In light of Princeton University’s recent reinstatement of proctors during final exam week due to widespread cheating involving artificial intelligence on students’ cellphones,1 I wasn’t surprised to receive the following email from one of my chemistry students:
Dear Professor Rummo, I’m using a random email because I don’t want this to reflect badly on me. During this past semester, there has been a lot of cheating going on during tests and exams, particularly with one person who I don’t want to name, but I’m sure you can figure out. All of us in the class have seen them cheat, and none of us have wanted to say anything because we don’t want to be tattletales. The only reason I am saying anything is because today they were bragging about how they never get caught cheating and how they got 100% on the quiz. I just think it’s unfair to the rest of us who actually show up to class and try to do well. Also, getting good grades on exams while everyone else fails lowers our chance of having our exam grades curved. Like with our last exam—almost all of us got 60% or less, except the one person. The majority of us would really appreciate it if you collected phones before our next exam or watched certain students extra closely. This is college, and if you’re wanting to be a nurse, you shouldn’t be cheating during important classes such as chemistry. Thank you for taking the time to read my email. Have a great rest of your day.
I had not previously observed students looking at their cellphones during exams, but I decided that during the next one I would sit in the back of the room where I could better see if anyone was hiding a phone under a desk or in a lap. Sure enough, the student in question had her cellphone in her lap. I immediately walked over and told her to put it away. I hadn’t seen her looking at it, but it was out—and that was enough.
A second student, who had requested to take a makeup exam outside my office the next day, also attempted to use her cellphone. Once I told her to put it away, the number of wrong answers on the remainder of the exam increased dramatically.
I emailed both students, told them I believed they had been using their phones to cheat, and asked them to come to my office. They arrived together. I had previously asked a female colleague to sit in on the meeting, and she joined us.
Despite being confronted with the evidence, both denied cheating. My colleague wasn’t buying it. She read them the riot act, explaining that in her class, if she even saw a cellphone out—whether a student was looking at it or not—the exam was over, the student was dismissed, and the grade was a zero.
I emailed the Dean of the School of Nursing to inform her of what had happened. I explained that since I hadn’t seen the first student actually looking down at her phone, I extended grace. As for the second student—who had a history of personal issues, was failing the course, and had already been removed from the nursing program—I felt there was no sense in heaping further insult upon injury.
Still, the experience left me with a hollow sense of betrayal and a recognition of my own naïveté. Teaching at a Christian university, I had always believed the best about my students and assumed they had adopted an ethical code of conduct that would preclude violating the eighth commandment: “You shall not steal” (Exodus 20:15).
But cheating wasn’t the only issue with this particular class. Chronic absenteeism and a pervasive apathy hung over the group. At the beginning of the semester, eighteen students were enrolled. As the weeks passed, it became clear that many had checked out—skipping class, ignoring homework, and disengaging entirely.2 When final grades were calculated, ten of the eighteen students failed the course with a D or an F.
Over the past five years, I have taught this chemistry course every semester, sometimes in multiple sections of up to forty students. Half the class failing had never been the issue. Quite the opposite—I was used to half the class earning As and only a handful failing.
On the first day of class, I always tell students that the course is designed so that they would have to try to fail—by blowing off homework or cutting class. The Group of Eighteen proved the point.
Numerous studies have examined why members of Generation Z are struggling in STEM.3 Not surprisingly, one finding is that despite the ongoing push for young people to pursue STEM careers, interest among Gen Z simply isn’t fully there.4 But analyzing the reasons is not the purpose of this essay.
What I want to address is how professors in Christian higher education can maintain a sense of joy for their profession when faced with students who don’t want to learn, who don’t show up for class, and who resort to cheating their way through their studies.
Here are my suggestions:
1. The cutters, the slackers, and especially the cheaters need us more than the good students.
I define a good student as one who is engaged in the course. They complete their assignments on time, ask meaningful questions in class, and are dependable. When they miss a class, it is almost always for an understandable reason—an illness, a flat tire on the way to school, or, if they are on a sports team, an away game. They are almost always self-starters. They come to the office for help or to review their exams. They manage their time well. They may not be A students, but they are doing their best work. They “get it”—they understand what it means to be in college. Good students make teaching easy and enjoyable
Yet as rewarding as these students are, they are not the ones who most need our attention.
It is the apathetic, the lazy, and even the deceitful—the ones we are quick to judge as “they don’t belong here”—who provide the real challenge to our calling. They may drive us out of our minds, but they should also drive us to our knees. Teaching is only half of what we are called to do at a Christian university. Mentoring is the other half. I am often reminded of Jesus’ words: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:32).
It goes without saying that students who cheat must be confronted. But the slackers and the cutters also need to be firmly and lovingly reminded that they are wasting their lives if they refuse to take their classes seriously. I have had students personally thank me for confronting them about their lack of attention to their studies. We are encouraged to remember our role in loco parentis—in the place of parents—a role that often requires us to express tough love toward a disobedient child.
2. Focus on the students’ behavior without allowing it to become their identity.
This distinction became especially important with the class I described earlier. The class was an outlier—arguably the worst class I have ever taught. And while I found myself struggling at times to maintain the joy of my calling as a Christian educator, the students themselves were a happy-go-lucky bunch, oblivious to my distress (and apparently to their perilously low grades). There was a disconnect between who these students were and how they were acting toward their studies.
To address this, I posted this general announcement on the course tile:
This is college. It is not a professor’s job to run after you. You are “adults”—supposedly—and responsible for your own courses. The grade you receive in my class is not the grade I give you; it is the grade you earned and gave to yourself. I am simply recording and reporting your work.
Like Noah warned the people of the earth about the coming deadline—and that if they did not heed his warnings, they would drown in the flood—“Thus spake Dr. Rummo…” The Word of Rummo warned you from Day One about deadlines, keeping up with the work, coming to class, reading the textbook, etc.
I handed out my “Bible” for this class: a one-page document entitled “How to Succeed in My Class.” There were a number of “Commandments.” Did you read them? Heed them?
And speaking of “Commandments,” a note about stealing from other people (i.e., cheating): you will be found out in the long run. Cheaters always get caught—either now in my course or later in the workplace or elsewhere. College is the time and place to firm up your character, the person you will be for the rest of your life. Don’t think you will suddenly change after cheating your way through college. The pattern you develop here will follow you into your career, your marriage, your friendships, and your family.
Even in a difficult semester, this reminder helped me recenter my perspective: their behavior was troubling, but their identity was not fixed. Their character was still in formation, and it was not too late for them to turn things around.
3. Maintain a reasonable perspective: the majority of students are in college for the right reasons.
And this is where balance is essential. For every apathetic student, many others are serious about their studies. They have a sense of direction, especially those pursuing STEM fields. Many even believe they are “called” to a particular vocation, especially in medicine—nursing being the largest cohort I teach.
Shortly after the semester ended, as I was licking my wounds, I received an email from a student who will be in my Organic Chemistry I class in Fall 2026–2027:
I am going to be in your Orgo 1 class this fall. I will be coming in right after taking AP Chemistry and was wondering if you had any introduction worksheets that would be beneficial on top of the book. I have talked to my AP teacher, and he said he will be looking through his old folders to see if there is anything that would be beneficial to me. I would like to succeed as much as possible in this class, as chemistry is my favorite science, and I would appreciate the ability to maintain that love. I am so excited to have the opportunity to learn from you and appreciate any opportunities you may have to help me further my knowledge over the summer.
Emails like this remind us why we teach. They help restore our joy and remind us that our work bears fruit in ways we may not always see.
Let us give thanks for both kinds of students: the ones who “make our day” and the ones who drive us to our knees and make us question our calling. James 3:1 reminds us that teaching isn’t necessarily always an easy profession: “Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.” As we ponder this warning of the seriousness of our profession, let us remind ourselves that we may be the only people God uses to reach these prodigals and help them come to their senses.
- Douglas Belkin, “Princeton Mandates Exam Proctors after Fears of ‘Widespread’ AI-fueled Cheating,” The Wall Street Journal, May 13, 2026. ↩︎
- On several days, only four or five students attended class out of eighteen enrolled. By the end of the semester, eight students had attendance below 50%, several in the 30% range, and two at 22% and 18%. ↩︎
- “Majority of Gen Z Interested in STEM, but Schools Struggle to Provide Adequate Support,” Walton Family Foundation, press release, December 5, 2023. ↩︎
- Anna Merod, “Less than a Third of Gen Z Youth Want to Pursue STEM Careers,” Higher Ed Dive, December 6, 2023. ↩︎
