Chapter 247 - 246: Isn’t Having a Mouth Enough?

The faculty dining hall.

"Oh, by the way, Yvonne, we’ve scheduled this afternoon’s class in the largest multipurpose hall. I’ve also arranged for front-row seats for your family," said Principal Patrick.

Yvonne Lowell was stunned for a moment. "Isn’t that a little excessive? It’ll be so awkward lecturing to a half-empty hall."

Loster’s largest multipurpose hall could hold 1,000 people, with large screens on all four sides that displayed the whiteboard in real time—just like having a front-row seat at a stadium concert.

Considering Loster’s strict admission requirements, the economics department never enrolled more than 30 students per year.

So, even if they rounded up every single economics student, they wouldn’t even fill half the seats.

’I thought it would just be some small multipurpose room. Why on earth are they using the biggest one?’

El pouted. "After all these years, how are you still so clueless about your own appeal? It’s not just the students from the department—the faculty will be there too! And students from other majors will definitely come to see what all the fuss is about!"

"Hahaha, exactly! Shortly after Patrick announced you were coming to teach a class, the forums were already flooded with posts about you."

Spencer, an internet-addicted old-timer who lurked all over the forums under an alternate username, chimed in as well.

Yvonne Lowell’s hand, holding her fork, paused. ’What’s going on? Has my legend lived on at this school, even though I’m long gone?’

’Then why did everyone look so miserable whenever I lectured in the past? You’d think I owed them all money.’

"By the way, Professor Vivian, is it okay to video record the lecture?" Wendy Sutton asked.

She wanted to film her daughter speaking what sounded like a heavenly script and post it to her social media feed—partly as a memento, and partly to drive a few of her friends with kids studying economics completely bonkers.

Ms. Sutton had been chatting with Vivian all morning, and they had already forged a powerful bond, becoming the best of friends despite their age difference.

So, when she had a question, she immediately turned to her dear new friend.

"If you’d like to, of course you can. Our university doesn’t have any restrictions on that. And since Patrick arranged for you to be in the front row, you’ll be able to get a very clear recording," Vivian said.

"That’s wonderful. Thank you both so much."

"Haha, don’t mention it." Patrick waved his hand nonchalantly.

"Yvonne’s classes are fascinating. I know your family also runs a company, so I’m sure you’ll learn plenty of valuable things from her."

...

Yvonne Lowell’s class was scheduled for two in the afternoon, but many students—whether they were in the economics department or not—rushed to the multipurpose hall to grab seats as soon as they finished lunch.

The first-year students brought textbooks, pens, and paper. Figuring there was plenty of white space in their books for note-taking, they only carried a thin notebook or a few loose sheets.

But the upperclassmen who had been "tortured" by Yvonne Lowell before knew better. A lecture from Professor Lowell had zero filler—it was all hardcore, practical knowledge.

Taking notes until their hands cramped was the norm, and any notebook that wasn’t sufficiently thick wouldn’t survive her "abuse."

So, they made a point of bringing a thick notebook, two brand-new pens, and a fully charged voice recorder.

Those without voice recorders brought fully charged phones and power banks, making sure they could record the entire lecture without the battery dying.

Otherwise, in the blink of an eye, Professor Lowell would already be discussing The Milky Way Galaxy while they were still asking how many continents and oceans Earth had.

Although the university had no restrictions on video recording, in the past, only the administration had ever filmed a few of Yvonne Lowell’s teaching videos.

And don’t ask why the students didn’t record them. The answer was simple: there was no time. Absolutely none.

Professor Lowell’s class was the kind where after attending one lecture, you knew you had to bring a voice recorder to the next.

Who had time to set up a camera, find the right lighting, get the angle and focus just right, and all that? You couldn’t possibly keep up, okay?

All they could do was snap photos of the whiteboard after class and "consume" them later alongside the audio recording.

...

Everyone else went ahead to the hall with Principal Patrick and the others, saying something about how the main character always has to make a grand entrance at the end...

By the time Yvonne Lowell walked into the multipurpose hall, it was already packed. Not a single seat was empty.

Seeing the sea of colorful hair and the full spectrum of skin tones, Yvonne Lowell’s steps faltered for a second before she nonchalantly continued to the podium.

She gave the crowd a quick scan. Familiar faces made up at least half of it.

Yvonne Lowell let out a soft chuckle. "I think I see quite a few students who’ve taken my classes before. Long time no see, everyone."

Then she shot a wink at Wendy Sutton’s camera.

The upperclassmen: ’Ah! Professor Lowell is actually making small talk in class! No, wait—Professor Lowell actually remembers us! Mom! We’ve finally made it!’

[THE EXPLOSIVE SQUEAL OF A THOUSAND PRAIRIE DOGS]

After agreeing to give the lecture, Yvonne Lowell hadn’t specifically prepared a lesson plan or thought about what she was going to teach.

’Lecturing? All you need is a mouth for that, right?’

So, it was only as she stepped into the multipurpose hall that she decided on her topic.

"What I’m going to talk about today is..."

Yvonne Lowell picked up a nearby dry-erase marker, turned around, and began to write on the giant whiteboard behind her.

The upperclassmen’s pens hadn’t stopped moving from the moment she opened her mouth, and their voice recorders were, naturally, already on.

Meanwhile, the new undergraduate students were still quite relaxed at the beginning.

’Isn’t this just first-year material? How hard could it be? There’s a limit to how far she can expand on it, right?’

’Looks like Professor Lowell took the mixed skill levels in the audience into account and chose an easy topic.’

Ten minutes later...

The undergraduates: ...?

’Good heavens! Do you even hear yourself right now?!’

’Is this the same damn content we learned in class?!’

’Are we sure this isn’t a calculus textbook disguised with the cover of a first-grade math book?’

’Otherwise, why can’t we understand a single word she’s saying?!!’

The new undergraduates looked at each other in bewilderment.

Then they glanced at the upperclassmen beside them, who were still scribbling furiously. Though their faces were filled with a dazed confusion, their pens never stopped moving across their brick-thick notebooks...

’Damn, when did you upperclassmen get into this kind of vicious competition?!’

’You didn’t let a single peep slip out! You kept this totally under wraps!!’

’No, no, we have to start paying serious attention too.’

’But can someone please tell us why, just as we were getting ready to focus on calculus, Professor Lowell is now explaining the principles of building a spaceship?!’

’Damn it! We can’t keep up! We can’t keep up at all!’

’How on earth did she manage to leap from calculus to the principles of spaceship construction, and then suddenly pivot to the postpartum care of sows?!’

’And the transitions were so silky smooth, linking one topic to the next, all perfectly interconnected.’

’It somehow made them feel like these topics were all related, as if they all came from the same family five hundred years ago...’

’We’re numb. Just end it all. Right now, we just want to kick the world until it explodes!’

...

Sitting in the front row, Leo Grant watched his girlfriend on the stage as she revealed yet another new side of herself, his eyes brimming with a smile.

He was listening to the lecture. His phone was recording. But he wasn’t taking any notes.

’After all, he had an insider’s advantage. If he learned everything in one go, what excuse would he have to ask "Professor Lowell" for private tutoring later?’