课程论文：你不爱写，我更不爱看

　　Everybody in college hates papers. Students hate writing them so much that they buy， borrow， or steal them instead. Plagiarism is now so commonplace that if we flunked every kid who did it， we’d have a worse attrition1） rate than a MOOC2）. And on those rare occasions undergrads do deign3） to compose their own essays， said exegetic4） masterpieces usually take them all of half an hour at 4 a.m. to write， and consist accordingly of “arguments” that are tangentially5） related to the coursework， font-manipulated to meet the minimum required page-count. Oh， “attitudes about cultures have changed over time？” I’m so glad you let me know.
　　Nobody hates writing papers as much as college instructors hate grading papers （and no， having a robot do it is not the answer）. Students of the world： You think it wastes 45 minutes of your sexting6） time to pluck out three quotes from The Sun Also Rises7）， summarize the same four plot points 50 times until you hit Page 5， and then crap out a two-sentence conclusion？ It wastes 15 hours of my time to mark up my students’ flaccid8） theses and non sequitur9） textual “evidence，” not to mention abuse of the comma that should be punishable by some sort of law—all so that you can take a cursory10） glance at the grade and then chuck the paper forever.
　　What’s more， if your average college-goer does manage to read through her professor’s comments， she will likely view them as a grievous insult to her entire person， abject11） proof of how this cruel， unfeeling instructor hates her. That sliver12） of the student population that actually reads comments and wants to discuss them？ They’re kids whose papers are good to begin with13）， and often obsessed with their GPAs. I guarantee you that every professor you know has given an A to a B paper just to keep a grade-grubber14） off her junk. （Not talking to you， current students！ You’re all magnificent， and going to be president someday. Please do not email me.）
　　When I was growing up， my mother—who， like me， was a “contingent” professor—would sequester15） herself for days to grade， emerging Medusa16）-haired and demanding of sympathy. But the older I got， the more that sympathy dissipated： “If you hate grading papers so much，” I’d say， “there’s an easy solution for that.” My mother， not to be trifled with17） when righteously indignant （that favored state of the professoriate）， would snap： “It’s an English class. I can’t not assign papers.”
　　Mom， friends， educators， and students： We don’t have to assign papers， and we should stop. We need to admit that the required-course college essay is a failure. The baccalaureate is the new high-school diploma： abjectly necessary for any decent job in the cosmos. As such， students （and their parents） view college as professional training， an unpleasant necessity en route to that all-important “piece of paper.” Today’s vocationally minded students view World Lit 101 as forced labor， an utter waste of their time that deserves neither engagement nor effort. So you know what else is a waste of time？ Grading these students’ effing18） papers. It’s time to declare unconditional defeat.

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