A point weasel is a student who cares more about points, or the grade, than the assignment or their achievement or their education/learning.
I hate point weasels.
Honors classes being Honors classes, however, they (the non-furry little rodent) are par for the course(s). And since I am so tough on the classes (or have been in the past), I tend to give them some opportunities to "win" a little extra credit. Many Honors students are geeks, nerds, dufuses, who have little social life outside their pathetic and cliquish little circles. I try to get them involved with the school at large. So I give extra-credit points for those students who attend the Homecoming game (they need to bring to me a slip of paper with a proper class heading written on it), and come by and say hello.
In English 3H last year, I had a little coterie of boys (addressing them as men, juniors though they were, would be stretching it) who called themselves the "MHLK" (milk) TRIBE--since their initials formed that acronym (of course, the smart-ass in me says they were referring to their own milquetoast personalities, but I digress). At the Homecoming game, I was greeted by one of them, Jonathan (and now the reader wonders if the acronym-ed initials were from the last names or has the author changed the first names... I’ll never tell, baby) who dropped a wadded up chunk of paper in my little paper sack. When I unfolded the sheet the next morning to award the extra credit, I found another balled into it, one for Jeff. One problem, though: Jeff already had one in the sack.
This is the quintessence of point-weasel-dom: cheating on extra credit.
On Monday, without naming names, I told the class what had happened, and announced that there would be no more extra credit opportunities. None of the milk-boys came to see me that day, but Jeff came by later in the week to "explain." He didn’t have a sheet of paper at the beginning of the game, and Jonathan had known this and so Jonathan had put a heading for Jeff into his own. Jonathan didn’t tell Jeff, who later found a piece of paper and put one of his own in. I was not impressed. And I didn’t trust the milk-boys.
Point weasels or no, all Honors students had to contend with the Book Report Essays, huge mothers of assignments that could make or break a grade. The assignment was to take a novel or play from the assigned reading list and write a cogent essay, explicating the theme of the work, and showing--via textual evidence--how three different elements of fiction display this theme. Since I didn’t prescribe the particular work, nor its theme or mandatory elements of fiction, I made it obvious that they would have to work hard to devise a theme, choose elements of fiction, and find evidence that supports the use of the elements to prove the theme. A tough, truly college-preparatory, assignment. Of course, my 2H’s did this back at PeeVee, but that didn’t stop the 3H’s from bitching about it.
Like I had said, this is a make-or-break assignment, particularly at the end of the term. It was the final assignment for the class, worth over fifteen percent of the grade. And when I read the essays, I was shocked to find that Jeff and Jonathan’s essays were too similar to be believed; one paragraph in particular was almost word for word. I was shocked, since I couldn’t believe that someone would have the audacity to cheat so blatantly on such a major assignment... but surprised? not really, since--as I said earlier--I no longer trusted the milk-boys.
I went ballistic, in much the same fashion as I had some six years earlier, during 2H Plagiarism Time. Again, I did not name names, but I made it clear that the guilty parties would receive a zero on the assignment, and if that had an impact on their grades, so be it; more importantly, however, I was going to make every attempt to have them removed from the Honors program and have this placed in their records.
I fumed through my then third period prep, going over the papers. I was almost positive that Jonathan had copied Jeff. Jeff’s paper was pretty solid, through and through, while Jonathan’s paper was shoddily done, the copied paragraph being one of the strongest in "his" paper.
And at lunch, in came Jeff. He was upset. Embarrassed and angry. He claimed he did not know that Jonathan had copied his paper. He had lent Jonathan the paper the night before the due date to help him with formatting the paper (something for which Jonathan had been dinged on the previous BRE); Jonathan didn’t tell Jeff he had lifted almost an entire paragraph. I asked Jeff what I should do.
"Give Jonathan a zero. Give me half credit. I shouldn’t have given him the paper, but I didn’t know he was going to copy."
It made sense to me. "What about the Honors program?"
Jeff had tears in his eyes. "I don’t know."
I looked at him. Mr. Good Intentions. "Okay. Here’s what I’m gonna do. You were trying to help out your buddy. That’s nice. Too nice. My suggestion is get another buddy. You didn’t intend to cheat. Jonathan did. As far as I’m concerned, you can stay in the program... though with half credit on this assignment, it’ll probably bring your grade down to a B." He flinched; that hurt. "Jonathan’s gone as far as I’m concerned. A zero for him, and if I can help it, he’s out of the program."
Jeff apologized again and left my room.
And I started drafting a letter to their counselor, delineating what happened and what course of action I intended to take concerning their grades and what sanctions I wanted taken in regards to their continued placement in the Honors program. I had half-completed a rough draft, when Mindy Rose, the counselor in question, came in, closing the door behind her.
"What happened in the Honors class, Bill?"
"Huh?" I was stunned.
"I just got a call from Mr. --- (Jonathan’s father). He’s pretty upset, saying you’re trying to hurt his son’s chances of getting into college. He wants a conference with you."
Motherfucker. "Great. His son’s caught plagiarizing, and I’m on trial..." I was incredulous. I took her through the situation, step by step, showing her the papers. She understood and backed me up. But I still had to meet with the parents the next day during my prep.
And what a fun meeting it was. Jonathan’s father’s first statement was an explanation as to why Jonathan wasn’t in class that day... he didn’t want Jonathan in class until this had been "straightened out." He then went on to question me if it was clear to the students in my class that they could not "work together" on the Book Report Essay. Unfuckingbelievable. Duh, I guess since I didn’t tattoo across their foreheads "I WILL NOT COPY," it’s okay for them to plagiarize. Shit. I explained that I encouraged study groups when it came to Vocabulary and Cultural Literacy, even when preparing for the literature essay exams, but on these BRE’s, I had made it clear all along that the work was to be their own. He was concerned over the grade. I said that presently, with the zero, Jonathan had a C. Unacceptable, daddy said. I said there was still the Final Exam. If he received an A on the Final, he could earn a B-. He’ll study, daddy said. Can he redo the BRE? I won’t grade it. But he’ll do it, just to show his own work. Right. What about the Honors program? I wanted him gone, but... I won’t block him reapplying for the Honors program, by retaking the entrance test for 4H. Daddy’s disgruntled, but he knows I’m compromising on this one, so he shuts up. End of conference.
The next day, Jonathan turns in a piece-of-shit BRE. It would have been lucky to earn a C. His final three days later is marginal at best--C-. His grade is a C.
Jonathan doesn’t take 4H. Jeff doesn’t take 4H. None of the milk-boys do.
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