University Admissions: Arcane Edition

Over Christmas break, I read The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, reviewed by my sister in a blog post last month. I enjoyed the book, especially the parts that delve into how magic works. Rothfuss has a more scientific approach to magic, which follows more consistent rules compared to the world of Harry Potter.

Given the recent long Easter weekend, I was able to binge-read the second book in the series, The Wise Man’s Fear. It was long – close to a thousand pages. In much of the sequel, the main protagonist Kvothe, takes some time off from his university studies to visit faraway lands and pick up new skills. This story arc is common in fantasy literature, but I personally found it less interesting. Academic that I am, I prefer the university-related parts of the story because they are often strewn with tidbits about how magic works.

Instead of reviewing the book in today’s post, I will just concentrate on one aspect of Kvothe’s world: university admissions. The process there is very different from the universities of our world. Are there lessons we can learn? Students at Kvothe’s university are training to be arcanists. The word arcane carries the connotation of mysterious, secret, and knowledge known by only a small select group. This is fitting for a school of magic. The alchemists of old, living in an era where magic and science blended, pursued arcane knowledge and were secretive about their “discoveries”. So technically, if I was a true arcanist, I should not share any part of the university admissions process. But I’m not, so here goes.

First, Admissions is not a single event. It takes place at the beginning of every school term. The main point of Admissions is to determine your school fees (often referred to as “tuition” here in the U.S.). The decision of how much a student has to pay is supposedly dependent on the performance of an oral exam held during the Admissions period that lasts several weeks. I say “supposedly” because while prior knowledge and talent is a factor, personal rivalries, politics, and idiosyncracy also enter into the process.

Here’s how it works. First the student draws an “admissions tile” by random lottery indicating the day and time of his/her oral exam. If the student feels that (s)he needs more time to prepare for the exam, there is a bustling marketplace to trade admissions tiles for money and/or other favors. At the oral exam, the nine Masters of the university (equivalent to Professors) take turns to ask you any question(s) they desire. Ideally, they take into account your level of learning. Some do. But if you have offended a Master in some way, you are likely to be asked ridiculously difficult or impossible questions. On the other hand, a Master trying to help you out might lob some standard or relatively easy questions. A Master may even choose not to ask you any questions. After all questions have been asked, the Masters determine the school fees for that term. If you can pay it by the end of the admissions period, you continue. If not, you can take a leave of absence or even drop out. There is no negotiation by the student. It’s unclear if there is an appeal process.

In a perfect world, with wise Masters who cared about student-learning, and who didn’t stoop to politics, bitter rivalry, personal favors, or irrational idiosyncracies, one would expect that school fees would be set fairly taking into account ability to learn magic and ability to pay. My reading suggests that the decisions are not totally meritocratic and that financial need is taken into account. And the story wouldn’t be as interesting without the politics and rivalry. No mention is made of how much needs to be collected from admission fees to keep the university running. Perhaps a truly talented arcanist can turn base metals to gold, so there is no need. Or perhaps no one has successfully made a true philosopher’s stone.

The idea of tying admissions each term to satisfactory progress isn’t a bad idea. But it’s not novel. Most universities have some rule where a student finishing a term below some GPA cutoff goes on academic probation. A failure to get grades back up may result in the student being asked to leave. I like the idea of oral exams that include my fellow examiners for a more holistic approach, but this could only work if the number of students was relatively small. A small rich exclusive college could potentially do this. Tying school fees to performance is trickier, but not unheard of. Merit-based scholarships do a similar thing. Need-based scholarships help to offset the costs for capable students with only modest financial support otherwise.

Having an oligarchy of “experts” decide on the fees? I don’t know what qualifies the Masters to do this – they could certainly test for academic competency in their subject area, but how does one weigh this against the financial need of the student and the economic needs of running the university? This looks crazy today, but one to two hundred years ago when many small colleges were first started, there were a small number of faculty-administrators who taught the classes but also ran the institution. The increasing size and complexity of tertiary institutions has forced a division of labor, perhaps for reasons of efficiency. Perhaps there isn’t really anything arcane about admissions to the Arcane University. It mirrors what we might have done in a different era although it looks strange today.