Film critic Roger

HONOR

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in a lengthy statement. “While these are necessarily difficult conversations and processes, we strive to ensure that they are respectful, sensitive and fair.”

Chen Shueh claimed that violations looked different as a result of virtual learning, a trend many have pointed to across the country, given that “opportunities to seek help or input from others or to look at one’s notes or at internet resources (when not permitted) were available in ways they normally are not during an in-person exam.”

To handle the increase in cases, and in light of ongoing implementation of 2019 reforms, the honor system saw new protocols. Historically, two students have been assigned to investigate each case before the initial hearing. But according to Peer Representatives Co-Chair Isra Thange ’22, the University’s Office of the Dean of the College (ODOC) began relying on private investigators — trained legal professionals — to help lead the evidence-gathering process during the fall of 2020.

These private investigators could open students’ Canvas records and IT files, according to Grace Masback ’21, the former co-chair of the Peer Representatives. Chen Shueh confirmed that investigators can “request information from instructors or OIT [Office of Information Technology] about students’ use of Blackboard or Canvas,” but cannot

access students’ “documents located on their laptops unless a student is present and agrees to access their documents.”

The majority of cases during the COVID-19 semesters, including Leo’s, involved either accusations of collaboration or “use of unallowed notes.” But the virtual year proved challenging for collecting hard evidence. Without student witnesses in the “exam room,” the Honor Committee relied heavily on professor testimony. According to Masback, who oversaw or personally served as Peer Representative for most cases, professor accusations were often grounded in a suspicion that answers were too similar to come from different students — even as students insisted that the similarity stemmed from them having studied together, a permissible and even encouraged practice.

“You’re scared of other people ” your age; you feel like they’re more powerful than you. Leo Anonymous Student Accused of Violating the Honor Code

‘Past my breaking point’

For two students — referred to as Jen and Sophie throughout this story — an accusation of collaboration from a professor would lead to a hotel room panic attack, a 3 a.m. Zoom hearing, and what Jen would later call her “breaking point.”

Jen and Sophie are underclass students, friends, and varsity teammates. As first-years in the spring of 2021, the pair said they studied together for the final exam of their introductory economics course, using the same flashcards and quizzing each other as preparation. But shortly after finals, just as they were about to compete in a high-stakes athletic event, Jen and Sophie received word from an honor investigator that they had been accused of collaboration on the exam.

Jen, who told the ‘Prince’ she suffers from diagnosed anxiety, said she asked the investigators to postpone the initial meeting. After they refused, she said she joined a Zoom meeting with investigators in a hotel room between practices — and almost immediately felt that something was off.

At the meeting, the investigators repeatedly challenged her story, Jen said, recalling how they asked questions like “You really expect me to believe that?” in response to her account of how she had studied for the exam. Eventually, she said she started “visibly showing signs of distress.” After having a panic attack, Jen left the meeting.

“It bothered me that they didn’t recognize those signs before it built up to this point where I couldn’t handle it anymore,” she said. “They kept pushing me further and further.”

Chen Shueh maintains that this account does not represent the way University investigators typically conduct interviews. While the investigators’ questions may feel adversarial, “it is necessary for the investigator to obtain a detailed account of the student’s responses to the questions and concerns, clarify any inconsistencies, and review the information they have provided.”

She added that throughout the process, students are provided breaks if needed and that “if students with disabilities ask for accommodations during the process,” her office works with the Office of Disability Services “to make reasonable accommodations.” (Jen said she did not reach out to ODS, nor did the Committee offer her the option of doing so in their initial communication.)

In the days that followed, Jen said she received a slew of emails — and then text messages — asking her to schedule another meeting. When she didn’t respond, she said she discovered her coach had been informed of the accusations against her. (Asked about this claim, Chen Shueh said

that “if a student is not responsive to a request to meet,” ODUS deans may reach out “to the coach to determine whether it is possible for the student to be available for the interview.”)

At the eventual hearing, Jen felt as though the investigators leveraged her mental health episode at the initial meeting as evidence of her guilt.

“They almost used the first meeting against me,” Jen said. “They said, like, ‘she couldn’t answer these questions, which is really suspect.’”

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, Sophie was video-conferencing into the same hearing from home — scheduled from 1 a.m. to 6 a.m. in her time zone, despite her objections. Sophie was on a strict training schedule and would start a workout at 6:30 a.m later that same day.

“It was a bit of a nightmare for me,” she told the ‘Prince.’ “How do you literally sit here and defend your place at the University, when you know we didn’t do anything wrong — at three in the morning?”

Chen Shueh said that last year the Honor Committee “encountered challenges with scheduling hearings when participants were in multiple time zones,” but that accused students were allowed to indicate a “preferred time” and that the hearing “would not have proceeded if the student did not propose or agree to a particular time slot.”

Ultimately, Jen and Sophie, like Leo, were found not responsible. And, according to Chen Shueh, “the overwhelming majority of students who are suspended as a result of academic integrity violations return to campus and successfully complete their studies.” But for Jen, Sophie, Leo, and the five other accused students the ‘Prince’ interviewed, the impact of their hearings lasted well beyond their final meetings with the Committee. Most reported that their experience permanently changed the way they approach their time at Princeton.

“I would definitely say it put kind of a stain on my view of here,” Jen said. “I was kind of stressed out to come back [to Princeton] just because I went through this agonizing time.”

Jen doesn’t study with teammates anymore, “which is sad, because I want to study with people, because that’s how I learn best,” she said. Similarly, Leo says he has “a lot of anxiety and fear” each time he turns in an assignment or an exam.

“It kind of soured my love of work and of school,” he told the ‘Prince’ around 10 months after the incident. “I’ve been in kind of an academic funk since then that I haven’t been able to break.” In part because he’s now “weary of the math department” and reluctant to take its courses, his trajectory at the University and plans for after graduation have changed.

“How do you literally sit here

and defend your place at the University, when you know we

”didn’t do anything wrong — at three in the morning? Sophie Anonymous Student Accused of Violating the Honor Code

‘I don’t feel at home here anymore’

Two students who returned this fall from an Honor Code suspension — referred to in this story as Nathan and Elena — likewise said their view of campus was warped by their experiences.

“I now entirely associate Princeton with the Honor Committee hearing,” Nathan told the ‘Prince.’ (Both Nathan and Elena maintain they were unjustly held responsible.)

“Even when I was away — even getting an email on my phone or seeing people post at Princeton, or literally just the word ‘Princeton’ — every single time, it brings me back to that and resurfaces that experience and that trauma for me,” he said. Like Leo, Nathan said the experience destroyed his love of learning and left him hypervigilant when completing assignments — more focused on “collecting evidence” in the case of a potential accusation than on the content of the material itself.

“I don’t feel at home here anymore,” Nathan said, months after the proceedings.

Elena said in an interview prior to the start of the term that she feared coming back to campus and the possibility of “going out and seeing someone who was on [her] Honor Committee panel” — tangible and persistent reminders of an experience that was “worldview changing.” As a student who had entered the Orange Bubble with joy and pride, she found it heartbreaking to feel herself “start hating Princeton.”

Leo said he feels it’s still taboo to speak publicly about violations. The combination of campus social stigma with the student-run Committee “pitting students against each other” creates discomfort for the accused, he argued.

“You’re scared of other people your age; you feel like they’re more powerful than you,” he said of the Honor Committee members. “You might be scared to interact with them, or even look at them because like, you know, they’re on this committee that could get you suspended and taken away from the school. I think that power dynamic is really what makes it really hard to speak out.”

From Carson’s perspective, these sentiments make sense. At hearings, Carson said he often tells those found responsible, “If you need someone to blame, hate me. Hate me. Cuss me out all the time. Do anything you want.”

“It’s a really scary situation that is really awful and emotionally taxing, so I think it’s most likely probably triggering for them to see someone from the Honor Committee that was in their hearing,” Carson said of the students returning from suspensions. “I do my best to give them space. Like, I would never go talk to someone who’s come before the Committee.”

Honor Committee members frequently cry due to proceedings, Carson said, though they often discuss that “this is not our place” to process any difficult emotions involved.

“It’s a horrible process for everyone involved. We’re always looking for ways we can minimize that,” said Honor Committee Clerk Dylan Shapiro ’23, who plans to take over as chair next term. “But no one on the Committee kids themselves that it’s anything less than a deeply unpleasant process.”

Nathan said that the ongoing impacts of the experience extended beyond his relationship to academics and into the realm of his mental and physical health. In the three weeks surrounding the proceedings, Nathan lost 20 pounds.

“I did not sleep, my diet was irregular, I lost pretty much all of my hunger,” he said. “As a result of that, a few months after the hearing, I was diagnosed with severe depression, which I now receive medical treatment for,” he said. “I have to now regularly attend therapy in order to work through this trauma.”

Dr. Calvin Chin, the director of CPS, spoke with the ‘Prince’ about his experience counseling students in relation to the Honor Code. A lot of that job, as he put it, comes down to being a resource for students amid a process that “can feel really scary,” and discussing plans and management techniques for various potential outcomes of the hearing.

Violations of academic integrity, in his view, often come as “a cry for help.” Rarely does the violation come from malicious intent, Chin argued.

“It’s students who are feeling really overwhelmed by an assignment and they’re at their wit’s ends, and they’re really scared that they’re going to fail so they may impulsively decide to get help in a way that violates the Honor Code,” Chin said. “Or someone has been depressed for a long period of time and just hasn’t been able to focus or hasn’t been able to go to class, and they’re feeling really bad about themselves. And