Table of the Elements

12 May, 2009

in commentatrix,teaching & learning

There’s always plagiarism in my courses, usually from people who are running out of time, or who anticipate gaps in their knowledge of what they want to cover with their writing, or who don’t believe in their ability to turn a phrase of their own on the topic at hand. I’m more-or-less confident, these days, that I always catch it. Many students expect to get caught, but feel it’s the only chance they’ve got at creating something that might pass.

All but one or two cases I’ve come across have been straightforward cutting and pasting from the internet (the most recent including material from the infuriatingly-named cheathouse dot com). These stand out immediately: the unexplained switch in terminology, or a shift to examples only adjunctly connected to the topic, or the strange hubristic tone with which so many of the copied papers seem to be written, quite against the grain of what I teach about academic style. It strikes me that there’s at least a correlation between the decision to copy and a lack of awareness about the distinctive tone of different writers’ prose, even in essays written for a preparatory course such as mine. Copying and pasting appears to assume that all writing is interchangeable. There’s a certain irony then, that it’s the perceptible jumps and breaks in style by which I identify, easily, plagiarised work.

The individualism (how dare you do this to me!) inherent in the thinking out of which the idea of plagiarism arises means it’s easy–maybe too easy–for markers to take it personally, to see it as an affront, as disrespect, but it’s almost never, in my experience, intended in this fashion. When caught, the student is often mortified by the idea that they’ve shown disrespect, often to a marker whom they wanted to please in the first place, or, less personally, whose expectations they wanted to meet one way or another. I still get mad when it happens, but I don’t put that back on to the student any further than to set the wheels of the system in train, as I am required to do. There’s no pleasure in receiving student apologies, if they come, just the wish that they might have made different decisions well before the perceived need to plagiarise occurred. Usually the causes are as simple as missing a chain of classes, or feeling they don’t understand the material well enough to meet the requirements of the assignment, feeling unable or unwilling to ask for assistance. All these things exist as something like shadow elements, the upside-down mirror of what I mean when I talk about style.





{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

Deborah 15 May, 2009 at 00:25

I’ve caught a few cases too. The university I do a bit of sessional teaching at has plagiarism software, but even so, students try to slip it through. I caught one who submitted one version of her essay electronically, for the plagiarism system, and another in hard copy, for me to mark. The hard copy version had several extra paragraphs, where as you say, the writing style changed, dramatically. It turned out that she had form.

I can’t help but feel sorry for her. International student, didn’t want to be here, parents putting the pressure on. Fortunately, all I had to do was report the case and then the university processes took over.

Deborah’s last post was How NRL players define consent

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harvestbird 16 May, 2009 at 13:26

There are all kinds of tricks for getting material through plagiarism software; those of which I have heard all involve far more labour than actually writing an original essay.

The point at which plagiarising students’ labour exceeds my estimation of the labour required to write the assignment in their own words is the point at which they identify themselves as in trouble. I don’t mean “in trouble” under the university systems, but rather the kind of trouble that you identify: so often far from home (literally or metaphorically) and under pressure, often from elsewhere.

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