How Essay-Writing Factories Reel In Vulnerable Students

Two years ago I decided to prove that the essay-writing business is a scourge, and that professors must become more aware of the allure of bespoke cheating. I googled “essay writing services” and selected, at random, one of many websites. I logged onto it, and I was given a number of promises, including that none of the work would be plagiarized (yes, I see the irony), and that all the essays would be written exclusively for my needs.

The site guaranteed that one of a small army of ghost writers would be matched to the topic. There were boxes to check: level of work required, from first-year undergraduate to doctoral to professorial; number of pages; number of citations required. The due date could be entered, with a guarantee that the service would produce to deadline. There even was a box that would allow me to upload a course outline or a professor’s essay guide to ensure that the product was sufficiently perfected. I created a false name, a very narrow topic on which I am well-published, and a profile for myself as a third-year undergraduate. I gave my email and my phone number, but I used different first and middle names. I needed a five-page paper, double spaced, with six citations, and I needed it within three weeks. The price? Under $120.

I balked when it came to entering my credit card. It was simply too much — not too much money, but too much trust. But then the service called me; I hadn’t even completed the transaction, but they were after me! A sweet young woman with no trace of an accent asked for the student, I said I was the student’s mother, and he needed to think about it. She provided all kinds of reassurance that they are a legitimate service, and capable of doing the work that is required. Then I received multiple reminders by email and by telephone.

Finally, when the service called again and said, “Your deadline is approaching quickly, and we still have time to get the work done, and we have the perfect person to do the research, and he can start immediately,” I gave my consent and the card numbers. When I got the credit card statement, it came from a different name that was totally benign. No parent seeing a child’s bill would ever know this was an essay service.

The paper arrived on time. There were a few language issues, as it was clear the first language wasn’t English, but the paper was reasonably competent, and the sources were contemporary and outstanding. The references were from peer-reviewed journal articles, dead-on topic. The paper wasn’t plagiarized. I spent about five minutes creating a cover page that would be consistent with my other work, fixed up the grammar, and added a sentence: “In our class, we recently discussed the implications of this topic,”, so the “graders” I chose would be certain the paper came from a student in the class.

I sent the paper to three colleagues in my specialized field, saying, “I received a bit of an odd paper, and I’m in a conflict of interest with the student. Would you mind telling me what grade you would give this paper?” It passed, and the grades ranged from C to B. One colleague said he was a bit suspicious because the references were so good, and the student didn’t really understand the subject matter well, but there was no reason to investigate or fail the student.

Here is the kicker. The essay service has followed up with me for two years, at key points in the academic term when the stress on students must be high and susceptibility to temptation even higher. October, November, February, and March seem to be the months during which the essay service contacts me, offering me anywhere between 20- and 30-percent discounts. The messages tend to have a little bit of humor, some nonthreatening graphics, a discount code, and an easy-touch link. There even was a Canada Day Special, and I’m sure American customers received a July 4 offer, too.

Here is one from February. The amusing subject line was “Worst Valentine’s Day Card Ever,” with a large cactus picture and this text below it:

Hi.

We’ve been thinking long and hard about how to make your Valentine’s Day better.

So here’s this cactus we thought you might like.

Also, for the next three days only, enjoy 20% off all your assignments. Just type the code CACTUS20 at checkout, and we’ll handle it all.

Love,

Your Writing Team.

Love? My writing team loves me? I am suspicious. For the past year, I have been collecting cactuses and succulents. Is it possible that the essay lab is using information it has acquired from my computer browsing habits to entice me?

I entered into this odd relationship with an essay lab to prove something to academics. We talk about cheating, and so many professors say: “That can’t happen in my class. I use individual essays. I customize the topics to suit my class. I even have anti-plagiarism software.” Think again. A student could probably do an entire degree by purchasing every single written assignment including take-home exams. In fact, as a scholar I could probably commission conference papers and journal articles for all those predatory journals. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?

But the real discovery for me wasn’t that I could cheat. Cheating is ubiquitous. The lesson was how well the essay labs have adopted new technologies. The amount of follow-up, the creation of a dashboard, the customization to suit my needs, and the relentless pressure to purchase. College recruiting could learn a thing or two about how to land customers using similar data analytics. This is a serious industry that operates in the shadows, and it is a threat to our own industry of advanced education. Take it seriously. Buy an essay and see for yourself. It’s worth the $120 investment.

Daphne Taras is dean of the Ted Rogers School of Management at Ryerson University in Toronto.