Guest blog by Denise Du Vernay.

Denise is the co-author of The Simpsons in the Classroom: Embiggening the Learning Experience with the Wisdom of Springfield. She has been teaching various college literature and communication courses for over 10 years. Her bi-weekly film column runs every other Sunday at Matchflick.com

I’ve had some laughs at students’ expense during my ten years of teaching college composition —from a student whose dog died (not the funny part), leaving her “defecated” (that’s the funny part), to a student who borrowed a personal experience essay from another author, but didn’t remember to update names and places, making it glaringly obvious that the experience described was not his. My friend had someone turn in a paper that opened with a remark that people had been performing some activity since the Jurassic. I give the student credit for switching up the more common “Since the beginning of time” opening, but really, the Jurassic‽

And while it’s true that these gaffes are a much deserved source of entertainment for the nation’s teaching assistants and ill-paid freshman comp teachers, we can get our cheap laughs elsewhere. I have Maria Bamford stand-up on my iPod, for one. I don’t want to laugh at my students’ papers, and really, I would prefer a world where composition papers were well-written, carefully thought out, and entertaining (in a good way). Such papers tend to stand out (again, in a good way) to instructors of Comp 101. I’ve collected a few suggestions on what to do and not do in essays for college composition.  My focus will be on two of the main types of essays assigned in freshman comp: the personal experience essay and the argument essay, and some simple steps you can take to make them stand out—in a good way:

THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT DO:

1. Use second person

There are a few terrific stories told entirely in second person. Masters like Margaret Atwood, William Faulkner, and John Updike have tackled this risky narrative style.  But that’s not what I’m talking about here, nor is it the kind of second person that I’m using now: I really am addressing you, my audience, directly. Nope, what I’m talking about are papers that drift in and out of a hypothetical “you.”

This common conversational habit has leached its way into scholarly writing. Most American English speakers do this at least sometimes, including me. It works for some purposes, especially when we’re trying to get the listener/reader into the experience. This is why we do it so much in everyday conversation. Example:

“You know when you have one of those days where you oversleep, miss the bus, and you know the whole day is going to suck? So you call your stepdad and have him pick you up, and he makes you give him gas money.”

The first part, sure, but then I’m lost at “stepdad,” mainly because I don’t have one. So this second person bit isn’t about me at all! Don’t confuse me like that!

However common this is in speech, it should be avoided in academic writing. Besides, if you’re writing a personal experience essay, it’s best to stick to first person anyway. In personal experience or argument essays, using “we” or “one” in those hypothetical situations may seem more awkward, but it is more professional.

2. Make blanket statements

While blanket statements just come off as really, really lazy, I do get what the writer is trying to do with blanket statements–she’s trying to relate with the reader, show the reader that they are similar and may have something in common. But when a personal essay begins with, “High school is a difficult time for many teenagers,” I feel no bond. All I feel is bored. In addition, blanket statements are often just plain incorrect (like the Jurassic Period example above).

These blanket statements are often found in the opening of an essay, which is heartbreaking because there are so many effective and interesting ways to open an essay. (Hint: Quoting the dictionary is NOT an interesting or effective way to begin an essay. We see it a lot. And we hate it). Instead, try an interesting or provocative quote, a startling statistic, a rhetorical question. If you’re writing a personal experience essay, start it by dropping the reader into the action. I have read countless essays (with boring introductions) that should have begun with the second or third paragraph, causing me to cross out entire paragraphs with Big Red.

On a related note: show; don’t tell. Do not start the essay with “It was a sunny/rainy/crisp fall day.” Rather, use a detail that also shows action to indicate the kind of day it was: “Our tires screeched on the dark, wet road as my sister hit the brakes too hard.” Or you might employ dialogue (see below) to paint the scene.

3. Quote Wikipedia in an essay

Don’t get me wrong; I love Wikipedia. I use it nearly every day. It’s a great place to get a quick answer or to start research, but your research should not end there. Most Wikipedia entries have sources; check them out.  Nothing screams “Give me a C!” like Wikipedia in the Works Cited page.

4. Use lots of !!!!!! or ????? or ?!?!?!?!

Save the multiple end punctuation for emails and IMs, or consider giving up all together—if you’re in college, it’s probably time to let the habit go. Here’s an easy test: If you say “brainfreeze,” it’s time to say goodbye. If you still say “ice cream headache,” you’re still immature enough to use them, but in informal situations only!

Seriously, multiples of end punctuation have no place in college writing. Not only does it appear childish on an aesthetic level, it comes off as lazy. I know that sounds harsh, but think of it this way: the writer knows there’s not enough power in her words, so she uses a bunch of !!!!!! to add that power. In college writing, your skills should allow you to string together powerful words.

If you absolutely must end a sentence with an exclamation point and a question mark, go to insert > symbols and find the interrobang. It looks like this: ‽ (a combination of a question mark and exclamation point).  While it’s not a standard mark of punctuation quite yet, I doubt any composition teacher would have a problem with your using it. In fact, they even might be a little impressed. Personally, I’m impressed when students make the effort to locate symbols, like accent marks or an umlaut (although I’m always a little disappointed when they don’t).

THINGS YOU SHOULD DO:

1. Proofread

Imagine taking the time to crochet a blanket or make a necklace by hand for a friend. Would you present it in a grocery bag, with your friend’s name scrawled across the side with a Sharpie? Not proofreading an essay that you worked hard on is the equivalent to spending weeks on a sweater and then wrapping it in newspaper. The recipient is not going to think what’s inside is important, and why should he?

We English teachers know that not everyone shares the same love of the written word as we do. Not everyone quivers with joy when they find just the right turn of phrase. Not everyone has cried from a really kick-ass novel. Even so, as a student, your number one goal should be to trick your teacher into thinking you love words as much as she does. (And perhaps you will eventually!)

Something to remember about proofreading is that you cannot rely upon spell/grammar check alone. For starters, spell check does not catch everything (if it’s the wrong word but the right part of speech, not even grammar check will notice it). I have seen countless examples of spell check missing errors and even creating them. This happens when the user just accepts the first suggestion that pops up. Take the example above, the one about the student who was “defecated” at the loss of her dog—I’m guessing she meant “devastated.” I often see “defiantly” in papers when the author meant “definitely.” Putting aside the fact that “definitely” is a filler word that usually contributes nothing to a sentence, a mistake like that can easily destroy an author’s credibility.

Errors caused by spell check are not only embarrassing, they can also be expensive. In April of this year, an Australian publisher had to recall and pulp thousands of copies of a cookbook called The Pasta Bible because one recipe called for “salt and crushed black people.”

So here is my recommendation: proofread using your own eyes. Microsoft Word is smart, but it’s not smarter than you. Be extra careful when copy/pasting (that’s when I tend to leave random commas behind). Read the essay aloud. Do this before and after you run the spell check. If you know that you have comma issues or don’t have the hang of linking verbs, consult a writer’s handbook (I recommend Grammar Girl’s Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing, go to your school’s writing center, see your instructor, or ask a trusted friend to proofread. But make sure your proofreader explains the changes to you so that you can fix the errors on your own in the future. Improve your skills while you create quality work.

Finally, if you’re not sure of the proper way to do something, look it up in a style guide. You probably had to buy one for your comp class. For example, if you’re not sure if the title of the movie you’re referencing goes in quotation marks or italics, look it up. If you want to use an ellipsis, don’t just hit the period key a bunch of times (that’s not an ellipsis); look it up. If you’re not sure where to put your page numbers, look it up.

2. Use dialogue

Yes, you should use dialogue in a personal experience essay. Dialogue is a great tool to show the personalities of the people involved with the story without boring the reader with hefty descriptions. It also keeps the action going.

Also, even though you may not remember the exact words someone used, you can still use dialogue. Do your best to use conversation to recreate the spirit of your characters and the event. If your narrative involves your sexist grandfather, don’t tell us he’s sexist; let his dialogue do all the talking. If your friend is obsessed with Star Wars, don’t tell us he’s obsessed with Star Wars; let his frequent references to Yoda do it for you.

In general, personal experience essays should be more or less true. This means that the event you describe should have actually happened to you. That doesn’t mean you have to be absolutely loyal to each detail of the events. (Read this to mean that it’s okay to filter out the boring stuff). Henry David Thoreau’s A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers was based on a trip that lasted two weeks. As a reader, I’m fine with his revision of history because he captured the spirit of his adventure.

3. Use active voice

In active voice, the person or thing performing the action is the subject of the sentence: “‘Weird Al’ performed a great show at Summerfest.” The passive version of this sentence is “A great show was performed by ‘Weird Al’ at Summerfest.” See, the subject of the sentence has changed from “Weird Al” to “show,” and if anything is weird, it’s that sentence.

There are times when passive voice is appropriate, mainly in instances when the person who performed the action is unknown or not important. For example, if a newscaster is reporting on sea turtles, passive voice is perfectly fine: “Today, 25 more sea turtles were found dead on the shores of Louisiana.” Passive is correct in this case because the people who found the turtles are not important to the news story; the dead sea turtles should be the subject.

As a general rule, though, readers often find that the use of passive voice is shady. Thus, we should avoid passive voice whenever possible. Politicians are famous for using passive voice to skirt responsibility. For example, Ronald Reagan once famously said, “Mistakes were made.” Any thinking person would then be asking, “By whom?”

In the episode of The Simpsons called “Bart the Mother,” Bart accidentally kills a bird and, racked with guilt, adopts her eggs and tells them, “Mistakes were made. By Me.” Bart answers the obvious question that Reagan had left hanging in the air, and in doing so, Bart exposes the awkwardness and shiftiness inherent in passive voice. (Yes, I have a Simpsons example for everything).

4. Title your work

Your title should be original, descriptive, and intriguing. It needn’t be overly clever, but remember that it’s the first thing the reader sees, so it needs to spark interest.  I’m terrible at titles so I understand the temptation to leave it blank, but titles are like shirts at the Olive Garden: they aren’t optional.

In my creative writing courses, I learned a few tactics for titling, one of which was to highlight phrases in the text that stand out as embodying the spirit of the piece. I tend to do that. For fun, however, I performed Google searches of “good titles” and “coming up with good titles” and I got oodles of hits. Oftentimes, friends or family members who are removed from the work have a freshness that helps with titling—I ask for help all the time. Still, for this blog entry, I’ll probably rely on my fallback.

I’ve heard stories of surgeons and nurses in the operating room making fun of unconscious patients’ noses or thighs. I don’t know if it’s true, (gods, I hope not), but I will tell you that composition teachers share gems with each other. We sometimes grade papers together at Starbucks, interrupting each other’s work to read a hilarious sentence. We email or text each other particularly funny lines. All the sensitivity training in the world won’t stop an under-fed, overworked graduate student from picking on your use of “parity” when you meant “parody.” We’re nerds; some of us shake with mocking laughter at a simple “further”/”farther” mix-up. You, dear students, are often the butts of jokes, and only you can prevent it.

A guest post by, Denise Du Vernay

Denise Du Vernay is a guest blogger and co-author of the book The Simpsons in the Classroom: Embiggening the Learning Experience with the Wisdom of Springfield. Learn more about the book, simpsonology. She teaches at Milwaukee School of Engineering.

I was chatting recently with a friend of mine who, like me, has been teaching college English classes for over 10 years. She had just changed a student’s incomplete grade to an F because the paper he or she finally turned in was plagiarized. It was easy for my friend to find the paper online; after she noticed that it was written in a completely different style than the rest of the work the student had done all semester, a quick Google search pulled up the paper on a popular cheat site. Also at the end of this past semester, two more friends of mine have busted students for academic dishonesty. One situation involved a paper that was just too good, and an internet search located the paper with just one line. Another situation involved a student whose paper was straight out of Spark notes. When the student was asked about it, his defense was that he had had his friend write the paper for him, but certainly didn’t realize that it had been plagiarized. (This is perhaps my favorite story of them all).

In my experience teaching for various colleges, I have noticed a plagiarism trend: it’s most often discovered at the end of a term. There are a couple reasons for this: 1. Many instructors become familiar with the style or voice of their students’ writing throughout the course, so by the end of a term, if something doesn’t match, it’s quite obvious. 2. Students become overwhelmed by stress right around finals, which can lead to desperation and poor decisions.

This post isn’t about scare tactics and guilt, rather, I would like to share with you some of the reasons why no one should cheat, how you can avoid plagiarizing, and a note for other teachers on what they can do to curb instances of plagiarism in their classes.

When I’ve discovered plagiarism in my classes, despite my rational side telling me I shouldn’t take the offense personally, I still often do. I’ve felt angry (“Who does he think he is‽”), suffered hurt feelings (“I thought we clicked this quarter, why would she do this?”), been insulted (“Did he really think I wouldn’t know?”) but very rarely have I felt content or satisfied by the discovery (in fact, I can only think of one time). My goal as a teacher is not to seek out instances of plagiarism but to prevent them. I want my students to do the work that I’ve assigned because I believe in the usefulness of the assignments. I plan my courses to fulfill the pedagogical goals that my department has agreed on for a specific course. When students don’t complete the assignments, they don’t get the full benefit of the course, thus are probably not ready for the next course in the progression. I don’t let a student coast along to the next course if only because it makes me look like a bad teacher.

I’m sure you’ve all been asked this cliché question against plagiarism: “Would you want a dentist who cheated his way through dental school?” Of course, the answer is a resounding no. But in the case of writing essays, research reports, and speeches, the negative effects of cheating are subtler, but still detrimental. Consider this: I teach at an engineering college with an excellent reputation and a stellar placement record to match. I have only discovered two instances of plagiarism there, but for the overall good of the school and its alumni, I have not looked the other way. What happens when alumni from our school are employed but do not satisfy the requirements of the job (including non-engineering skills, such as technical writing and public speaking)? A quick check of their transcripts will show they had taken coursework in those areas, and perhaps that employer will think poorly upon our programs and think twice before hiring one of our alumni again.

To put it simply: I bust plagiarists and cheaters not out of cold-heartedness, but out of fairness to those who don’t cheat. It’s not just a karmic issue for me, but a practical and logical issue as well. Sure, I don’t think it’s fair to the students who don’t cheat, but the main reason I strive to preserve academic integrity is because I do not want the schools that I went to and the schools that I work for to become jokes.
I’m reminded of a recent situation regarding the 2010 valedictorian of Columbia University’s School of General Studies, Brian Corman, who ripped off, in his valedictorian speech, a rather long joke from the comedian Patton Oswalt. He told an anecdote from one of Oswalt’s routines about taking a “Physics for Poets” class. Corman told the story, saying it happened to a friend of his. I’m disgusted by what he did, and I feel for Columbia because they can never take back their introduction of him that day as “the very best of the GS Columbia tradition,” as this connection forever taints the school. My heart also goes out to Isis Paloma, the salutatorian, who probably should have been valedictorian. (Hey, if Corman plagiarized his valedictorian speech, what would prevent him from cheating on schoolwork? My logic is that if he was willing to lie to a large group of people, what would stop him from plagiarizing to an audience of just one professor?) He had planned to attend UC Berkeley for law school; I wonder if he still will. In any case, his future is forever altered by this regrettable lapse in judgment

This is an extreme example; it is my belief that the majority of college students guilty of plagiarism and other forms of academic dishonesty is not made up of bad people or scammers; rather, as I mentioned above, most are simply acting out of desperation. Although I never passed another’s work off as my own, I did suffer through many an all-nighter when I was in college, often because of poor time-management skills. (I also had the delusion that I worked better under pressure. I am certainly prolific under pressure, but not necessarily better. I understand the difference now.)

I realize that my recommendation to “manage your time better” to prevent panic and despair is obvious, but I do have some tips on how to accomplish this:
Don’t skip class, even to do homework. You may get some work done, but missing class will make you feel overwhelmed and out of the loop. Also, frequent absences may not sit well with your instructors. (In my classes, attendance can sometimes be the deciding factor for a student on the cusp of two grades).
If you’re confused about the topic or are having trouble getting started, email your instructor or, better yet, see him/her in office hours. I have brainstormed topics with many students, and I’m very helpful. I know the questions to ask to find good ideas to explore. Your instructors probably know how, too. If you’ve got a prof who’s unapproachable or unhelpful, email me. (du@simpsonology.com)

I know that desperate situations are not always your fault and that you aren’t always guilty of procrastination; oftentimes, the essay or research report that looms so far in the future on the calendar may take a backseat to immediate tasks like studying for exams, that pesky group project, or your necessary part-time job. And then you realize the due date has snuck up on you. When I was writing my master’s thesis, I forced myself to write for two hours every morning. In pajamas. Yes, I was so strict that I wouldn’t even allow myself to shower or get dressed for the day before those two hours were up. (Some people require a certain number of pages from themselves. This is a tactic worth trying, but for me that approach works better with fiction writing).

I was disciplined in graduate school, but as an undergraduate I wasn’t quite as driven. Still, I did have a few tactics up my sleeve. One of the things I did as an undergrad to help manage my time was dedicate certain days to specific coursework (Monday was for English, Tuesday for geology, and so on). Also, I nailed down topics as soon as I could. Next, I attempted to do as much of the research as possible ahead of time, so that when I went to start composing, I had pages of notes and quotes from books and articles to work with. At the very least, I had a coffee table full of books, making that empty Word document with that lonely flashing curser so much easier to handle. (This approach also ensured that there were sources for my desired topic).
I feel that students should be responsible for their own actions, but there’s plenty that teachers can do to curb plagiarism in their classes. We have to be flexible and change our methods because the way students find information has changed. (Students, keep reading this, as you may find some of these suggestions useful, too).

1. Teach, re-teach, and review proper citation practices. Remind students that it doesn’t matter if a quote is verbatim or paraphrased; it still requires an in-text citation. Offer free citation advice. Require a Works Cited page for all written work. Check some citations at random for accuracy.
2. Keep your assignments fresh. Don’t reuse quizzes, tests, or paper assignments from semester to semester.
3. Talk openly about plagiarism. Take the taboo away. Share your stories (or those of colleagues) of plagiarism and what happened to the students (while respecting FERPA, of course). I suspect that students often hear about academic dishonesty from classmates’ perspectives, especially tales of getting away with it, so they should hear it from us. They should know that students do get caught. Remind them that we all have the same internet. Make sure your syllabus outlines your institution’s academic dishonesty policy (with clear definitions), and include your own thoughts on the matter.
4. Be wired. Use BlackBoard or whatever e-learning system your institution has. Answer their emails promptly. Tweet and use social networking sites. Brag about how many hits your blog had the week before. If your students know that you are internet savvy, they may think twice before lifting something off the internet to turn in to your class.
5. Find creative, even non-traditional ways to get the work done and the objectives met. If possible, eliminate a paper assignment in favor of a group or individual presentation. Grade heavily on verbal citation practices and smoothness of delivery (to ensure much rehearsing).
6. For papers, reports, and presentations, require students to clear the topic with you ahead of time. Require progress reports. (Keep records of each student’s topic so you know if the paper they eventually turn in matches).
7. Assign a bibliography of several potential sources far in advance, and make it worth substantial points. If you opt to do this, you’re doing your students a big favor because it gets them to the library (physically or virtually), which jump starts their work and lets them know early in the process if their topic will fly or if there’s not enough material out there.
8. If you’re teaching a literature class, try to select works that are new or not well-known (do your own internet search to see how much is out there) and require the students write their out-of-class papers on those. The internet is littered with papers on Steinbeck, Camus, and Updike; don’t tempt your students unnecessarily. Keep canonical works on your syllabus, but assign writings about such works as in-class essay exams or in the form of very specific questions.
9. Design your course around a specific theme. I teach with The Simpsons and have even co-written a book about The Simpsons in the classroom (www.simpsonology.com). I have found that the specialized nature of the writing assignments I come up with keeps instances of plagiarism down. Plus, pop culture themes have a tendency to engage students. They will enjoy coming to class, which can only help them stay caught up.
10. Show your students that you respect the work they’re doing. Return their work with thoughtful comments and as promptly as possible. (My personal rule used to be one week, but now it’s a bit nebulous: I just make sure they get papers back with enough time to benefit from my comments as they work on their next writing assignment). If it takes you a long time to return work, explain the reason for the delay.

Students and fellow teachers, plagiarism and other forms of academic dishonesty will never go away, but by making a few adjustments we can at least minimize the chances it involves our classes directly. Now, if you’re in the market for a new dentist, that’s a much easier job: get some referrals from friends who have nice teeth. And then Google the snot out of the names they give you.