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An antidote for cheating: The case for live performances
An antidote for cheating: The performing arts
Maria Thompson Corley
The United States used to lead the world in the number of 25- to 34-year-olds with college degrees. Now it ranks 12th among 36 developed nations, according to a recent study by the College Board.
This statistic is alarming, of course. But it raises an even more alarming question in this college teacher's mind: Of the people who received degrees, how many really deserved them, and how many cheated along the way?
Cheating isn't new, but it isn't as frowned upon as it used to be. Our society scolds and punishes large-scale cheaters like Bernie Madoff, but how may parents do their kids' homework or make their projects for the science fair?
Parents who fall into this category often say they're trying to give their children every advantage in a competitive world. My take is that they've fallen prey to our "instant gratification" culture: Among their many other desires, they want superachieving children right away— and if that doesn't come quickly, they latch onto shortcuts.
The net result is a generation of students who don't really know how to persevere, who show skill in concealing their faults rather than shoring up their weaknesses, and who end up cultivating a culture of both mediocrity and finger-pointing.
Getting to Carnegie Hall
What to do? There are no easy answers, but part of the solution, I think, lies in more arts education. Requiring every student to perform, especially before live audiences, could help reverse our current culture of deceit.
After all, live performance is one of the few arenas where cheating is all but impossible: Either you can play the piece (or recite the lines) or you can't.
Also, in the arts there are no shortcuts: The only way to make progress is by putting in the work required. Some get to Carnegie Hall faster than others, but no one excels without effort, except perhaps at the most rudimentary levels. What's more, every arts student can learn something about delayed gratification and perseverance by participating in activities that require repetition to achieve success.
When FBI agents cheat
This is no frivolous matter; it's fundamental to the health of our society. Each of us gets through the day by assuming that most of the people we encounter know what they're doing. If cheating becomes an accepted strategy for success, that confidence flies out the window.
Recently it was reported that an undisclosed number of FBI agents have cheated on tests on how to legally conduct domestic surveillance cases. (For the story, click here.) How much of the ineptitude lately attributed to the FBI do you suppose could be attributed to agents who passed their promotion tests through dishonesty?
Most people, I'm sure, reject cheating as a way of life. But the stigma attached to cheating is diminishing, especially among younger generations. In a shrinking economy, these kids have a very tough road ahead. Taking the easy way out isn't going to cut it.
Just ask residents of the Gulf of Mexico, currently suffering the effects of a massive oil spill because BP took short cuts with safety. The industry's rationale appears to have echoed the current mantra among high school and college cheaters: I probably won't get caught, so what's the problem?
Dudamel, a troubled youth
When you perform before a live audience, the level of competence your preparation has afforded you is immediately obvious. Yes, there are variables: a better instrument or a better teacher can make a big difference. But I'm not talking about professional performance; I'm talking about learning to do something that requires focus, effort and delayed gratification— and then proving what you know. Ideally, I'm talking about building not just skill but character, because there are no shortcuts to mastery.
Even "performance anxiety"— which, goodness knows, is very familiar to me as a concert pianist— can build character. When there's nowhere to hide, you must deal with your weaknesses head-on.
If everyone learned a performing art, would a culture of integrity triumph over deceit? I'm not sure, but I know that arts-related programs for at-risk youth, like the one that produced Gustavo Dudamel, the conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, regularly demonstrate that performing arts education can make a difference. And as we continue to see news reports of the effects of the kind of self-centeredness that makes cheating seem okay (because what else leads one to believe that rules of fairness don't apply to them?), we have to do something.♦
To read a reply, click here.
To read a related commentary by Dan Rottenberg, click here.
This statistic is alarming, of course. But it raises an even more alarming question in this college teacher's mind: Of the people who received degrees, how many really deserved them, and how many cheated along the way?
Cheating isn't new, but it isn't as frowned upon as it used to be. Our society scolds and punishes large-scale cheaters like Bernie Madoff, but how may parents do their kids' homework or make their projects for the science fair?
Parents who fall into this category often say they're trying to give their children every advantage in a competitive world. My take is that they've fallen prey to our "instant gratification" culture: Among their many other desires, they want superachieving children right away— and if that doesn't come quickly, they latch onto shortcuts.
The net result is a generation of students who don't really know how to persevere, who show skill in concealing their faults rather than shoring up their weaknesses, and who end up cultivating a culture of both mediocrity and finger-pointing.
Getting to Carnegie Hall
What to do? There are no easy answers, but part of the solution, I think, lies in more arts education. Requiring every student to perform, especially before live audiences, could help reverse our current culture of deceit.
After all, live performance is one of the few arenas where cheating is all but impossible: Either you can play the piece (or recite the lines) or you can't.
Also, in the arts there are no shortcuts: The only way to make progress is by putting in the work required. Some get to Carnegie Hall faster than others, but no one excels without effort, except perhaps at the most rudimentary levels. What's more, every arts student can learn something about delayed gratification and perseverance by participating in activities that require repetition to achieve success.
When FBI agents cheat
This is no frivolous matter; it's fundamental to the health of our society. Each of us gets through the day by assuming that most of the people we encounter know what they're doing. If cheating becomes an accepted strategy for success, that confidence flies out the window.
Recently it was reported that an undisclosed number of FBI agents have cheated on tests on how to legally conduct domestic surveillance cases. (For the story, click here.) How much of the ineptitude lately attributed to the FBI do you suppose could be attributed to agents who passed their promotion tests through dishonesty?
Most people, I'm sure, reject cheating as a way of life. But the stigma attached to cheating is diminishing, especially among younger generations. In a shrinking economy, these kids have a very tough road ahead. Taking the easy way out isn't going to cut it.
Just ask residents of the Gulf of Mexico, currently suffering the effects of a massive oil spill because BP took short cuts with safety. The industry's rationale appears to have echoed the current mantra among high school and college cheaters: I probably won't get caught, so what's the problem?
Dudamel, a troubled youth
When you perform before a live audience, the level of competence your preparation has afforded you is immediately obvious. Yes, there are variables: a better instrument or a better teacher can make a big difference. But I'm not talking about professional performance; I'm talking about learning to do something that requires focus, effort and delayed gratification— and then proving what you know. Ideally, I'm talking about building not just skill but character, because there are no shortcuts to mastery.
Even "performance anxiety"— which, goodness knows, is very familiar to me as a concert pianist— can build character. When there's nowhere to hide, you must deal with your weaknesses head-on.
If everyone learned a performing art, would a culture of integrity triumph over deceit? I'm not sure, but I know that arts-related programs for at-risk youth, like the one that produced Gustavo Dudamel, the conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, regularly demonstrate that performing arts education can make a difference. And as we continue to see news reports of the effects of the kind of self-centeredness that makes cheating seem okay (because what else leads one to believe that rules of fairness don't apply to them?), we have to do something.♦
To read a reply, click here.
To read a related commentary by Dan Rottenberg, click here.
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