Sometimes it’s the missteps in life that lead to the greatest adventures down the road.
For me, my pursuit of a Ph.D. in mathematics, specifically in algebraic combinatorics, might be traced back to my freshman year as an undergraduate at MIT. Coming off of a series of successes in high school math competitions and other science-related endeavors (thanks to my loving and very mathematical family!), I was a confident and excited 18-year old whose dream was to become a physicist and use my mathematical skills to, I don’t know, come up with a unified field theory or something.
But I loved pure math too, and a number of my friends were signed up for the undergraduate Algebraic Combinatorics class in the spring, so my young ambitious self added it to my already packed course load. I had no idea what “Algebraic Combinatorics” even meant, but I did hear that it was being taught by Richard Stanley, a world expert in the area. How could I pass up that chance? What if he didn’t teach it again before I left MIT?
This is the third and final post in our expository series of posts (see Part I and Part II) on the recent paper coauthored by Jake Levinson and myself.
Last time, we discussed the fact that the operator $\omega$ on certain Young tableaux is actually the monodromy operator of a certain covering map from the real locus of the Schubert curve $S$ to $\mathbb{RP}^1$. Now, we’ll show how our improved algorithm for computing $\omega$ can be used to approach some natural questions about the geometry of the curve $S$. For instance, how many (complex) connected components does $S$ have? What is its genus? Is $S$ a smooth (complex) curve?
In the last post, we discussed an operation $\newcommand{\box}{\square} \omega$ on skew Littlewood-Richardson Young tableaux with one marked inner corner, defined as a commutator of rectification and shuffling. As a continuation, we’ll now discuss where this operator arises in geometry.
Recall from our post on Schubert calculus that we can use Schubert varieties to answer the question:
Given four lines $\ell_1,\ell_2,\ell_3,\ell_4\in \mathbb{C}\mathbb{P}^3$, how many lines intersect all four of these lines in a point?
In a recent and fantastic collaboration between Jake Levinson and myself, we discovered new links between several different geometric and combinatorial constructions. We’ve weaved them together into a beautiful mathematical story, a story filled with drama and intrigue.
So let’s start in the middle.
Those of you who played with little puzzle toys growing up may remember the “15 puzzle”, a $4\times 4$ grid of squares with 15 physical squares and one square missing. A move consisted of sliding a square into the empty square. The French name for this game is “jeu de taquin”, which translates to “the teasing game”.
This is a continuation of Part 1 of this series of posts on $q$-analogs.
Another important area in which $q$-analogs come up is in combinatorics. In this context, $q$ is a formal variable, and the $q$-analog is a generating function in $q$, but viewed in a different light than usual generating functions. We think of the $q$-analog of as ``$q$-counting’’ a set of weighted objects, where the weights are given by powers of $q$.