Despite the polite smile Joseph offered at the other's optimism, he knew better than anyone that the chance of science progressing at his school was slim at the current moment. He wanted nothing more than to be able to teach his students through action, to show them the human body and allow them to have a hands-on learning experience which he believed was the only true way to learn. The lack of cadavers was starting to mean that that aspect of his job might have to take a break for a prolonged period until a cadaver came their way, and whilst his superiors at the school were as equally as irked by that as he was, they also didn't find it too distressing. They claimed that it wouldn't stop education nor science progressing, that the students could still be taught in the school's grand lecture rooms by an established, respect doctor like Joseph - he didn't necessarily need to have them work on bodies for them to learn from him.
Inevitably, that much was true, and thus, there was nothing Joseph could really do over the following two weeks or so than perform that method of teaching; simply standing at the front of the lecture hall beside a blackboard, orating to his students and directing them to pages in their books to back up his word. He could only use models of the human body to show them what he was talking about outside of the books, which depressed him entirely. It wasn't just the students and their learning that he was depressed about - it was the loss of scientific progress for himself that he mourned. The bodies that were brought in constantly gave him a chance to learn more about what science knew about the body, to discover something to add to the history books. Not having that opportunity cut him deeply.
But grave-robbing had proved too risky and he didn't want to end up in prison for attempting it - then his students wouldn't even have him to teach them, however mundane the classes presently were. Yet, not having a cadaver to work on was slowly tearing him apart, to the point that he would return home and not even feel the happiness at seeing Ricky or reading through a letter from Beatrice. Nothing really impacted him and probably wouldn't until the situation found itself resolved.
"...They hate my classes, they look so bored. It can't help them being taught by someone who finds them boring, I suppose. I yawn constantly, I can't be setting a good example - but gosh, they are so boring, Ricky. Standing for two hours, talking from a book. It's not active, engaging learning," he moaned once arriving back to his house after another long day at work, removing his coat and unashamedly reaching for another cigar, which were the only things he found that helped relieve a little stress from his bones. "...What's the cook prepared for dinner today? I could really do with a nice piece of steak, some roast potatoes maybe..."