Ursuline’s Greatest Mystery: Dr. Baxter, The UA Duck Collective

By: Ava Mychel Rodriguez ’24

    It was a school day in January, like any other, when I was walking to sign out for my free on the EC iPad. Bur something abnormal appeared in front of me: on a trashcan outside the East Campus courtyard sat a single bright pink rubber duck.

     Shaking it off, I decided to chalk it off to a strange occurrence—until not too long after I noticed a row of rubber ducks sitting outside one of the stone benches in Senior Courtyard. What is this? I thought to myself.

      It would not be too long before I started seeing these rubber ducks all around Ursuline, and especially, my AP Literature classroom. One day, at the end of January, a few of my fellow students collectively brought in a handful of rubber ducks and handed them to Dr. Baxter, my AP Lit teacher.

     “Yeah, these ducks have been appearing all over campus, saying ‘Return to Dr. Baxter,’” Baxter said to our class as he lined up the ducks in a row at the top of the Microsoft Hub in our classroom. “I don’t know what they mean or who is behind it.”

      Baxter has been a member of the Ursuline faculty for around 12 years: he is the Director of Professional Learning, Chair of the English Department and teaches Senior AP Literature.

     “When I graduated from my doctorate degree, I wanted to stay in Dallas. I came to Ursuline while looking for different job opportunities, and I loved Ursuline’s energy—there is this certain nostalgia. The people are consistently lovely,” Baxter said.

      However, it was not until 2023 that the saga of the ducks began.

     “The first duck showed up in fall of 2023. Someone handed it to me and said, ‘Hey this is yours, but not really.’ In January, after Christmas break, one, two, three ducks appeared and it spun out from there,” Baxter said.

       But while the first stray ducks did not start appearing until the fall, the rubber ducks and Dr. Baxter were linked a few months before then.

     “There was a Creative Writing [class] assignment with ducks that said “Return to Dr. Baxter” last year. But it was unclear if these were from then. My first reaction when I saw the first duck [in the fall] was that it was strange, and I immediately texted Mr. Lee,” Baxter said.

      Lee is a former English and Creative Writing teacher, whose final year at Ursuline was last school year. Baxter first thought these ducks were a type of “ghost from the grave” prank, but Lee had nothing to do with it.

    Since the fall, the ducks have even grown in variation. At the publication of this article, there are three types of ducks that say “property of,” “to” and “return to” Dr. Baxter on the bottom of the duck. Baxter also described that, in addition to these words at the ducks’ base, there are letters and numbers at the head of the duck.

    The first three ducks had the letters M, A, L, then E. Later ducks with the C, and numbers 2 and 8 appeared as well.

    “Do these ducks spell out a name or a class period? A year? Is there no pattern and more coming?” Baxter said in response to this “pattern.”

    As the ducks began growing in number in January 2024, whoever (plural or singular) hiding these rubber ducks upped their game by creating an Instagram account entitled “theuaduckcollective.” On Jan. 23, they posted their first post: a picture of a rubber duck with the words “we hope you’ve liked the ducks” with nothing else.

     Their second post, on Jan. 27, there was a post with a picture of an oversized inflatable duck on Baxter’s desk in his office. The post is captioned “More like Ducktor Baxter” and a Gregorian Hymn is set as music to the post.

      This duck truly caught me as the strangest one yet, so I asked Baxter’s thoughts on it, too.

      “It was a Thursday in late January 20-something. I was off campus for training so it could have been left any time that day. I came back [to my office] to get my school credit card but the door was locked. On the bottom of the duck it said “property of Dr. Baxter,” it had a hole and was slowly deflated. I originally thought of it as an escalation, but since then there has been 50 ducks,” he said.

      Other than this duck, all rubber ducks have been delivered to Dr. Baxter except for one other he found in the men’s restroom, which was the third duck discovered. He always redistributes the ducks back into the “wild,” but has yet to see the same duck twice.

     The occurrences of these ducks have sent AP Literature students, and other seniors, into quite a frenzy. Students began to direct message (DM) their thoughts to “theuaduckcollective” Instagram account. Screenshots of these DMs have been posted to the account as well.

      While Baxter does not know who is behind these rubber ducks, he has some suspects of his own. Many think it could be seniors Naomi Barajas and Madeline Marlowe, and trusted sources have told me they were the two that began the prank.

      However, Baxter also thinks it could even be a whole friend group in his class who is friends with senior Emma Morales, as the ducks so far spell out her name.

     Some known features of one of the members of the collective is that they went to Christ the King School before Ursuline, they have an “N” in their last name and have connections to a fob that could let them into Dr. Baxter’s office.

     Although, many believe the suspect list did not just end at students.

     “There was a note on my door one day that said to check Mr. Braun’s room, but they were not the right ducks in there. It could be an English teacher, but it wouldn’t be a teacher,” Baxter said.

     I have to agree with Dr. Baxter on this one, while it could be any student, they are committed to keeping up the prank—for now.

     The day I interviewed Baxter about the prank, which was Feb. 14, a cryptic post was posted to the Instagram. It was a picture of a rubber duck with a heart, and a caption that read “Happy Valentine’s day Ursuline! enjoy the break…”

     While this caption could just be warm tidings for Valentine’s Day and the upcoming Winter Break, my instincts tell me whoever has been planting the ducks may be taking a break, as there had been no posts for over a week since this post (which is offbeat for the account). Turns out “theuaduckcollective” read my thoughts, because on Feb. 28th, they posted a new message.

     “You may be thinking, ‘theuaduckcollective, why haven’t you posted in a while?’ Well, there is a clue (perhaps more than one) hidden on campus, the ducks with letters on them maybe provide some guidance,” the post read.

      A photo of a rubber duck in a detective costume and clue corkboard (like one from the detective movies) accompanied this message.

     It seems like “theuaduckcollecitve” wants Baxter and Ursuline students to not give up on solving this mystery.

      “This has been a long game going on two months, with still no reveal,” Baxter said. “Not many people genuinely know who it is. It has continued to be escalated in funny ways—theoretically the source can hide itself forever, many people could be involved and join in, even people I don’t teach.”

      So, as of late February, there has yet to be a duck collective reveal. I messaged the account on Instagram for a comment and they responded cryptically.

     “We’ve got some plans in the future, perhaps senior skit, but I really can’t say,” the account said.

      Dr. Baxter has a few words for the duck account himself.

      “What do the letters and numbers on the duck’s head spelling? Are there ones we have yet to find? Ducks in places that will never be found? Where is this prank going to escalate to?” he said.

       These are all questions we are asking too, Dr. Baxter.

Dr. Baxter with an array of ducks

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