A leader?

I used to believe that leadership was about the amount of power. How to give confident orders, to act indifferent and focusing on leading alone, being isolated from others suggestions. 

Being elected as captain of my underwater robotics team, Sea Star, for the 2025 SeaPearch regionals felt, at first, like an invitation to become that person. I did not want to become a cold captain, acting like I knew it all, because it wasn’t who I was. I learned, immersed in the humid air of James Madison High school pool and applied many redesigns to our ROV. The failures, struggles, confusion and frustration was not only from me, but my team. I was wrong to think that true leadership is only about speaking from your point of view. It’s about listening. A captain doesn’t steer a ship alone, every crew member pitches in on the helm with their hands. Everyone is included, heard and can take action. A captain does not belittle their crew.

Our initial design meetings were warm and welcoming every time, at the beginning. However, we were falling apart when trying to start building, because of constant arguing. I came in with a plan, a design I’d sketched out based on fishing hooks. I was the “boss”, and I was ready to delegate tasks, even though I wanted to do most of it. But where’s the fun of that? I honestly liked to be surprised by my crew and their ways of achieving their tasks. Yet, my own self doubt silenced my proposals. It was one of my friends who encouraged me to speak out towards my group and help clarify things. She was quiet and liked pointing out flaws but didn’t know how to approach them in a respectful manner. This is where I came in, listening to what she had to say and we both suggested an alternative layout based on our knowledge of physics principles that other members overlooked.

“What are you dumb? If you place the wire there it wouldn’t make the currents run properly towards the motor. We would have to start over and get new parts! Our school is too broke for that!” Sara would constantly scold our team when we showed that we didn’t know what to do. One boy would guess his way through everything, ignoring directions or wanting to try something new. Sara didn’t like that. 

“I could always order parts if we need, just a month in advance.” Our teacher, Mr. Lipnitsky, would say with a laugh.

“Why don’t you work on cutting the tubes? It would be better to have someone buff them out.” I would tell him when I could feel Sara’s rage getting ready to blow up. 

She was my friend, a bit short tempered but still very smart.  She spoke her opinion if I overlooked anything. I had been so focused on being heard that I had muted the very people who would be able to share their knowledge. I realized, a leader’s primary role is not to have all the answers, but to have the humility to recognize the answers in others. 

Sea Star had to build an underwater robot that could go through an obstacle course in an olympic size swimming pool and then, in the second round, retrieve items and score as many points as possible. How did we do that? With the help of our mechanical expert, Ros, he had a wider frame for printing and physics knowledge. Our wiring and code expert, Sara, developed an easier way for our ROV to swim without the motors exploding. My job was to facilitate, to test and develop each idea, and write our group’s technical report. I would stay behind whenever someone had to leave early and continue their work, knowing they relied on me made me feel useful. It felt as if I was no longer a captain and that they were my crew, it morphed to everyone sharing a single brain and a pair of hands. It morphed my love for building and making my confidence bloom. We can do it. Women can do anything.  

When it was time to take our ROV to New Jersey on March 23rd of 2025, we had to decide who would be the steerer for part one, the obstacle course, and part two, retrieval. The pressure was a physical weight. We didn’t have enough time to do multiple test runs in the school’s pool and let every member get used to the controls. We just tossed a small plastic hoop in the pool and each member tried to pick it up with the robotic hook within two minutes. Ros and I were able to pick it up. At the end of the bus ride me and Ros were elected as pilots, him for the obstacle course and me for the item retrieval. My team was my co-pilot, calling out encouragement through the crowds. When we clinched third place, the roar we let out wasn’t for a trophy, it was for each other. Our cheeks would burn, not because it was a packed gym room, where they gave the announcement, but because we were smiling from ear to ear for so long. With that roar most of my team were exhausted, being at school to take the coach bus at five in the morning totally wasn’t overwhelming. Our eyes were burning not only because we were tired, but for the many hours being exposed to chlorine. I wasn’t used to it. My friend would laugh at me.

“Girl, can’t you handle some water?” 

“Pool water. Indoor pool water, Kristina.” I corrected her, unamused by her sarcasm.

“I think this is the first competition our school won!” Mr. Lipnitsky would say with amazement. 

I was amazed too, but mostly exhausted. My group would end up snoring the moment we were back on the coach bus.  We had triumphed not because we were most technically advanced for our burrow, but because we were the most cohesive group. We were also rewarded with a “Leadership Award” for our school. 

This lesson in humble collaboration extends far beyond just a group building an underwater robot together. It’s the blueprint for any one who needs to know how to connect with others, not on a personal level but in a respected and equal stance. In a family, it’s the parents who listen to their child’s perspective on a difficult decision. In an office, it’s the manager who values his or her newest interns or senior workers and takes their insights as well. It’s about understanding that genius is not only about the person who’s “gifted” but the ones who focus on self growth and aid others in growth as well. We had learned to trust the quiet voice, to value unconventional ideas and to lift one another towards success in academics and personal growth.

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