An Inversion of Thanks: Will Erickson's Three Years at Baylor
During his time as a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at Baylor, Dr. Will Erickson became a familiar and well-loved presence in the Mathematics Department. Whether mentoring students, collaborating with colleagues, or navigating the daily joys and puzzles of academic life, he brought insight, generosity, and a sharp sense of humor to everything he did. As his time at Baylor comes to a close, Will offers a warm and witty reflection —a thoughtful “inversion” of appreciation, where he turns the gratitude he’s received back toward those who made these past three years so meaningful and unforgettable.
My time at Baylor: a reflection (and an inversion)
Will Erickson
Greeting me each morning on my office door is a now-familiar poster: “Happy Postdoc Appreciation Week.” This is,
apparently, a real week in mid-September, but I’ve kept the poster up long after the fact because it was signed with well wishes from my colleagues in the math department, even many whose paths rarely cross mine. (By contrast, one good friend, true to his Bavarian sensibilities, chose to express his esteem for me precisely by not writing an affirming message on an oversized poster.) I have to admit, though, that each glance at the poster evokes not only affection for the names on it, but also a touch of embarrassment at the many instances of “thank you” among their notes; I understand it was an appreciation week, but it’s quite clear that the gratitude should be flowing in the opposite direction. And therefore any reflection on my time at Baylor is also a kind of inversion, as we say in the business—redirecting those thanks from me back to all of them.
Within seconds of finding my office for the first time in summer of 2022, I was hailed by a graduate student named Hayden, who instantly gave me a tour of the department’s key features, beginning with his extensive Star Wars collection. In the three years since then, nearly all of my cultural education (Star Wars, anime, memes, juggling, vocal impressions, famous movie scenes, The Internet) can be traced to Hayden’s regular visits to my office. What is more, the impromptu tour that day proved an accurate first impression of the department at large: there is a warmth and humanity here that is rare to find, and I was welcomed immediately and generously by too many people to name.
As I owe my growth in human wisdom to Hayden, so I owe my mathematical development to my postdoc mentor, Markus Hunziker. Hayden dubbed Markus and me the Algebros, and in truth, these three years have felt a bit like having an older brother in the department—not only in the math Markus taught me, but in how he and his wife Kyunglim looked out for me more broadly and included me in many of their family events.
At times, of course, it really is all math. I recently realized that essentially my only memory from last November is of Markus and me working by Zoom—weeknights, weekends—somewhat obsessively verifying a delicate case-by-case constructive proof. Thankfully, however, here in the department there are built-in checks on overworking. At 11 a.m., without fail, a train of colleagues forms in the hallway (destination: dining hall) and gradually absorbs more and more of us as it passes by, somewhat like The Blob except noticeably happier. Every Friday evening, the local BJ’s Restaurant knows to set aside a table for the Baylor math department, a tradition instituted by Fritz Gesztesy and a true anchor of the week. The camaraderie here is genuine, but it has also been actively fostered by our department chair Dorina Mitrea. Every December, when I reread A Christmas Carol and arrive at Fezziwig’s party, I immediately think of Dorina’s semester-end luncheons (feasts, really) that gather the entire department together before dispersing for vacation: grad students, retired professors, office managers, student workers, family members, and everyone in between.
Due to my office location (the exact center of the department), there have been very few days without a visit from a former student or two, stopping by to say hello. A few times, it has been a complete stranger bursting into the mathematical equivalent of an emergency room (“I have a linear algebra exam in ten minutes and you looked like an adult—what is a vector space?”). All in all, my students at Baylor have been remarkably diligent and personable and thoughtful. During finals week last year, for reasons that remain unclear, four of my ODE students arrived at dawn to decorate my office door before I arrived. All four are still regular visitors, and I always look forward to hearing about their classes, internships, and graduate school plans.
When I clean out my office a few weeks from now, I will have no shortage of souvenirs. Surveying my desk at the moment, I see a heap of thank-you cards and an assortment of gifts from the past three years: a box of coveted Hagoromo chalk, a straw hat from Ecuador, a humbling twisted nails puzzle, mugs, a customized stamp for grading (“Dr. Erickson thinks this is totally awesome”), another customized stamp for grading (“Dr. Erickson thinks this is adequate”), a sailboat folded out of a Laplace transform table, a motivational sign (“It’s never too late to quit”), and a Chinese tea sampler, among others. There is also the Swiss army knife from Markus, the indestructible plant from Kyunglim, the 3D-printed lightsaber from Hayden, the Star Wars action figure also from Hayden, the jigsaw puzzle that finally got assembled thanks to daily pestering by Hayden—you get the idea. A cluttered desk may be the sign of a cluttered mind, but it is also the sign of generous students and colleagues, and there is no doubt that the next postdoc in this office will find it gradually filled with tokens of the same kindness.
As you walk away from my office, the poster on the door becomes, in a way, more accurate with distance. “Appreciation Week,” printed small and tucked on a single line, eventually fades from view. After a dozen steps, only two words remain legible, and those two words say just about everything: Happy Postdoc.