Week 1 Letters to Part III

Hi.  I’m Marj. For nearly ten years I had the pleasure of standing in front of Part III students on day one and introducing myself, and then talking at them regularly through the year. It was a responsibility that I relinquished with regret. I watched jealously and tried with greatest difficulty to keep silent as others took on the job. I am now retired.  Retiring is a very liberating experience; I no longer feel at all constrained to silence, so I will write.

I felt uniquely qualified to advise Part III’s by virtue of having failed corresponding exams (MSc, Warwick, 1974) - a life experience shared by too few of my colleagues. Most of them got where they are now by being very good at sitting in lectures and passing exams. I felt there should be someone standing in front of them who has an in-depth, visceral understanding of what Part III might be like for those who come here with less than ideal preparation, who sit in lectures, and wonder whether the lecturer is indeed speaking a known language.  If you are one of them, I Understand. My door is open.

That's a lie, or at least only metaphorically true.  My door is almost never is open these days, as I no longer keep any sort of schedule, being retired, but I still have a door (C.0.11), and for you, by arrangement (email mb139), I am v. happy to open it.  It's why I am writing you now, to introduce myself, thinking you might enjoy a cup of tea some day, and a chat.

The intention is that I will go on adding to this blog, probably irregularly, during the year.  I will tell you some of the things I used to tell students when it was my job to tell them things.  I will also tell you stories. It's been 44 years since I was at your stage of becoming a mathematician. It's been fun, and often entertaining.

Let me tell you some facts about Part III now, in case you might be finding it hard and starting to worry.

1. Particularly for those coming from outside Cambridge (MASt candidates), performance in the exams is not an accurate predictor of your potential as a creative mathematician. How should it be? It is the fourth year of a four year course, following on from the third year. It is very unlikely, however excellent the school you have come from, that the your mathematical preparation and experience of learning matches what you will need for Part III.  Furthermore, what you know, what you will learn here are only tools. Your ability to contribute as a mathematician is a matter of how you think, your creativity, your imagination, and your ability to use the tools. The exams only examine the content of your tool kit, less than half the story.  And you may not need all those tools either.
2. Just for emphasis, can I point out that in spite of failing equivalent exams I have been a working mathematician now for 40+ years.  Failure, even if it happens, is not necessarily the end of your mathematical road.
3. The rest of the mathematical world knows that Part III is stink hard, and that particularly among MASt students there are those who do not glitter in their exam results and yet turn out to be mathematical gemstones of the first order.  Good funded PhD places are to be found even for those who do not distinguish themselves at Part III.
4. Accept all help available, actively seek it. Help is available - go to the catch up workshops, find friendly colleagues (more about that later) and PhD students. Yes, what you needed to know is all in books, somewhere, or in lecture notes from Part II and Part Ib, but life is short, and time is the one thing no one in Part III has too much of.  Don’t waste it.  Much quicker to get someone to tell you what you need to know. Ask. Demand help. Don’t muddle along, hoping it will get better all by itself.  It usually doesn’t, not without a bit of action on your part.  A question about the lecture? Ask the lecturer, preferably before she/he leaves the room. If you'r feeling shy, get a colleague to come with you. (I always felt that if two or more students didn't understand, then I owed them a better explanation.) 

There are two people in your College who are responsible for ensuring that you get the help you need, your Director of Studies (DoS) and your Tutor. Bang on their door.  Bombard them with emails.  If they are unresponsive, bite their ankle. Funds should be available for extra supervision if you need it. If you have any doubts, don’t wait. Ask for help now.

Worry is there to galvanise you into action.  Do nothing and it will eat into your spirit and paralyse your mind. Act, and it will spur you to put forth the efforts that will get you through the tough bits. Act.

In my case, failing simply meant repeating the year, as I had a second year of funding. It was much easier second time round. I enjoyed the year. I had time to reflect, to play with the tools, to daydream, what could I do with the ideas? Does this work? Is that also true? Such are the fantasies of mathematicians.  

Storytime.-----------------------------------

On one occasion, pursuing such a daydream further than usual, I scraped together courage sufficient to air my idea with Prof. Sandy Green, of representation theory fame. He was a kindly man, of uncertain health and strictly limited time in the office, but a casual question over tea could secure a chance to talk with him. After fifteen minutes, and many responses on the general theme of “I hate to disappoint you but…” I left, cheeks burning, in need of a restorative walk.

Warwick is situated in pleasant countryside, and I headed out towards Stoneliegh red-faced, kicking stones and cursing quietly. After a couple of miles, somewhat restored, I turned about and started homewards. As it happens, the Stoneleigh road runs quite straight for a stretch between fields bordered by tall hedges. At that point, thus, I had plenty of time to observe Sandy’s unmistakable van approaching in the distance. I did not, *not*, want to be seen; it would be too obvious that I had been stomping off my humiliation. No where else to go, I would have to try to get through the hedge into the field.

I got half-way, but only half-way, through the hedge, and there I stuck. Hedges are thicker and better constructed than you might think. Any hope I had that I had not been recognised was dashed as I heard the toot of his horn.  

Sandy was nothing if not a perfect gentleman, and never once referred to the incident.