A hundred brilliant minds in one place

Read about my experience at the Rise Residential Summit ’25 in Oxford. I still miss it so much. It’s one of those trips that catch you smiling at random because some tiny memory taps you on the shoulder and says, hey, remember this?

How it all started

It’s September 2024. I realize I’m doom‑scrolling way too much, so I decide to start reading again. I don’t have many books at home, so I wander to the city library and stumble into the American Corner – a nook stacked with English books and, yes, CDs (which I definitely did not touch). What kept me coming back wasn’t just the shelves or the quiet, it was the person at the desk, Jelena. She became one of my favorite “adult friends” – warm, curious, a champion when I didn’t even know I needed one.

She saw something in me (her word: “talent”, my words: “still figuring it out”) and started forwarding the promotional messages they were flooded with. One day, an email lands in her inbox: Rise is looking for young changemakers. She sends it to me without hesitation – like she knew before I did that this would matter.

The application

I opened the link. My brain goes: oh, this is a big deal. I started brainstorming ideas and settled on EduCompass – my little spark of a web educational project to help students find the right high school. The application is… intense. Lots of recording. I re-recorded my videos a few days before the deadline because I thought I wasn’t smiling enough.

Months pass. Then an email: I’m one of 500 Finalists. I cry. Like, real tears, in the kitchen, phone in one hand and a ridiculous grin. Finalist Day arrives: five hours on Zoom – team tasks, interviews, presentations, and a mountain of forms where I list every extracurricular and achievement I can remember. My brain is mush; my heart is sprinting.

Then, another month or two later: “Congratulations! You have been selected as a Rise Global Winner 2024!” I’m in class when I read it. Goosebumps. I start crying again. My friends hug me and cheer without fully understanding the magnitude. Honestly, I didn’t either. But I knew one thing for sure: the summit would be everything.

Arrival: Oxford, I’m here

August 5th. I hug my parents and sister at the airport. Happiest “see you soon” ever. They’re proud and also quietly terrified, because sending your kid alone to another country is peak parent anxiety. Even they were impressed with how tightly organized everything was.

Touchdown at Heathrow. A woman is waiting with a Rise sign and my name on it. Instant tears (I cry when I’m happy, okay?). She walks me to my driver and we head to Oxford — gray skies, green fields, the kind of English countryside you see in movies.

We pull up to Brasenose College — my home for the next ten days. The van door slides open and in that moment, I feel like a celebrity. The photographers are there, cameras out, capturing everything. I meet the Rise team, check into my room (cozy!), and stare out the window at a courtyard that looks like it has a thousand stories. They hand us swag like it’s Christmas: bag, water bottle, travel adapter, rain jacket, sweatshirt, two t‑shirts. I’m already wearing half of it by dinner.

Day 0: finding my people

We had an app with schedules, maps, names of Fellows and Staff. Day 0 is for wandering and “hey, where are you from? what was your project about?” conversations. I meet people from Hong Kong, China, Indonesia, Brazil, Ukraine, the US, Italy, Turkey, Nigeria, Venezuela, Portugal, India, Egypt, Australia, Kazakhstan… I could go on like this forever. We take headshots outside the Media Hub and laugh because none of us have a clue on what to do or how we ended up here. Later, we discover the bar at Brasenose has board games. This detail will matter.

Also: Rhodes House, where our lectures happen? It looks like a film set. Old wood, with new modern details, stained glass. Unreal.

Day 1: game on

Welcome session. First lecture — about emojis (yes, emojis! and somehow it turned into a conversation about how symbols (don’t) carry culture and empathy online). We meet our base groups — twenty people and a facilitator you end up treating like a camp counselor/older sibling/therapist. We share why we’re here. We try not to overshare. We fail. It’s beautiful.

Fellow mixer. Opening ceremony. And then board games at the bar until 10:30 pm. I can’t explain why this was so special, but something about low‑stakes chaos + new friends = instant home.

Every day had a theme

Problem solving. Building relationships. Systems change. AI for good. Circular economy. The speakers weren’t just smart — they knew how to land a message so it sticks in your ribs. I didn’t expect to leave with this much practical knowledge and this much courage.

But the best part? You don’t just learn from the stage. You learn from the person next to you in line for lunch telling you how they started a nonprofit at 15. Or the person in your base group who handed out period pads to those who needed it the most. I felt like the least impressive human in the room, but I loved it. It’s humbling in the exact right way.

Day 2: lightning talks begin

Lightning talks are three‑minute fellow‑led sprints, your story, your lesson, your why. About half of the fellows present, and I’m glued to every single one. We do Early Risers at 7 am before breakfast — sometimes running, sometimes football (my personal favourite), sometimes board games (my least favourite, I’m an athletic person)

Day 3: my turn on stage

More lectures, workshops, base groups. And then it’s my turn to give a lightning talk. I practiced the night before, but nerves still show up. I stand on stage, spot five or six phones pointed at me, and feel my heart skydive. I talk about lessons from organizing the Spark youth conference. It lands. At the end I hold up a printed photo of a packed room (shoutout to Dougie for the print!). People come up after with kind words. I breathe again.

Day 4: Oxford and fellow‑led day

We get free time in the morning and squeeze Oxford like a lemon — bookshops, side streets, too many photos. We are late to the afternoon session (worth it, sorry). British Sports competition happens and our team wins (because of me, obviously!). The day is fully fellow‑led: twenty-ish topics, pick a table, have real conversations without any staff hovering. It was honest, private, no pressure. In the evening, each continent does dinner out; Europe = pizza. New friends over thin crust = ten out of ten.

Day 5: London day

I’ve been waiting for this. We chose our morning activity months ago and I picked the Leake Street graffiti workshop over some “boring” museums. The tunnel smells like spray paint and adventure. I learn to hold the can properly, layer colors, not inhale too deeply, and I watch these wild ideas bloom into a wall of stories. We had free time in London. At 4 pm we hop on a Thames cruise and pass Big Ben, the London Eye, Tower Bridge. Then a party with music and a chaos of traditional dances from everywhere. My calves still hurt. My cheeks too (from smiling).

Day 6: Media Hub

I join Media Hub. We have one hour to script and shoot a three‑minute recap of the previous day. It’s fast, it’s loud, it’s stressful, but it is so much fun. We pull it off. I think Larry, Chris and Joe were proud. Thanks to Janine for the help!

Day 7: Impact Lab + Open Mic

Nonprofits come in for a day of hands‑on problem solving. I join the Raspberry Pi Foundation group. We dig into user retention: onboarding friction, clearer pathways, community challenges, streaks, etc. The ideas feel shippable, which is surreal. In the evening we have Open Mic — singers, dancers, magicians (actual magicians in disguise!), poems that make you cry, a violin that makes you shut up. It’s vulnerable and loud but so perfect.

Day 8: slow magic + goodbye

Last full day. Fewer talks, more time to just exist with people you already love. Closing ceremony at night — lights, applause, the lump in your throat you pretend isn’t there. Afterparty. By 11 we’re back in the dorms, Facetiming and saying goodbyes because some of us will catch each other at breakfast and some won’t.

Day 9: the long exhale

Breakfast. Van. Airport. Plane. Home. The order is simple; the feeling is not.

But really, it was the moments in between

Waking up at 5 am for a picnic and discovering the park was still closed. Swapping snacks from all over the world and arguing (lovingly) about which chips are superior. Sprinting down the staircase in Blackwell’s because the camera timer was only ten seconds and I refuse to be cropped out. Group photos everywhere. Shipping people like it’s a sport. The symphony of accents. The micro‑lessons about each other’s cultures. Playing Just Dance between talks and hide‑and‑seek in the yard. Flexing our Rise merch every single day. “Running” in the park (I ran; others were there for vibes and to slow me down). Talking to the cameramen, my incredible RA, the security team, the speakers in the lunch line. Whispered crushes and love stories. Shopping trips. Laughs. The kind of small moments that become the big ones.

Thank you

To the Rise team — front of house and behind the scenes — thank you for building a world where we could be brave. To my fellow Fellows: I came for a program and left with a family.

It was amazing. I’m so, so grateful I have a global family now. These might have been the best ten days of my life. See you in 2027. I’m already counting.