All Posts Tagged With: "essays"

Why smart profs want students to use Wikipedia

It encourages research, citation, revision…

Photo by Kalexanderson on Flickr

Wikipedia is an outcast on most university campuses. At the beginning of the semester, most professors mention that it’s banished from essays and assignments. If you dare to include a Wikipedia article on your reference list, you’re practically asking for a zero on your bibliography. In extreme cases, your professor might set your essay on fire and scatter the ashes across the Pacific Ocean. That’s because most profs regard Wikipedia’s crowdsourced articles as unreliable.

Despite the website’s reputation, some professors at schools like the University of Alberta are using Wikipedia as a teaching resource. Never mind using Wikipedia as a reference: these profs are actually replacing traditional essays with assignments where students write Wikipedia entries.

Continue reading Why smart profs want students to use Wikipedia

University kids write the darndest things

Annual contest publishes the most hilarious examples

Each year, Times Higher Education, Britain’s premiere authority on universities, holds a contest. Lecturers submit the most egregious — and hilarious — mistakes that they’ve read in student essays and exams. Next week they will choose a winner.

But they’ve released the first round of entries already. Our favorite so far is that submitted by Ann Wood from the department of biochemistry at King’s College London. In a food science and technology course, a student advised on a test that it was necessary to use a “genital mixing action.”

We’ll report the winner next week. In the meantime, read a few more entires here.

Are you a TA or a professor? Have your students written something dumb? If so, please share in the comments section.

Don’t compromise on cheating

Professors must fight plagiarism, even when it’s hard

Photo courtesy of Mr_Stein on Flickr

The decision of Panagiotis Ipeirotis  to no longer pursue plagiarism might seem notable in that a  professor would give up on catching cheaters. But to those inside the academy, his announcement merely gives a public face to an alarmingly common sentiment.

Students cheat, and any professor with more than a few years experience can tell you stories that would make you laugh. Then weep. Every case of plagiarism makes you feel sick. You are not only not getting through to your students, but it’s as though they don’t care enough to even want you to get through.

So the feelings of Professor Ipeirotis are entirely understandable, and shared, I’m sure, by thousands. They must, nevertheless, be resisted.

The NYU prof has complained publicly that his efforts to catch cheaters made his job harder: “There was a very different dynamic in class, which I did not particularly enjoy.”  Oh well, then, by all means, professor, please only stick to what you particularly enjoy. Any bets on how long a university could function with all of its staff doing only what they particularly enjoy?

Simply put, a certain level of diligence  is necessary to assure the academic integrity of the assignment, the course for which it is required, the degree to which that course is applied, and the university which grants the degree. If Ipeirotis thinks he was denied part of his raise for being tough, then his problem is with his administration. If he compromises on cheating, he’s part of the problem.

But what about the professor’s idea of winning the cold war by structuring courses and assignments so that cheating is impossible? Isn’t that a better solution?

Not really. As Ipeirotis concedes, some students will cheat if at all possible, and it’s almost always possible. One year I had students submit an essay proposal, then an outline, and then the actual paper so I could follow them through the process and make sure they were not just getting a paper from the internet. Except that some students started with a paper from the internet and then reverse engineered a proposal and outline. You can give students very specific assignments, but suppose a student hands in a paper way off topic? That’s a big red flag and you have to check it out. And even if it’s spot on, there’s no guarantee that he didn’t pay someone to do it for him. And what if two students hand in identical work?

The only real way to ensure students are not cheating is to watch them every minute they are working on their assignments, but that introduces a new and even bigger problem. In-class assignments and presentations take up valuable time that could be given to instruction and discussion. In any case, there are assignments that can’t be done properly in class time. In many disciplines students have to spend time outside of class doing their work or they are not doing the discipline they are supposed to be doing. Chemistry without lab reports is not chemistry and English without essays is not English.

This is not to say we should do nothing. We should explain plagiarism properly, and we should punish it judiciously, and, yes, we should look for innovative ways to structure assignments.

But we can’t compromise where it really matters.

Due diligence

Is it wrong to pretend deadlines matter when they don’t?

Over my twenty-something years associated with universities, I have come to terms with a lot of things. I know how I like to teach and how to talk to students in my office. I have personal policies about electronic devices and when a personal touch is too personal. Yes, years after tenure, I pretty much have this professor thing figured out.

But I still haven’t found a way to handle due dates for assignments.

You would think it would be simple. Set a date and expect students to hand it in on that date. But what if the student gets sick or her mom dies or what if the student just didn’t bother and is willing to make up a story to get an extension? In short, in addition to the due date, you need a policy for extensions. For a while I had a policy borrowed from one of my own undergraduate classes which said you could have an extension if you requested it in writing and in advance. One year I tried giving two dates, one that was the official due date and one a week later that was the extended due date — in other words, I gave everyone an extension in advance on everything.

Sadly, whatever your policy on extensions, some will always try to get you to make an exception. Instead of asking in advance, they ask you the day of or the day after. Instead of taking the extra week as an extension, they think of the extended date as the real due date and then want an extension on that. And so it goes. At some point you always end up in an awkward conversation with a student (very awkward if the student is crying) and trying to figure out if he is telling the truth or not and if the allowance you are making for him is equivalent to what you allowed to someone else. And what if you have already said no to someone else?

And this is to say nothing about late papers. What happens when the student simply hands it in after the due date? Do you refuse to accept it? Or dock so many marks per day? How many? Do weekends count? Is there a maximum?

The whole thing is a nightmare.

The last few years, I abandoned due dates altogether. I simply indicated how many assignments were to be done and reminded my students (ad nauseum) that they needed to plan ahead to make sure they got them all done by the end of the course. This arrangement has the benefit, for me, of not having to deal with the issues related above.  I don’t have to entertain requests for extensions because there is no due date to be extended. Hand it in when it’s done.

By the same token, no due dates means no paper is ever late. So there are no late marks to worry about. Simple, elegant, and, best of all, great for students who (in theory) are free to work on my papers when they have time according to their own particular schedules. There’s just one problem with not having due dates.

Students don’t hand anything in.

As far as I can tell, without a specific deadline hanging over the heads of our young Damocleses, students, for the most part, simply put off doing the papers at all until its too late. I have precisely one student this year (in all my courses) who has kept up to the expected pace on paper writing in the absence of due dates. I have one course where the grand total of all papers handed in over the whole year is exactly one. Since September.

In a sense, the problem lies not with the students, but with every other professor in the university besides me. If other professors adopted my beautiful system, it would work for everyone. But since everyone else uses old-fashioned due dates, everyone else’s paper seems more pressing than mine. My students reason that they can always push mine off another week because mine can be handed in any time, but their paper for Professor Urgent is due tomorrow.

Obviously, I’m not going to be able to convince everyone to change their policies for my sake. So, what am I to do? Go back to the old system of due dates, extensions, and late marks? Never! I have a plan, but I’m unsure about it since I think it might be evil.

Here’s the idea: I set out my course outline with due dates as normal but do not include anything in the syllabus about extensions or late penalties. I am simply silent on that point. But in my mind I already know that students will assume there is some penalty for a late paper or that late papers might not be accepted. But their assumption will actually be wrong, because in my mind, I will have already decided that I will give any student any extension they want without penalty. And I will accept papers late without penalty. I just don’t tell them that. Then, when they come to my office worried that I will not accept their late paper or refuse an extension, I can be all magnanimous and say, “Oh, I understand. A dead gerbil can be very trying. When do you think you can have it in? Monday? Great.”

The student will think that I have been kind and generous and understanding. They will think I treated them as a person (which supposedly students like) when really I was going to give them whatever they asked for anyhow.

I feel a bit bad about this plan because it seems deceitful in a way. For one thing, there would be a policy in force that is not stated on the syllabus. On the other hand, the policy would still be applied equally, or at least, equally to everyone who asks.  Still, I worry that more diligent students might feel hard done by if they knew that others were getting extensions that they didn’t know were even an option. But then, as far as I can tell, even good students need to have a deadline, so maybe my lie by omission would be doing everyone a favour.

School’s out

Time for catching up

Sleeping-in during summer vacation isn’t as much of a novelty as it used to be. The thing is, if you plan your class schedule right, you should be able to sleep in during the school year, too.

In university, the best part of summer vacation is being able to procrastinate guilt-free.

Now my friends and I have time for profound conversations. Like the merits of Modern Warfare versus Sniper: Ghost Warrior, which will only cost 40 bucks when it’s released next month. Modern Warfare might have AC-130s and airstrikes, but Ghost Warrior has realistic sniping missions.

With labs, essays and exams to worry about, it’s easy to lose touch with the rest of the world. And in the space of two semesters, everything changes. Sometime between last September and my final exams, everybody stopped playing Halo 3. And according to my 14-year-old brother, World of Warcraft is lame-ass.

I have some catching up to do.

-photo courtesy of Mike Willis

What if failure was not an option?

Would you rather get an F, or be made to rewrite?

This year, I seem to have reached some kind of breaking point when it comes to grading essays. At one time I kind of liked terrible papers — not because I took a perverse delight in giving a low grade — but because they were easy to assess. Utter incompetence cannot be hidden. But after ten years of such nonsense, it’s getting a bit old, and I’m tired of seeing the Fs pile up at the end of the year.

My first attempt to encourage better writing came a a few years ago when I instituted a generous rewrite policy in most of my courses, but that has had mixed results. Lots of students won’t rewrite papers no matter how badly they’ve done on them, and those who do rewrite often make only superficial corrections, hoping to get a few more points here and there.

I should point out that I’m not talking about papers that are simply dull or jejune; I’m talking about papers that do not even begin to address the issues at hand or remotely attempt to meet the most basic requirements.

Right now, I’m hatching a plan by which I would provide students with a list of basic things that must be included — and done correctly — in any paper. Essays must have a title; they must cite sources correctly; they must actually cite the text in question; they must be of the assigned length. And so on. If the paper does not meet all these basic requirements, it simply gets handed back, ungraded, and must be redone.

If the paper meets these deal-breaking criteria, then it will be assessed for its intellectual quality. If it does not rise to the level of a C-minus, it goes back with comments (inlcuding specifics on what needs fixing) but still without a grade and still must be rewritten. When the rewrite comes in, the student must include a note describing the changes and how the problems have been fixed.

I’m eager to try this out, and curious to see how students will respond. The optimist in me hopes that the lack of a low grade on a failing paper will help prevent students from getting discouraged, and the clear, tough guidelines will force them to be more scrupulous. I also hope the revision note will compel them to think about  real revisions and not just pretend that fixing a few spelling errors constitutes a rewrite. The pessimist in me worries that students will get stuck on the first paper and never finish even that, and so fail all the more completely (of course, many students give up after the first paper or two anyway).

I also wonder whether students will object to the no-grade they might get on the grounds that it should be up to them whether they want to accept the low mark. This, in effect, would be students fighting for their right to fail, but I wouldn’t put it past them. I could always remind students that they are still free to fail exams as badly as they want.

Do your prof a favour: write better!

Profs across the country plead for better written essays, and offer tips to help you get there

Writing good papers isn’t just a way to get better grades; it’s doing your part to solve an ongoing humanitarian crisis.

Think of your poor professors and imagine what it’s like to have to consecutively read, mark and make intelligent comments about fifty papers on the same topic. Now imagine how much more painful it must be if most of the papers are poorly written.

Oh, the humanity!

We surveyed past victims of poor paper writing across the country and together, they responded with what amounts to an impassioned plea for mercy: they ask that you, the students, for the sake of your grades, learn to write readable, well-organized papers.

Or, in the words of professor Sorel Friedman of Université de Montréal: “Imagine that your paper is the very last one a professor is going to correct at the end of a very long evening. Try to write something original, or at the very least, clear and logical.”

Academic originality isn’t something we can help you with in the scope of this column, but with our professors’ help, we’ll take a crack at clarity and logicality.

First and foremost, if you’re going to take the time to write hundreds or thousands of words, you should make sure that you’re writing about something. Rambling on from an arbitrary starting point toward no destination in particular is no way to score good grades.

If you have been given a question to address, read it carefully several times and then be absolutely positive that you answer that question and not another. This isn’t politics; you don’t get full marks for answering the question you wish they’d asked instead of the one they asked.

If you’re not given a question, then you’ll have to come up with a thesis, which is a statement of something that you are going to argue to be true. Your subject matter should be relatively focused, so that it’s possible to cover it in depth in the scope of the paper you’re writing, but not so focused that you’ll run out of interesting things to say. If you’re unsure about the appropriateness of your thesis, this is a great time to talk to your prof or TA.

A well-defined thesis will make it much easier for you to organize your paper. You are arguing a point, so your paper should have a logical flow that takes the reader from the thesis statement, through a series of coherent, well-ordered arguments toward your destination, which is the conclusion that the thesis statement is true. This is the nuts and bolts of what an essay is and you’ll save yourself a lot of time and trouble if you keep this in mind throughout the process.

Is homework dead?

Without homework, where will students learn to do work they can’t do at school?

Homework, that fabled warrior in the fight against ignorance, is on the defensive these days. Students, have always reviled it, of course, parents have feared it, and teachers have accepted its rule as necessary if unpleasant.

But more and more one reads stories like this one, which recast the image and utility of homework. Where it was once seen as a vital chance to practice important skills, it is now increasingly seen as a needless burden that, if anything, actually impedes learning by stressing out the kids, and the parents, too, for that matter.

Fair enough. If elementary schools can teach kids more effectively without homework, who am I to say nay? Or yea. Or whatever. But as a university professor, I worry about what happens down the road. If homework can’t be justified in grade eight, say, how is it justified in grade ten, especially if those grade ten students have never been expected to do it before? Won’t homework in high school be even more stressful to those who have never had to do work out of class before? Will high schools ban homework, too? If they do, what will become of assignments that cannot be done during class because they require long periods of time to do properly? That is, what will become of the formal essay, that mainstay of education in the humanities and social sciences, and bedrock assignment in most university arts programs?Some high schools have already dropped formal essays in favour of in-class exams with essay questions, and university-bound graduates of those schools are already disadvantaged when they are asked to write real, university-level papers. The ones where you have to, you know, do research and write multiple drafts, and use a computer.

In other words, while homework may not be a help to elementary school students immediately, it may help in the long run by helping establish in them the discipline needed to work on learning outside of school hours. Has anyone studied whether developing the habit of doing work outside of school is valuable in itself? If not, we may be asking the wrong questions, and if we are, our misguided answers may leave us with students who are even less prepared for university than they are now.

Why professors hate marking

You think writing papers is tough? Try grading them

Sitting on my desk are this year’s first piles of student papers waiting to be graded. But I’m not grading them. Instead, I’m writing this blog entry about why I dislike grading papers.

Many people assume that grading papers is the worst thing about being a professor. They are right, but for the wrong reason. People think it’s onerous because, as they often say to me, “some of them must be so bad.” And some of them are bad, but those aren’t the ones that make marking such a chore; in fact, really bad papers are almost a pleasure to grade because at least they get me excited — if only by rage.

No, the worst papers are the papers that populate the vast, bland wasteland of mediocrity. They are not good, mind you, and they are not bad. They are, to adapt Wolfgan Pauli’s famous quip, not even bad. They make no huge blunders, but they don’t say anything either. They are not off-track exactly; they just don’t know there is a track to be on. It’s hard to know where to even start with such essays. And they’re waiting in those piles to torment me with their insipidity.

Part of the difficulty comes from the fact that most essay grading involves a fictional bargain between student and professor. In theory, the student has worked hard on the paper: she’s thought through the topic, done relevant research, made notes and outlines, completed several drafts, and finally, at long last, handed it in. The professor evaluates the work, notes its strengths and weakness, and provides thoughtful advice for how to do even better next time. The student takes that advice gratefully and can’t wait ’til the next paper comes due to show off what she’s learned.

In reality, though, most students do only about as much as they think they need to pass the course, or stay in their program, or get into their next program. Similarly, professors know that their comments will go largely or entirely unread, and those that are read will not likely be taken to heart. They pretend to work hard; we pretend they want to get better.

This enduring game of academic make-believe was brought into focus for me the other day when I overheard a student amusedly complaining to her friend that her professor was suggesting ways to improve a paper that had already received a good grade. “I’m fine with an 80!” she laughed. Of course. Why settle for better when you can do good?

Every once in a while, there is a genuinely good paper to help break the monotony. I once had an excellent student whose name put her papers at the top of the pile (I grade in alphabetical order), but I always used to move her essay to the middle because I knew by then I would need an excellent paper to help keep me going. Maybe such a student is waiting patiently in one of those piles right now.

I guess it’s time to find out…

What does my prof really want from an essay?

How to make sure your term paper doesn’t miss the point

Figuring out just what professors want in a term paper can be tricky, but it needn’t be. Whether it’s your first paper in university, and you’re still navigating your way around the library, or you’re a seasoned pro, there are a few things you need to know.

And while much of what I have to say may seem obvious, redundant and self-congratulatory, it is really quite astonishing how many people go through their entire university careers without ever figuring out just quite how to write the paper professors are looking for.

For starters, if the assignment involves answering a question your professor has prepared beforehand, read it. I mean actually read it. And closely. If there is more than one part to the question, consider each part individually. How might they be related? Should each part be answered separately? Or should they be considered together within an overarching argument? Understanding the question is the first step to answering it.

You’d be surprised how many people do poorly on a paper because they failed to answer the question. They sort of go willy nilly through the whole process, and end up writing something completely foreign to what was actually asked of them.

Visiting your professor is quite possibly the most integral part of figuring out what they want. Some professors, especially in upper years when class sizes are smaller, will require you to meet with them. There is a reason for this. Of course there are intellectual freaks that can ace a paper without ever discussing it, but those who don’t bother will generally tend to do less well.

Professors will help you unpack the assignment, which is good because some essay questions are just plain ridiculous, like: “is world peace possible? Discuss.” If you come in with an idea that is overly ambitious, or otherwise unsuitable, they will rein you in. The good ones will anyway. Others will stroke their chins and mutter “interesting,” thus encouraging you in your folly. But if you’re lucky they will say something like, “walk before you run. You’re not writing a bloody history of the world now are you?”

Don’t show up unprepared and say something like “uh, so, what am I suppose to do?” Don’t be overly chatty either. Most professors don’t care what students in their intro to politics course think of the new Naomi Klein book. They just don’t. Sorry. This doesn’t mean they aren’t happy to help, or that they don’t mind discussing current events, but I’ve always found it stunningly obvious when I should just shut up.

While many professors have a verbosity affliction of their own, it helps to listen. They will often outline the entire essay for you. And if a professor recommends a book or an article, be sure to consult it and cite it in your paper. They might look for it.

If your essay is being marked by a teaching assistant, they will marvel at the notion that someone actually cares what they think! So bother them.

Find a paper or a book your professor has published, and see if there is any way you can at least explore his/her area of interest, if not actually incorporating their work into yours. At the very least you’ll know that your professor accepts the ideas presented. Flattery shouldn’t affect how they grade a paper, but who are we kidding!