Bio



Math Experiences

Holden Lee

My Life, Before

When I was small I used to believe in mediocrity: we were an average family, and tragedies were things that happened only to “other people”.

Then my father got cancer and his condition was diagnosed as terminal.

Despite this, he never lost his hope or his smile whenever he greeted me. I had little doubt he would recover and we could go back to our regular but happy lives. However, this did not happen, and I had to revise my outlook on life.

In the following months and years, I started to realize that I needed to take control of my future. My father’s death taught me that I should not take anything for granted; the only way to ensure success is to work hard at everything I try. Bounded by neither constraints nor certainties, I could aim as high as I wanted.

Math had been my favorite school subject ever since I was small. My dad, a math professor, occasionally taught me math at home, but I did not have his patience and was more interested in dragging him off to play treasure hunt with me.

In 7th grade I was placed in “Math Connections” class, which only reviewed concepts I had long ago learned in elementary school. With my father no longer able to help me learn, I knew I needed to put my own effort in, and worked only harder than ever. I checked out algebra, geometry, and trigonometry textbooks from the library, and put in many hours, day and night, poring over them. My mom and I hauled my dad’s bookcase full of math books home, and when I finished the calculus book, I started on my father’s library. Ironically, my father’s death motivated me more than he did when he was alive, and my dissatisfaction with my school’s instruction only compelled me to learn more.

I wish my story could be that simple.

I settled into being the “average” math nerd: one of the best in my class, I occasionally read textbooks, and knew little more than the facts I learned from them. I still reserved time for fun activities, such as playing computer games.

Competition

I received my first exposure to math competitions in 10th grade.

When I participated in my first math competition, I was confident I would do well. Instead I received a score of 66. I cried the evening after the exam and listened to my mom tell me that winning was not all that mattered, something I would hear again and again over the next years.

In mid-10th grade I learned about the American Mathematics Competitions online. “Make Mathematical History!” proclaimed the banner on the main site. Drawn in, I looked up information on the Mathematical Olympiad Summer Program and the International Mathematical Olympiad. I made it my goal over the next two and a half years to win the USAMO.

Work

I started to work on math problems every day. I first studied and worked on Problem Solving Strategies by Arthur Engel, and later the AwesomeMath segments for 2006-2007. In 11th grade, motivated by my desire to get better scores on math contests, I enrolled in the AwesomeMath Year-Round Program. Every month I received a packet with math lessons and challenging problems to work on and submit solutions for feedback.

At first, I had to force myself to sit down and work on problems. Problem-solving frustrated me—I often worked for an hour on a problem only to find it had a simple solution. When I ran out of ideas, I could barely keep my eyes open.

However, after continuing for several months—doing math for several hours each day—it grew into a pattern, a habit. Not only did it become easy, it also became enjoyable. My passion for mathematics grew out of those long sessions of work.

AwesomeMath was something I set aside time for every day, even despite all my homework from AP courses. I fit it in my free period at school and continued to think about the problems whenever possible, such as when I was riding my bus home. To me, what is more important than the advanced and fascinating techniques and theorems it taught me is how it has taught me to struggle with problems, to persist despite many dead ends and false leads. Though I often got stuck on a problem, with little more than an equation or a diagram, all the time I spent with this program has been invaluable to me, giving me beautiful solutions and teaching me perseverance.

In fall 2007, I restarted the math club at our school, and asked our teacher to sign up for the American Mathematics Competitions. I worked daily first on AMC, then AIME, and finally Olympiad problems.

That year I aimed to make the Math Olympiad Program. Once I got in, I thought, my future as an Olympiad winner would be sealed, provided that I continue my hard work. I could associate myself with some of the smartest math students in the nation. The many tutors would lavish their resources on these few students to ensure that they would continue to win math competitions. I viewed it as my greatest hope to achieve my ultimate goal.

After I received my USAMO score (less than 14) I fell into a deep depression. After an initial lack of motivation (i.e. spending several days unproductively playing computer games), I contented myself with going to the AwesomeMath Summer Program and soon restarted my training with greater vigor.

What kept me going the next year was the fact that my last USAMO had not passed yet, that I still had time to train. I continued because I convinced myself that I could win. The alternative—all my work for nothing— was simply too horrible to imagine.

I learned not to waste time. I abstained from playing computer games or even reading (non-math books) for enjoyment for the whole year. Every minute I wasted was a minute I could be working on a math problem. I stopped playing cards with my classmates, instead working on IMO Shortlist problems while they chatted. Their noise drove me nuts. Why couldn’t they find something to work on as well? I put a pretense of interest in extracurricular activities I was obliged to participate in. I limited Internet usage, going online only to check messages. When I got home from school, I immediately started working on homework, looking forward to squeezing as much time in for Olympiad problems as possible. All the math I did outside of school I made sure was math-competition related—I had little time for anything else, even though there were other math topics I wanted to focus on. My focus came at a cost: I didn’t actively seek out a mentor senior year, and I missed a golden opportunity to work on a math research project.

In a typical week I reserved 3 hours for DDR breaks, and 1 hour every 2-3 weeks to call my cousin. The rest of my free time I devoted to Olympiad practice. Often I finished my homework in class and immediately launched into doing math problems; when I got home I would continue until bedtime. Every Friday I would nicely write up the proofs for the problems I solved during the week. In total, my work over the past two and a half years occupied 20 notebooks, not including mounds of scratch work.

I dreaded the approach of that day, April 28, that would seal my fate. It seemed like doomsday. I needed time to train. So many ISL problems undone! Nervousness consumed me—sometimes I grew so worried about doing problems quickly that it seemed like I had fallen into a state of permanent hyperventilation. I felt like I was sliding into insanity, that I had barreled right past reasonable limits, but I was going so fast that the effects did not have time to reach me. I was becoming a nervous wreck. My determination sustained me, and I promised myself relaxation and entertainment after MOP or IMO to restore my health.

Why didn’t I take breaks more? Many problems cracked because I refused to take a break, because I kept on working on them to midnight. I wouldn’t have had a chance of winning USAMO if I had not worked so obsessively on math. I never showed any outward sign that I was so intensely focused on the USAMO; no one understood…

So if it took me so much work to do this well, why didn’t I just give up, and accept that USAMO is out of my league? Because this is exactly the attitude that I cannot abide, that makes me mad. I utterly refuse to be told what I cannot do! I wanted to show that I could win USAMO in 12th grade, even without the benefit of MOP training. I willed myself to prove, that hard work is the most important catalyst of success, that it triumphs over pure talent!

My anxiety was a side effect. But I continued to progress; more ISL problems were finished every week. I moved on to the hardest ones.

I knew I needed to practice under time pressure, my biggest weakness. So, while I devoted the rest of the week to practicing problems freely, I made sure to do at least one day, often two days, of an Olympiad every week daily or every other day during winter and spring break. I worked on all the USAMOs since 1989 in 11th grade, eventually finishing most of the problems. In 12th grade I did all of the TSTs (all the problems I did on my own except 2), Chinese Olympiads and TSTs (because they were known for being hard), the last 10 years of IMO, and several Iberoamerican, Balkan, and Asian Pacific Math Olympiads. AwesomeMath went from being the core of my training in 11th grade to just a small component of it in 12th grade; I hurried to finish it to leave time for more training problems.

The blossoms bloomed, summer and graduation hovered ahead, but I derived no pleasure from the coming of spring. It meant I only had one month left. The passing of time was a bane. While the leaves grew from spring green tendrils, all I could think was, I need more time!

But I didn’t think so much when I was doing problems. Every night, it was just me and the problem. The struggle. The desire to win was buried deep inside me, but only the struggle was apparent.

Colleges. The rejections and waitlists were a wake-up call. There are more important things than winning USAMO, for example, where I would be going for the next four years. I wondered why I wasn’t accepted to Princeton, Yale, or Stanford, despite being near the top of my class, and I can’t help but think that I’ve done nothing important. Most of the awards I’ve listed are for math competitions. They know math competitions don’t matter. And they think it’s the only thing I cared about and they don’t want someone who only cares about competition. They probably think my essay on hard work was a lot of empty words, as I had little concrete evidence to show for it. If only they could have seen how hard I’ve worked…

But I had gotten so far, with doing little but competition practice, and I couldn’t afford to stop now, so close to USAMO… so I trudged on.

The USAMO

The day of the test, my heart hammered against my chest.

The test was a struggle. I finished problem 2, but it took me 2½-3 hours. I finished problem 5, but it took me 3½-4 hours.

When it was over, simple, pure relief washed over me. For once, I didn’t launch into doing math problems when I came home and instead wasted a little time.

And then the gnawing worry came again…

I will never ever forget the terrible wait that weekend, for the call that never came. It did not come Friday night, and something told me it would never come. Still, the following two days tortured me. Saturday night, I broke down. I knew that I had to accept that I did not win; it would be easier to accept that earlier than later… And yet I could not put out my glimmer of hope, the way my heart jumped at every ring of the phone… And Sunday felt like a slide into despair…

Deluded, I hoped that something would happen. Perhaps they would take additional members for Black MOP this year. I knew hope was useless. Dr. Andreescu’s call ended this line of thinking. “There is life after USAMO.”

If I had won…

So much stacked on that statement, that “if”, all irreparably gone now…

I thought, if I made it then just the thought of my victory would always provide me with motivation and happiness. I would have the confidence and position in the world, and my future would be unquestioned.

I made so many promises…

If I made it to MOP, I would make a website to put the notes, problems, and solutions, making it available to everyone online, to help people like me, who want to do well on math competitions but feel like they don’t have guidance or one-on-one help, and are missing out on the top training that really helps people win.

I would forget how I was forced to sit through 5 years of math classes too easy for me, my anger at not making MOP last year. All my work and everything I’d endured would be worth it…

The following week at school was awful. Hit by regret, anger, self-pity, clinging what could have been… Struck, in the middle of a final exam, with a paralyzing inability to continue…

Anger

It was my dream.

All I asked for was to make MOP, not even IMO, once and I would have been satisfied!

I’ve done so much work and I’ve never made it to the Math Olympiad Program! Some people get in so easily, some are lazy and don’t work, while I deserve to get in! Have they all done as much work as I have? If they don’t spend almost every free minute they have there working on math, they don’t deserve to be there! They form an elite club where no one else ever gets in, where everyone knows they’re good at math. It’s occupied by smart people who can have constant assurance of their own smartness, who are so concerned with themselves they don’t acknowledge there are smart, hardworking math people outside MOP.

Have two years, countless hours of hard work gotten me nowhere?

I wanted to show it was possible, that hard work can triumph, but even putting my all in it the chance was still so small…

I’ve been misled.

Make Mathematical History.

The greatest lie ever

How that phrase captured my heart

Get out! …

In the library, the book on display was about the US IMO team. That triggered another rush of feelings…

Why?

The world is against me.

Why do I have to be reminded of my failure?

It’s not fair!

Their accomplishments are publicized and everyone else’s hard work is ignored! People should know that winning isn’t everything…yet they lure people… “Make Mathematical History!”

Why do they have gaudy awards ceremony anyway? To spite others? I can just imagine- people, newspapers- “The 12 smartest high school students in the US”- so not true… winner worn like a badge. If I were a winner I would be eternally happy with the knowledge of what I did, don’t need people to say it to me, to praise me, say oo, ah.

People argue, you shouldn’t take math competitions too seriously. And yet, the awards and opportunities granted suggest just the opposite…

The arrogance!

People bragging about their scores, their grades on AoPS- why do they have to show off?

Angry at winners- how happy they must be with so little regard for everyone else. It’s as if I’m angry at myself from another dimension, where I could have won- I would act just like that, retelling my successes- I can almost hear myself… “Oh, at first I had no idea how to do problem so-and-so, it took me 3 hours to figure it out, I didn’t think I would!” but smiling even as I said this, to my mom, my family and friends, “Oh, what a relief it was to solve it! I thought I might not make it, but suddenly that call came, it seemed like the best sound I’ve ever heard!”

Sadness and regret

I couldn’t help thinking, if I had only solved that half of problem 1, why was I so stupid, of all the questions I could have missed! It was the reason that I didn’t win! And afterwards, it seems so simple…

MOP doesn’t exist for me. It never did and it never will.

I always looked at it like a holy grail, something unattainable, desperately wanted by many, something that will seal my future with doing well on math competitions…I really could have done well at training, but I had to try to blossom alone. I had no one to discuss challenging problems with to spur my own development. I get a hard ISL problem; its proof goes in my notebook. Nobody else ever sees it, just me.

Sad I can’t be friends with those really smart, hardworking people…

I tried to convince myself…

MOP proves that it’s only about competition, because it accepts the same people over and over so that the US team is the best, not caring about furthering the math education of many other diligent math students, for example many 9th graders are funded, not 12th graders who may have gone much further, worked much harder…

From an outsider’s perspective, I would seem to have an ideal life ahead of me. I had made rapid progress on my own, my score on math competitions shooting upwards. People say, “You’re a math genius! Aren’t you the president of math club? How many APs are you taking? You’re going to be valedictorian! You’re going to get in any college you apply to! How did you get so smart?” Sometimes I hear people say they are jealous of me. “Holden got --th place out of a quarter million people on the American Mathematics Competition!”—“Wow, that makes me jealous!” If they could only know my suffering, they would not envy me so much. It seems like it’s easiest to be dissatisfied with what one has when one is good at something but not THE BEST. If they knew the way I coveted being a winner, the amount of work I put in every day to get there… they would not be jealous.

In fact sometimes I envy them—they are not super-good at anything, and have no burning desire to be the best. Failing a competition may be a disappointment, but one easily gotten over, because they didn’t put years of work into it, they never had those mind-eating aspirations.

I should be thankful. People work as hard as I do, and are happy to just get A’s or pass their SATs. Why should I think I deserve so much more?

I need to let go of my desires. Desires create suffering. “Make Mathematical History!” Why do they fuel those desires? To prod people into working hard? Regrettably, it’s worked on me. Can’t they come up with something else, something more meaningful? Or maybe it’s there, always been there, just not publicized, not attractive like “Make Mathematical History”…

Disillusionment

Maybe I needed to fail to understand what it is like to fail, to understand the meaninglessness of competition. If I had won, could I imagine what it would be like if I failed, without the emotions and despair of failing? Sympathy is possible, but to truly see the situation would be almost impossible. I can almost hear myself say in a haughty tone, “Oh, look at all the hard work that I did, it led me up to this…”, when I still had the naïveté to think that hard work would always be rewarded.

Mathematicians are not athletes! They should not be treated so! If only there were some way of giving “math competition” problems without the “math competition”…

“Make Mathematical History” indeed! If you only wanted fame you chose the wrong field.

I’ve always been of two minds on math competitions. I like wrestling with the challenging math problems they offer, but I don’t like the competition. I can’t stand the time pressure. In fact, rarely have I enjoyed a math competition from start to finish: combine the gnawing anxiety and dread before, franticness when the clock is ticking, relief (not really happiness) that it’s over, unbearable wait until the results come out, and disappointment of the score… Mostly I’ve held it within me, so people just think I’m happy that I do well… I only taught Math Club how to do math competition problems, what a hypocrite I am…

I am thoroughly sick of Olympiad problems because of my feelings attached to that word, “Olympiad.” If they could be renamed, maybe “challenging” problems instead of “Olympiad” problems, I could still enjoy working on them, having settled into a pattern of working on them every day. But they bring nothing but memories, grief, and regret. And I can’t fool myself, they are Olympiad problems, primarily meant for competition, meant to separate the honorable mentions from the winners, meant to be done in 1 hour and 30 minutes and not thought out over several days as I enjoyed doing: I had done lots of hard ISL problems, IMO 3s and 6s but some of them took days, some I solved only after dropping them and then taking them up again after a week or month. The nicest proofs I write are edited, not rushed in a few minutes. But isn’t that what math is about?

People who’ve already done well have the joy of getting a new “high score” goal. For someone fervently trying to make it, struggling to secure those four problems, there is no such joy. Scary thing is, their viewpoint may never change because they just keep winning and are guided to win again (and have time for other activities). The least I can hope is that they don’t take this for granted, that they acknowledge the viewpoint of the others…

Well, math competition does not mirror real life—and everyone goes beyond math competitions.

I’ve had enough of math contests. I’m not participating in Putnam. If I want challenging problems I’ll know where to look. But I will not have my experiences with them poisoned by competition. On AoPS, after a competition, people moan about their scores; bash their heads, angry at not being able to solve the problems; or bragging about what they did solve, their score… Some moan about a score others would be jealous of… I admit I’ve participated in these rants. But no more.

Do I get happiness from thinking about my actual victories in math competitions? In a faraway world, a long time ago, I would have. But now the trophies looking down at me from my desk seem too gaudy. Before, I would have enjoyed how my teachers idolize me in front of my class. Now if they brag about me, they say my name in vain.

Ideally there should be a balance between math competition practice and doing advanced math, interesting math, problems that arouse curiosity, research problems. But unless you spend much more time on math competition practices it is difficult to do well on them. And unless you have a burning desire to win, why would you spend all your time on Olympiad problems? Catch-22: After math competition, if you don’t do well, you feel like crap—you have done nothing of value, only do questions speedily in 1 hour and 30 minutes, without time to extend them further, to contemplate—before, I said I would be glad to have time to explore problems in depth after USAMO is over. But since I haven’t done this, only do problem, write up, and move on, I am lost and can’t pick it up! My lack of motivation is my biggest problem!

Acknowledgement

I can’t stand other people thinking they’re smarter than I am—I just want to be treated like an equal. Why? Because I know the way smart people often think—I used to enjoy a feeling of superiority at being better than math than others, arrogantly thinking I’m at a level beyond their comprehension. Why? Because that’s how society treats us. There needs to be a winner. Being a winner feels good. So if we’re not winners, we pick on people dumber than us, to feel good. This attitude festers and backfires.

Fueled by our own desires, competition hammers its cynical, arrogant, selfish outlook into us. My inner devil insists on comparing people, of making me think I’m better than everyone else when I win, and giving rise to imagined enemies challenging my smartness.

When I am not the winner, I project these negative qualities of arrogance and egotism on whoever does win, which is why I always looked at MOP as some sort of exclusive clique. I am afraid of their attitudes—if their attitudes are anything like mine would have been if I had won, before doing so much hard work…

Why I had a sort of exclusivist attitude, jealousy at people who want to pursue mathematics as well, to pick out their flaws in my mind, to convince myself that I work harder than they do, that I had what it takes more than they did.

Sure we may think these things only in our private thoughts, and they may be nothing more than a passing thought. Feelings like this can manifest themselves in many forms, for example, people insert unasked-for comments when trying to explain a problem or say a problem they’ve solved is easy or obvious when it isn’t.

I used to delight in people’s dumbness, to be happy when people can’t solve a problem I give them, at their bewilderment even as I drop hints carelessly, a perverse satisfaction from thinking that I am smarter than them. Even my friends at math club weren’t immune. When I tutored someone, and that person didn’t get something I explained already, I couldn’t help thinking, you’re dumb. Though, I always manage to suppress these feelings so my teacher considers me a good tutor. But I can’t ignore these feelings. My attitude marked me as nothing more than an intellectual bully. I can’t have that attitude anymore. It’s simply melted after I didn’t win USAMO…

I let myself be caught up by my desires for fame and glory, and my suffering was the result of latching on so much to my desires. I acknowledge my faults.

I aim to spurn math competitions in college, to stop my life from spiraling out of control…

Enlightenment

Hard work is universal.

I used to want to be a writer. However, I would only write occasionally, once a week or once a month, so I could never get all of my ideas on paper. When I read any book about being a writer, one of the most important pieces of advice is to force yourself to write on a regular basis, advice I never heeded.

It was the same with math too, at first, but then I started working on math every day. If I continue, I know I will be successful as a math professor, just as if I had put the same effort into writing I would be a successful writer.

To flourish in any field, even one you’re good at, it takes hard work.

My classmates say to me “You’ll be famous someday! You’re going to win a Nobel Prize [Fields Medal]!” I appreciate their good intentions. But I can’t help but feel sorry for them. I want to say, it doesn’t MATTER whether I get a medal or not. You don’t go into science or mathematics saying, “My goal is to get a Nobel Prize/ Fields Medal.”

The mathematician who proved the Poincaré Conjecture was awarded a Fields Medal, but he rejected it. Before my experiences, I would never have understood why. It’s the dream of thousands of people! I probably would not do that, lacking the strength of character. But now I understand why he would do it, and respect him for it.

I wanted to be the best, but there’s no point. Isn’t there room in the US for thousands of math professors? We should all work hard, but it’s not necessary to be better than everyone else: everyone working in the field contributes to it in some way, and often the work of hundreds of unknown people matters greatly. Who are we to judge?

If you anticipate fame and glory ahead, every failure will be that much more disappointing, but if you truly enjoy struggling with problems, it will only motivate you to continue. If you don’t look for competition, you will like what you do without needing to win, and because of the purity of your motivation, likely find success as well.

Crossroads

I still can’t help thinking occasionally, everything would be nicer if I had won, and this is true, it is a fact I will just have to live with…

Olympiads, the basis of my existence the past two years, had gone; it seemed as if the floor under me had collapsed and I was left hanging in midair…

For a while, math seemed to have lost its magic. When I worked on Olympiad problems, they constantly hummed in my brain as I made sure I had one to ponder all the time, so as to not waste time. They made life continuous; they were there as I rode the bus, showered, when I couldn’t sleep. The magic of reading a new problem, gathering ideas, making connections, the flash of inspiration. I struggled to find that magic again. I felt that I could, eventually, but I had to cast away my grief, memories of math competitions, and stop dwelling on the past… I felt like a shell sometimes, an empty void inside. Where was my passion?

At AwesomeMath Summer Camp, I caught a glimpse of the other life I could have had: My roommates played video games, turn up the volume on their iPods, and play capture the flag outside with friends. People say that’s living life to the fullest but in my opinion that kind of life actually makes you forget about all but the present and makes life seem to flow smoothly. Distractions blur life. To really be alive, one needs to struggle, to work hard, to fail… (Of course, after a while it may not seem like working hard, just like normal) Only then, can the harsh, sharp angles of life come into focus, as they did every day when it was just me, the problem and the struggle- simple and Spartan. I realize I am thankful for them for showing me the option and I respect their choice, even though I would never be able to go back to that kind of attitude.

I spent an afternoon playing Civilization (a computer game). On one hand, it seemed easy to revert to my old lifestyle, just spend lots and lots of time playing. Enjoy summer, not do math every day. But I realize that I can never, ever, forget those 2 years, what I have learned. In the evening, a nagging dissatisfaction—I’ve done too much to just go back and play Civ all the time.

Now that I have seen what hard work is like, I can’t go back to what I was before… When I was small, I was hedonistic—the goal of my life was simply to be happy. I don’t believe in hedonism anymore. I remember coming home from school and playing games on my TI-83. I can’t do that anymore. So utterly meaningless, a waste of time. Time is life, and we must use it wisely. Every weekend I used to aim to play a different board game. The past two years—every weekend was a frantic rush to solve as many ISL problems as possible, leaving little time for anything else. Suppressing everything else I wanted to do, to solve a problem—and sometimes I was rewarded, for my time. These lessons of hard work, I will never be able to forget.

I find solace in the fact that my experiences have taught me how to work hard, without reward. More than anything else, I feel that these experiences have helped me forge my identity. I believe that hard work ultimately brings success, even more than talent, than the desire for fame or recognition.

I tried to find meaning in life. Erase USAMO, math competitions, AwesomeMath, and I would still say that to be happy is my goal in life. If I had won USAMO, it would undoubtedly be work hard, because that will bring success. But I wasn’t quite sure anymore. My resolve and determination seemed like they had been torn down. I felt like I was at a crossroads in my life, trying to find the right way, trying to seek a balance between total devotion and leaving time for other activities. I knew my spark of passion was still there, though, and the lessons of hard work I have learned. In time, they would grow, be reborn, and I will be able to proceed.

Conclusion

Math competitions are over; yet …

I realize that I had motivation to continue working despite my failures. In the previous years I have been practicing with many challenging problems, and had unknowingly been building a passion for problem-solving. My motivation for the hard work I put into math is very different from when I started; now it is to learn and discover rather than to compete. I realize my mother speaks the truth, when she constantly reminded me that “being the best is not important. What is important is pursuing your passion.”

I’m setting up a schedule for what I’m going to do this summer. Mom and I are going to Taiwan, and I’ll spend plenty of time with my family. Since I’m done with Olympiads, I’ll start teaching myself college math—linear algebra, real analysis, etc., and actually work on a research question. I’ll do stuff that I couldn’t find time for before—read, draw, write stories. I’ll save some time for fun, though I’ll be sure to limit it.

My future is brightening. Even though MIT was not my first choice, I look forward to all that I will learn in the next four years, working together with classmates driven by the same passion, starting research…

What is the meaning of life? I think my mom can put it best, in her advice that I have been deaf to for the last 2 years: What more can you wish for in life, than an opportunity to work hard in a subject you are passionate about?

My mom recounted several stories about my dad:

He often got the best score on math tests and competitions. Once, however, he got second place, and was so angry at himself that he hid under his bed and cried. His father told him to come out, but he refused, so his father threatened him with a beating.

As my mom had known him, though, he was dedicated to helping others. After finding out about Children International, an organization that helps needy children and their families, he “adopted” a child for himself and for Ching-An, too, as a Christmas present. She was bewildered and did not appreciate his gift; only after many years did she understand the kindness and goodwill he was trying to spread.

I took some time to read over the letters my dad’s students left for him. I have always known him to be very smart, but what his students remember him for most is how he goes to great lengths to help everyone understand, how his door was always open when they needed help.

Then, I resolved that when I grew up to be a math professor, I would try to be just like him. I would dedicate myself to mathematics and pour in hard work in my research and studies. However, now I know, just as he realized, that helping others with my knowledge is just as important as pursuing it, and much more meaningful than trying to be better than everyone else.

Epilogue

My experiences these past two years have been too poignant to pass unrecorded. I needed pour them out on paper. I wanted to honestly express my feelings.

It is not my aim to offend anyone, to change anything (except, perhaps, people’s attitudes). I know some of my outbursts are unwarranted or inaccurate. But I wanted to capture my thoughts and feelings, though sometimes, even to me, they seem like little more than the ravings of a madman. You can judge for yourself.

For those of you starting on math competitions, or training for them, what advice is there for me to give you? There is little I can really tell you—just start early, and don’t get too crazy about winning, I guess. See math for what it is. You’ll have to glean what you can from the essay.

For those of you, who have been more successful at Olympiads than I have—I simply want you to acknowledge what life would like if you hadn’t, even despite all your hard work… To understand that spark of passion, that determination, should be independent of success. (Sure, everyone can work hard when reward is certain. But what if it isn’t?)

I need to qualify my beliefs: math competitions aren’t completely bad; you can learn a lot from preparing for them. Team competitions actually teach people to work together. I’m not advocating that you should shut yourself in your room and do math problems all day; everyone needs to find their own balance. I have met plenty of smart people who are kind and helpful, who don’t fit into my stereotypes at all.

I just want others to be able to understand what I have gone through and acknowledge my viewpoints. I want to offer my story and my sympathy to others who have worked hard, encountered failure, and despaired—I want to show you are not alone. Together, we can put this behind us, and start a journey into mathematics not fueled by selfish desires, by fame and glory, but by a true passion.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Some Notes on Writing This Essay

This is undoubtedly the hardest piece I have had to write. To put my jumble of thoughts together into some coherent piece, to try to find some meaning… I felt like I was trying to organize my brain. I started just jotting down thoughts as they came to me, 35 pages of almost pure stream-of-consciousness.

Stuff in italics are largely unedited thoughts.

Background

AoPS- Art of Problem Solving, online math community/ website

AIME- (2nd round) American Invitational Mathematics Competition

AMC- (1st round) American Mathematics Competition

IMO- International Mathematics Olympiad

ISL- IMO Shortlist (problems proposed for IMO)

MOP- Mathematical Olympiad (Summer) Program

Putnam- Undergraduate math competition

USAMO- (3rd round) USA Mathematics Olympiad (like IMO, 6 problems, generally 2x 4.5 hours, 1/4 easy, 2/5 medium, 3/6 hard). Top 12 winners get to participate in Black MOP. 6 team members are picked also using TST score. People who are not in 12th grade can make it to Blue MOP with a lower qualifying score; people in 9th grade can make it to Red MOP with an even lower qualifying score

TST- Team Selection Test

Dr. Andreescu- Director of the AwesomeMath program. A big thanks to him for always being supportive of me and making AwesomeMath what it is!

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