A Jamaican Adventure: Getting Invited into the PhD Program
By: Baron Stewart
My second year of graduate school marked a profound transformation—in my physical environment and inner life. The mathematics department had moved into a stunning new brown tower on the main campus, a structure of beauty and promise framed by sweeping green trees. For the first time, I had an office on the third floor that granted me the privacy I had long craved; I could lock myself away and work without interruption, a stark contrast to the cramped conditions of the old building.
In that quiet haven, fate introduced me to Lorretta Gerardi—my office mate, guide, and, over time, a lifelong friend and older sister. Just a year after my senior year, Loretta had already navigated the arduous path of comprehensive and oral exams. With gentle persistence, she encouraged me to rebuild my academic foundation from scratch, to move beyond rote memorization, and to truly understand the essence of algebra, geometry, and especially real and complex analysis. Whenever I was in pain or afraid to face the daunting challenges of graduate life, I offered solace and wisdom. Confronting my graduate program was just the first of many trials where her guidance led me toward success.
Yet, the journey was far from smooth. While I excelled in Algebra and Topology, Real and Complex Analysis presented a different challenge. This realm demanded memorization and a deep, intrinsic understanding of complex ideas. With the looming Comprehensive Exams of June 1974, the pressure intensified. Then, the mentorship of the department chairman, an expert in Real Analysis, became my lifeline. He taught me to break down these intricate concepts into their simplest forms and gradually rebuild them into the abstractions I needed to master. His approach underscored a fundamental truth: deep understanding, not mere memorization, is the key to success.
I vividly recall the day of the oral exam. My nerves got the better of me initially, and I stumbled over my words under the weight of expectation. But as the minutes ticked by, my mentor’s quiet confidence in my abilities bolstered my own. Slowly, my composure returned with each answer, and my understanding shone through. By the end of nearly two grueling hours, I had not only passed the exam. Still, I had also affirmed my identity as a mathematician—a scholar willing to embrace vulnerability to achieve true mastery.
Years later, when I left graduate school only to yearn for the completion of my PhD, I reached out to him once more. Without hesitation, he welcomed me back, reaffirming the enduring power of mentorship and the belief that deep understanding is built gradually through perseverance and honest inquiry.
In the quiet solitude of that new tower, under the gentle guidance of Lorretta and the steadfast support of my mentor, I learned that true mastery comes not from memorizing facts but from dismantling complexity into simple truths and rebuilding oneself with clarity, purpose and passion.