On any given day, conversations with Dr. Thomas Ratkovich can feature topics so unrelated yet masterly that they’re hard to absorb. They could involve the first isomorphism theorem, the best law enforcement training for active-shooter drills, the work of heralded British mathematician Andrew Wiles, the finer points of driving forklifts and snowplows, how to protect crime-scene evidence, or the definitions of topological groups and closure axioms.
The key is recognizing the speaker. Is it Dr. Thomas Ratkovich, the chair of the University of West Alabama’s Department of Mathematics? Or is it Cpl. Thomas Ratkovich, the field training supervisor for the UWA Police Department?
One Man, One University, Two Different Positions
“To me, apart from the uniform, I’m one and the same,” Ratkovich said. “I’m a cop over there, even if I’m in street clothes. And I’m a mathematician over here, even if I’m in my uniform.”
Literally, in fact.
A UWA faculty member since 2001, Ratkovich spent years mimicking Clark Kent in the phone booth—switching between professorial garb and a police uniform—depending on his schedule, often multiple times a day. His students saw a civilian teacher. People walking across campus saw an officer on patrol. He smirks at the thought: “I was a master of changing clothes after teaching.”
Ratkovich—known by colleagues as “Cpl. Rat”—no longer bothers with that charade. It’s wasted time. If he’s on campus, he’s almost always in uniform, ready to respond as an officer if needed. Parents of UWA students, said Police Chief Josette White, “are amazed and pleased to know this adds another layer of safety for their students.” Ratkovich is convinced that students don’t flinch at the sight of an armed university police corporal guiding their lessons.
“They’re used to it because most of them come from small high schools around here in rural areas where everyone there wears five or six hats,” he said. “Most of them respect it. Every class I’ve ever been in, they’ve always thought it was cool that their professor is also a police officer. So there’s no real line of delineation between the classroom and the patrol vehicle.”
TV Cops And Mathematical Notations
How Ratkovich assumed this career duality matters, given its uniqueness, but it’s important to note that it occurred organically. There was no agenda to do both. Whether coincidence or fate, an intelligent student from Chicago’s northwest suburbs excelled at the highest levels of math, owned what he describes as a “cop mentality,” and held a deep-seated belief in the value of public service and safety.
For the latter, “Adam-12” is partly to blame.
From 1968 to 1975, that television drama gave viewers a glimpse of then-modern law enforcement through the eyes of fictitious Los Angeles patrol officers Pete Malloy and Jim Reed. Ratkovich so adored the show that today he still remembers its opening sequence. “I was a typical little kid,” he said. “I always wanted to be a police officer when I grew up. Most young boys at some point say they want to be a police officer. I was no different.” When officers would visit his school, their comportment made an impression. He noticed the shine of their uniform badges. “As I got older,” he said, “I always had a respect for law enforcement — not just law enforcement officers, but law enforcement in general.”
Mathematics, though, guided his career pursuit because of two unallied factors: aptitude and geography. Math came naturally to him. He enjoyed the mental challenge and being the math whiz others would ask for help. He benefited from an Illinois state public school system that at the time ranked among the nation’s substantive units. Chicago’s, he recalls, was particularly strong.
He learned mathematical notation in the second grade. He learned the concepts of natural numbers, rational numbers, real numbers and integers. He learned the letter designations of those number sets. And he took to it with aplomb. “It really impressed upon me at a very early age that I could understand what (the teacher) was saying,” he said.
Math never strayed as his academic constant. It’s what brought him south for degrees at Mississippi Valley State University and the University of Southern Mississippi, and what eventually convinced him to pursue a Ph.D. at the University of Alabama, though he harbored no intention of teaching. With two degrees, Ratkovich expected to work in a technical job, perhaps as a computer programmer. That was the plan. But brief classroom experience as a graduate assistant at USM and at a community college in Tennessee plotted a course that in 2001 brought him to UWA’s faculty in the Department of Mathematics. Law enforcement would have to wait.
“After teaching two years (in Tennessee) and one year at USM,” Ratkovich said of his decision to earn his Ph.D., “I knew that I had more left in me.”
Turning Wrenches For Relaxation
Ratkovich hasn’t always taught or worn a police uniform. He’s worked in warehouses. He’s driven forklifts. His brother, a police officer in Illinois, owned a snowplow business, so Ratkovich has moved banks of lake-effect snow in Chicago. One job, two jobs, however many it takes.
Nearly a decade after joining the UWA faculty, Ratkovich became a campus security officer, an acknowledgement of his appreciation for law enforcement. That was 2010. Fourteen years later, Ratkovich is now the math department’s chair and a key member of White’s command team. After receiving Field Training Officer certification at the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department Law Enforcement Training Academy, Ratkovich installed the UWA Police Department’s first field training and evaluation program.
White considers Ratkovich more than a single member of the university’s police department. “Cpl. Rat loves serving for the greater good, not for recognition or reward. He is the epitome of a servant-leader,” she said. “He brings so much joy to our department, and we will forever be grateful for his service.”
In uniform and sitting in a conference room at Craiger House, home to the UWA PD, Ratkovich points out a window toward the Math and Science Building on the campus’ southern side. It’s how he ties his two roles together. “The administrative skills and the leadership skills that I have over there are exactly the same ones that I use over here,” he said.
Ratkovich then bounces from story to story. How it’s common for students to notice him while he’s on duty as a police officer. How he occasionally answers students’ math questions while sitting in his patrol car. How his brain is “hardwired” on repetition as the key to learning complex mathematical equations. How he couldn’t pick which role he most enjoys— professor or police officer—because it equates to choosing a favorite child. How his ingrained belief in safety still resonates within him. It’s here that his lifelong “cop mentality” has a specific definition. “It means I’m going to protect you, whoever you are,” he said. “I’m going to make things safe. Every job I’ve ever had, I was on the safety committee. If you go to the police academy, what do they tell you? The first, most important thing is officer safety. It was just right up my alley.”
So, too, is turning wrenches. That’s how Ratkovich, the math chair and field-training supervisor, relaxes from the strain of two roles. Not by fishing. Not by climbing a deer stand. Not by avoiding bogeys. Not by binging Netflix. “I lay under my truck and change the oil,” he said. “That’s how I decompress. I turn wrenches.” He finds it soothing, a quiet time away from the inherent stress of academia and policing.
Ratkovich could have chosen a simpler way, perhaps taking on fewer responsibilities or ancillary duties. But that wouldn’t be him.
“Do you want a job that you love, or do you want a job that you tolerate?” he asked. “If you love what you do, then you never work a day in your life. That’s true for me.”