The first-ever Bird's Eye Conference happened on March 4-5 in the Bahen Centre, and it was a great success! Over 70 registered attendees enjoyed more than 30 talks that introduced a broad range of the research fields found in our department. The attendees included current graduate students, prospective graduate students and even some undergraduates!

The talks ranged over Geometry & Topology, Analysis & Applied Math, Probability & Optimal Transport, Set Theory & Combinatorics, and Algebra & Number Theory. Each session was moderated by a Program Chair, a graduate student who helped to recruit speakers and worked with each speaker to enhance the accessibility of their talk.

We had our fill of pizza and beverages during the lunch and coffee breaks, which were orchestrated by our Food Supervisors and sponsored by the Mathematics Graduate Student Association (MGSA). It was quite a sight to see so many fellow graduate students having conversations and making new connections over food and coffee. What did attendees talk about?

We also had a Panel Discussion on the Graduate Research Experience, which covered practical tips on what opportunities to take advantage of during our studies. The panelists also shared the joys and struggles of their own research journeys, and gave advice on how to navigate the emotional parts of the research journey, such as imposter syndrome.

Asked what attendees liked most about the conference, they said:

The organizing team is very grateful for the sponsorship of the MGSA and the Department of Mathematics, as well as for all of the volunteers who have made this event possible. We also thank the administrative staff of the Department for their support. And we thank everyone who attended! Seeing the happy faces and conversations over pizza and coffee really made us feel that all of this work was worth it. Thank you to everyone for making this event a great success!

Our lives are increasingly governed by algorithms that influence what to buy, where to go, who to date, and sometimes even how we vote. Corporations and governments collect data about us and use it to analyze our personalities, our social ties, and our beliefs. Are the decisions made by these analyses fair? How much control do we have over the assumptions that algorithms make about us? Who creates and controls these algorithms, and how accountable are they to those of us on the receiving end?

I recently gave a talk to the Undergraduate Math Union at the University of Toronto to explore one instance of a mathematical algorithm used in Wall Street that enabled the 2008 Financial Crisis. It was manipulated by the "auditors of the financial system" to make over-optimistic predictions about the economy, helping large investment banks sell toxic investment products all over the world. The implosion of those toxic products sparked the Financial Crisis.

​The pandemic has shaken the core of the economy, prompting fears of an economic catastrophe like the 2008 Financial Crisis. How resilient is our financial system to waves of financial losses on a national scale, which could arise from lockdown restrictions on businesses? An important cause of the 2008 crisis was the spread of "package deals" that bundled together smaller investments. The investments in each package deal were assumed to be more or less independent from each other so that the risks of different investments could cancel each other out. Unfortunately, the investments were more correlated (interdependent) than expected, and enough of them failed at the same time to cripple the banks all over the world that had bought the package deals.

The correlation was underestimated by Credit Rating Agencies (the "auditors" of the financial system), misleading banks into buying those package deals. We will explore some weaknesses in the mathematical models of these agencies that led them to underestimate the correlation. We will also touch on conflicts of interest that drove the agencies to manipulate their analyses, in order to underestimate correlation even further. How is math used or abused by these "auditors" who wield so much power over the financial system - a power that affects even our savings and retirement funds?

No background knowledge is necessary, beyond a familiarity with plotting functions as graphs and calculating the area under them (which you might get from a Calculus course).

Thank you to ComSciConCAN-GTA for giving me the opportunity to practice explaining this complex topic in an accessible way through their Write-a-Thon!

I am haunted by these existential questions:

• What is the role of mathematics in society?
• What is my role as a mathematician in society?
• What is my role as a human being in society?

I'm going to explore these questions by giving talks on the intersection of math and society at the University of Toronto, at every platform I can get. I'll highlight the interesting research of others, because I think academics need to help each other to "signal-boost" more to get important messages out, instead of just talking about their own work.

 Prof. Moon Duchin's talk "Political Geometry: Voting Districts, ''Compactness," and Ideas About Fairness" is quite accessible, and she goes into deeper depth about the nuanced difficulties faced by compactness scores, what helps the judicial system to trust a mathematical metric, and the political process in the US in general. She was personally involved in the effort convince the Supreme Court of the United States to adopt the "ReCom" method presented in my talk. The Wikipedia page for the Supreme Court case in question, Rucho v. Common Cause, tells a fascinating story, and serves as a window into how democracy can be undermined by partisan manipulation (every Supreme Court justice agreed on that).

The ​Metric Geometry and Gerrymandering Group (​MGGG), founded by Prof. Duchin, has a lot of resources relating to the math behind gerrymandering, including fun interactive web applets to let you explore the concepts involved.

On the research side, the theory of counting spanning trees on lattices has surprising connections to the physics of crystals; as a result, many of the asymptotic counting formulas were derived by physicists. Unfortunately I do not have a good reference at hand to explain this connection. Please tell me if you find one so I an actually understand this stuff!

Thank you to Assaf Bar-Natan and Lorenzo Najt for connecting me to relevant research! My talk grew from a seed planted by Moon Duchin when I attend a talk by her at MIT on "compactness scores," or how to measure the messiness of voting districts. I drew inspiration from Prof. Duchin's 

​I'd also like to highlight the great work of the Metric Geometry and Gerrymandering Group (MGGG), founded by Prof. Duchin, for their excellent work not only in the mathematical theory of gerrymandering, but also in bringing together mathematicians, political scientists, researchers in law and so on to collaborate. I think the complex social issues of our time need to be understood from both the technical and humanistic viewpoints, so scientists need to learn from their counterparts in the humanities, and vice versa, in order to craft solutions that are technically sound and that can also handle the uncertainties and irrationalities of society.

(Photographs by Vera Yung)

The really crazy thing about this work is that we had originally planned out this entire epic storyline about a young boy who got abducted by aliens and the alien empire he eventually built. However, for various reasons we decided to scrap the entire thing and start from scratch, with just one week left before showtime.

I eventually convinced my teammates to make the twisted history of our composition the subject of our piece. The title "Space Ballet" comes from one of the dance segments that we had planned in our original narrative; we used that to open our final composition. Then a tremendous disruption occurs... and how do we respond to it?

My team was particularly inspired by physical theater work directed by Herbert Fritsch that we watched in Berlin, namely Zeppelin, NULL and especially the dada-inspired der die mann. That informed the slapstick that went into Space Ballet.

For visual style, we locked on to a retro rock/sci-fi kind of aesthetic pretty early on. I love team member Elise's costume design and "space makeup"—who knew that glitter on vaseline could look so good on your face?

Thank you to my teammates Miles, Gabby and Elise for your ideas and experience, which were especially crucial when fleshing out our work on short notice! To our workshop instructors and overall mentors Jonathan and Dawn, for guiding us and providing the resources we needed. Of course, thank you to Bard College Berlin for making all of this possible!

I attempted to answer these question through my first-ever origami performance piece that debuted at the Make It Share It Open Stage.

"Is origami an art or a craft? Is there a distinction?" These questions have echoed around the origami community, hinting at the community's growing desire for origami to be recognized as a form of high art. The fine art establishment is no happy paradise, but if anyone who wants origami to gain such status, I thought to myself, they'd need to have their own ideas about what art is, and try to create origami that is also art to them. Many origami practitioners like Paul Jackson or Victor Couerjoly are experimenting with different methods and interpretations of origami, but I wondered what I could do to "inject" some "art" into origami. What if I combined origami with an established art form... like dance?

The fusion of origami and dance haunted my imagination, inducing me to flesh that idea out despite myself. I decided to tackle the process of art: practitioners of origami, or art more generally, always say that the process matters as much, if not more than the product. I wanted to test that. What is the folding process like? Where is the human element in origami, if humanity is central to art? Who is the origami artist, anyway?

When the organizer of the Open Stage invited me to create a piece, and I accepted the chance to make this idea a reality.

This is a devised piece, which means that I spent hours playing with huge sheets of paper, folding with only a simple plan in mind (I would only fold a familiar model to help the audience focus on the process) and observing what interesting emotions or movements would come up in the process that I could use. The final sequence slowly crystallized over many sessions from this trial and error. Very early on the paper taught me that I had lost patience with origami, which is a rather alarming indictment. Thankfully, I managed to find the fun in wrestling with the paper. That fun made everything come alive.

If the you think you saw slapstick comedy in the recording, that's thanks to my experience at the Bard Summer Theater Intensive! I reprised the slapstick from my group's 25-minute movement theater piece Space Ballet, which in turn drew inspiration from Herbert Fritsch's shows that we watched in Berlin, such as my favourite dadaist show der die mann. I'm very grateful for the broad exposure to ideas at the theater intensive, as well as its training on devised theater.

I'm going to try and expand what we can do with origami by stepping off into the fourth and fifth dimensions! Look out for more crazy experiments to come...

CLS is an institute committee of faculty, staff and students (two undergraduates and two graduate students) meant to provide the perspectives of all of these stakeholders on certain projects and policies of the MIT Libraries. Some of the topics we've discussed include the Libraries' new mission, vision and values statement (including a statement on diversity), the renovation of Hayden Library, and implementing the recommendations from the report by the Task Force on the Future of the Libraries. The Libraries has so far asked this committee about the needs of our respective constituents (for me, the undergraduate population), how our constituents would react to decisions like the implementation of certain technologies in the Libraries, and if our unique perspective gives rise to any suggestions for the Libraries.

CLS isn't a lot of work; the bare minimum is that you show up to the monthly meetings and read or skim the background material that is sent out before each meeting. It's pretty interesting and inspiring stuff too; you learn how the MIT Libraries probably does way more than you ever imagined (subscriptions to music streaming services, data management services, copyright law advising, ...), the nuances of making data-driven decisions to benefit library patrons while protecting their privacy, and how the Libraries is fighting against the forces of inequity in knowledge and education (e.g. through the Open Access Task Force, another institute committee I'm a part of). And you get to interact with many warm and welcoming adults who are eager to hear your opinions, such as Chris Bourg, director of the MIT Libraries; it's been a real pleasure working with her for two years in two committees. The Libraries cares incredibly about student well-being, and relentlessly reaches out to students to find out how they can help students even more. They are very hungry for student input, which is where you could come in, by giving your input, as part of CLS or otherwise, or talking to your friends about the Libraries!

Thank you all for believing in me at every step, so that I could begin to believe in myself. It is no exaggeration to say that because you all believe that I can change the world, I end up believing that I really can, which makes it more likely that I'll actually go out there and do it. Please continue to believe in and empower students, whose self-confidence often gets crushed by the overwhelming demands and pressures of MIT.

It has been a great privilege to work with all of you. You have always treated my voice as an equal, which I took one year to get used to! The MIT Libraries has defined for me what a collaborative, supportive and inclusive workplace could look like. I will remember this community fondly and treasure our relationships even after I graduate. The most uniquely useful parting gift I can offer may be my reflections on MIT, and what I have learned about students and the libraries so far.

It's a shame that I have to leave MIT after accumulating two years of perspective on the Libraries, and four years of perspective on my fellow students--that I must leave when I am the best positioned to give back. Since Fall 2016 I've made it my job to understand the relationship between students and libraries, and what it could be. It was clear from day one how much students could gain from your expertise and resources, yet how little they knew of it. The other direction seemed trickier. I've pondered for a year and a half these questions:

1. What can the Libraries learn from students?
2. How can we increase student awareness and engagement with library resources?

One tentative answer to the first question emerged while I prepared the "Hidden Libraries of MIT" tours of student club libraries. The Libraries might be inspired by how students build communities around collections. Each student library is not simply a collection; a community of students, alumni and sometimes even the broader Boston community have organically formed around it. For instance, the MIT Lecture Series Committee has held public movie screenings since 1950. The collection and community have enriched and sustained each other through an expanding web of activities and social interaction, often with a long history. From this foundation emerged a sense of identity. Don't take my word for it, ask anyone who toured those student libraries! MIT's respect for student autonomy has allowed these communities, cultures and traditions to flourish in living groups and clubs. At a time when the Libraries are reconsidering how their collections are best preserved and used, might student communities offer any insight? If you entered these spaces as an equal to students, you might glean a few clues.

Here's one answer to the second question: if the Libraries helps students satisfy their deepest needs, then students will surely take notice. But what are their needs? Here are some word clouds are derived from students brainstorming about how to improve the MIT first-year experience in the Designing the First Year course. Two major themes that have arisen from interviewing students are major exploration and advising.

Many students find a lack of information about potential majors, and can be unsure of what they're signing up for, or feel trapped and funneled into the circle of popular majors. In my opinion, one of the greatest anxieties plaguing MIT students is around not finding one's passion or "path in life." Other students enter MIT laser-focused on one major and could benefit from more exposure. Could the Libraries help MIT students find their place in MIT, broaden their horizons, and forge their own path ahead?

"Advising" is a multifaceted need, but one relevant component is the need for authentic and meaningful interactions with faculty or staff. Deeper than that, I think MIT students need to feel that there are adults who care about them, who listen and empathize. Unfortunately, they do not necessarily get this from academic advisors. However, I realized from working with library staff that if only students could get to know you as people, they would feel your warmth, empathy, welcoming nature and unfaltering care for students. They would be inspired by your dedication and teamwork, just as I have been. How could the Libraries help students get to know its staff as people, and not just as service providers? The Hidden Libraries tours were my attempt to bring library staff into student communities to facilitate such interactions.

I guess I don't really have solutions; all I can suggest are "kernels," or starting points. Actual solutions are far beyond my expertise and stay at MIT. But from what I've seen, if any department of MIT were able to understand and collaborate meaningfully with students, it would be the MIT Libraries. I find consolation from my trust that the Libraries will continue to listen to students and do the best it can for them. I wish you all the best!

As an MIT freshman I was 100% sure that I would study math, but I mused about how funny it would be if I dropped all that for theater or some other drastic switch like that. Well, that didn't exactly happen, but over one and a half years I've discovered and developed an unexpected interest in acting.

This November, I acted in my first-ever play: Everybody, an existential dark comedy about finding somebody to die with you. This contemporary adaptation of the fifteenth-century morality play The Summoning of Everyman inaugurated MIT's new theater building (MIT News). Its underlying narrative appears in many cultures: a journey towards death, in which the protagonist learns that they cannot bring their possessions and people with them—except for one, which teaches them what is most important in life. I learned so much from my director Anna Kohler and my wonderful fellow actors!

Here is a (private) clip from my performance, followed by a reflection on the creative process as an actor.

Ever since I hit the jackpot by discovering my interest in acting through MIT's Intro to Acting class, I've practiced acting as a means of introspection, to help me learn more about myself. I absorbed some important acting paradigms and approaches from Anna Kohler in her Actor and the Text class, while appreciating her wit and her appetite for philosophy and breaking convention. I learned so much from those classes that I could go on learning without performing on stage, though I did enjoy acting in play readings organized by Anna. But Anna told me about Everybody and so I auditioned, knowing that the show would probably fit my personal taste too. I was right, and I can't believe my luck.

We actors got hammered into shape by Anna, who continually pushed us to increase our variety and intensity of expression, and experiment with completely different routes of delivery. It was quite inspiring to see this work of art take shape between us over eight weeks, the director and the actors, each of us adding, remixing and absorbing from the creative pool under the guidance of Anna's vision. I really respect her vision and her ability to give it form.

I'm grateful that this play challenged me harder than I could completely rise up to; I have a lot to work on next time! Reinventing myself and remaining present were most difficult. Anna kept reminding us to say every line as if for the first time, not as if we memorized it. (But without reinventing the lines themselves!) I easily fall into a "muscle memory" of well-practiced intonation and gestures, but tried every performance to break that pattern—to keep it fresh and exciting, even for me. Another personal challenge was to remain present: staying aware of my surroundings and my fellow actors even as I follow the emotions of my character. To take guidance from emotions without being completely absorbed!

Anna gave another piece of good advice which I'll have to continue working on in future shows: stay in the center, aware of my surroundings, and depart in various (emotional) directions as needed, but always keep the flexibility to return to the center and move in another direction.

This show has also been my first exposure to the different parts of theater production, from sound and light to costumes and props. I'm impressed by the monumental scale of such a project. We have so many amazing and dedicated production staff, whose roles are less visible, but our collaboration has been crucial to materializing and enhancing our common vision. And efficiently, at that!

Prof. Michael Artin once told one of my friends that he should learn math by going deep into one subfield and using it like a coat-stand, and "hang" all his other knowledge on it: that is, to learn other subfields through their connection with the first one. To extend that analogy, I hope that going deeper into math and theater gives me two coat-stands, one in the sciences and the other in the humanities, between which I can hang a clothesline to survey wide swaths of human knowledge and experience.

Why are these two viewpoints so effective, so illuminating, so incisive? If we see geometric intuition as an extension of our human capability for spatial visualization and reasoning, then I'd say that's a pretty fundamental source for geometric intuition—an internalization of our everyday visual and tactile interaction with out environment. What about algebra then? We could tie it to our faculties of language, which associate meanings to symbols or strings of them (literally called a word in group theory), communicate that meaning, and process the information in the symbols by manipulating them. We really do have a "language of algebra." So the first parallel goes from geometry and algebra to spatial reasoning and linguistic ability.

But I like to go even further, rise higher in abstraction: is there any more fundamental difference, or similarity, between our faculties of spatial reasoning and language? How about space vs. time? Obviously geometry is space. If we think of multiplication in algebra as composing transformations one after the other, such as the linear transformations in linear algebra (Cayley's theorem guarantees that we can view any group as a transformation group), then algebra is a form of "discrete time travel."

What about other fields of math? If geometry is space and algebra is time, then perhaps analysis is change, and topology is connection.

Mainly because the majority of scholarly peer-reviewed articles are published in academic journals, ~75% of which with charge steep subscription fees (i.e. "toll access") [1]. In 2016 the MIT Libraries paid over $6 million to give MIT affiliates free access to some subset of journal articles [2].

Some facts: The research community submits articles, peer-reviews them and serves on editorial boards, all for no pay from publishers, with university salaries from mostly public funding. Toll-access journals do copy-editing, formatting, marketing etc, but make disproportionate profits: Publishing giant Elsevier reported a profit margin of 36%, more than Google, Amazon or ExxonMobil [1,3]. Most subscription revenue comes from publicly-funded university libraries, whose budgets grow much slower than subscription costs. Small universities and research institutions, especially those from developing countries, are most vulnerable.

No, it can cover research datasets, course materials (like MIT OCW), digitized print work, source code, images and much more. For example, the Open Science Framework aims to make transparent and provide OA to every aspect of the research cycle. Science and humanities face similar issues in OA. OA can include all forms of content like novels, movies, software etc, but it's focusing on research because researchers want to distribute their results for free.

Besides ensuring your current and future access to scholarly publishing, access to the fruits of research should be expanded beyond the elite institutions that can barely afford the steep journal subscription fees, to developing countries, to precollege classrooms, and to non-researchers such as journalists and policymakers. That would be more equitable, and would accelerate innovation in science and the humanities.

I welcome you to learn more about OA by reading or attending conferences, and contribute to OA projects like the aforementioned Open Science Framework and Right to Research, or even organize an open access hackathon!

Jean-Claude Guédon's article "Open Access: Toward an Internet of the Mind" introduces the history, landscape and nuances of OA quite well. If it seems long, just read the bullet-pointed history starting from page 8 to see how we got here.