Commentary: In the real world, there are consequences for plagiarism

By Candy Schulman

As a college writing professor with 30 years' experience, I was appalled to hear that Melania Trump plagiarized parts of her convention speech. Even more alarming: learning the following day that Trump's speechwriter admitted responsibility for lifting passages from Michelle Obama. But the most disconcerting aspect of the whole debacle is that when speechwriter Meredith McIver, an employee of the Trump Organization, volunteered to resign, she was turned down.

She plagiarized. Confessed. And kept her job.

Yet another episode of the Trump campaign sending a message to impressionable young Americans that it's perfectly OK to lie, cheat, steal, name-call, insult, and distort. There are no consequences.

There were dire consequences, however, the time I caught a student plagiarizing. His performance was marginal from day one: cutting classes, pretending to complete reading assignments, handing in papers that rambled and were full of grammatical mistakes. I spent extra time correcting his papers, encouraging him to work harder.

His final paper, representing 25 percent of his grade, was so smoothly written, perfectly punctuated, stylistically succinct, and clear. He demonstrated critical and analytical thinking I'd never seen from him before. It was as if he'd learned to play a Mozart concerto after one piano lesson.

I knew from the first paragraph that he hadn't written it himself. He'd lifted complete passages from other writers without quotes or attributions, even more egregious than Trump's speechwriter.

After scheduling a private conference, I asked if he'd written his paper. He said, "Yes, of course," staring at me as if I didn't know it would have taken him years to make such a radical transformation in his knowledge, skills, and academic discipline.

I reported the incident to the chair of my department, an Ivy League-educated, old school professor who was so precise, he became apoplectic in class over the misuse of I and me.

I didn't know what would happen next - only that it was my ethical responsibility to take it to the next step. My chair met with my student privately and agreed with my assessment. He advised me to grade my student an F in the course.

I didn't know an F would result in my student losing his scholarship and subsequently his ability to continue in school. He begged me to change my mind. I admitted how terrible I felt about the consequences, but this was university policy. Dishonesty, lying, and stealing other people's words were serious crimes.

This was years before the Trump campaign ignored moral transgressions, conveying that we can say and do whatever we like - rewriting the tenets my parents and educators taught me about abiding in society.

My student went so far as to find my home phone number, call me up, and harass me. Frightened, I called the police. Eventually the calls stopped.

I saw him on the street a year later. He glared at me, and I rushed past him, fearing my safety.

On my class syllabus, I'm required to include a paragraph stating that my university "adheres to a Zero Tolerance Policy regarding plagiarism" and that it will "result in an F in the course at the discretion of the instructor and in accordance with the university's policy."

This statement has obviously not been incorporated into the Trump campaign guidelines. Even if it were, it would be ignored, as in the case of the speechwriter. It's the one time Donald Trump will not say, "You're fired."

In essence, I "fired" my plagiarizing student. I've never regretted my decision, even though I felt empathy for his desperation to pass my course and in spite of his attempt to retaliate. I hope he's learned something meaningful from this hard lesson.

Teachers, like parents, must make tough decisions. And we must expect and insist that our political leaders be honorable role models as well.

Candy Schulman is a New York writer. contact@candyschulman.com