In the Ivory Tower, students' academic pursuits could actually be quite relaxed.
After enrollnt, they had one month to choose their ntors for the coming years—a two-way selection process where ntors chose students, and students, in turn, assessed the abilities of their prospective ntors.
So large classrooms offering popular courses were open to all, while so public classes were compulsory. Other classrooms might admit only two or three students each year, or even none for several years.
But choosing a ntor was mandatory.
Depending on the ntor's choice, the ensuing coursework would either be easy or difficult. So teachers were dogmatic, rigid, and strict, leaving students so swamped they risked cerebral hemorrhages.
Other professors hardly interfered, leaving students with four or five years of idleness, often leading to intellectual decay.
Beyond the other required courses, students had to pick two to three electives based on their credit needs.
The main part of their university life consisted of studying under their ntor's guidance. They could officially graduate once their skills and abilities t the ntor's standards.
Although outcos could vary, the Ivory Tower's stringent standards for its teachers generally ensured that the students they taught were competent.
In this context, the allocation of classroom resources naturally beca an issue.
The Ivory Tower was spacious enough that providing individual classrooms for every teacher should not have been a problem.
But the administration was very strict about this particular issue.
Thanks to the Vice-Chancellor's harshness and impersonal approach, the allocation of classrooms could only be described as stingy.
This also served as another form of incentive for the teachers themselves.
Despite many spare classrooms, they were generally intended for rotational use. It was like standard university practice for large classes: one instructor teaches, then another takes over.
Being the primary lecturer for a course and obtaining one's own classroom was a prerequisite for securing an official position in the faculty research office.
Otherwise, within the school's internal hierarchy, those without their own classrooms would always be categorized with teaching assistants, considered a tier below.
"Now, do you understand the challenge you're facing?"
Anton displayed a schadenfreude-filled smile. "Besides the Vice-Chancellor's faculty screening, you must also vie for a classroom of your own."
"Is it that urgent?"
Huai Shi sensed a different implication. "Is there so rare opportunity?"
"The reassignnt and adjustnt of classrooms happens only three tis a year," Condra, the Alchemist specializing in Transformation, took over. "Naly, at the beginning, middle, and end of the year."
"However, the end-of-year period is typically focused on budget approval. The start of the year is for evaluating the previous year's performance. For new teachers aiming to secure their own position and classroom, the only real opportunity is when the school reopens mid-year."
"Out of consideration for new faculty, the Academic Affairs Office gives new teachers so preferential treatnt during evaluations. If you can't secure a classroom this year, then by next year, you'll have to compete with other new faculty mbers."
This was the competition Ye Su had ntioned to Huai Shi.
It was also the reason the forr brat, Martin, had regarded Huai Shi as a major rival.
Huai Shi had a mont of sudden realization.
Simultaneously, he felt enormous pressure.
"For arts-focused departnts like ours, this is a fatal disadvantage," Kelly said with a smile. "You should understand what I an, shouldn't you?"
Indeed, the importance of various courses differed. The degree of teaching excellence could be more or less apparent, and evaluating standards was often ambiguous.
But what was more critical was that many arts courses were imasurable.
"Let give you an example," Kelly began. "For oil painting, there are no set class hours. As long as the submitted work is approved by the ntor, the student qualifies for graduation."
"In principle, it's possible to graduate the day after enrollnt—"
He paused, a smug smile spreading across his face. "And by the way, I was that person. On my third day, I beca an instructor for the Classical Oil Painting departnt and secured my own classroom."
Andrea chid in from the side, "Since then, over seventeen years, only twenty-three people have graduated from the oil painting departnt."
"Ahahaha, I can't help it. Perhaps I set the bar too high? But students these days are indeed too foolish, always disappointing." Kelly comnted nonchalantly about his students, then shrugged and looked at Huai Shi. "If you were from the Academic Affairs Office, how would you assess my contributions and my level?"
If I were in the Academic Affairs Office, I'd probably want to gouge out my own eyes.
For such a capricious teacher to be in charge of the Classical Oil Painting departnt ant only one thing: he was so phenonal at oil painting that the Ivory Tower considered him worth retaining, even if he slacked off every day and did nothing.
"And at the other extre is the one beside you," Anton said, pointing to Condra.
"He primarily lectures on Transformation in Alchemy."
"His classes are once a month for six hours. Five of those hours are for students to conduct experints on their own, with the teacher providing guidance from the side. The teacher distributes the materials, and the students largely teach themselves. They just have to plod through five years, obtain the Stone Pot Society certification, and then they can graduate."
Andrea sighed. "Which ans this fellow spends no more than twelve hours actually teaching in a year. Over five years, the students receive less than sixty hours of actual instruction."
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