plagiarism and gaming: reframing academic integrity

new undergrads in an Arts course are typically faced with at least two documents: the first a course syllabus; the second a not on plagiarism (also known as "academic integrity" or, simply, "cheating". for the student, one is a text on what she will be doing; the other, a warning about what's never to be done. both, i assert, are seen by many students as game rules. rules of a game ("university-ing") that they're about to play.

i agree the game metaphor is problematic: for many, school is anything but a game, and is far more serious and consequential. however, for the argument at hand, it's a useful way to theorize how many students conceive of their academic lives. (see douglas rushkoff's article, "play, cheat, program" for a more adept and in depth take than mine own.)

I don't mean to slam what academic integrity is all about, but i find the punitive, fear-mongering tactic of front-loading such a complex institutional decree problematic. academic integrity is important, but leaving it at that--not asking students to engage in discussions of why it's important, or for whom it's most beneficial--gives it the flavour of a medicine. for many, working the system to avoid such a medicine makes a lot of sense.

there is an academic integrity department at ryerson. it is composed of hard working individuals who are far more dedicated to student success and learning than to penalizing them. yet their capacity to support students extends only so far. other academic agents need to step in to fill in the gap.

which is where TAs and GAs come in. (at least maybe.)

the role(s) an Assistant occupies are already complex, the tasks already quite overwhelming. unpacking what seems a fairly routine and self-evident policy document may seem of the least concern when more pressing matters are at hand. perhaps this is true, but then again, what kind of institution does an Assistant (such as you or me) want realistically, what role in education do we have to play? what role do our students?

maybe collaboratively interrogating what games we implicitly play with our students could be useful. i'd suggest none of us are models of academic integrity; but in our flaws and errors, isn't there something to be shared? some kind of learning that could be gained about who we are as humans in an often dehumanizing institution? adhering to the belief that only course content ever matters in a tutorial--that staying on task is the best and only mode of proceeding--may be a well-considered choice; then again, it may be evidence of strict rule-following. perhaps breaking a rule once in a while may encourage a kind of learning about the games we play in university that wouldn't happen if we blindly obey, or pretend that certain rules don't matter.

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questions

how might you "break the rules" in a classroom? how might your status and power allow you certain opportunities not yet open to your students? how might the seemingly simple act of interactively and collaboratively setting class "ground rules" be a usefully defiant act? what other such "acts" might benefit your classroom?