Morning Pages 10/8/19 (They can’t all be winners)

PROMPT: He hadn’t seen anything like it in twenty years of teaching . . .
He’d read it before. He knew he’d read it before. But try as he might to find the source of the paper–the plagiarism committed, it wasn’t there.
He typed sentences into google. He used an anti-plagiarism software search. He showed the principle, Ms. Frankle, and the whole English department. Everyone agreed. Cassandra Yin had not written this paper. But then, if she hadn’t, who had? It could have been a family member. A father. A mother. An older brother or sister. But then why was it so familiar.
The next week, after the 4th period and, which landed just before his planning period, he sent his TA to the office and ask that Cassandra Yin be brought to his classroom.
It took about 15 minutes, in which he graded the philosophy paper his seniors had been writing–they were all terribly cliche, all about how the shadows in the cave were nothing more than a shadow of real life. It was true. But the same paper rewritten 30 times does get old. He should have implemented some kind of peer review. He’d do that. But the results of such were always poor.
A knock came at the door, which was propped open. he always had the door propped open. He looked up.
Cassandra Yin was standing there, she was wearing an off white beanie, yellow baggy sweater, and slim jeans with black and white converse sneakers.
“I got a message that you wanted to see me?” she asked.
“I did, yes,” he said. “Come and sit.”
He swiveled in his chair and grabbed up her paper from his back desk. “I wanted to talk to you about. . . about this paper you wrote.”
He got up and motioned for her to sit at one of the student desks. He sat at one facing her and slid her paper over to her.
“Who wrote this?” he asked.
She put her hands on the paper and held it. “I… I did.”
“You did?”

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