Hello professor,
I don’t know exactly what to say to you. I mean, if you think about it, not many students know what exactly they are going to say when they walk into your office hours. Obviously, this will be no different. All I know is you have destroyed me and that isn’t an overstatement, truly. I’m not being dramatic. You controlled my collegiate future and made me spend countless hours defending something I put so much effort into, college; specifically, the five-paged essay I submitted to you.
It all started when I walked into lecture the week after I submitted my paper, stating, “Talk to me after class.” Talk to you after class? Am I going to have detention? You obviously loved my paper, right? It isn’t like I spent three hours or anything, creating a solid thesis and rough draft. After those three hours, it isn’t like I went to the writing center twice and then submitted my essay to you. You didn’t see the six-hour process to writing this five-page paper. I sure hope you were going to be talking to me about how great my paper was. That wasn’t the case.
After every single student left the lecture hall, I walked up to you and asked how your day was going. I could tell you were upset, but I had no idea what I had done. You handed me my paper with the reddest pen marks I had ever seen. My heart started to pound out of my chest. What was happening? What was going on?
“I know this isn’t your own work.”
Are you serious? I had spent numerous hours going over the paper in detail, making sure my final grade in your class was going to be an A. My own mother edited it and the writing center tutors gave it high praise. I’m not stupid. I work hard for my grades, and this essay wasn’t any different. After looking at you, all I could think of was one thing.
“You’re wrong.”
Was I Donald Trump? I had never been so upset at a professor. I started to argue with you, asking you for proof on where I was “plagiarizing”. You told me that my essay wasn’t consistent with “original thought.” Original thought? You asked us to write an essay on a poet that obviously had many different sources to use, which I cited. You asked me to find meaning in a poem that only could be interpreted so many ways. Obviously, if you have taught for ten years, my essay may have a similar viewpoint with someone else’s. If that is plagiarism professor, then every single college student in the country is doing it.
Original thought? Are any of the thoughts people create nowadays actually original? I honestly didn’t know what else to say to you. I just stood there, knowing I was going to argue with you till you realized I had won. I showed you my browser history (bold move, I know), my mother’s edits, the emails from the writing center, my sources, and explained why I interpreted everything in the way that I did.
What felt like eternity amounted to an hour standing up in front of you, proving to you that I was correct. After an hour of disagreement, you told me that you realized I wasn’t plagiarizing. You told me I was an A student, but because of no “original thought” in my essay, you would be giving me a B. I’m all about respecting my professors. I’m the student that stays in on a Saturday night, living at the library. I’m the student that takes the time to go to my professor’s office hours. I’m the student that maintains a high GPA while being in organizations and a job. I’m not about someone, anyone, even a professor, accusing me of something when I know I am completely innocent.
To the college student that has been accused of plagiarism, fight it. If you actually plagiarized something, then I stand with the professor that caught you. If you’re anything like me, working hard in classes and doing your own work, you have the authority to challenge your professor. This is your life. This is your college education. The professor isn’t paying tuition for you. Prove to them that they made a mistake.
From,
The college student that won’t stand for being falsely accused.
