The Fed

Adversity over Versity.com

Erin Thompson

I was a Versity.com note taker, and I am not a monster.

But according to Rebecca Siegel, in her recent "Beccalaureate" column for the august Spectator (3/21/00), working for Versity.com makes me "more likely to buy a paper off the Web or simply cheat off one of [my] own classmates".

Aside from that attack on my character, she questions my morals, saying "it is wrong, plain and simple, to make money from someone else’s thoughts".

I once, in the second grade, attempted to fabricate a book report by copying the quotes from the book’s back; this was detected immediately by my mother, a staunch guard against plagiarism in the younger set. Although she no longer looks over my papers, I have not attempted such behavior since.

Buying a paper off the Web seems to me an incredibly stupid thing to do, and I don’t have a high enough opinion of my classmates to want to cheat off of them. I save all my cheating for use in poker and on the opposite sex.

Rebecca Siegal charges that making money off someone else’s thoughts is wrong "plain and simple". Well, the class that I took notes for was taught by a professor who used a book written by another Columbia professor. The instructor kept close to the text, using examples and wording from the book in his lecture. Couldn’t one argue that the lecturing professor was making money off the thoughts of the professor who wrote the book?

Of course, these two professors probably had a gentleman’s agreement about the matter, while Versity.com notetakers suck the thoughts of unsuspecting thinkers. Again, it’s not so simple. Let’s say Ms. Siegal, an English major, writes a book on E.E. Cummings’ sonnet form. When she receives her royalties, isn’t she making money off Cummings’ thoughts, as well as the thoughts of the critics she cited in her argument?

The main opponents of Versity at Columbia are history professors. Would they have anything to lecture about if not for the thoughts, actions, and lives of historical figures? They’re making a living off the cultural ideas of whole nations. Can I be blamed for transmitting the spin a professor puts on Byron or quantum physics? There is nothing "plain and simple" about intellectual property.

The Internet has not created very many entirely new things. It only provides ways of doing things faster, more globally, and with fancier graphics. If I were a pre- Versity.com person intent on stealing a lecturer’s theories, or selling his notes, I would simply have to walk into the lecture hall and bring adequate paper and a nice sharp pencil. Columbia’s schedules are easily available to anyone (University affiliated or not), on the Web or through phone inquiries. Columbia also provides speakers from all walks of life to harangue its students - anyone could attend and receive free ideas along with the wine and Rite crackers.

But, my dear reader, don’t presuppose that I think Versity.com is a good idea. Ms. Siegal says it "undermines the learning experience," something that I would agree with if I thought anyone actually relied on these notes for anything but the barest gloss of an excuse not to go to class. I, for one, turned in notes that I doubt were understandable to anyone who had not gone to class and looked over my shoulder as I took them. To me, Versity.com was a kindly agent who paid me seven dollars a lecture to take notes and then review them. It enhanced my learning experience and I would probably still be doing it if I were taking a suitable class.

A suitable class, to Versity.com, is one that has more than fifty students. They don’t want to rip ideas out of seminar teachers’ mouths. They go where students learn en masse. That means mostly intro courses, not exactly the arena for forward academic theory. A suitable class, to me, is a math or science class. Besides offering the least chance of intellectual property fervor, they are the easiest to take notes for.

"You know," my mother said as she disposed of my falsified book report, "you’re only hurting yourself." (Actually, she just rolled her eyes and said "I don’t think so," but for the purposes of a conclusion....) In this case, I, during my tenure as a notetaker, was not hurting myself nor the professor. I was offering temptation to my fellow students. But if they made the decision to skip class and rely on my notes... Well, "stupid" figures into my description. As Mark Twain said, "Lord, lead us into temptation."