Academic Plagiarism

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the definition of academic plagiarism and how it cannot be accurately applied to technical writing courses. Our university definition is as follows:

Plagiarism: The term “plagiarism” includes, but is not limited to, the use, by paraphrase or direct quotation, of the published or unpublished work or sections of a work of another person without full and clear acknowledgment. This includes any material copied directly or paraphrased from the Internet. The unacknowledged use of materials prepared by another person or agency engaged in the selling of term papers or other academic materials, including material taken from or ordered through the Internet and constitutes plagiarism. (Missouri State University’s Academic Policies and Procedures, accessed May, 2008)

Problems arise because, in various forms, copying, restructuring, and repurposing professional material is one of the essential skills in technical writing. Using boilerplates and templates, relying on existing material for designs and layouts, and single sourcing are all, by current definition, plagiarism.

Dr. Jessica Reyman has written a great article called "Rethinking Plagiarism for Technical Communicators" in the recent 55th volume of Technical Communication, the premier scholarly journal for technical writing. I would recommend it to anyone who wishes to find out more about the gray areas of academic plagiarism.

E.E. Cummings (because I can)

[somewhere i have never travelled]

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

Assigning the “F” Course Grade

Last semester I gave four Fs. I didn’t feel bad about it, sans one, because they were all directly related to poor attendance. The worst writer in my class was no overachiever by any means, but she never missed a day or an assignment, and she finished the class with a respectable 80/B, which is no different on a grade card than an 89/B. She earned and deserved it, and the students who received Fs earned their grades, as well.

I’ve heard a teacher in the department say, “In all my years of teaching, I’ve never given a D or an F,” and I wonder how that is possible. In a graduate class, I can understand; the students are in school for a different reason and have different approaches to assignments and actually attaining course objectives, but that is not the case in our general education classes. I would have been doing those students a grave disservice had I not given them the grade they earned, much like if I would have given a student who had earned a 93/A a B because I didn’t think he or she deserved it. Show me the difference. If a student does not apply him or herself to the course, the failing grade is on his or her shoulders. Fully.

Also last semester, one of my Fs was a junior with great writing skills who stopped coming to class after the Research Paper Unit. Later, toward the end of the semester, she told me she was doing her research on Bipolar Disorder because her aunt suffered from it, and as she was doing her research, she discovered that she, too, had the incurable disorder, became depressed, and stopped coming to class. She also told me that if she received an F for the class, she would lose her scholarship and be booted from the university. Now, as a first-semester GA, I was a bit in over my head; this girl had just given me an unfortunate sob story and basically put her future (if she was telling the truth) into my hands. What was I to do?

On Dead Day, I was fortunate enough to have lunch with the head of the Music Department. I hadn’t told him the story about the student, but we somehow got on the subject of what it’s like seeing old students, sometimes years after they’ve left your classroom. He said, “You know, it’s funny to run into an old student, because even after years and years—even after they’ve changed from kids to adults—you can immediately see that they’re still having the same problems in their personal or professional lives as they did in your classroom.” He explained that after talking with them for a bit—catching up—it was easy to see that they still had attendance or lateness problems at work or problems in spousal relations that were similar, in some ways, to the problems they once had in the classroom. It was then that I told him about my student, and he gave me some good advice that I’ll keep with me. “You can’t think that giving a student a passing grade will tip the scales and be the one thing that’s going to give them that push that’s going to help them get their life back together. It just doesn’t work that way, and giving them an easy out is just delaying their ability to grow up and become responsible citizens.”

I’m assigning at least three Fs this semester; it would have been five, but two dropped on the final drop day, thankfully. I hope you all expect as much out of your students as other professors will in their future courses. Get them used to being responsible.

Pen Theft in Pummill 203 (and Almost Murder)

I recently had a situation in my class like none I'd ever expected. During a workshop session, I was hurriedly making last-minute comments on a few papers I wanted to hand back before class was out. I was using a green pen, and when one of my students asked for an assignment handout, I had to quickly run upstairs to the GA office to retrieve one for her. As I made it back downstairs, I was feeling very rushed--I wasn't sure if I'd have sufficient time to give quality comments on the papers and return them.

As I sat down, I couldn't find my green pen. I moved my chair and looked under the table. It wasn't there. Audibly, I said,"I can't find my pen," and a few students laughed and crooked their necks to look around on the floor to assist me in my search. I didn't have time for this. Luckily, a student let me borrow a pencil, so I wiped the sweat from my brow and starting marking.

A few minutes later, I was stressing hardcore. I happened to look around the room to make sure groups were successfully talking and staying on topic, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one of my laziest students (poor work, poor attendance, poor work ethic) writing with my pen. I almost freaked.

"John (fake name), is that my pen?" I was standing now, and the class had hushed. Never had they heard my voice so emotional and panicked or my face so "pissy." He looked down at his hand, as if to remind himself.

"Yeah." He didn't move.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why did you take my pen?"

"Because I forgot mine," he said. But he didn't move. It was obvious that I was upset and that I wanted my green pen back, but the kid just sat there staring at me. I didn't blink. I was like a wild-west gunslinger with my hand on my holster. The next words came out slowly and were cynical, much like the opening of Kill Bill.

"Give me my pen, and don't you ever touch my stuff, again."

He stood and handed me the pen, and I wanted to take him by the throat and toss him through the glass window. But I didn't. My students could tell I was really upset--baffled, really--and they went back to work quickly.

The thing that gets to me most about this story is the lack of respect that the student had for me and my personal belongings. I could even understand if he would have taken my pen, irresponsibly, and forgotten to give it back when I walked into the room, but it was the look in his beady little insect eyes when asked if he had my pen, and he responded, "Yeah," making no motion to willfully give it back. I seriously wanted to punch this dude in the face.

I finished commenting on the papers, and the student still sucks.

Philosophy of Teaching, Robot Style, v. 2.1

Teaching is like living life: everybody does it differently, and some do it better than others, but nobody does it exactly right. I’ve always liked science-fiction writing, and although my own attempts at writing literary fiction often end up with characters in worlds where I’ve molded a few of the rules of their being (though always for their own good), it is my goal to consciously never change my students: I offer them my knowledge, but whether or not they choose to accept it and apply it to their personal writing is ultimately their choice. It is my hope that they receive my limited knowledge of writing and use it to form their own opinions of the craft. My students are not my robot characters of whom I have control over what they know and learn; my students are individuals—human beings—all unique in their own perfectly imperfect humanistic ways. I do not teach them to write in the same way I do; I do not duplicate them in assembly-line fashion and force them all to generate the same product as I might write. I lead my students to explore new ideas and different ways of looking at all things. I encourage authoritative voice, critical perspective, and audience emphasis, because I want them to believe in the words they write down—notebook scribbles or Times New Roman, everything they write is a direct reflection and representation of their beliefs. Ultimately, I challenge my students to understand and acknowledge but not reproduce my passion for writing. I do this in hopes that they might dare to care so much about their own writing that they, too, find it is one of the few ways to investigate and discover who they really are.

Six Words to Rule Them All

Here are a few feeble attempts to summarize my life in six words (or just sound cool):

--I am. Myself. [see me here?]

--Brides marry, roads tarry, "Hello, Larry."

--Meet me in the morning, barefoot.

--Turn me on, turn on me!

--Spin. Get dizzy. DIE, BITCH, DIE!

These are sort of silly, but as I commented on Adam's blog, I like how this little fad has initiated a small spark of creativity in a lot of people who don't usually exert themselves to writing. There are many video posts of this same six-word exercise documented on YouTube if anyone is interested.

What to DO During a Final Exam Period?

As the semester is winding down, I have been thinking about what exactly I should do during the final exam period. Because a written exam wouldn't be appropriate for most English composition courses, I'm basically unsure of what could make good use of the exam time. I am currently assigning a basic feedback prompt to better understand what students liked, disliked, thought was fun and/or helpful, and what seemed like a waste of time. Of course, much of this information might be disregarded, such as comments like, "Grammar sucks," but even negative comments can tell me a lot about what information students don't like learning the way I've taught it. This information will be helpful when planning future lectures and classroom activities.

Many of the GAs--myself included--have opted for the "fun final" where the class might bring food, watch a movie, or play a joyous game of Jeopardy. Even though the writing prompt is included in this, I'm not sure if this is an acceptable way to spend the hour.

Any input or advice would be appreciated!