After the young man repeatedly took full credit for his personal reflection paper, my colleague decided to confront his cheating. As his English Composition professor, she asked one final question of the young man: “Just exactly when did you have your abortion?” Betty said it wasn’t difficult believing a student blatantly plagiarized a paper. What was perplexing, however, was that he hadn’t even read the paper—even after he had been summoned.

While teaching in California some of my colleagues caught a cheating ring with invisible ink. Yeah, when several all-American looking students had blue fingers during finals the gig was up and the stolen tests traced to a student worker. The “surfer dudes” were actually the innocent ones. On another occasion a student who had gained access to “The Instructors Manual” revealed his error when he answered one of the questions on a take-home test with, “Students’ answers may vary.”

Cheaters can be rather creative. One of my Miami of Ohio students had the answers on this Sony Walkman (pre-Ipod era) with the earpiece hidden under his Toledo Mudhens ball cap and Rod Stewart hair. It was also a bit disheartening to learn that a fraternity had a “test bank,” i.e., copies of every test given by every professor in a division for over a decade. This was before digital cameras and other gadgets—their scheme was simple. They had each frat brother in a class memorize a couple assigned questions during each test.

One professor had his own paper turned in to his class! Yep, just post your own paper on one of the “papers-for-sale” websites and not only will you get a bit of cash, you’ll likely have the joy of reading it again.

During a temporary stint at Ohio Northern University my naivety about cheating schemes became rather obvious. As the junior faculty member (still in graduate school) I was appointed moderator of the final exam session. A couple of hundred students sat in one lecture hall taking exams for various class sections. The tests varied by section, but basically were all multiple choice with one final essay question. I was instructed to chart the time every 15 minutes during the two hours. When I turned to write on the board, and whenever my back was to a section of the room, the students would throw answers to classmates; they would add ones they knew, then wad it again and throw it to another. I thought they were merely crumbling unwanted essay answers, as a few were in the aisles as decoys. The scheme likely would have worked, but one of my students ratted on them, but not before listing ten wrong answers on a few of the answer sheets being tossed around.

During my college days a gregarious rich student hired a young woman to retype a paper he had “borrowed.” It was a “B+” paper from two years prior, so he correctly thought it would go unnoticed—but not without angering his roommate who had worked feverishly on the same paper for weeks. While one student was in Indianapolis treating his typist and accomplice to a St. Elmo’s steak, the other was about to pull a second all-nighter. It was then that he discovered the copied paper stacked next to the typewriter with the new cover page still in the roller. The exhausted student suddenly became slap happy and called several us into the room.

It was during the era of ribbon typewriters and White Out, days long gone. He temporarily removed the cover sheet from the roller, and inserted page seven. Around halfway through the 15-page paper he put White Out over the second half of one sentence and the first half of the next. And then he typed in the following parenthetical statement: (“I copied this paper from _______ _________’s 1977 paper!) There, the deed was done, the title paper returned to the roller, and he slept like a fifth-grader on Christmas Eve, or one about to appear on a Jeff Foxworthy show. Late that night we could hear our unethical suite mate returning from his Indy excursion, and it was music to our ears when he began chiding his roommate about still working on the assignment! He bragged about being finished and then left to play Rook, flaunting his decision to take the easy road.

Several days later the copied paper was returned, and next to the White Out section was a handwritten note from the professor, “Real Funny. Yes, I actually read these papers. Grade, A-.” It was the cruelest of endings for his honest roommate, and it put White Out on their friendship as well.

A few weeks ago my bright colleague, Brad, caught a few students in his large class in a scheme. A couple would sign-in and leave but most of the skippers would have a friend sign-in for them. If only one or two had done this, they likely would have gone undetected, but like lemmings on a cliff they couldn’t help themselves. Instead of a packed room it looked more like a Clippers’ crowd in the 80’s. Well, his remedy was rather simple; he gave a quiz at the end of the class and then compared the lists. He sent a note to his class via Black Board informing them that if they came forward and admitted their error, and their accomplice, there would be one level of penalty. If they didn’t, there would be another. He was rather encouraged when several who had judgment lapses contacted him before he actually sent the email.
In the pre-Black Board era, I had a student steal the reserve copy of an article from the library. He actually thought returning the paper’s manila folder would fool the librarian. When the next student came to check out the folder, the thieving student’s signature and ID were clearly legible on the check-out card.

My colleague in nursing had a similar incident of dendrite-challenged cheating when a student submitted a disk with the paper, but forgot to erase the paper that had been copied—and his self-indictment was further enhanced when the professors noticed the disk contained the original author’s encryption.

Although we likely all miss several schemes during our career, some prove self-revealing. Such was the case in my capstone course a few years ago—the final “hurdle” for many to cross before graduation. A senior student submitted a research paper (70% of the grade) that was on a radically different topic than what we had been working on all semester. In this class, 20% of the students’ grade is from critiquing the classmates’ paper, with each paper handled orally as well. This student made the grave mistake of submitting a plagiarized paper that a group of students had submitted the previous semester to another professor. Here’s the unique aspect of this case—it was indeed her paper, but it was also “co-owned” by a few peers.
A couple in my class recognized what had transpired, and informed the other authors. The issue was settled before I ever became involved. In this age of “open-source” answers and the “democratization of knowledge,” with all its ups and downs, there is serious pressure for treating colleagues fairly and not unduly elevating yourself above peers. It was one thing to deceive a middle-aged professor, but it was unforgivable to take credit for others’ work. One of the co-authors was livid. The irony, the paper was such a mismatch for the class objectives that it received a “D” even before I learned of this situation. Shortly before the paper was to be reviewed, the student stepped forward and explained the fraud—and the consequences were severe, an extra year. And, in an age especially in need of a redemptive approach, I’m happy to say that the second time around went rather well.

And if there is any humor in all of this, it’s looking back on mistakes that are just that—errors in judgment that can be used in some constructive teaching moment. Opportunities for professors to curb what could become habits while simultaneously keeping public standards. College is a place that if the error isn’t too grievous, that we can facilitate our students’ growth in areas much more important than comprehension of a particular knowledge set. While some mistakes lead to expulsion from school and students never return, usually there are steps to help them work through their errors—whether it’s a semester away or a set of restrictions and penalties. Most professors can think of times in their youth when others guided them through problems. While most of us likely cannot empathize with the cheating, we can relate to needing a kind voice when we made mistakes. The very essence of “education” means to “pull out” meaning, to facilitate learning. As professors, we’re often the most important book the students will ever read.

Let me leave you with a fun story that eventually had a happy ending—but it was a moment of truth for a student in trouble. I have a longtime friend who is a former professional athlete, and he still looks fit enough to rejoin his NFL team. He has an imposing frame, arms like Colts’ linebacker Bob Sanders, but a Tony Dungy countenance. His wife relayed this story, as my friend’s humility would never have shared it. He had summoned a student for breaking some campus rules, and the student was unaware of all the information already known. After several questions in which the student continued to lie, my friend leaned forward to confront him with the condemning information. When he did, his bulging muscles ripped open his crisp starched shirt. Like the Incredible Hulk, the material split apart. My friend was a bit embarrassed that I asked about this incident, and in his soft voice shared, “Well, he didn’t lie any more.”
We all have our different strengths, and they show in different ways. And, our students and children have them as well. The challenge is to use both our birthright gifts and our honed skills to help our students to succeed—and part of this is to deal with mistakes (on both ends). I’m writing this as another semester is under way, and aware that just when I think I’ve seen it all I’ll learn that I’ve only seen but a glimpse of our students’ creativity. But I’m not commissioned to catch them when they cheat, but to inspire them not to. Not to focus on possible shortcomings, but on their strengths. Not to establish a battery of boundaries against humankind’s fallen nature, but being wise about such things and the joy of entering new frontiers.

My hope is that through great books they find grand lessons, whether it’s to be weary of the pull of a Tolkein ring or the hidden truths of scarlet letters. That they’ll be angered by Catcher in the Rye, intrigued by Candide and provoked to new depths of thinking by Mere Christianity. That in the study of the Mayans they don’t find some romantic culture we should venerate, but one we should protect against. That the study of Mao prompts them not to follow blindly anyone’s Little Red Book or unfounded revolutionary thought. To discover for themselves that the greater the mind the chance for the greater error, and that little decisions can have grand consequences.

And, the next time I have a conversation with a student caught cheating I’ll be careful not to wear a starched shirt. Yeah, having it rip in the stomach area might not be the effect I was after.

Your thoughts?