A Response to the Prologue by Dr. Arnold Ross

Six weeks had come and gone. As if emerged a hazy flashback of the first day I came to the Indiana campus. A blend of excitement, unease, apprehension, slight confidence for the challenge. I had read through the Ross Program website a hundred times – course topics, FAQ, program history. The emphasis of proof and rigor of solution; it opens a haven of a new, fascinating way of doing mathematics, where an elegant solution is much more valued than a numerical result. Where logic is weighed far more than the broadness of knowledge. And so comes the proceeding of problem sets. I remember we’ve been through several of the ‘big’ theorems – UFT, CRT, cyclicity of Up, quadratic reciprocity – ‘beautiful nodes of the borderless field of number theory,’ as Dr. Pollack has once remarked in the lecture. It was as such that twenty sets have passed: first in exploration, then in numerical, finally in podasip – through each iteration of this procedure have every of the conclusions unfolded in a lining of stairs, much to what Dr. Ross wrote as a game of treasure hunt. Every set is a scaffolding that leads to a greater conclusion.

Steps need to be made sturdy. The nurturing layout of the problem sets are meant to be understood and mastered before continuing on the next one. I made mistakes. It was back in the first two weeks, when we were still struggling on the first few sets. Back then I had the tendency to catch up to the front – to make the quick progress in the problem sets in a daily pace. The tendency, unfortunately, grew too much. It grew into an unrealistic ambition that pushes me forward without thorough retrospection over what I have done. A few sets of rushing through would be enough to make me confused, frustrated by the increasing complexity of the problems – those supposed to be steadily stepped on and explored. I nearly fell to the wrong path, if it wasn’t for the celebration project. I recall being tasked for the part of a proof of the unique factorization, which essentially meant a recount of every step we had made so far. From the very first set to around the sixth and seventh – where I went astrayed. That weekend was the most unforgettable of all (or perhaps the last weekend where we had the final Minkowski walk) – I learned, and I relearned, everything, so far. That wasn’t an easy grind, but indeed a lasting lesson. A lesson to the essence of this program that also recently brought into question of the entire mathematical journey I have had so far – the question of my obsession in result rather than insight, quantity rather than quality. The haste needs to be appeased.

Six week is long enough for me to establish some sort of connection with this place. Perhaps because of my slightly introverted character, I tend to focus more on the static of surrounding rather than the dynamic of events (except the power outage, definitely). Rose- Hulman has always been a beautiful – and sort of big – campus. There’s always something to explore, just like a treasure hunt. The first two days I got to the place, it was merely a back-and-forth between Percopo and the Union. Nothing else. So came the first lecture day, the first time I entered Myers. It took me a few more days to realize that the entire lecture building – Olin, NAB, Myers – are a connected piece. The following week, during every night time, I ventured, walked through every corridor, every corner of this complex. I’ve always had that restless wanderlust, and taking a walk is more than a familiar routine. I’m glad we had the five weekends of Minkowski walk – the walk never grew over twenty people, and we never walked miles away, but the exploration of novelty has been more than a inspiring enrichment, especially the one to the cemetery, running back over a mile. Weeks on my night walk never ceased – I walked far and farther, and I saw much and more, with that occasional enjoyment of Frisbee. I love the people here. Just as what Dr. Ross wrote in the prologue, these walks were treasure hunts. I spend the day on a mathematical hunt; the night, a physical hunt. Perhaps what a mathematician need more is the appreciation of the nature and exploration that support the color and energy of life.

‘Ross is not just a program. It’s the people.’ That’s what came across my mind when I entered a crowded cafeteria dominated by Catapult kids, except for a few of the tables that sit our strong group out of cohesion. The making of families, returning of JCs. It would feel much different if we’re simply doing the sets on our own. It’s the ‘flashing of insight,’ as remarked by Dr. Ross. And so is seen at the countless of dorm lectures (I’m pretty sure I’ve attended over 80% of them). When you spend all night doing Galois theory, the lecture is no longer a lecture. It’s sharing every bit of life in this single force of cohesion. Oh, and the advanced courses. Now I feel a bit regretful of not attending more lectures. The only one I had attempted and finished was the elliptic curves one. Tyler was straightly fascinating, and I’m glad that I made it to the end. Perhaps it’s a more desired outcome than a superficial attempt at multiple lectures – I do sort of miss the compressed sensing one, though.

This morning I had my last walk at this beautiful campus – or should I say before the morning. I woke up right before the dawn and witnessed the last sunrise seen at the Ross Program this year. A remark of the new beginning, with the flooding of a tonne of memories. They are weightless. Days ago, weeks ago, I was imagining what it would be for the last day at Ross. The unceasing applause of the final lecture. The moment of bidding farewell to the best friends known for only six weeks. The willingness and unwillingness of riding the bus to the airport. I guess it’s the time. It’s all over, and I wish the best of everyone at this fantastic program.