Cornell Professor Uses Typewriters to Combat AI Cheating

The Analog Counteroffensive: Typewriters Return to Curb AI Cheating

In a classroom at Cornell University, the scene is an anachronism: students hunched over manual typewriters, the rhythmic clacking of keys and the ding! of the carriage return punctuating the air. This is not a history lesson on 20th-century office technology, but a deliberate pedagogical strategy. Grit Matthias Phelps, a German language instructor, has instituted a mandatory 'analog day' each semester, banning laptops, smartphones, and any digital aid.

The exercise, which began in spring 2023, is a direct response to the pervasive use of generative AI and online translation tools by students. "What’s the point of me reading it if it’s already correct anyway, and you didn’t write it yourself?" Phelps asks rhetorically. Her goal is twofold: to ensure authentic student work and to teach a lesson about pre-digital cognition and focus.

Phelps sourced dozens of old manual typewriters from thrift shops and online marketplaces. On analog day, students find the machines—some with German keyboards, others with QWERTY—waiting at their desks. For many in the smartphone generation, it's a baffling first encounter. "I’d seen typewriters in movies, but they don’t tell you how a typewriter works," said freshman Catherine Mong.

A Lesson in Focus and Forced Thought

The physicality of the typewriter demands a different kind of engagement. Phelps demonstrates loading paper, striking keys with the right force, and manually returning the carriage. "Everything slows down. It’s like back in the old days when you really did one thing at a time. And there was joy in doing it," she explains. She even brings her young children to class as "tech support" to ensure phones stay stowed.

The absence of a delete key is transformative. Students cannot endlessly backspace and revise, leading to more deliberate thought. "This might sound bad, but I was forced to actually think about the problem on my own instead of delegating to AI or Google search," admitted computer science major Ratchaphon Lertdamrongwong.

Furthermore, the lack of screens eliminates digital distractions. "In the absence of screens, there are no notifications to distract you," Lertdamrongwong noted. This forced a different social dynamic, as students began consulting each other for help with vocabulary or grammar, fostering collaboration Phelps heartily encouraged.

Part of a Broader Pedagogical Reckoning

Phelps's experiment is not an isolated novelty. It reflects a growing national trend in higher education toward "old-school" assessment methods as a defense against AI cheating. This includes a resurgence of in-class, pen-and-paper exams and oral presentations.

As noted in an Inside Higher Ed opinion piece, the AI cheating crisis has "exposed an uncomfortable truth: we need to do a better job teaching." The author argues the solution isn't just to AI-proof assignments but to redesign classes so that "the difficult work of learning, not cheating, is the more attractive option." This involves creating assignments where student contribution is unique and personal.

Similarly, a Forbes commentary challenges university leaders to move beyond restrictive, fear-based AI policies. "What do your AI guidelines say? Were they written as risk-mitigators or a starting point for innovation?" it asks, urging faculty to engage with AI tools personally to understand their capabilities and limitations.

The Student Experience: Frustration, Focus, and Fascination

For the students, the typewriter assignment was physically and mentally challenging. Most found their pinky fingers too weak for touch-typing, resorting to a two-finger "peck." Catherine Mong, who completed the assignment with a broken wrist using only one hand, initially despaired at the messy, error-riddled page she produced.

"This thing I handed in had pencil marks all over it... But it’s part of the process of learning that you’re going to make mistakes," she reflected. Phelps instructed students to correct errors by backspacing and typing over them with 'X's. Mong embraced the imperfection, even using the typewriter's odd spacing creatively to format a poem in the style of E.E. Cummings.

The experience left a tangible artifact and a new appreciation. "I’m probably going to hang them on my wall," Mong said. "I’m kind of fascinated by typewriters."

Detection, Deterrence, and the Human Element

While analog tools are one deterrent, educators are also developing strategies to detect and discourage AI use. A CNET guide for educators suggests collecting a baseline writing sample from students early in the semester—a personal narrative about a childhood toy or a fun experience—to compare against later, suspect submissions.

It also highlights the telltale signs of AI-generated text, often characterized by a generic, "Wikipedia Voice" that is grammatically perfect but "completely soulless." The ultimate goal, as the guide states, is to "make the prospect of learning more alluring than the temptation to cheat."

Interestingly, student culture itself is becoming an enforcement mechanism. A report in The Chronicle of Higher Education notes that some students view AI use "as a character test" and engage in informal shaming of peers who submit "AI slop," suggesting that reliance on chatbots devalues the intellectual labor of the classroom.

Why This Analog Experiment Matters

The typewriter exercise at Cornell is more than a gimmick. It is a case study in intentional course design that addresses core issues in the AI era:

• Authentic Assessment: It creates a cheat-proof environment that guarantees the work is the student's own.
• Cognitive Benefits: It forces slower, more deliberate thinking and reduces multitasking.
• Metacognitive Awareness: It makes students conscious of their own writing and learning processes by removing digital crutches.
• Community Building: It fosters real-time, peer-to-peer collaboration instead of isolated screen-staring.

As AI continues to reshape the educational landscape, Phelps's typewriter experiment stands as a reminder that sometimes, the most forward-looking solution involves looking back. It underscores that the fundamental mission of education—to teach people how to think, create, and solve problems—may require periodically unplugging from the tools that threaten to do that work for them.