had last year when I became actively engaged with Texas A&M's Sketch Recognition Lab. In this transformative experience, I collaborated on a groundbreaking project with PhD student Amanda Lacy, who specializes in accessibility for the visually impaired. Together, we endeavored to enhance user interface experiences for blind individuals, particularly focusing on optimizing the usage of everyday devices like phones. The realization struck hard that the design of technology often neglects the needs of people with disabilities. Amanda's struggle to type on a conventional phone keyboard due to its size underscores the urgent need for a paradigm shift in technology design to ensure inclusivity. The profound impact of this eye-opening experience extended beyond the specific project; it led me to contemplate the broader landscape of technology accessibility. The ubiquitous narrator, for instance, revealed itself to be somewhat inconvenient compared to the seamless access enjoyed by those without visual impairments. The mere thought of attempting to compose this very essay without the ability to see brings forth a profound appreciation for the challenges faced by differently-abled individuals in navigating the digital world. In advocating for the revolution of inclusivity, my aspirations extend beyond accessibility alone. I envision a paradigm shift in the representation of individuals like myself in the technology domain. As a Latina woman in computer science, I find myself belonging to one of the most underrepresented demographics in this field. While strides are being made towards a more inclusive industry, there's an urgent need to dismantle the systemic barriers that discourage young girls from pursuing careers in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM). My commitment to this cause manifests in my volunteer work at science fairs, where I've encountered a poignant reality. It pains me to witness the limited number of young girls approaching me, eager to envision themselves in my position. However, each interaction with a girl who dares to dream of a future in technology fills my heart with joy. It serves as a poignant reminder of my own origins in the field, nurtured through a science fair that sparked my passion and curiosity. In essence, the call for revolutionizing inclusivity within the field of robotics encompasses not only a transformation in accessibility but also a reshaping of the narrative surrounding underrepresented groups. It's a plea for a more equitable and diverse technological landscape, where everyone, regardless of background or ability, can contribute and thrive. This comprehensive approach aligns seamlessly with Loupe's mission, reinforcing the belief that true revolution encompasses both intentional actions and dedicated commitment.

My entire life, I have been the one holding the flashlight. My dad is a fifty-year-old man with a handyman complex, just like any dad, if not more. In other words, he is obsessed with repairing everything. Therefore, my job as the oldest daughter is to hold the flashlight for him. Whenever we needed to change an electric plug, he turned off the electricity, and I was always there, holding the flashlight. Watching him tinker with wires and the soldering iron, I soon developed my interest in everything electrical and computers. That was when I started helping him repair things, such as an old washing machine my grandpa had almost thrown away, and taking on my own creative challenges, like the end-of-year catapult project for my AP Physics class. He has shown me to put time and effort into my Computer Science labs, as the tiniest semicolon can make your code impossible to run. My dad has always pushed me to do more. He was the one to come to all my basketball games back when I still played. Every time I scored a three-pointer, I looked to my dad and waited for him to nod back at me. My dad also introduced me to computer science; he taught me how to count with my fingers up to 1023. It’s simple, really. Each of your fingers signifies a Bit of information, which can store one of two values, up or down. Is your finger up? Add the value assigned to the finger to the total number. Is it down? Skip that value. And boom, you have now learned binary. When I started block coding with him at eleven, programming was like solving puzzles: the pieces just worked together. We soon learned about other number systems (like binary!) and operation signs, which absolutely rocked my world and made me rethink my concept of mathematics. I bumped up to a whole new programming level with the introduction of (can you guess?) typing code. I learned some Java, which offered the creative freedom to make my first-ever video game and pushed me to learn more languages. Programming has been full of firsts, and each of them has left me wanting to seek more. Truth tables made me obsessed with ones and zeroes and all the possible outputs their different combinations could produce. Recursion-- infinite loops that break computers? Groundbreaking discovery. Joining Robotics this year reintroduced me to an idea that had slipped my mind: programming goes hand in hand with the real world. The most basic artificial intelligence can help a robot determine its position on a playing field, so why not go further? Through coding, I have rediscovered the world I live in and myself, quenching my thirst for knowledge but always leaving me hungry for more. I love computer science because it helps me push the limits of my understanding of the world. To this day, I am always excited to get my dad's input on the arm I have designed or on tiny bits of code that I helped our programmer with, and I thank him for being such a big inspiration and pushing me to pursue a career in engineering. Yet still, the fact that I can count to 1023 with my fingers amazes me.

I stood in front of the cliff, scared to death. I looked down to see my brothers enjoying a bath in the crystalline water five meters below me. It wasn’t even that bad of a jump. But heights have terrified me since I was a kid, and this was no exception. The skies were clear; there was nothing on the horizon, but still, I felt like the world was collapsing on top of me. In my mind, there was only one possible outcome to this situation. I had to jump. That was how I felt on the first day of my senior year. I was late for Robotics. The bell rang, and I stepped into the room, immediately feeling felt out of place. About twenty heads turned in my direction. I cursed under my breath. The room was full of guys. I could have never known that I would eventually get so close to these boys. Being a woman in STEM has always been a challenge in my classes, but I try to put myself out there and realize that I have nothing to prove to others. The first few weeks were as awkward as you would expect them to be, but after some time, I realized that everyone was just as scared of making the jump as I was. Soon enough, we started working on our competition robot, which forced us to get to know each other. I now realize that the water had always been closer to me than I thought. Just like heights, putting myself out of my comfort zone is still terrifying to me, but, like I revisit that five-meter cliff every summer, I have learned to swallow my fears and take a step forward to jump into the person I am.

Some summers ago, I adopted a grandpa. After my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few years ago, I realized one of my biggest fears: forgetting and being forgotten. He had to move into a home for the elderly, where he got day-round medical attention, and my family got the chance to visit him twice a week. The first time we got to see him, we experienced a brutal truth: many people have nobody left who remembers to visit. Hanging out with our grandpa and going on weekly walks soon became routine. However, every time we went to pick him up, we walked past many others who waited quietly for someone to do the same for them. My cousin and I always offered our smiles and small talk about the weather or any recent soccer games. We were always received with open arms by both the residents and staff. So whenever I heard of Adopt-A-Grandpa, I knew it was the thing for me. The next time I went to pick up grandpa for a walk, I asked about it in his home and signed the paperwork for an old Parisian man named Emile, whose family had moved back to France but couldn’t bring him with them due to some logistic issues. Emile and my grandpa slowly became close friends, and as grandpa started to forget, Emile helped us stay grounded. Emile passed away last winter, but I am super grateful that I got to meet such an extraordinary person and be his adoptive granddaughter for a while.

“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince My rose has always been basketball. I started playing basketball when I was about seven years old and became fully committed from the beginning. I trained two hours a day, played tournaments every weekend, and did physical conditioning during the holidays. I had so much dedication for eight years of being an average player. And then I got injured and could not play anymore. After the injury, I lost all sense of purpose. I focused on recovery, but when your doctor tells you it’s going to be pointless, you try to convince yourself that you never enjoyed your sport in the first place. I started recognizing how annoying it had been to wake up early for games and how much time practice took off my schedule. I tried cultivating other roses, trying other hobbies, but none quite felt like basketball. It wasn’t until I came to terms with how important it had been for me that I was finally able to dedicate myself to other things. Now I take pride in an ample rose garden with lots of interests that I water from time to time and several that I tend to more often, one of which is still basketball.

I have always been a person with clear objectives. Since I was a kid, my goal has been clear: study for a career in engineering and become financially stable to help my parents pay for my brothers’ college. However, I have recently realized that paying for their education will not be enough for me. I want them to be able to look up to me. Being the older sister has undoubtedly been a massive responsibility. Taking care of the younger ones, cooking when my parents were away from home, and double-checking that my brothers did their homework: these tasks have been part of my life for quite a bit now. But while my parents expected me to do those things, I have subconsciously tried to set a good example for my younger brothers. That often took a toll on me. There were times when I was not in the best headspace to push myself to my scholarly limit, but the hope to make my brothers proud was enough motivation to keep me going forward. I want to become a successful engineer, not only for my own sake but so that my brothers can use me as a reference and set their own goals in the future.

I love nature because it has taught me valuable skills and given me the chance to connect with other people. Growing up, I spent my summers in a small rural town in Spain, where there wasn’t much to do. Soon, this translated into my brothers and me suffering from immeasurable boredom and taking up new hobbies, our favorite one being blackberry picking. We would fill up our water bottles and put our caps on just to stroll around in the woods behind our house and look for blackberries in the blazing sun of August. We soon learned not to pick the unripe berries (the birds eat them) and to clean them before we ate them (the hard way– through some stomach infections). However, it was all worth it for the reward that awaited us at home: blackberry pie. I never thought I would use that skill again until I went on a pilgrimage to Santiago during ninth grade. Our school provided three meals a day, but hiking was exhausting, so we had to figure out our own ways to obtain food. I taught my friend group how to pick blackberries, as they were (conveniently) in season, and we started trading them for other types of food with hikers on the way to Santiago. I try to appreciate nature by not taking more blackberries than what I need and always try to make sure to give back by dropping some seeds for more blackberry bushes to grow.

1. Hi! My name is Big Jeff. I am the state robot from this year's FTC team 16911, the Rigatoni Pastabots. Lucia and her team were able to engineer the state title (mostly thanks to me), but Lucia has become emotionally attached to me (a pile of extrusions and wires), so she wants to remake me from scratch. However, robots are expensive. Please, I want a little brother! 2. I want to help the future robotics teams at The Woodlands High School so they can use me as an example to make their own robots for future FTC challenges. Soon, I will have an army of smaller Big Jeffs, and we will conquer the world! I also want to be the best big brother ever. 3. I gave my team a lot of trouble this year, but the biggest obstacle we’ve overcome was during the state competition this April, which, spoiler alert, we won. One of my wheels came loose during the last qualifying match, and that almost cost my team the entire tournament. Thankfully, our alliance partner carried, and Lucia and her team were able to spot the issue before the semifinal round started. It was definitely a close call!

If I were to give my younger self advice, I would tell her to take on life one step at a time. I have struggled with mental health for a bit over two years now. Demotivation, mostly. I never wanted to see a therapist for fear that they would tell me all the things that were wrong with me, so I learned to deal with it by myself. There were some days I just could not get out of bed. I had things to do: homework, clubs, going out, but I felt like canceling all plans and laying in bed, doing nothing. I started missing class. That was my first big mistake: when you start doing it, you will not stop. Absences accumulated, mostly in my least-favorite subjects (ahem, Calculus). My grades never went down due to late credit on assignments, and still doing surprisingly well on the tests, so my lack of attendance looked like I was just choosing to skip class. It all spiraled out of control from there. I could not get anything done, and my mom screaming at me about deadlines made me more reluctant to do anything. That was until I went to a therapist the other day. I probably should have a long time ago, but baby steps, okay? My key takeaway from it? Take pride in the small achievements. A productive day is what you make it to be. Taking a shower and picking up some socks from your floor can be a big deal when you’re struggling. Slowly push yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’ll find that doing one task leads to another. And seriously, don’t be like me. I know it sounds cliche, but seek help.

“Okay, guys, I hope you can remember everything,” Ms. Leone said as she finished handing out the quizzes. I waited for her to give the signal, and when she did, I eagerly flipped my paper, waiting for the melody inside my head to start. And there it was, just like I had practiced it. Despacito started ominously playing, telling me all there was to memorize in my notes. Thankfully, nobody else could hear the poor singing that was going on inside my head. Memorization-type tests have always been challenging for me. I mean, they were until I started writing songs. The process is usually pretty easy: find a catchy song that I don’t know the lyrics to, memorize the tempo, modify my notes into lyrics for that melody, and record myself singing it. Then, over the following few days, I would listen to my voice non-stop until the song involuntarily played in my head. Do I cringe listening to myself sing for hours on end? Absolutely. Do random songs on the radio now remind me of AP Biology? Oh, you can bet they do. But it’s something unique that has worked for me so far, and it hopefully will in the future unless I run out of songs, of course.

I stood in front of the cliff, scared to death. I looked down to see my brothers enjoying a bath in the crystalline water five meters below me. It wasn’t even that bad of a jump. But heights have terrified me ever since I was a kid, and this was no exception. The skies were clear; there was nothing on the horizon, but still, I felt like the world was collapsing on top of me. In my mind, there was only one possible outcome to this situation. I had to jump. That was how I felt on the first day of my senior year. I was late to Robotics, which was my third period of the day, as my English class was a decent ten-minute walk away from room 170. The bell rang, and I rushed to the door, hoping the teacher would not count me as late. After all, it was the first day. I stepped into the room and immediately felt out of place. About twenty heads turned in my direction. I cursed under my breath. The room was full of guys. I could have never known that I would eventually get so close to these boys. Being a woman in STEM has sometimes been a challenge in my classes, but it never felt like that in Robotics. The first few weeks were as awkward as you would expect them to be, but after some time, I realized that everyone was just as scared of making the jump as I was. Soon enough, we started working on our competition robot, which forced us to get to know each other. I had certainly underestimated the amount of time management and patience required to work in a team. Of course, we encountered some problems on the way (like whenever we had to cut every piece of our robot five inches smaller). However, those mistakes have only brought us closer together, and now I always remember to think two steps ahead in case we need to make unexpected additions to the drivetrain. I have thoroughly enjoyed applying everything I already knew to engineer a functional arm for our competition robot. Although we quickly decided on a four-bar arm, which improved the functionality of our intake, it took us four months and more than twenty fresh starts to reach what I thought was the final version of our arm. I now see myself reflected in the ninth-graders who were so annoying to me at first, with their surprisingly creative ideas and immeasurable eagerness to learn. I now realize that the water had always been closer to me than I thought. Just like heights, putting myself out of my comfort zone is still terrifying to me, but, like I revisit that five-meter cliff every summer, I have learned to swallow my fears and take a step forward to jump into the person I am.

For me, generosity is in a piece of garlic bread. The phone buzzed. It had been for the entire evening. I can’t say I did not expect it. Midterms started in two days, meaning the class group chat became the last-minute helper for almost everyone in the class. Wonderful. Although helping was never a problem, trying to reply to everyone was exhausting and super time-consuming. One of my friends suggested that we plan something for everyone, and I loved the idea. We quickly put together a picnic-style event: bring food, and you are allowed in. Twice a week over the following few months, some friends and I sat in the school cafeteria eating garlic bread and giving study help on every subject from French to Physics. For the first time, the task didn’t feel overwhelming. Exams week went by smoothly, and by the time we came back from Christmas break, everyone in the school knew about the picnic sessions. We decided to make them school-based, and several school administrators backed the idea. Although it’s been a while since I moved to the States, every time I go back to Spain, I attend tutoring picnics, and I always make sure to bring some garlic bread along the way.

The ball left my once-teammate’s hands as she was pushed to the side by a player on the opposite team. The rest of the players sitting beside me complained. That was certainly a foul. I jumped (ouch!) out of my seat on the bench to talk to the girl on the court, who angrily stared at the other player, ready to start a fight. That would have been me a few months before, but I needed to stay put and help her calm down as coach. I had a severe ankle injury my freshman year of high school, and even though I tried to deal with it, I was eventually hit with what would be the hardest of truths for me: I would never recover enough to compete again. I have never been one to give up, so for the first few months, I would still go to practice. Carrying clutches, with a plaster covering almost my entire leg, I stood there, no matter the weather, cheering on my teammates and helping pick up stray balls. This carried on for a long time until the head coach suggested that I did some basic coach training. I was definitely not going to be able to play again, but when life closes a door, it opens a window, so I accepted the offer and became the secondary coach for my own team. Being a coach was certainly worlds different from being on the field, but I enjoyed it as much as I did playing.

My entire life I’ve been the one holding the flashlight. My dad is a fifty-year-old man with a handyman complex, just like any dad, if not more. Basically, he is obsessed with repairing everything. Therefore, my job as the oldest daughter is to hold the flashlight for him. Every time we needed to change an electric plug he turned off the electricity and there I was, holding the flashlight. By watching him tinker with wires and the soldering iron I soon developed an interest in all things electrical and computers. This is when I started actually helping him in repairing a lot of things, such as an old washing machine that my grandpa had almost thrown away, and taking on my personal creative challenges, like the end-of-year catapult project for my AP Physics class. He has shown me to put time and effort into my Computer Science labs, as the tiniest semicolon can make your code impossible to run. My dad has always pushed me to do more. He was the one to come to all my basketball games back when I still played. Every time I would score a three-pointer, I looked to my dad and waited for him to nod back at me. Even now, whenever I come back from Robotics, I am excited to get his input on the arm I designed, or in tiny bits of code that I helped our programmer with, and I thank him for being with me along the way.

I can count with my fingers up to 1023. It’s simple, really. Each of your fingers signifies a bit of information, which can store one of two values, up or down. Your finger is up? Add the value assigned to the finger to the total number. It’s down? Skip that value. And boom, you have now learned binary. Ever since I started block coding at eleven, programming has been a lot like making puzzles: the pieces just work together. I soon learned about other number systems (like binary!) and operation signs, which absolutely rocked my world and made me rethink my concept of mathematics. My coding expertise was bumped up to a whole new level with the introduction of (can you guess?) typing code. I learned some Java, which offered the creative freedom to make my first-ever video game, as well as pushed me to learn more languages. Programming has been full of firsts, and each of them has left me wanting to seek more. Truth tables made me obsessed with ones and zeroes and all the possible outputs that the different combinations of them could produce. Recursion-- infinite loops that break computers? Groundbreaking discovery. Having joined Robotics this year, I was reintroduced to an idea that had slipped my mind: programming goes hand in hand with the real world. Even though there are no logic gates out here, the decisions that a computer makes are just as influenced by the environment as our own. The most basic amount of artificial intelligence can help a robot determine its position on a playing field, so why not go further? Learning to code has helped me gain a better understanding of the world I live in as well as myself, quenching my thirst for knowledge but always leaving me hungry for more. Those maze-solving algorithms that blew my mind as a child could be applied to street navigation and emergency exit routes and the basic odometry positioning system used in our tiny competition robots could be translated into accommodations for people with impaired vision. I love computer science because it helps me push the limits of my understanding of the world. Yet still, the fact that I can count to 1023 with my fingers amazes me.