SAM QIAN ZIXIN'S
PERSONAL PORTAL
My Story
My Journey into Robotics: When Wires Talk Back
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My fascination with robotics didn't start with a spectacular invention or some kind of childhood genius moment. It actually started with pure frustration. I remember working on a small, off-the-shelf cleaning robot my family had. It was meant to be autonomous, but it kept getting stuck in the same corner of the room. It was predictable in the worst way. That bugged me. I realized the problem wasn't the hardware—it was the lazy decision-making in the code. I didn't want to just fix the code; I wanted to make the robot smart.
Why I Love Giving Back: Community Development and Teaching STEM
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You know that feeling when a lightbulb goes on over someone's head? That's why I do community development and teach STEM. It's not about being a perfect expert; it’s about being a catalyst for someone else’s discovery.
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My involvement started because I saw a huge gap. Robotics and coding are often seen as high-end, expensive hobbies only for privileged kids. That really bothered me. I wanted to democratize the "aha!" moment. So, I worked with a few friends to start a mobile STEM workshop program called "Code Spark." Our mission was simple: bring low-cost, high-impact science and engineering lessons to local kindergartens and community centers that didn't have dedicated tech budgets.
My Other Fields of Play: Volleyball and Soccer
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When I’m not debugging code or mentoring students, I’m putting in work on the court or the pitch. Being a competitive volleyball player—participating in national competitions—and representing my school in soccer aren’t just hobbies; they are my living laboratories for understanding team dynamics, persistence, and mental toughness.
The Grind of Competitive Volleyball
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Volleyball is pure strategy and split-second commitment. I play a defensive position, often as a libero, which means my job is to make the impossible saves and keep the rally alive. It's an intensely high-pressure role. If I miss a dig, the point is over. It’s a constant battle against gravity, speed, and mental exhaustion.
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Participating in national competitions was a whole new level of intensity. The training schedule was brutal—early mornings before school and late evenings after, plus intense weightlifting and conditioning. The mental strain was often worse than the physical strain. We’d face teams that, on paper, were faster, taller, and more technically refined. Winning wasn't about raw talent; it was about absolute, disciplined teamwork.
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There was one tournament game that really solidified this for me. We were playing the deciding set against a rival team. The score was 14-14. Match point. Every person on the court was physically drained and mentally frayed. Our star hitter, usually clutch, made two unforced errors in a row. You could see the morale dip. As the libero, I called a timeout, even though I’m usually quiet. I didn't give a huge motivational speech; I just looked at my teammates and said, "We know what we need to do. Forget the last point. We just play our game for this one point. We’ve practiced this a thousand times. Trust the system."
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When we returned, we executed a perfect rally. A tough serve, a flawless pass by me, a clean set by the setter, and a smart tip over the block for the winning point. That moment taught me that leadership isn't always about being the loudest person; it's about being the steady anchor when everyone else is drifting. It’s about creating a calm, focused environment where teammates can trust their training, not their temporary emotional state.
Soccer and the Art of Adaptability
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Representing my school in soccer added another layer to my appreciation for team roles and adaptability. Soccer is fluid, fast, and requires constant positional awareness. You have to be able to instantly process the changing geometry of the pitch—where the ball is, where your teammates are, and where the opposing defense is setting up—and make a decision in less than a second. This is actually very similar to how I approach programming autonomous vehicles; it’s all about rapid sensing and decision-making under uncertainty.
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What I love about soccer is the concept of shared sacrifice. Unlike volleyball, where rotations are rigid, soccer demands that everyone on the field constantly covers for each other. As a midfielder, I learned to transition instantly from attack to defense, covering huge distances. I wasn't always the goal-scorer, but I was the guy who made the pass that led to the assist, or the one who tracked back 50 meters to stop a counter-attack.
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This experience taught me the value of unseen work—the effort that doesn't get the applause but is absolutely essential for the team's success. It mirrors my work in robotics. For every visible robotic arm that moves perfectly, there are hundreds of lines of invisible, meticulously written backend code and hours of tedious sensor calibration. Both on the field and in the lab, success is built on the foundation of thankless, persistent effort by every member of the team.
Connecting the Disciplines
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Ultimately, sports provide a crucial balance to my engineering and academic life. They teach me that discipline isn't just about showing up; it’s about pushing past your perceived limits, recovering from failure instantly, and understanding that you are only as strong as your weakest link.
Whether it’s bouncing back after losing a national volleyball match or starting over after a catastrophic robotics system crash, the lesson is the same: persistence is a fundamental skill. You can't code around mental fatigue, and you can't teach a child confidence with a shaky voice. Sports have trained me to be physically and mentally tough enough to handle the inevitable setbacks that come with ambitious projects.