That whole lemons to lemonade thing

I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised at what happens in the classroom anymore.

To say that I shouldn’t be surprised is an unrealistic view, however. There’s no way, no matter how many years a person devotes to education, to have seen it all. Or heard it all. Not when people are involved, anyway.

Today, my students surprised me.

I had finished grading the most recent review they had completed over chapters three and four of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. This is my smallest core class, with only 11 students. Of the 11, only four had not copied the answers from their classmates. You know how I could tell? They got the same ones wrong, and they were identically worded. Basically, they were horrible cheaters. It’s not the first time I had seen it. Cheating is pervasive. I suppose it always has been, but with technology being what it is, it’s nearly impossible to keep it from happening.

This assignment was designed to be done in class with me in the room. I could watch them to make sure they stayed quiet, their phones were in a cell phone holder at the front of the room, and being that there were only 11 of them, I could closely monitor their progress. It was foolproof. Except it wasn’t. They were working on their computers, and somehow, without a word to each other, they managed to share the answers.

Again, this kind of thing isn’t new. It’s human nature to want to get the job done as simply as possible so we can move on to something we enjoy doing. Reviews over creepy-scientific-experiment books aren’t enjoyable, apparently.

Here’s where the surprise comes in. I called the class to order to begin explaining the plan for the day, and they asked me if something was wrong because I seemed a bit down. I explained that I was sad about the results of my most recent grading endeavor. I told them that I could clearly see where cheating had occurred on their last review and that I was disappointed. I told them that I really care that they learn, that it matters to me that when they leave me, they’ve grown, even if it’s just a little bit. I explained that I didn’t really know how best to assess their individual progress and knowledge when they just helped each other through it. How could I know who needed my help?

You would think there might be defensiveness, denial, or possibly just silence. They were quiet, but it didn’t take long before one of them spoke up. He told me about a tool one of his history teachers used in class that was virtually cheat-free. It was amazing. They all started to chime in about how it worked and how I could set up an account. They explained why they liked it and how well it would fit in with what we were already doing.

That’s how it should work, right? Not the cheating part, but we can’t stick our heads in the sand and use the business-as-usual approach. Yelling at them would have made them put up a wall. Instead, we talked about it. They seemed to want to help me bust up their evil plan. It was, quite frankly, precious.

Don’t give up on this generation, y’all.