Whether I'm in the office or on a company-wide Zoom call, some older coworker will shower me with praise for being CTO at such a young age. But those praising me are unaware that I'm often barely holding on, because behind my fancy title is just an immature high schooler who can code.
In 2020 I was hired as the Chief Technology Officer of Lumière Shorts--a startup short film streaming service--after impressing the company's founders with my multiple self-built iOS and Android apps and familiarity with everything from machine learning to databases. I enthusiastically accepted the CTO role, assuming it mainly involved me building the streaming app in solitude--something that even 15 year-old me could've masterfully done.
To my unpleasant surprise, being Lumiere Shorts's CTO required far more of me than coding. I had to learn soft skills like how to collaborate harmoniously with others, make nerve-wracking decisions, and table my ego before I could become a remotely competent teen-aged tech executive.
As a highschooler, I was always that overbearing guy commandeering every group project because I had an elaborate vision and zero faith in my groupmates. But as a CTO, I finally had to confront how my tendency to steamroll over others harmed the projects I worked on after I ignored my experienced coworker's estimated timeline for App Store publication, and wound up missing a deadline by 3 weeks.
To avoid missing out on more of my team members' wisdom, I made the executive decision to invite my whole team to our company's weekly big-picture meetings--meetings previously open only to upper-management. I was soon awash in great ideas from coworkers that I never could've had, like highlighting directors on our platform to attract more inbound content. Slowly, I stopped being married to ideas just because I came up with them, and acknowledged that my team members--all hailing from different walks of life--could offer creative input better than mine.
As a highschooler, even the toughest decisions I had to make were relatively inconsequential--usually about which courses to take or how to balance my time between robotics and sports. But as a CTO, I had to make decisions that were far-reaching, and bore ethical and logistical dilemmas.
When seeking VC funding for Lumiere Shorts, I could have cherry-picked metrics from the app that were impressive-but-misleading, but resisted the temptation for my integrity's sake. As CTO I also had to make tough next-step decisions without "correct" answers--like whether to remove a paywall to increase user count. I learned to navigate challenging ethical dilemmas by prioritizing my morals above finances, and I learned to navigate challenging logistical dilemmas by thinking far ahead and preemptively assuming responsibility for any backfiring decisions of mine.
As a highschooler I'm encouraged to focus only on my own advancement, be it improving my grades or amassing extracurriculars. But as a CTO, I had to understand that the department I oversaw wasn't the whole company, but rather one piece of a bigger puzzle.
When the company finished app development and shifted its focus onto marketing, I tried to wrest the spotlight back onto my department, by building a bunch of new features as busywork. When metrics showed that all my new features went unused, I realized it was time to be a team player, and began assisting the marketing team. Once I humbled myself, and started viewing all of Lumiere's departments as one big community, my work felt more fulfilling.
While still a high school sophomore, I was hired by Lumière Shorts to be its Chief Technology Officer due to my technical expertise. But despite being a great programmer, I had so much maturity left to gain before I could become an effective CTO. It wasn't until I learned how to trust in my team's talent, pull the trigger on tough decisions, and serve initiatives bigger than my own that I finally felt worthy of my executive role.
When the app I'd been developing--a motion-sensor based American Sign Language translator--shouted, "Hello! Nice to meet you!" I finally knew it worked. I've never been partial to using my CS skills for game-making like my peers. Instead, I've always enjoyed programming apps that solve people's everyday problems. A Computer Science education from the University of Michigan's College of LSA would provide me the knowledge and hands-on experience I require to build complex, widely-adopted consumer-facing apps.
For the nonprofit Tune of Life, I built a mobile app that enabled senior citizens to independently practice music therapy---an alternative healing method using music. For farmers in India, I made an app that identifies whether their rice crops are diseased using uploaded photos. Developing these two apps for specialized purposes required me to understand new tech but also the users whom my apps served, prompting me to study how to make apps senior citizen-friendly, and how weather affects plant infections.
UMich offers courses aligning perfectly with my desire to build specialty apps tailored to unique user demands. In EECS 495. Software Development for Accessibility, I can partner with hospitals to devise apps perfectly-customized for patients' various impairments. Through EECS 495 I can even make accessibility improvements to my existing sign language translator app, by consulting extensively with deaf clients who represent my user base, and who can help me catch my design oversights.
I'm currently building an Augmented Reality app for educators and designers, which employs machine learning to capture users' finger movements and lets them draw in 3D. My app currently has persistent depth-sensing issues, which I'll learn how to overcome with advisory from UMich faculty members involved with the XR Initiative--the school's AR/VR/MR collaboration community. UMich provides students such cutting-edge XR resources--from 360 Camera rentals, to labs developing extended reality for medicine, to student groups exploring immersive reality--that I can improve my AR drawing app tenfold there, and even develop additional VR/AR-related technologies.
I have enthusiastically participated in hackathons for years--competing in several, mentoring several more, and even founding one called ByteHacks that netted 300 participants and 13 sponsors. I love the way hackathons gather coders from all walks of life, and unites them in camaraderie-filled collaboration to build innovative things. At UMich I can experience the same good spirits and comradeship I delighted in during hackathons--but on a regular basis. First, I could compete in the school's actual hackathons, like the famous student-led MHacks. But I could also take one of UMich's collaboration-filled courses, like EECS 497 Human-Centered Software and Design and Development, which gives me and 2-3 teammates free rein to develop a software project of our choice and iterate it for market appeal. Through UMich's hackathons and project-based courses I can meet lifelong collaborators, and graduate having created apps I am proud of.
I've successfully built an American Sign Language Translator, a Music Therapy Facilitator, a Crop Disease Detector, an Exercise Form Evaluator, and more--all specialized apps designed to solve everyday problems for various groups. By attending the University of Michigan's College of LSA, I will be blessed with access to enriching Computer Science courses found nowhere else, hands-on experience using cutting-edge technology, and an environment brimming with collaboration between brilliant minds--all of which will enable me to create life-changing apps that solve perennial problems.
During Covid-19 lockdowns, I was saddened by news of the pandemic exacerbating educational inequity, making education quality in poorer areas worse. I'd volunteered as a CS tutor, but wished to affect more sweeping change.
Luckily, I was invited to build a website for GENup--a student-led social justice advocacy organization. As I built the site, and learned about GENup's inspiring educational inequity-tackling initiatives, I offered the organization additional help, and entered political advocacy for the first-ever time.
After joining GENup, I helped determine key issues our online campaigns would spotlight, and distilled broad wishes for "change" down to actionable initiatives we'd pressure politicians to support. We decided on pushing for increased school funding counteracting Covid-19 budget cuts, and a student Bill-of-Rights featuring ethnic studies education guarantees.
I spearheaded a social media campaign to amass members who'd join us in advocacy, and through constant trial-and-error posting I learned how to spotlight Education Inequality in emotionally-captivating ways: Making infographics highlighting inequities in education access and concrete paths-to-reform steadily grew our online following.
I led GENup members in mass-email campaigns to politicians, and learned what subject lines elicited replies. I crafted emails to everyone from Governor Newsom to Rep. Khanna, and got invited to meetings with multiple legislators--who promised us they'd support increased school funding, ethnic studies requirements, and expanded student internet/device access.
After leading months-long GENup campaigns, I was proud to see Bill AB-101--requiring ethnic studies as a graduation requirement--pass in the senate. I care deeply about promoting intercultural understanding in my diverse community..
Assisting GENup's advocacy made affecting change via community organizing feel achievable, and taught me how to craft effective messaging that sways citizens and officials. I will lead fundraising campaigns and rally students to affect positive change at UT Austin, using organizing and movement-building skills I honed at GENup.
