Deanna England, writing from Winnipeg, Manitoba in Canada.

We’ve discussed the notion of cheating several times here at the University of Venus, its ramifications, philosophical perspectives, and devices instructors haveused to combat it – but I’ve recently come across a situation that made consider the topic once again. A student I know (let’s call her Clare) put out an ad for English tutoring and received a somewhat distressing, but not wholly unexpected response: “Write all my essays for a fee, I can get you consistent work.”

Clare was understandably outraged at this request and debated over whether she should report the student to the institution in question. She also did a search on the solicitor and discovered that she could conceivably have her in one of her classes (as her student – presumably this solicitor was an undergrad, while Clare is now entering her first year in a Doctoral program) as well.

The group of colleagues that Clare approached with this dilemma was equally disgusted with the privileged and “not very bright” attitude of the solicitor. And they relayed various anecdotes of their own of being solicited in the same manner, as well as expressing a general sense of indignation over plagiarizers in general. However, upon reflection, I began to debate with myself – is this plagiarism? Or is this simply cheating? Is plagiarism just a specific type of cheating? Why am I debating semantics anyhow?

I suppose it’s both. It’s not merely neglecting to properly cite a section of a paper – this is taking another author’s complete work, and taking credit for it as one’s own. According to a quick check of Dictionary.com, plagiarism is defined as: the unauthorized use or close imitation of the language and thoughts of another author and the representation of them as one’s own original work, as by not crediting the author. And some definitions of cheating include: to violate rules or regulations; or to take an examination or test in a dishonest way, as by improper access to answers. It seems that each is relevant here.

In the end, Clare seemed decided that the best course of action would be to report the student to the institution, and hope that the student would not be placed in one of her classes due to the potential conflict. However, what was interesting to me was some of the discussion around Clare’s dilemma. One person proclaimed that the solicitor wouldn’t make it through University anyway since the solicitor really wasn’t very smart. While the group wholeheartedly agreed that the solicitor in question wasn’t particularly stealthy about her dishonesty, they expressed reservations about the conviction that she wouldn’t manage to make it through that way, as some of them knew of people who did precisely what the solicitor had done and managed to graduate just fine.

The concern from their end is what these solicitors would manage to do throughout their lives. Would they end up in some position of power with no clue about how the world and their own industry actually work? How far-reaching would those implications be?

However, what frustrates me about the solicitor is her complete lack of regard for the implications of what she’s done. She’s placed Clare in an awkward situation, and while she may have understood that such behavior would implicate Clare as well, obviously that decision would be up to Clare and her own conscience. However this behaviour also demonstrates to me that the solicitor clearly has no comprehension of, or care for the amount of effort involved in the creation of a piece of scholarly work and is obviously missing the purpose and benefits of engaging in such an exercise — the acquisition of research skills, knowledge of the subject area, increased writing ability, etc. She also seems to have no clear understanding of the futility of going through University in that way — what does that piece of paper actually mean if you didn’t earn it yourself?

But to go back to the comments by some of the other individuals that Clare consulted – what was the solicitor thinking? Of course if Clare refused, the risk was there that she could be reported. But to what end? Would this report result in any kind of punitive action if the student had not yet made such a purchase? What consequences could be enforced in such a case?

This post was also published at Inside Higher Ed.

Deanna England, writing from Winnipeg, Manitoba in Canada

According to the Chair of my program – my application had to be “pretty dismal” in order to be rejected. She was being flippant of course; she had carefully reviewed my transcript and suggested a couple of courses to take to increase my chances of acceptance. However her point really was to warn me that being a part-time student meant that I wouldn’t be offered funding, implying that there wasn’t much reason to reject my application, assuming that I met all eligibility requirements.

Having sent out many letters of acceptance with this job, I was well aware that I wouldn’t be receiving any scholarship support from the department. The financial burden of the degree was something I had to consider before deciding to apply, and while I can’t say the impact of tuition fees has been negligible, to my mind it’s well worth the sacrifice.

Which brings me to the point of this post, which is more or less a rant: I am constantly shocked at the sense of entitlement and expectation that is consistently thrown at me by the students I deal with.
Some of my favourite examples are:

• Students who are already receiving tens of thousands of dollars in support, demanding more.

• International students who insist that we pay their moving and travel expenses and offer enough support so their families can move here too.
• Students who don’t like the fact that assistantships are employment and are therefore taxable income.

• Students who show up in my office months after all scholarship deadlines have passed asking what I can give them.

• Undergraduate students who tell me that they will use this institution as a bargaining chip to get the other graduate schools to offer them more funding – and that we are simply a last resort as a school.

• Students who ultimately lay down ultimatums: either give them more money or they will take their business elsewhere.

One thing I can’t comprehend is the attitude of those students who appear to be applying to graduate school on a whim. Many students who demand more and more from us seem like they simply woke up one morning and said “I think I’ll apply to graduate school today” without any consideration for living expenses, or the time and energy required to commit to such a path.

I also can’t grasp why students seem to think that the institution should be paying them – and that being a student equates to employment. They feel that the institution should be so positively delighted in the fact that they are attending there, that we should not only waive all tuition and auxiliary fees, but also provide them with additional funding to keep them in the lifestyle to which they’d previously been accustomed.

I am utterly baffled by this. Now to be clear: I am not confused by the notion that being a student is expensive and a burden. I wish that all students had the opportunity to engage in higher education – as I know that there are many potential students out there with the ability to change the world if given the tools to do so, if only they were not prevented by the lack of financial means. And I completely appreciate the fact that working while being a student is often counter-productive (boy, do I know this) – so any support that we can provide to ease the way for students is only to everyone’s benefit.

But I simply cannot abide by those demanding students who don’t view academia as a privilege. More than one student in my own cohort expressed surprise when I broke the (apparently astonishing) news that they were in fact accepted into the program. Yes, there were students who were rejected – their presence there was by no means a guarantee. I suppose it’s the ingratitude that bothers me the most – to be accepted into graduate school is an honour, and to be given funding is a gift. So to have so many students act as if they were not only entitled to be there, but to be there with financial support, and often demanding more really makes me wonder where this sense of entitlement comes from.

This post was also published at Inside Higher Ed.

Deanna England, writing from Winnipeg, Manitoba in Canada.

Occasionally, like most of us I’m sure, I rail at the seeming impossibility of the path I’ve chosen. I struggle with maintaining my professional, personal, and academic obligations and to be honest, I’m not sure how successfully I manage it. Some days (like today) as I stare at a blank word document, fighting the rising sense of panic at the fact that I have a paper due in less than a week, I wonder if it’s really worth it. I was happily immersed in a job that I loved. I had a social life. My condo was clean. I ate more than eggs or peanut butter every night. I wasn’t always so tired and moody. Well OK – that part is probably a lie – I’ve always been moody. But I think I used to be more pleasant about it.

I’ve had some pretty dark thoughts in the past year, and it’s often a challenge to either remember that I’m really not alone in all this, or that what I’m doing is a choice. So when I was recently asked to join the group working on the new campus mental health initiative I was both happy to be involved with such a venture, and apprehensive about what I would be able to contribute – partially because I was concerned that it might hit a bit too close to home.

At a meeting this past fall, the Director of Admissions told about a student from the previous year that no one had heard from in quite a while. Her parents eventually phoned the University looking for her, and it was discovered that she had isolated herself in her residence for weeks with no contact with faculty, staff or fellow students. Sadly, all of us realized that this kind ofincidence wasn’t unique in University campuses around the world. Like many of our life journeys, University comes with its joys and triumphs, but is often also balanced by pressures and failures which have the potential to lead to despair.

How could we address such a growing, but important concern? We discussed the concept of a central repository for information and concerns about students – and struggled with the idea of privacy rights, slander and alarmism. What resulted was a call to the Winnipeg RegionalHealth Authority and the creation of a specific task force on the topic. The long-term plan includes offering a Mental Health First Aid certificate to everyone on campus: faculty, staff and students, as well as establishing a concrete strategy to consolidate potential concerns about all members of the campus community in a sensitive and functional way.

This is not an easy task, and the group is only in its infancy. Much of the talk around the table has centred on how to respond to students who are obviously acting out. One issue is that it has the potential to focus on the punitive. Another concern was that this would only address a portion of those on campus who could benefit from some care and attention. We are a campus community and I believe that we need to show care to everyone – not just the large group of undergraduate students who are the easiest to target. What about the faculty who are struggling with the publish-or-perish-syndrome? What about the overworked Student Services staff who seem to be taking stress leaves with alarming regularity?

I don’t actually know the best solution to this issue as there are so many factors that must be considered. When does this “care and concern” constitute an invasion of privacy? Do we have the potential to cause damage with our actions? We are a teaching institution – at what point does our attentiveness over-step boundaries into an area that has nothing to do with the mandate of the Academy? Is the phrase “mental health initiative” potentially inflammatory or exclusive?

What is gratifying to note though, is the genuine concern of the individuals around the table. Not one person on this committee is there merely because they are obligated to because of their role. Each member has a sincere wish to improve the well-being of every member of the campus community -which is a positive first step.

This post was also published at Inside Higher Ed. 

Deanna England, writing from Winnipeg, Manitoba in Canada

Taking this degree part time doesn’t grant me much freedom to take advantage of the extra-curricular activities that I encourage all my other graduate students to engage with. I would love to attend conferences and assist in faculty research and teaching – but between my job, attending classes, and spending my “spare” time reading and doing assignments; I really can’t do much else. So when I had the opportunity to take the course I’m currently in, I immediately took advantage of it. The class is crafted around a symposium and the resulting collection of essays coordinated by the instructor. Though it is an exhausting intensive course which crams in a full year’s course work in half the time.

Last week was the conference – 3 full days during which we, the students, were responsible for acting as moderators and discussants, and creating the presentation panels, as well as the schedule and program. We also had the option to contribute to the writing in the collection and offer feedback on the presentations.

After the event was over, some of us went for drinks and a couple of the local faculty joined us. During the course of the evening, one of them mentioned which theorist she went “fan girl” on when she had the opportunity to meet him at a past symposium. She then mentioned how other people went a milder version of “fan girl” on her when they discovered that she worked with the woman who organized the symposium – our class instructor. This took me a bit by surprise – was our instructor a big deal? I hadn’t considered it before, but yes, when I step back and look at what she’s accomplished and her position, of course she is.

When I first started work at the University I quickly learned that just because someone has a PhD, doesn’t mean that they are in any way organized, responsible or necessarily…pleasant to deal with. Unfortunately this led to me becoming a little bit cynical about the abilities of certain members of faculty overall. (I feel compelled to note at this point: this does not apply to the woman previously mentioned. I have actually been working with her very closely since the day I started at the University and as far as I’m concerned, she can chair any program or committee I’m involved with as long as she’s there – she’s absolutely fantastic in every way).

I have met some astonishingly scattered, forgetful and diva-ish faculty members. And while I’ve quickly learned which researchers are the “superstars” and promote them accordingly, that doesn’t change how I interact with them administratively. However, every once in a while, I have the occasion to deal with them in a completely different setting. Maybe they’re on a graduate thesis committee, and I attend the examination. Maybe they’re doing a special guest lecture. Maybe they’re teaching me in a course. Or maybe I read an article they’ve written. This rare interaction affords me the opportunity to remember where I work and what kind of minds I’m dealing with.

By the time people reach PhD-hood, one would hope that these paperwork-challenged and forgetful individuals have gained some fairly specialized knowledge. They have a passion, and they have the drive and ambition to have made it their life’s work. This is something that I need to be reminded of every once in a while. I am dealing with people that someone else in the world would go “fan girl/boy” on because of what they’ve accomplished. It would be easy to resent these individuals as both a student, and a mid-level administrator for the amount of extra work they cause me. However, I think it’s a wonderful thing to remember that in working with them – I am doing my own little part in assisting them in doing something remarkable.

And if you’re interested? I would absolutely go fan girl on Susan Bordo – and as a result of the symposium,  Laura Robinson, if I ever got to see her again. Please feel free to share your own fan girl/boy stories in the comments – I’d love to hear them!

Deanna England, writing from Winnipeg, Manitoba in Canada

The title of my honours thesis was “Religiosity and Neuroticism’s Effects on Death Anxiety.” Really? I suppose there isn’t any uncertainty surrounding the topic of my examination, but still…it lacks…poetry. My final paper for my course this past Winter? ““You’re totally lesbi-gay” and Other Sexual Dynamics in Teen Horror Films.” Now that’s a line that will grab some attention.

People often ask me why I’m doing this degree. Will I make more money? Will I carry on to a PhD? Am I hoping to teach? The answer isn’t quite as straight-forward as that – the program looked interesting, I like being a student, and I want to be able to relate to the students that I’m working with. It seemed silly to work in graduate studies, yet not have a graduate degree. But sometimes I have to admit, I feel a little twinge when I listen to the girls talking about heading off to MacMaster and McGill next year for their doctoral programs. I envy the fact that they will have the freedom to fully immerse themselves in their research passions in a way that I don’t feel I ever could.

I wrote two final papers in April, one for my “Children, Desire and Fear” course (see title above) and one for my Erotica Directed Studies course. And while I was (and still am) on the verge of collapse from exhaustion, I am still fascinated with the writing and researching process. Until recently, Graduate Studies was housed in the Research office at my institution – so I would constantly hear faculty consulting with my colleagues on their grant applications, publications and ethics approvals. It was an enriching and diverse environment, and truly a blessing to be in such close proximity to that pool of knowledge.

Now as I was writing my papers, I would occasionally be lucid enough to step back and analyze my process – as I engaged in completely different methods for each project. For one, I had a question and I carefully reviewed the literature and materials to reach a careful conclusion. For the other, I had some concrete experiences that I wanted to share and I worked backwards from those conclusions to review the literature and attempt to find some scholastic understanding of why they may have occurred. Is there a right way or a wrong way to do research? I don’t know – it seems to me that as long as you’re not being manipulative or dishonest, then one’s process should be entirely a personal choice.

But when I look at the faculty around me, those who have carried on to PhDs because of their interests in a particular subject area, it’s difficult to overcome my frustration and disappointment with the Academy and its limitations. I see so many talented researchers bogged down with administrative duties, and committees and teaching overloads. And yet the pressure is on them to publish and produce and bring in money to the institution. Budgetary constraints forbid so many of these individuals from devoting little more than a fraction of their time to the very task that led them to Academia to begin with.

And this is part of the reason why I despair of the idea of Doctoral work – it simply looks too constraining. While I have endless amounts of respect and admiration for those instructors who teach us, I don’t know that it would be something I could fully engage in. Is there such a thing as a full-time researcher? One who somehow finds a way to collaborate with the Academy, yet not become restricted by all the other tasks which weigh you down? Is this simply a fact of life in any job – there are parts you love and parts that are so much more mundane? If it was truly a balance, that would be bearable, but so often it seems that the minutia completely takes over all else.

So I suppose my question is: am I simply too close to the faculty and only hearing the complaints? How do researchers find a way to fit in their true research passions while still maintaining their teaching duties, administrative tasks and committee work? So often we write about finding a balancewith our work and personal life but what about the balance within the various facets of our work life?