Two hours before final judging, Maya was crouched on the floor of a crowded convention center, soldering a loose wire back onto her prototype air-quality sensor. Around her, hundreds of other students were rehearsing their talks, taping posters to display boards, or quietly panicking over graphs that suddenly looked wrong. By the end of the day, she would be called onto the main stage as a category winner at a national science fair. But in that moment, she just hoped the sensor would turn on.
Stories like Maya’s rarely show up in the official winner announcements. We see polished projects and smiling photos, but not the missed experiments or self-doubt that came first. In this ScholarComp guide, we look past the trophies and titles to listen to students who have already walked across that stage—champions from science fairs, Science Olympiad, research programs, and engineering challenges—who are willing to talk honestly about what it really took to get there.
This article in the “Inside Science Competitions” series focuses on champion perspectives and practical advice: what they did differently and what they wish more students understood. If you’ve read about logistics in What Really Happens at Science Competition Day, this is the human side of the story—what the day feels like from the inside, and how to prepare for that experience months in advance.
Many students imagine that winning science competition projects start as fully formed “genius” ideas. Every champion interviewed said almost the opposite: their projects began with a simple question that bothered them enough to keep thinking about it.
Consider Aaron, a middle school student who later medaled at Science Olympiad in the Experimental Design and Disease Detectives events. His journey started with a small observation: his younger sister seemed to get more mosquito bites than he did. Instead of just joking about it, he investigated. His first attempt was a basic science fair project to see whether different soap scents attracted mosquitoes. The experiment was crude, but it hooked him on asking testable questions.
Two years later, his curiosity had evolved into a stronger competition project. Aaron studied how carbon dioxide levels and skin temperature affected mosquito behavior, using more controlled experiments and better data collection. His advice to younger students is blunt: “Your first idea doesn’t need to be impressive. It just needs to be something you care enough about to keep working on when it's confusing or not working.”
Science fair winners echoed the same pattern. One student who reached the top level of an international fair began with a daily annoyance: her grandmother’s difficulty remembering medication. That irritation turned into a question about adherence, which became a rough prototype of a reminder device, culminating in a refined, data-backed project for competition. The depth of the science and testing improved, as well as her ability to explain its importance.
A consistent theme from champions is that their first year in a competition is rarely their winning year. They describe early attempts as “practice seasons,” where the goal is learning the format and common mistakes.
In one case, Lena joined a Science Olympiad team in eighth grade. She finished near the bottom of her regional tournament in events she knew little about. “We had no idea how detailed the tests would be,” she said. Instead of quitting, she treated the season as reconnaissance, collecting old tests, taking notes, and observing successful teams. The next year, she became a state medalist. Her advice is practical: “Your first year should be about paying attention. Take photos of winning setups and write down what surprised you. That becomes your training guide for next year.”
Platforms like ScholarComp can help shorten that learning curve by gathering insights and experiences into one place. There is no substitute for showing up, trying, and reflecting afterward.
Another misconception is that champions always have access to elite labs or mentorship from famous scientists. While some do benefit from formal research programs, many start with basic school labs and inexpensive materials.
Noor, who won a regional environmental science fair with a project on microplastic pollution, had no advanced equipment. She improvised using mesh and microscopes borrowed from her biology classroom. Her “lab team” included her brother, who helped collect water samples. The turning point came when she reached out to a local university professor specializing in water quality. “I sent four emails and got one reply,” she said. “But that one reply changed everything.” The professor suggested better sampling procedures and showed her how to calibrate her methods.
The champions interviewed recommend three concrete steps for building your own network:
Champions reject the idea that they study nonstop. They describe preparation more like a planned sport season than an endless grind, with off days and clear milestones.
One high schooler, Jay, a national medalist, compared his schedule to “training for a marathon.” He spent 30–45 minutes a day reading literature and refining his research question, shifting to longer lab sessions as his experimental work began. He created a living timeline, writing down every major step and setting rough dates from the competition deadline. Revising that timeline was key. Knowing the next step mattered more than sticking perfectly to the schedule.
Middle school competitors in Science Olympiad described a similar pattern. They scheduled weekly sessions for building and testing, focusing on improving specific variables. For study events, they broke thick binders of material into manageable weekly topics, reviewing each multiple times before the tournament.
Winning students rarely rely on last-minute cramming. They create practice conditions that mimic competition. For example, a team preparing for a Science Olympiad event set up three stations and simulated the event’s time limits, focusing on moving quickly and not panicking when things went wrong. After each run, they debriefed their performance.
Research project competitors emphasized practicing presentations under pressure. A student advanced to a national fair by rehearsing her talk not only in front of friends but also in front of unfamiliar audiences. “If my neighbor could follow the logic,” she said, “judges from different disciplines probably could too.” By the time she met the judges, her presentation felt automatic, leaving mental space for questions.
This deliberate practice connects to the evaluations described in How Science Competitions Are Scored and Judged. Champions learn to target their preparation at the skills judges are evaluating: clarity, rigor, originality, and ability to respond to unexpected questions.
Every champion has a story about setbacks. What separates winners is not the absence of problems but their response when things go wrong. In one case, a team building a robot for a competition faced a major failure shortly before regionals. Instead of giving up, they treated it as a diagnostic session, documenting failures and prioritizing fixes that would yield the biggest reliability improvements.
They also adjusted expectations. “Our goal shifted from ‘win the event’ to ‘finish every run without a catastrophic failure,’” one team member said. That shift made them calmer and led to a better performance than expected. They didn’t win first place that year, but the experience taught them to troubleshoot under pressure.
Individual competitors share similar stories of confusing data, last-minute poster prints, or forgotten parts of their scripts. Their common advice is to treat setbacks like experiments: record what happened, find the root cause, and adjust your process to avoid being blindsided again.
Even seasoned winners confess that they still get nervous before competition day. The difference is not that they avoid anxiety, but that they see it differently. Where some see nerves as a sign they are not ready, champions view them as energy to harness. Maya described shaking during her final judging session. “Nerves mean your body thinks this is important. That’s good,” she said. “After taking a breath, I just focused on the first sentence.”
Several champions use strategies to manage nerves:
Nervousness is common and not a sign of being unprepared. Several champions said they perform better when they feel “a little nervous but also excited,” associating that with high engagement.
Champions possess what one coach termed “earned confidence with open curiosity.” They believe they know their work well but remain alert to gaps in understanding. One student researching bacterial resistance could explain her entire procedure without notes, but admitted to a judge that she hadn’t studied potential ecological impacts deeply enough. The judge commented that her willingness to acknowledge limits while thinking scientifically about next steps made a strong impression.
Champions recommend a Q&A strategy: think in public, not perform. This means:
This approach not only aids in judging but also reduces fear. When students realize they do not need perfect answers, Q&A transforms from interrogation to conversation.
Long-term competitors often face a challenge: how to stay motivated after years of practice. Champions talk about protecting the curiosity that drew them into science. One student almost quit over burnout. “I needed to remember why I started,” she said. “I did small, fun projects for a while. That brought back the joy competitions sometimes overshadow.”
Champions emphasize avoiding burnout by:
Many continue in science beyond competitions—joining labs or majoring in STEM—because they nurtured their interests rather than sacrificing them for short-term results.
Champions wish someone had told them earlier: aim to become the kind of student who would do the project even without the competition. One summarized it: “Medals are momentary. Skills last much longer.”
They shared specific tips for different stages:
Several champions recommend using structured resources—like timelines and sample project breakdowns on ScholarComp—to avoid reinventing the wheel and understand complete projects.
Parents want to help, but champions stress the most valuable support is emotional and logistical, not technical control. Judges often encounter projects that appear adult-driven instead of student-led.
Champions suggest parents:
One champion recalled how his parents handled a last-minute printing disaster. Instead of fixing it themselves, they drove him to a 24-hour print shop, allowing him to find a solution. “They created the conditions for me to rescue myself,” he said.
Teachers and coaches shape competition culture. Champions credit mentors with setting expectations that emphasize learning and integrity.
Effective support includes:
One coach described a “mini-judging” practice, inviting teachers from other departments to ask questions, helping students identify gaps in explanations. This practice helps students feel prepared for competition questions.
A student named Daniel entered his school’s science fair with a simple project on soil erosion, comparing different ground coverings. His project initially didn’t advance beyond school. Instead of abandoning it, he refined it. The next year, he focused on how slope angle affected erosion, controlling more variables. By ninth grade, he reframed his project to investigate vegetation and permeable surfaces' role in urban runoff, using geographic data. This project earned him a major award at the state level. His conclusion: understanding the background and controlling variables made the difference.
A middle school Science Olympiad team struggled in their first season. They realized their preparation focused on memorizing formulas instead of understanding circuits. The next year, they dedicated half their practice time to hands-on circuit construction and the other half to conceptual questions. By regionals, they were faster and more confident, placing in the top three. “We went from being scared of circuits to actually enjoying them,” one team member said.
Elena felt out of place at a national-level science fair, considering her project on hydroponic nutrient solutions “small” compared to others. She called home, feeling defeated, but her parents encouraged her to focus on learning. During judging, she leaned into that mindset and noticed that core elements of projects, regardless of complexity, remained the same. To her surprise, judges praised her careful control of variables and thoughtful documentation, leading her to receive a special award.
Here are concrete steps you can take in the next week:
Science competition champions are not defined solely by medals or advanced equipment. Their stories reveal persistence, curiosity that survives setbacks, and deliberate practice aimed at concrete skills. They start with ordinary questions, develop them through careful design, and learn to share their work clearly under pressure.
You do not need a perfect idea or a guaranteed path to victory; you need a question that matters to you, a willingness to learn, and patience to improve step by step. Whether you are a student preparing a first project, a parent supporting, or an educator building a program, the perspectives of past champions can guide your choices.
As you plan your next season or first attempt, let these voices shape your approach: start small but think carefully, practice under realistic conditions, treat setbacks as training data, and measure success by growth. When you’re ready to explore specific competitions, project ideas, and preparation strategies, you can find more stories, guides, and comparisons across science contests on ScholarComp—and maybe one day, your own champion story will guide the next generation.
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