Of course you’re going to think about them and their plight, but what do the other students think about them–I’d be ticked if the plagiarist got off because it might otherwise ruin their life, when I had possibly sacrificed who-knows-what to actually write the damn paper myself.

By the way, nerd*, did you not notice that I was totally plagiarizing your own remarks!? Man, I don’t know that I believe anything I wrote in my first comment above–I was just trying to build something off of those sentences I ganked from you AND hint that maybe I had cut a corner on my comment . . .

Maybe you didn’t notice my plagiarism because I artfully cut it up and also inserted several linking words. Or maybe because you expect me to be honest, as there’s no point in gaming the system here.

*affectionately, of course, like “cool nerd who is awesome”

I think Mill is doing something very similar to Aristotle. I know most people focus on the whole Utilitarian/ Bentham thing with Mill. But, he read Aristotle as a kid and had a mental breakdown because he was unhappy. When he finally recovered he altered Bentham’s utilitarianism. And, I think, when you look at how he talks about it, it turns out to resemble Aristotle’s virtue ethics. But the important focus here is that he makes a distinction between higher and lower order pleasures (intellectual versus bodily pleasures). He thinks we can hold folks accountable for fixating on bodily pleasures.

Kant’s deontological theory takes the good will to be the only thing that is good without qualification. He would argue that how we treat ourself is at least as important as how we treat others. Consider the second formulation of the categorical imperative: “act in such a way that you always treat humanity, in your own person or in that of any other, not simply as a means to and end but as an end in itself.” You can see that he holds ethical action to be at least as important interpersonally as intrapersonally.

So, yeah. I agree. I think that what is bad about plagiarism is that it steals from another. But I think what really hurts people is what it steals from themselves; that is, it robs them of the understanding that can only be developed through participation.

On the update front. Both of my plagiarism students are terribly unhappy about this. One accuses me of having no heart and claims that I should have been a lawyer (she also continues to deny that she plagiarized). The other admits it, is remorseful, and asks me to consider how this will affect the rest of her life (she believes it will ruin her).

I have responded to neither since I sent my formal letter of intent. My problem is that I cannot help thinking about the effect this will have on them. I know it is not my job to consider that, that the student should have considered it, but I still wonder about the good that might be done by not giving them FF’s. If they really have learned from this mistake then a lot of good could be done. I’m not wavering so much as lamenting.

Ethics is concerned with how we treat others but it is also about how we treat ourselves and how we can be held accountable for how we treat ourself.

Personally, I prefer to treat myself well. Sometimes that might mean saving time in one area so that I can devote more time to another.

Take blog comments for example; it’s not like blog comments are going to help me in the real world, so why not cut a corner or two?

I do let this shit bother me too much. But I can’t imagine the alternative, which is having it not bother me. I don’t think I want to teach a class or a group that I care so little about that when they cheat I can just fail them and go home like nothing had happened. Its hard for me to describe what my feelings are on this issue and why it is so important for me to care.

Stop warning them so much, I think you are making it a challenge to try and get away with it. Also, why do you meet with these students repeatedly? If you can prove plagiarism to a review board give them them FF and don’t think about them again. You clearly let this shit bother you way too much . . .