A long time ago, on a university campus far, far away…
For a third-year engineering student, Technical Writing for Engineers was an obligatory, necessary evil. Quite honestly, I'd never paid much attention in English class growing up, and typically used that time to either get a head start on other homework or to catch up on lost sleep. In high school, one of my friends actually tried to teach me how to sleep with my eyes open so I wouldn't be so obvious to our English teacher, Mrs. Thompson. Writing just wasn't my thing.
So, when I opened my class folder to find a note from the professor that simply said, “See me”, I wasn't that surprised. To avoid spending too much time on my first paper, I’d regurgitated the text from one I wrote on Soviet missile design for a mechanical engineering class the previous semester. Well, I’d gambled and lost. A great way to start a new semester: who knew that the English and Engineering Departments actually shared notes?
Chuck Stratton was your stereotypical English professor. Rumpled, middle-aged, with a trademark cardigan sweater and shoes that were probably older than most of his students. Wire-rimmed bifocals perched atop a mop of unkempt graying hair. I sat down expecting to receive a lecture on student laziness, but what came next truly surprised me.
“I don't appreciate plagiarism,” he said dryly, staring down at me over the top of his glasses. “You're either the best writer I've seen in 25 years of teaching or you’re a plagiarist. Which is it?”