I settle in to his speech about UMS’s waves in sustainability. To be fair, the University of Mountain Springsisimpressive. They push boundaries. They like to do things differently. The campus is known for being cutting-edge, especially in STEM. But they also love to remind you of it. Loudly. Repeatedly. The first fifteen minutes of every new term usually feels like a marketing video come to life.
After four years, I can recite the speech myself.
“You're here because you’re the best in your field,” the speaker says. “Each of you in your final year, each representing a different branch of STEMinnovation—architecture, environmental engineering, sustainable design, urban planning, clean tech development.”
My fingers tap against my arm. I’ve spent weeks digging through past competition entries, white papers on carbon-neutral infrastructure, smart city case studies, system modeling simulations. I know what’s coming next. Or at least, IthinkI do
Winning this means prestige andvisibility. A chance to stand out in an industry that barely notices students like me. The kind of architecture firms that toss resumés in the trash unless you’ve got three internships and a famous last name. They’ll have to look twice if—when—I win this.
Holwell gestures behind him, and a slide appears on the projector: a grainy image of a derelict concrete building surrounded by cracked pavement and a rusting bike rack.
“The old D4 toilet block.”
A few chuckles ripple through the room. Everyone knows it as the campus eyesore—the place where people sneak off to smoke or hook up. If you walk past it at 8 AM on a Monday, you'll find discarded joints and condom wrappers adorning its perimeter like horrific confetti.
Holwell smiles. “Yes, glamorous. But this little slab of concrete has become a bit of a campus joke. So we thought... let's give it one last hurrah.”
He clicks to the next slide, a blank blueprint of the area.
“You're going to redesign it.”
I sit up straighter. Thisisn'ta paper.
“Yes, instead of an essay, this year we want apractical proposal,” Holwell continues. “A complete project outline that could actually be implemented, including costs, materials, energy usage projections, and environmental impact assessments. The project aim is simple but challenging: 'Reimagine the D4 toilet block area as a space that benefits both ourcampus community and our planet.' How you interpret that is entirely up to you. We won’t be sharing any more details.”
I came prepared to write a paper that would showcase my ideas but never see the light of day. Something I could do in my freezing apartment after work.But, at the same time, this actually sounds really interesting. I'm already mentally sketching possibilities. I love the idea of using architecture and design to not just build new spaces, butreimagineold spaces.
Unlike most of my classmates, I know exactly what sustainability means when you're living it. When you can't afford to waste anything, every drop of water and kilowatt of electricity has to count. You learn to repurpose everything because new isn't an option. It's not trendy minimalism when it's just your life.
“You'll submit your proposals just before Christmas break,” Holwell says. “The winner will be announced the first week of term after the new year,and”—his eyes scan the room—“UMS will actually build it.”
The room erupts in murmurs. This isunprecedented. Usually, winning gets you grant money and prestige. Not seeing your ideas become reality.
“The winning team receives the standard ten-thousand-dollar grant,” Holwell adds, “plus, of course, the real-world implementation of their project. Which looksrather niceon a resumé, I might add.”
Wait.
Team? My hand freezes mid-tap against my arm. Murmurs fill the hall. Some students are already nudging their friends confirming a partnership.
“This is a team competition this year. You’ll work in pairs,” Holwell says, as if reading my thoughts. “To simulate real-world collaboration across disciplines.”
My stomach drops through the floor. Partners? No one said anything about partners. This has always been a solo competition.
“Will the grant money be split?” someone calls out from the back, asking exactly what I was thinking.
Holwell shakes his head. “The ten thousand is per person, not per project. But consider this—the real prize is seeing your work built, and the doors that will open afterward. After the unveiling we will have a ball afterwards with many industry professionals and university benefactors and the winners will be the guests of honor.”
Great.All the money but twice the headache of dealing with someone else's opinions and schedules.
“And here's the twist,” Holwell continues. “You must partner with someone outside your discipline. You know, like architects with engineers. Policy specialists with urban planners.Nosame-field collaborations.”
Around the room, I see smiles falter. Friends who had been nudging each other excitedly now looking crushed as they realize they can't work together. I almost feel satisfied watching their entitled expectations crumble. Ha. Shows you can’t just do well because you’ve got the right friends.
He clicks to another slide with a QR code. “Full brief and site specifications are available here. We'll be sending an email with complete details and a list of all participants, including their disciplines and university email addresses, so you can identify potential partners from complementary fields. Team names must be submitted by next Monday. I’d recommend you all start emailing each other soon to find a good fit.”
Great. Cold-emailing strangers, begging them to work with me. My idea of hell.
Holwell wraps up with a brisk reminder about registrationdeadlines, then claps his laptop shut like this was all very casual and not a life-defining competition.
