I arrived at Oberlin in August 2022: Covid was receding, the 2024 election was two years out, and AI was a buzzword I had barely heard. Looking back over the past four years, so much has changed at Oberlin and beyond. The world we are entering after graduation is very different from what many had anticipated, and critiques have turned inward toward the institution that was supposed to prepare us for that future.
Most student concerns are justified. Oberlin has undertaken a set of sweeping reforms in the aftermath of the Gibson’s fiasco in 2016. The One Oberlin Report, the end of the Finney Compact, the Year of AI Exploration, and most recently, the proposed end to the faculty exam proctoring ban have all been subject to much criticism, and many students feel that the College is going in the wrong direction.
In an op-ed last week, esteemed scholar and gentleperson Charlie McLaughlin wrote that “such changes dull the image of the institution by making it resemble everywhere else,” (“Altered Honor Code Reflects Priorities for Enforcement Over True Integrity,” The Oberlin Review, May 1, 2026). I understand the sentiment — I came to Oberlin primarily because it was not like every other college — and he is not wrong that Oberlin’s individuality is worth defending.
It is easy to assume that alignment with broader trends in higher education will transform Oberlin into a “standard college.” However, this conflates distinctiveness of mission with distinctiveness of policy. Similar changes are happening across the country, not to make every institution the University of Arizona, but due to external pressures affecting the entire system.
Higher education is facing some of its most serious threats in recent history. Political interference challenges the core mission of universities. The Great Recession-induced demographic cliff is already here. Ballooning tuition costs have made an education like Oberlin unattainable for many families. And, of course, the proliferation of AI is upending every classroom.
Under these circumstances, Charlie’s question is more important than ever: “If it’s four times cheaper to go to my local state school, why should I go here?” Personally, I came to Oberlin because it was a place I could study whatever I wanted within a community of creative people that cared about the world. Everyone has their own answer, but at its core Oberlin is important because of its mission statement to educate us “for lives of intellectual, musical and artistic rigor and breadth, sustained inquiry, creativity and innovation, and leadership” and to “confront complex issues and to create change and value in the world.”
That mission can remain constant even amid drastic changes in the world, because ultimately, it depends on the interpretations of the people that make up the institution. The experience of Oberlin’s first students in 1833 differs greatly from our experience almost two centuries later, and it is difficult to comprehend what will change in another 200 years. As an institution that has consistently demonstrated its uniqueness and has been on the right side of history more often than not, the choice facing Oberlin has never been whether to standardize or to differentiate. I believe the greatest threat to Oberlin’s mission is a joint decline in academic rigor, financial stability, and student well-being. I would rather have some Oberlin than none. Under such circumstances, the choice is whether to adapt to a changing world or fade into obsolescence.
Proctored in-person exams are simply an adaptation to increased cheating. Honor violation reports are up roughly 50 percent since the 2022-2023 school year, and it is clear that the system of “radical trust” is not working. This reform is responding to real pressures, not ideological surrender. The availability of advanced technologies, a fear of snitching, and everything else wrong with our generation have unfortunately made it a necessity. I agree, it is sad that we appear not to deserve that trust, but I entirely disagree that it means this school doesn’t trust us to learn to be adults with integrity.
We live in a world vastly different, and in many ways more difficult, than that of our parents. Our generation is economically disadvantaged through exorbitant housing costs, a broken medical system, and a rapidly weakening entry-level job market. In a system where worse grades have a far more significant impact, I understand why students cheat. In the cases I have seen managing the Student Honor Committee for the last three years, panic and stress were far more common causes than moral failure in academic integrity.
To me, this policy aims to preserve the ability of the institution to achieve its mission. Graduating students who are fundamentally unprepared because they “ChatGPTed” their way through school hurts everyone with an Oberlin degree. Rampant cheating on curved exams disadvantages the students who try to uphold the Honor Code. And the current policy requires students to police each other, which only adds more stress to the exam setting.
Most importantly, the proposed change is not a proctoring mandate, but a repeal of a ban instated almost a century ago. It empowers faculty to decide themselves what is right for their classrooms, and I expect many will never exercise it. But it gives those who fought for that ability the agency to carry out their part of Oberlin’s mission in the way they believe to be most effective, and in an age of AI, nothing is more important.
