You Only Get One Second Chance

            In the same evening that I had to deal with the plagiarism incident mentioned in my last post, there was a second cheating incident. This incident involved a cell phone, a unit test, and a tearful confession from a stressed out student. I would like to think that our lesson on Hamlet that day had something to do with the way that the events unfolded.


           At this point in our study of Hamlet, we talked about feelings of guilt. How do you feel when you have done something wrong? Is honour and honesty important to you? In the play, Hamlet is told by the ghost of his father (the former King of Denmark), that Claudius (brother of the former King, who married Hamlet’s mother) is a murderer, and that while the former King was sleeping, Claudius poisoned him. Hamlet is skeptical at first, and wonders if the ghost is really the ghost of his father, of if it is the Devil in disguise, attempting to steal Hamlet’s soul. Hamlet devises a clever plan so that he can determine whether or not Claudius is actually guilty of the murder. When a troupe of actors comes to the Kingdom, Hamlet asks if he can write a scene for them to perform. Hamlet writes the scene depicting the events told to him by the ghost, and asks his buddy Horatio to observe the behaviour of Claudius while the scene is being performed. If Claudius becomes nervous when he sees the scene played out, then it is an indication of his guilt. Sure enough, Claudius is disturbed, so he stops the performance storms out! It is a clear indication of his guilt.

            As the rest of the class was listening to a podcast of the scene, which was stopped intermittently so that I could explain some things, get their reactions, and answer questions, one student was cramming for the test that he had previously missed. He was to write the test in the second half of the class, while the rest of the students were answering comprehension questions about what we had just read from the play. I notice that the student had his cell phone out, and that he was typing on it. I knew that he was making cheat notes, and decided that he could write the notes, but he would just be asked to put his phone away while writing the test.

            Sure enough, during the second half of class the student started writing and pulled out his phone. He said that he was using his translator, but I didn’t believe him. I asked him to put the phone away and borrow someone else’s translator. He did so for a while, but soon the phone was out again. I asked him once more to put it away. He insisted that he needed it for the translator app because the person whose translator he had previously borrowed needed her translator for the homework. I asked the rest of the class if someone could lend the student a translator. All of them offered him their devices.

Not five minutes later, the student approached me and asked if we could talk to me. He said that he couldn’t write the test. He confessed that he was using the phone to cheat and that he “didn’t want to be a liar.” He cried for about twenty minutes about being stressed out, and having work to do, and how his grade in English was bringing down his average which, if it was based solely on his math marks, would be in the mid-ninety per cent range. English, I explained, is a totally different kind of subject. It demands not only memorization of facts and figures, but an ability to communicate clearly. I listened to his concerns, and then asked what we should do about the test. I obviously can’t mark it now, because he admitted to cheating. For the second time that evening, I decided to give the student a second chance. He wrote a different version of the test the following Tuesday, and earned a nearly perfect mark.

In the next class there was to be a quiz on the first two acts of Hamlet. The student came to class, but only to tell me that he had to miss the quiz because he felt the need to go to the admissions office of one of the universities to which he had applied to offer some sort of explanation about his low score on an English proficiency exam. I said that it was his choice to miss the quiz, and that he would have to write it as soon as the next class began. Again, I was being nice.

The next class rolled around and the student asked if he could write the quiz in the second half. I said no. The agreement was that he would have to write it in the first half of class. He already had an additional four days to study. 

“But, miss,” he explained, “I had other really important things to do, and I couldn’t study.”

I countered with, “You were supposed to be prepared last Thursday. English class is important too, and you have to learn how to manage your time better. So, your options are that you can write the quiz now, or you can accept a mark of zero.”

“Miss, please, let me write it in the second half!” The pleading continued. At this point I knew that my perceived niceness was being taken advantage of. That had to stop.

“Your options are,” I repeated, “that you can write the quiz now, or get a zero.” I remember repeating it at least once more before he finally agreed to write the quiz. 

The results showed that he was, in fact, not prepared. I hope that my student learned to take me seriously. I learned that there has to be a limit to the number of and nature of concessions that I am willing to make for students. I have decided that in my class, students will only get one second chance.