“OpenAI now joins a small but growing list
of efforts to help educators detect
when a written work
is generated by ChatGPT.”

– CNN Business

Teaching degrees and smart PhDs
Assigned essays to their freshmen pupils.
But the essays they read
Brought up feelings of dread,
For their authors lacked scholarly scruples.
The texts they had made came not from their brains
But computerized chat automation.
So a meeting convened
For each school and its dean
To plumb for a fair explanation.
The history chair, who was losing his hair,
Said, “I’ve known all along from the start
That a cheat is a cheat
Who is doomed to repeat
Bad mistakes with no change of heart.”
A theology prof harrumphed with a cough,
“Well, I don’t put much faith in that system.”
But the provost’s left-hand,
Which he waved like a fan,
Brushed off both concerns and dismissed them.
The doctor of lit, more than most, kept her wits
With the help of a broad skepticism.
She rejected the facts,
And she claimed that the acts
Were a justified relativism.
A philosophy teach was missing the beach
And pining for summer vacation;
He thought much too much
And used a glass crutch
When at home for his mind’s perturbation.
Sociology’s dean thought her colleagues quite mean
When they all recommended expulsions.
But she argued restraint
When making her plaint
To set aside drastic compulsions.
Now the psych instructor let her practice instruct her
And called for a source citing lesson.
She felt overwhelmed
And out of her realm
While self-treating a major depression.
Last, but not least, like microbes in yeast,
The biology scholar was seething,
“If theft be their nature,
Then tomorrow my lecture
Will admonish my students for thieving.”
Despite all they knew, the faculty, who
Were trained in all things pedagogic,
Sat perplexed in their tower
And lamented the hour
That an AI had stumped them with logic.