Two individuals having a conversation with text Candid Conversations, “Do I have to be the cheating police?” “No, you don’t.”

Candid Conversations about Teaching: “Do I have to be the cheating police?” “No, you don’t.”

As the world around us continues to shift, it is increasingly clear that our roles and activities as educators are also forever changed. Since we re-entered our classrooms this year, we’ve gained experience and understanding of just how different things are now. In fact, some of the strategies and techniques we prioritized before the pandemic aren’t as well suited now. As we realize that re-establishing our practices might not be as straightforward as we’d hoped, we may be finding it necessary to re-evaluate our tools and strategies, and even redefine some core elements of our teaching and learning philosophies and practices. Inspired by recent publications from educators like you, this blog series will explore topics reflecting these ongoing paradigm shifts in our modern classroom. Through these “Candid Conversations,” we’ll examine current pedagogical priorities as we wrestle with upholding the standards and strategies of the past.

 

“Do I have to be the cheating police?” 

Have you ever wondered if acting as the “cheating police” was part of your job description? Is preventing students from cheating or identifying ways to catch them getting in the way of authentic teaching and learning in your course? You aren’t alone.

 

It’s not the modality. The challenge of measuring student learning through assessment has never been an easy one. Unfortunately, the pandemic-prompted rush to move instruction online precluded much of our ability to focus or reflect upon authentic assessment in these courses. With this wave of increased online instruction and assessment, academic integrity incidents, issues, and conversations also came. However, this observed phenomenon does not indicate a correlative relationship between online learning and cheating. In fact, academic dishonesty is often incorrectly attributed to the “online” course format. Citing academic misconduct research from the University of Calgary, Desai (2021) says, “[Student cheating is] a practice as old as the educational institutions themselves…there was about 20 years of research before the pandemic that showed that there was less academic misconduct in online courses compared to face-to-face learning” (Desai, 2021).

 

Want to stop policing? Stop policing. In a recent opinion piece, Anton (2021) describes past experiences of “turning on plagiarism detection software, turning students into student affairs for breaking the rules…” as “tedious, frustrating and stressful”. Recognizing this detriment to the craft of teaching, Anton made a change; she stopped policing and never looked back, empowering us to do the same. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?

 

The experiences from last year are still fresh in our minds, and with the capability to make more informed and practiced assessment decisions, we have a significant opportunity to consider if our instructional choices reflect our instructional values. Over-policing results when we (inadvertently) prioritize the administrative side of our role. Our instructional time and energy are spent more on preventing and managing academic dishonesty than on what we actually value most from these endeavors: measuring the learning that has taken place within our students. This misalignment of our actions and time, with our goals and values as educators, makes us feel (and act) like the honesty police, only adding to our frustration.

 

Anton isn’t the only one seeing benefits from changing up their instructional practices to reduce instructional policing. A recent article detailing one faculty’s (positive) experience implementing “open” assessments (instead of “closed”) advocates for clear expectations, boundaries, and accountability (Fetter, 2021). Fetter offers advice and experiential insight about this change, specifically “…issues of academic integrity, most of these were because students had different expectations about the open-book exam. Once we were able to discuss the situation…, we moved forward and utilized the conversation as a learning experience. Generally, students took the exam instructions seriously and even closed their communication channel on discord for exam days at my request. My team and I have been pleased to see the demonstration of critical thinking skills and the thoughtful answers students write on their exams” (Fetter, 2021).

 

Fetter also requires students to complete an honor code agreement, another effective method to support student honesty in their work (Shu et. al., 2011). “I go over the expectations of the open-book exams and have them agree to and sign the honor code with their digital signature worth one point on the exams” (Fetter, 2021).

 

Looking for more? In addition to the suggestions provided here, support for CMU instructors in areas of academic integrity (and more) can be found on this Encouraging Academic Integrity page.

 

This topic is personal and individual for each instructor, course, and student. As always, the Office of Curriculum and Instructional Support is here to help with any step in this process; send us an email to schedule a consultation.

 

References:

 

3 thoughts on “Candid Conversations abo …

  1. As an instructor at CMU, I have asked myself the very question, “Do I have to be the cheating police?” many times over the past few semesters. Most of these situations were preceded by an instance of plagiarism or cheating. In each of these cases, my first step was to show compassion, as Anton (2021) suggested. Is it possible to be rigorous and to push students while also being compassionate and caring? Is it possible to give a student a 0 on a paper that was clearly plagiarized but still have a discussion with that very student about why this behavior was exhibited and how it not only negatively impacts them but their peers?
    I am curious about the benefits seen in Anton (2021) because they were neither stated in this article nor in the original op-ed. What are the benefits? I will admit that initiating exams that were open-book was indeed less exhausting, less stressful, and less frustrating for me as an instructor, but my concern is about the values that are being instilled in students. Are student values or professor-student relationships at the center of this argument? Does this argument apply to all disciplines? As a writer and psychologist, I disagree with harsh punishments for plagiarism (as in turning a student in to student affairs) and use of anti-cheating software, but technological advances meant to help students have been abused to the point that many students do not know what plagiarism even is anymore. How do I address plagiarism, then? There seems to be an interruption in the long-term retention of not only information but habits in academia and in the workplace, and I wouldn’t be so naive as to discount the possibility that relaxing standards by ignoring standard practice is, to a certain degree, to blame for this. I am curious about evidence-based solutions that either involve or do not involve this element of compassion to situations of academic dishonesty and look forward to reading about them in the future.

  2. I have many of the same questions as Kolek above. As a writing instructor my assessments ask students to write. My only concern with being the cheating police is the blatant plagiarism (literal copying and pasting of whole paragraphs) that students now see as “using their resources” or “turning in something is better than turning in nothing.” I find the compassion comes into play during the conversation with the student. I hope that CIS can offer us some middle ground between the idea of being the “cheating police” and assessing student purchased work.

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