Professor remembered for humor, enthusiasm
Professor B. Mitchell Baker wore a sports coat and sneakers to class each day at the Naval Academy.
Baker taught mathematics at the academy, and by the time he finished his day, his sports coat and pants would be covered in chalk from writing out lessons for the generations of midshipmen who came through his classes.
Baker immersed himself into his work, said Geoffrey Price, a mathematics professor at the academy.
Baker, 72, died unexpectedly from immune thrombocytopenia on Dec. 20, 2020. He leaves behind his wife, Ann Baker, son, Seth, and daughter, Sarah.
Born Aug. 31, 1948 in Brooklyn, New York, Baker was the younger of two children born to Charles and Lillian Baker.
He received a bachelor of the arts in physics at Brandeis University in 1969, and earned a doctorate in mathematical physics at the University of Pennsylvania in 1975.
After teaching mathematics at SUNY Buffalo from 1978 to 1987, he joined the Department of Mathematics at the Naval Academy in 1987.
In addition to teaching, he advised students in advanced undergraduate research and made contributions through his own research on the interface of operator algebras and quantum mechanics.
Baker was smart, Price said. His work used mathematical models to show something observed in physics.
Price called Baker an unusual colleague because he found humor in his work, and while mathematics and physics professors tend to be more reserved and serious, Baker kept it light.
When he would talk about his work, he would do it well, as he was an expert in his field, Price said. But he would inject humor. He laughed throughout his career.
Price and Baker became friends in the 1980s after attending a talk at a math conference. The speaker gave a talk that was brilliant, but also dreary, Price said in an email.
Baker had been taking notes, but about halfway through he drew a Tic-Tac-Toe board on his notebook, and the two began to play instead of paying attention to the lecture, Price said.
Baker always had a “contagious enthusiasm,” said Ted Einstein, a professor of physics at the University of Maryland,
College Park. Einstein and Baker attended graduate school together, and Einstein was Baker’s best man.
Baker was the person to help arrange a talent show on a ski trip or a skit at a graduate school Christmas party.
When Baker was in graduate school, he did not wear sports coats every day and his hair was shaggier, Einstein said.
But even in teaching, he was able to find humor in math. Einstein recalled a time where Baker taught an undergraduate student about estimating sizes by determining the size of another object and figuring out how many of that object could fit.
In this case, he asked the student to calculate the size of a swimming pool by using washing machines, Einstein said.
“He had a sort of dry and good sense of humor,” Einstein said. “He was very upbeat, generally. And he’s certainly much more outgoing.”
Baker taught multiple courses and enjoyed his work, Einstein said.
“And when we talked, he always wanted to talk about some physics issues that he was thinking about or wondering about,” Einstein said. “There were many conversations that went on longer than they would have between me and almost anybody else on that sort of thing.”
As much as he focused on his work, Baker also loved his family, Einstein said. He also kept in touch with people from multiple circles throughout his life, as evidenced by a number of tributes left on the Hardesty Funeral Home memorial wall.
One of those tributes came from Phil Dales,
Baker’s weekly lunch partner. The two played league tennis and after playing would grab a bite, which eventually led to regular lunches.
Baker’s house was near Dales’ office and the lunch dates just sort of happened, Dales said.
“Well, we talked about politics, we talked about the different generations, we talked about our children, we talked about education,” Dales said. “We talked about tennis a lot. We talked about our mutual experiences in college, various escapades and things we did in college, and things like that.”
The two often helped each other with tennis. When Dales went out on injured reserve, he started to play left-handed. Baker was his coach.
The two would also sometimes play as doubles partners or against each other. When they played together, Dales might miss a shot that he would then make when they played against each other.
“He would complain, ‘How come you don’t miss when you’re playing against me, and you miss that shot when we’re playing together?’ It was kind of an interesting reprise,” Dales said.
Dales coached tennis at Annapolis High School, and Baker would help, he said.
Baker was generous and caring, Dales said. He was interested in doing what he could for the midshipmen he taught, whether it was with their academics or with life on the yard.
When Baker first got the job at the Naval Academy, Einstein was happy because his friend was close. Baker was not yet married and he would come over to Einstein’s and play with his kids.
“It’s a real loss,” Einstein said. “It’s sort of trite in a lot of cases, but in his case, it’s really so.”
A celebration of life is planned for a later date.