Several
years ago, I taught a course on parent guidance to a group of child psychiatry
Fellows. This was a bright group of
students, all of whom were in their 4th or 5th year of
post-doctoral training.
I
assigned them a task. I asked them to pretend
to write an advice column for a parent magazine, a 400- to 500-word column,
sharing their views and opinions in response to parent inquiry. For their first column, I asked them to
respond to a parent seeking advice about spanking.
A week
later, I collected their columns. I read
them and, for the most part, thought they were dull and mediocre. My wife read them and thought there was
something not quite right about them. After
doing some investigation, she discovered that 7 out of 8 papers were written almost
word-for-word from articles found on-line.
Initially
I was angry and disappointed. I let the
students know that if they had been on faculty, they would have been fired for
plagiarism. If they had been in a graded
course, they would have failed.
The
students thought I was being unfair. After
all, if I had asked them to write a column about the side-effects of Paxil,
wouldn’t they have Googled side-effects of Paxil in order to get the
information? I tried to explain that
they were comparing apples and oranges. I didn’t ask for a recitation of facts
about spanking. I asked them to articulate an opinion, their opinion.
As I
talked more with the students, I began to understand why they struggled with my
task. I was reminded that they worked in
a high-pressured academic environment in which time was short and demands
excessive. Some admitted to going
on-line as a short-cut, a time saver. I was reminded that much of their science
and medical education, preceding my class, was done on computer while trying to
learn massive amounts of information. It was their reflexive response to seek
out the right answers on-line. I was reminded
that these students functioned in an environment where they were under constant
supervisory scrutiny. They were afraid to be wrong. To be creative and original
was to risk being wrong.
As a
teacher, that class was an awakening. I
became aware of a potentially serious educational pitfall. For many years, my
student’s education had not encouraged the formulation and expression of
opinion. They had neither the experience
nor the confidence to put their own thoughts into words and think that it could
be okay.
I have
shared my cautionary story with teachers of all grades and levels, reminding
them that, in this age of information, we must conscientiously teach critical
and creative thinking. Every student deserves
time to think, to play with ideas, to develop opinions. No right or wrong. Computers off. No Googling allowed.
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