Every year, roughly 560 of the world’s greatest young mathematicians compete at the International Math Olympiad. 22 of those competitors, a modest 4% of the field, received a perfect score on their proof of the “Windmill Proof.” Intrigued by the legendary problem, I was compelled to compare my mind to the best in the world. Although the abstract question was extremely difficult, after researching the solution, the answer seemed entirely solvable to me. Not only am I confident that I could both recreate this proof and teach the solution to others, I also gained new insights for deciphering future problems. I am always striving to improve my mastery and intuition not only to solve these problems but to one day have an impact on the existing body of mathematics. 

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I am never as fully engaged as when searching for solutions to complex math and strategy problems. Each layer presents a new challenge simultaneously requiring logic, creativity, and most importantly lightning-speed insight as I sort through the files in my brain. I felt disappointed with my elementary math classes; unlike other students who found the material boring, I was frustrated that the material was not challenging enough. The concepts were little struggle to master, as I had already studied them independently. My accelerated math teacher noted my desire for challenging problems and encouraged me to take the AMC8 (American Mathematics Competition) and thus introduced me to the world of competitive mathematics. I was drawn in immediately; my math classes were merely repetition of simple skills until the next formula, but the competitive mathematics exams required me to call upon all my knowledge and apply it in entirely new ways. Recently, I was working on an AIME problem that necessitated the strategic use of both algebraic manipulation and Vieta’s Formulas, and though I hadn’t been taught to combine these two concepts, my intuition conceptualized their synergy. The experience left me with a profound sense of accomplishment; I had “outsmarted” the problem.  

It may not shock the reader to learn that I am not an outgoing, social person: the crowded student section at sports games seems like an absolute nightmare. However, through higher-level mathematics I have found a social environment where I feel comfortable. Unlike the average teenager, I prefer to spend my time playing board games or solving puzzles and commonly feel isolated as my classmates’ and siblings’ interests rarely align with mine. Those feelings disappear when I am part of a math competition, working with fellow students in advanced classes, or playing my favorite game, Magic: The Gathering. My interests are not boring and lame to my peers; they share my love of math and strategy. I can talk to them about a tough problem or new concepts without looks of confusion and disinterest coming my way. I feel more at home in these communities than in other circles. During a Sunday class at CMU, my group came across a complex diagram from which we needed to find a specific angle. No one was able to single-handedly solve the problem, so we plotted the image on a whiteboard, and after spirited debate, we discovered a method of isolating the needed value. For these like-minded individuals and I, this experience was a social event; we challenged each other to think outside of the box and joyfully celebrated our eventual success.  

It is a personal goal of mine to dwell amongst the minds of those 22 competitors who received a perfect IMO score on the “Windmill Proof.” Although the IMO questions are just fictional by design, they require the same skill set to solve as do real world problems: both experience and insight. College is where I hope to not only impact the world of mathematics but also join a scholarly community that works collaboratively, is excited about complex problems, and pushes its members to traverse the depths of concepts that intrigue them.