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ACM INSAT CPC takes on the ACPC!

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ACM ACPC: have you ever heard of it?

Two teams from our INSAT took off this morning for Sharm El Sheikh to participate in this year’s edition.

The Arab Collegiate Programming Contest (ACPC) is a regional qualifying round for the International Collegiate Programming Contest (ICPC), which is organized and conducted yearly by the Association of Computing Machinery (ACM).

The contest is a multi-tiered competition among teams of university students. And it’s an opportunity for them to demonstrate and sharpen their problem solving skills.

The two teams are:

“Beans greens potatoes tomatoes”:  

  • Nadhem Maaloul -GL3
  • Ahmed Ben Neji  -GL3
  • Yassine Borchani -GL3

“270 Bytes”:

  • Miras Ayed -GL3
  • Marouen Sfar Gandoura  -GL3
  • Oussama Gastli -GL3

And their Coach: Mr. Aymen Sellaouti.

 

These are the people who will be representing INSAT for the first time in the ACM ACPC 2017 in Sharm El Sheikh (Egypt) from 24 to 28 November.

After some serious efforts and hard work, they’ve won the INSAT collegiate programming contest and made it through the national finals: the Tunisian Collegiate Programming Contest (TCPC); which was held in Sup’Com in March 2017. They got qualified for the regionals in hope of reaching the international ICPC; the reason for which the ACM INSAT CPC club was founded.  And since then they’ve been practicing and building strong teams by hosting weekly training courses and many online contests and some Hubs to improve their competitive programming skills.

Finally their efforts are paying off!

We should be proud of our fellow “INSATians” and wish them best of luck and hope they make it to the top!

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Maman, j’ai peur!

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Maman, j’ai peur.
Tout le monde me regarde.
Tout le monde veut que la catastrophe s’attarde. Maman, j’ai peur.
Il m’appelle d’une voix douce.
Ses mains avancent et me caressent. Tu m’as appris à être gentil
avec les gens qui sourient.
Alors je me tais.
Alors j’obéis. Maman, j’ai peur. Pourquoi ne m’as-tu pas appris
que mon corps m’appartient ?
Pourquoi ne m’as-tu pas appris
à dire : non, je te l’interdis ?
Maman, j’ai mal.
Mes jambes me disent de courir.
Ma gorge voudrait crier.
Mais le son se brise
contre le silence des grands.
Maman, tu m’entends ?
Où étais-tu
pendant ces deux longues semaines ? Je t’ai cherchée quatorze jours
dans chaque coin de la maison,
dans chaque bureau,
dans les yeux des responsables. Un enfant a besoin de sa mère
comme la mer a besoin de la lune
pour tenir debout
dans l’obscurité.
Maman, je me sens sale.
je porte en moi les empreintes du diables. Lave-moi.
Je veux retrouver mes vêtements d’innocence.
Mais ils ne sont plus là. Qui les a brûlés ?
Est-ce que tonton les a volés ?
Je ne veux parler qu’à toi.
Les adultes baissent les yeux.
Ils me disent d’attendre.
D’attendre encore.
D’attendre toujours. Mais tu es en retard, maman.
Tu me promets
de ne plus partir ?

Un texte de: Emna Harzallah

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