THE UNIVERSITY prides itself on its constant ties with its tradition. The Lawn, the Range, serpentine walls and all things Jefferson are obvious examples of the community's love of historical buildings, people and activities. Earlier this morning, I was reminded of the University's love of another antiquated procedure: course registration. Specifically, I was reminded of the abject loathing students have toward ISIS, the Integrated Student Information System.
All students know ISIS. It essentially is the central, computerized clearinghouse for everything a student might need in his or her academic life. It retains grades. It tells students if a block is on their account. Most importantly, it is the gateway through which young, hungry minds register for classes.
Simply stated, ISIS is an embarrassingly inefficient, overly complex, pathetically inadequate and violently frustrating registration system.
My irritation, admittedly, arises solely from my own experiences with trying to get classes through the Law School. Basically, after giving third-year students the chance to pick four hours of classes ahead of second year students, the system opens up for all students to select their remaining courses. The remaining courses comprise between 8 and 12 more hours of classes, meaning a fair number of students have to gain access to a limited number of seats. While I cannot reference the approach other schools take, I am confident that similar problems exist with popular classes becoming too full too fast.
The system, conveniently, opens at 7 a.m. Persons who care deeply about their class selections - this would be almost all of the student body - wake up early to guarantee that they do not miss the appointed hour. Some go to work at seven. Some practice on their Playstations to improve dialing speed and reaction time. Others - and I'm not making this up - create a flow chart to make sure that no precious time is wasted thinking of what to do if a fourth-tier selection is full.
Once a student phones into the system, she or he must interact with ISIS Man, the soft-spoken, patient computer that has the verbal intonation of a Methodist preacher. ISIS Man, with a bit of subdued regret, informs you when a class is full. With subdued encouragement, he lets you know if a course you wanted is available. One wonders if he could use the same tone to console a student whose grandmother was run over by a chicken-laden tractor-trailer.
The entire spectacle roughly resembles a mixture of "Press Your Luck," "War Games" and the Home Shopping Network.
While ISIS allows one to use the telephone or a computer to register, some people get stuck trying to get onto the system using a painfully slow home computer. Those that have convenient access to a good Internet connection and a telephone line typically just use both simultaneously, to better their odds.
The result of this general chaos is that the system becomes overloaded. People become forced literally to halt their lives for an hour or more to have a chance to get into their third choice class. The ISIS computer, in response to this stress, occasionally decides that its system is "not available," or that a student has outlasted his time immediately after getting onto the system. Attempts to reason with or to threaten ISIS Man do not work. Despite his perfect diction, ISIS Man cannot (or does not choose to) hear.
Even if students ultimately get some semblance of classes they might have wanted initially, the entire process generates more stress, annoyance, and hostility toward deaf, Methodist-sounding computers than is warranted.
I have seen another, much-maligned, major public Virginia university use a simpler, less stressful system that seemingly could work at Mr. Jefferson's Academical and Mental Health Village. The system involves the following steps: A month prior to the end of a semester, students fill out bubble sheets listing the courses they wish to take for the next semester, in order of preference; a computer system, which may consist of a cardboard box and a rat, decides who gets into what class; the students receive a print-out that informs them of which classes they have received. After all of this, a drop-add period remains, giving those who had a change of heart an opportunity to get into other classes.
In essence, a computer carries out the dirty work normally carried out by University students at seven in the morning. Why this kind of system - which allows students to indicate, ahead of time, their course preferences - would not work at the University seems, at least, mysterious.
Something better than the current ISIS registration system has to be considered - the previous system, for example. Another approach might ensure that exam season, rather than registration season, is the more stressful time of the year.
(Seth Wood is a Cavalier Daily columnist. He can be reached at swood@cavalierdaily.com.)
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