September is often a difficult month for me. A time of transition and stormy weather, inside and out.

The days are shorter, the sun lower. Even if the temperature climbs now and then, the warmth doesn’t reach my apartment on a high floor in Riverdale.

September 26th marked the fall equinox this year, 8:05 EST, when the sun crossed above the earth’s celestial equator, heading south. As we lose the equilibrium between day and night, sunlight and darkness, it’s no wonder I feel unstable. I’ve always been hypersensitive. My body (my inner weather and spirit), responds to changes in barometric pressure, to light, to full moons and new moons. Having been born on June 30th I am undoubtedly a moon child. As September 22nd approached this year, I learned this Equinox marks the longest summer recorded in recent times, and how future summers will be shorter. Even worse for me, and I’m sure others, this winter will be longer and dark as a result.

But I shouldn’t complain because I have so much to be grateful for. September is typically a rich month for me, but it can also be stormy at times. For example. last weekend a nor’easter pummeled New Jersey, New York, and further up the coast. This is not the normal season for nor’easters. I knew it was going to be cold and I would be chilly in my apartment, so I thought… space heater!

I borrowed one from my brother, and just in time because sure enough, the nor’easter hit as predicted.

As I looked out from my apartment at the Hudson River and New Jersey, all I could see were grey stormy clouds, trees bending wildly in the wind, and rain pounding the windows, which lasted for days. It was freezing, so I plugged in the space heater, which eventually warmed the room. But after just a few hours, I lost power throughout most of the apartment.

Was it the wind? The heavy rain? To my dismay, the culprit turned out to be that old space heater. It tripped a circuit breaker!

Now, isn’t that a perfect ending to September?

In colleges and universities, teachers (like the professor at Brown) are quickly moving away from having students write papers (that is, out of class). Instead, they are giving in-class exams that can be monitored.

Many of my colleagues in the English Department have abandoned “term papers.” The English Department! We discuss what we can do to make sure our students don’t “cheat” as a time when it seems virtually (!) impossible to tell the difference between a real paper and a fake. So, the “blue book” I hated as an undergraduate and thought had died a natural death, has been resurrected.

I refuse and won’t give in. Or at least I haven’t so far.

I’ve been teaching a long time, but it never gets old. My teaching is always changing, like me and the world, which these days doesn’t seem to be changing for the better, though I think I am. Actually, the devolution of the world makes teaching feel more urgent than ever. I bring not only experience and continual learning to my teaching, but also my own experience when I was a student.

For my students to write papers out of class, there must a cultivated sense of trust or else teaching is not worth doing. More than one colleague and friend say I’m naïve, but I have my reasons and I remain hopeful.

Long ago, I stopped giving final exams in my “Seventeenth-Century Prose and Poetry” and “Milton” courses. As my students always write a long paper as the culmination of the term, a final exam seemed superfluous. What was I testing? Facts? Memorization? Once during the Milton course I told my students I’d just give them one question to write about. I told them, no need to study, just think deeply about Milton and the semester. The Question: “The College is going to get rid of the Milton course. Write your essay about whether and why they should or should not, while thinking about his writing and its significance.” I told them I didn’t care whether they said the course should disappear, only about the knowledge and understanding they exhibited. I received the most thoughtful and interesting “final exams.” (yes, in a blue book).

I know that for in-class exams, finals or midterms, many instructors give students passages to identify. Will students ever use this skill in their lives? But writing excellent essays—the ability to analyze, think and make an argument, provide evidence, discover and have new thoughts in writing—matters, and writing under the pressure of the clock in class does not produce the best thinking or writing.

The way I teach, including my relation with my students, also matters. In recent years I have seen how hard the world is, especially for young people, and have changed my teaching. I include as part of my syllabus that students need to discover what is important to them in what we’ve read and decide what they want to explore, and to use that in their term papers. (Actually, I give them a certain freedom in their earlier papers too, so they get used to exploring.) They should write a paper that makes them feel they’ve taken a step forward in their lives at the most difficult time. I give them this freedom (with rules), encouraging them to take a risk.

As for AI? I’m not worried. When they’re inspired by the material (and yes, the classes), they will put in the effort. On the first day of class, I tell them they cannot use generative AI and I cite articles about what AI does to your brain, which needs exercise just as much as one’s body. I ask if they want to get brain rot? Early dementia? Do they want their parents to pay, (or to get loans for) $90,000 a year to go to this elite college for that? If so, then be my guest.

My students know I care, that I’m there for them, and that my door is always open. I work with students who come in when their early papers are disappointing or when they aren’t sure what to write about. Yes, this is labor-intensive. I could not put this amount of time in if I were teaching large lectures, as I did at the University of Illinois. I know that I’m privileged, but even friends at small liberal arts schools say they can’t trust their students now because of seductive AI.

Yes, there will always be cheaters, just like there will always be haters. But I choose to live by the golden (and biblical) rule, do unto others as you would have done unto you. I still believe students will do the work because they are interested. And if they know you care about them, if you have faith in them, it makes a difference.

I have never graded on a curve and I won’t limit the number of A’s. They will get what they earn. I get amazing papers. Some students write far better papers than I did at their age. Why should I punish them for that? If I don’t give them this freedom, they will never grow to be strong enough to survive, let alone thrive, in this world.