Cheating Cheaters of the Chance

As students shuffled into Room 1117 at Battlefield High School this week for a Spanish final exam, they faced everything but a pat-down.

"Fiesta de mochilas!" teacher Janine Byers announced in a festive tone that made her class giggle. Literal translation: "Backpack party." Practical translation: Get your backpacks and purses to the front of the class. Now.

Then another order: " Manos y mangas!" Byers said. She asked her Prince William County students to show their hands and roll up their sleeves, to make sure they had not inked any notes on their skin.

As Washington area students complete final exams, teachers are using whatever means possible to expose cheaters, or at least scare them off before they try. Although cheating has been monitored at least since the advent of the No. 2 pencil, many teachers and students say enforcement has become more aggressive than ever. No longer do teachers simply rearrange chairs or walk around the room to proctor a test.

Bottled water is sometimes banned at students' desks -- maybe someone scrawled a formula on the inside of the wrapper? Tests with the same labels are passed out but with questions in a different order, a trick meant to trap would-be cheaters who steal glances at their neighbors. Sometimes even seemingly minor actions, such as tying a shoelace or looking at the ceiling, are forbidden.

Some students don't mind the scrutiny. Others feel that the attention is too microscopic.

"I was taking a test a month ago in chemistry, and when I took a drink of bottled water, my teacher assumed I was cheating," said Patrick Moriarty, 16, a sophomore at Potomac Senior High School in Prince William. "She said, 'Patrick, get up here at the front.' I had to sit next to her. It made me think that everyone thought I was a cheater."

Teachers defend their ways, saying the proliferation of iPods and cellphones has helped students cheat with more efficiency and secrecy. Students can download notes or answers onto iPods and text-message answers with cellphones. The motivations are clear: Better grades mean a better chance of getting into a top college.

The warfare and counter-warfare between teachers and pupils over cheating is perhaps the most tense undercurrent running through school culture. To guard the integrity of essays and term papers, teachers wield plagiarism detectors on Web sites such as Turnitin.com, which checks student papers against a database of other papers and journals. Catching cheaters during tests sometimes requires an artful approach, teachers said, and other times an iron fist.

"I've had students hide sheets in their sleeves before," Byers said. "I don't want to seem like this nasty, horrible person. If I had a different rapport with my students, asking them to [roll up their sleeves and show their hands] would make them angry and belligerent. But my awareness of cheating has become increased every year. I wasn't like this when I started 14 years ago."

Teachers said cheating scandals have led them to become more vigilant when students get, diplomatically speaking, really stupid. Last month, some students at Severna Park High school were accused of cheating on an Advanced Placement U.S. history exam after a proctor allowed students to use cellphones and go to the bathroom during the test; as a result, more than 40 students were asked to retake the exam.

Now the school is considering an honor code. A recent survey of more than 300 Severna Park students found that 70 percent believe a culture of cheating exists at the school.

That is in line with findings from national surveys. The Center for Academic Integrity at Duke University found that 64 percent of 24,000 high school students surveyed in the last six years said that they had cheated at least once on tests.

"The stories seem to suggest an arms race where teachers are trying to match technological wits with students," said Tim Dodd, the center's executive director. "But my thinking is that a student without a conscience is always going to be two steps ahead of detection. It's a spiral. But teachers should exercise precaution -- you're always wanting to walk a fine line between trust and common sense."

Last week, Leesa Woolfolk, a Spanish teacher at McKinley Technology High School in the District, explained her strategies in a hallway as students inside her classroom took their final.

"They're sitting in a zigzag pattern, and I'm testing on a Scantron bubble sheet, because it's hard for them to see what someone else is doing," she said, peering through the window to make sure nothing was awry. "If a child drops a pencil more than once, then that indicates he may have something on his pants. I have a network of children who let me know about stuff. You circulate. A kid could have an earpiece in the ear away from the teacher."

Sometimes, teachers revel in their craftiness.

"I've labeled all the tests 'A,' and they think it's all the same, and I'm sitting up front watching them look around, trying one on me," said Mark Mesterhazy, a social studies teacher at Potomac Senior High. "Then I tell them after the fact that the questions are different. I tell them that I know every trick in the book, because I probably did every trick."

Many students are sensitive to the restrictions that teachers place on them. In April, Esther Quansah, 14, a freshman at Potomac Senior High, said she finished her biology exam before time expired and flipped the pages so that only the cover showed on her desk. Then she bent down to tie her shoes. She said she was mystified when a teacher asked her to sit up.

"I was befuddled and was like, 'Why can't I tie my shoes?' " she said. "It's like your when your zipper is unzipped, you have to zip it."

Other times, Esther said she was miffed even when a teacher ordered her not to lift up the test in front of her face. The desks were low, and she forgot her glasses, Esther said, so she was trying to see the questions better. "It wasn't that high enough for other students to be like, 'Wow, everybody look at this!' " she said.

Back at Battlefield High on Monday, Janine Byers was ready to hand out exams. Coach and Tommy Hilfiger purses and backpacks lined the front of the room. The students had bared their arms and hands, except Tyler DeHaven, 17, a junior, who strode in a few minutes late.

"You got a little sunburnt there?" Byers asked DeHaven, who raised his ink-free arms to prove he was no cheat.

Her arms folded, Byers seemed placated. But she couldn't resist one more wry question: "We're all ready to go -- unless the sunburn rash is some pattern showing conjugation?"