What is a hackathon?

 

What is a hackathon?

This was the main question occupying my mind over the past few days.

As a law student, I am required to comply with many things which, as a mature student, I find either superfluous, downright boring, or not entirely useful. Teamwork, for example. Or being polite and courteous. Or handing essays in on time.

Having spent the past couple of decades working, birthing four humans, managing a household, and somehow conducting academic research on top of it all, I find it mildly excruciating when another “life skill” task appears and gently reminds me that I am, indeed, not 19 anymore.

Yes, I know what it’s like to work as part of a team. In fact, I’ve done it my entire life. In small teams, large teams, and everything in between. Some felt completely natural; others were overbearing, unnecessary, and emotionally draining. And in my experience as a student, teamwork is wildly inconsistent. Some teams are brilliant and fun. Others feel like dragging a boulder uphill while smiling politely.

Courtesy and punctuality, meanwhile, are skills I would hope most people have mastered by the time they reach university.

So, standing on the cusp of yet another compulsory team challenge, I felt the familiar need to be… selective. Tough, even. On myself, and on the future team I might be part of.

I scanned the cohort, wondering first who would even want to do this challenge properly, well enough that it might actually lead to something worthwhile. Perhaps even a job prospect or two.

From what I understand, a hackathon is essentially a structured brainstorm aimed at improving the future. In my case, it is also a compulsory component of my Learning Through the Workplace module. Which led me to ask myself three very important questions:

1. Do I need to do this well to pass?

2. Am I capable of doing something “just enough” to pass? (No.)

3. If I’m doing this, will I need to win and therefore need a team who also desperately wants to win? (Absolutely.)

Thus, the search began.

First port of call: the brightest minds in the cohort. All women. All young enough to be my daughters. All frighteningly clever. All aiming for firsts.

I approached them gently, fully intending to casually mention the hackathon.

But then the competitive instinct took over.

“I want to win this,” I said. “And you’re the best in the year group, so I want you on my team.”

Direct. Sharp. Bold. Possibly unhinged.

They were polite at first. Then, one by one, they opened up about their reasons for taking part (or not), about who they were, and about what mattered to them. Having never spent real time with them before, I quickly realised they were far more impressive in person than any academic label could suggest.

I was genuinely blown away by their maturity, ambition, and desire to change the world. They weren’t driven by insecurity, but by a fierce sense of purpose that put the 20-year-old version of me to absolute shame.

They weren’t just hardworking for their degrees. They were resilient, articulate, and determined to go beyond them. They didn’t simply agree. They questioned. They challenged. They wanted to know what it would mean to work with me because for them, it had to mean something.

As I left for my next lecture, I realised I no longer cared quite so much about the hackathon itself. Instead, I felt a deep, unexpected pride in these young women, the future of a profession I still believe in. A future I hope will be kind to them. A future worthy of their ideas.

So, what is a hackathon?

Apparently, it might just be the beginning of something epic, if they say yes.
And a challenge for me if they say no.