Matching Tracksuits

Fun in Fours

Busted

Thursday 29 October 2009 | general

Reading over student work, I find a sentence that troubles me: it has a maturity that belies its author. I continue reading, and within a few moments, I’m pulling out the laptop and Googling the suspect sentence: it’s lifted directly from Wikipedia. With a sigh, I write “See me” at the top of the paper, underlining it emphatically.

Dealing with plagiarism is one of my absolute least favorite duties as a teacher; it’s especially tough when it’s a student I really like, a student who is sensible and gives every impression of being a conscientious student.

Plagiarism is a sin that is hard to treat evenly. Is unintentional plagiarism as bad as intentional? Is malicious plagiarism (“He’ll never catch on, the old doddering fool.”) worse plagiarism motivated by laziness or procrastination?

As I’m reading, and I begin to grow concerned about the authenticity of a particular essay or poem, I find myself tensing up. A brier patch of issues awaits, and it’s seldom a pleasant experience.

Celuacy for non-Poles, is a grade above an “A”. It signifies mastery of a subject accompanied by superior extra-curricular work.

On one occasion, though, a young lady of supreme character managed not only to avoid losing respect but managed to increase it. She was a student in Poland, and she worked hard to have celuacy (“excellent”) in as many classes as she could. She turned in a journal that was clearly plagiarized. (With English learners, it’s easier to discover copied work, for obvious reasons.) I spoke to her about it, asking her why she’d done it.

“I just didn’t understand that we weren’t supposed to copy.”

A lame excuse, but she had so endeared herself to me (to all teachers) with her hard work and dedication that I put off the inevitable. “Well, I’ll think about how we can handle this; my standard policy, though, has always been to give a failing grade for plagiarism.” She said nothing, but she was clearly upset.

The next day, she approached me. “I’ve been thinking about it,” she began, impressing me with her correct use of the present perfect continuous tense. “I should have known better. I want you to give me a zero.”

I did, but I made sure she had plenty of opportunity to offset that zero and maintain her high average.

She did.

Every time I’ve had to deal with plagiarism since then, I’ve hoped for such a response. So far, no luck.

Maybe tomorrow.

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