Ideas, experiences, and emerging perspectives from university communities
Campus Voices features original English articles by university and graduate students. It provides a space to reflect on campus life, academic interests, research experiences, international exchange, professional development, and the questions shaping higher education.
Articles should be accessible to readers beyond the writer’s own discipline or institution. Contributors are encouraged to explain unfamiliar terms, provide sufficient context, and connect personal experiences with broader educational, cultural, or social questions.
Campus Voices is not a venue for publishing a complete academic research paper. It is a public-facing space for clear, engaging, and responsible communication.
What You Will Find
Campus Voices may include:
- University and graduate-school experiences
- Study-abroad and international exchange reflections
- Research and fieldwork experiences
- Student projects and initiatives
- Language and cultural encounters
- Career preparation and professional development
- Accessible introductions to research topics
- Reflections on academic life
- Interviews with students, educators, or researchers
- Commentary on higher education
Research-related articles should explain ideas in language that an informed general reader can understand. Confidential, unpublished, or personally identifying research data should not be included without appropriate permission and editorial review.
Writing for Campus Voices
Recommended length: 600–1,000 words
A strong Campus Voices article should:
- Have a clear purpose and intended audience
- Explain its academic or cultural context
- Use examples rather than abstract claims alone
- Acknowledge relevant sources
- Avoid unnecessary specialist terminology
- Distinguish personal experience from broader conclusions
- Respect research ethics, privacy, and confidentiality
The article must be originally written in English by the named contributor. Any use of generative AI or substantial technological assistance must comply with the APALCE Voices Submission Guidelines and be disclosed where required.
Latest from Campus Voices
Should Decisions on Generative AI Misconduct Be Left to Individual Professors?
Article · Open Access · Received: 1 August 2026 / Received in Revised Form: 2 August 2026 / Accepted: 3 August 2026 · Publication date: 3 August 2026 · DOI: 10.23404/apalcevoices.2026.1.18
Chae Kwan Jung
Associate Professor, Department of English Language and Literature, Incheon National University, 119 Academy-ro, Yeonsu-gu, Incheon, 22012, South Korea.
Copyright 2026 APALCE Voices This is an open access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License 4.0, which permits unrestricted, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited.
Summary
This article argues that decisions about generative AI misconduct should not rest solely with individual professors. Because legitimate assistance and academic dishonesty are difficult to distinguish, universities need clear, discipline-sensitive rules, transparent investigative and appeals procedures, and institutional support for faculty. AI-detection tools should serve only as supplementary evidence, not definitive proof. The article also recommends process-based assessment—including proposals, drafts, revisions, and oral explanations—to make students’ authorship and learning visible. Ultimately, trustworthy AI governance must protect students’ rights, distribute responsibility fairly, and enable instructors to make consistent, evidence-based judgements.
Keywords
Generative AI; Academic Integrity; Institutional Governance; Process-Based Assessment; Faculty Responsibility
For parents of primary-school children, generative AI evokes both hope and unease. It can widen access to knowledge, but wholesale delegation of homework and writing may erode independent thought and learning through error. Current uncertainty in university classrooms foreshadows challenges our children may soon face. Schools should therefore uphold a clear principle: students may receive assistance, but they must be able to explain their own thinking.
On 7 January 2026, Seoul National University adopted guidelines promoting responsible AI use through autonomy and trust rather than blanket prohibition. Yet fair assessment requires workable standards and procedures for distinguishing legitimate assistance from misconduct.
A case reported on 30 July 2026 illustrates the difficulty. In one computer science course, 36 of 62 students were found to have used AI for an assignment. Those who disclosed it voluntarily received zero, while students identified later received penalties including a D-minus. The student council questioned the criteria; the professor stated that all penalised students had admitted using AI.
Responsibility cannot be assigned to students or professors alone. Having AI produce prohibited work violates academic integrity. Yet voluntary disclosure loses credibility if honesty attracts punishment while concealment may avoid detection. Trust is weakened when serious penalties depend on an instructor’s suspicion and a student’s admission. Universities demanding honesty must ensure consistent procedures for everyone.
Crucially, AI use and academic misconduct are not synonymous. Refining search terms or checking wording differs fundamentally from outsourcing an assignment’s argument, evidence, and expression. Acceptable use varies across disciplines and learning outcomes. These distinctions must be established before difficulties arise, not retrospectively when sanctions are considered.
I encountered a similar difficulty while supervising an undergraduate thesis. A student submitted a highly polished manuscript before supervision had begun, yet struggled to explain the research process, data selection, and central argument. Later drafts remained difficult to verify. This raised questions of authorship, but polished prose or an unfamiliar style cannot, by itself, establish AI misconduct. Suspicion is not sufficient evidence.
AI-detection tools offer no definitive solution. Incheon National University’s guidelines recommend treating detection results only as supporting evidence. If universities require professors to penalise misconduct without standards of proof, investigative procedures, evidence-retention rules, and appeal mechanisms, institutional responsibility is transferred to individuals. This burden is considerable for full-time faculty and more troubling for lecturers with less secure employment and limited support.
Universities should define acceptable AI use for each course and assignment—for example, permitting brainstorming and language correction while prohibiting AI-generated central claims or drafts. Students should disclose the tool, purpose, and extent of use, and be able to explain and defend their work.
Suspected violations should not be adjudicated by the instructor alone. Professors may document circumstances and review the student’s learning process, but sanctions should be examined by the department and university administration. Students need notice, an opportunity to respond, and transparent appeals; faculty need clear guidance, standard records, evidence-management rules, and legal and administrative support.
Assessment must move beyond a finished product. Proposals, outlines, source reviews, drafts, revisions, and oral explanations can reveal how students develop their work. Yet process-based assessment requires manageable class sizes, teaching assistance, and recognition of faculty workload.
AI guidelines should not merely increase detection and punishment. Their purpose should be to create conditions in which students can learn honestly and professors can judge fairly. Universities must establish credible standards, procedures, and support before placing responsibility for judgement and sanction on individual professors. Building a system that students and staff can trust is among higher education’s most urgent tasks in the age of AI.
References
Jung, C. K. (2026). Why English Education Unsettles Gangnam Mothers: What Leading Scholars Say About Effective Early English Education. BOOKK.
Different Doorways into English
Article · Open Access · Received: 26 July 2026 / Received in Revised Form: 30 July 2026 / Accepted: 1 August 2026 · Publication date: 3 August 2026 · DOI: 10.23404/apalcevoices.2026.1.4
Bo Min Kim
Graduate Student, Major in Early Childhood Education, Graduate School of Education, Incheon National University, 119 Academy-ro, Yeonsu-gu, Incheon, 22012, South Korea.
Copyright 2026 APALCE Voices This is an open access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License 4.0, which permits unrestricted, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited.
Summary
This reflective essay contrasts two siblings’ differing relationships with English reading. Soho’s sustained engagement with Harry Potter has strengthened both her enjoyment and linguistic confidence, while Mooho remains reluctant to choose English books despite his growing willingness to speak. Their mother, a graduate student in early childhood education, considers whether these differences reflect aptitude, interest, or access to suitable texts. She concludes that comparison is unhelpful and that meaningful support requires varied, low-pressure opportunities tailored to each child’s interests. Waiting thus becomes an active practice of respecting individual pace while nurturing curiosity and confidence.
Keywords
English reading; individual learner differences; intrinsic motivation; parental support; child-centred learning
In the evenings, Soho settles into one corner of the sofa and opens a Harry Potter book. She has read the series many times, yet she still becomes absorbed as though entering the story for the first time. At times, she reads a favourite sentence aloud; at others, she returns to a familiar scene and remains there for a while. For Soho, now in the fifth grade, reading in English is not primarily an academic exercise. It is a doorway into a world she values and enjoys.
Soho has been drawn to English books from an early age. Through sustained engagement with stories, she has encountered vocabulary and sentence structures in meaningful contexts and gradually developed confidence in speaking and thinking in English. It is now difficult to determine whether she enjoys English books because she is linguistically able, or whether her ability has developed because she has read so widely and enthusiastically. More plausibly, the relationship is reciprocal: enjoyment has encouraged continued reading, while growing competence has made reading increasingly rewarding.
Mooho, who is in the third grade, has followed a rather different path. He rarely chooses an English book for himself. When his older sister used to speak to him in English, he generally preferred to respond in Korean. More recently, he has begun to show greater confidence and will sometimes continue a brief conversation in English. This is an encouraging change. Even so, he seldom settles down with an English book of his own accord. When I suggest one, he may turn a few pages before closing it and directing his attention elsewhere.
As their mother, I find the contrast between the two children difficult to interpret. It is tempting to assume that Soho possesses a particular aptitude for languages and that her enjoyment of reading is an expression of that ability. The same comparison can lead me to wonder whether Mooho has less linguistic aptitude or simply less interest in English. As a graduate student in early childhood education, I understand that children develop at different rates and engage with learning in different ways. Yet knowledge acquired through study does not always quiet the concerns that arise in parenting. When I realise that I am measuring Mooho against his sister, I am left with an uncomfortable sense that the comparison may be neither fair nor educationally helpful.
A different possibility emerges when I consider what Harry Potter has meant to Soho. She did not merely encounter a series of books written in English; she discovered a fictional world that captured her imagination. Her desire to know what happened next encouraged her to continue reading, while her attachment to particular characters and scenes drew her back to the books repeatedly. English, in this context, was not simply the object of learning. It was the medium through which she gained access to something she already cared about.
Seen from this perspective, Mooho may not be a child who dislikes reading in English. He may simply not yet have encountered a book that speaks to his interests strongly enough to make the effort of reading worthwhile. This distinction matters. A reluctance to engage with a particular set of books should not be interpreted too quickly as a lack of ability, motivation, or potential.
Mooho may need texts that differ substantially from those Soho has enjoyed. A humorous comic or graphic novel may be more inviting than a lengthy narrative. Books on science, sport, or another familiar subject may allow him to approach English through knowledge and interests he already possesses. He may also benefit from listening to a story before reading it, or from using an audiobook alongside the printed text. Such possibilities suggest that the central question is not how to reproduce Soho’s experience for her brother, but how to identify forms of engagement that are meaningful to him.
I am therefore trying to resist using Soho at the same age as the standard against which Mooho’s progress is judged. Her proficiency may offer encouragement and create opportunities for communication, but it should not become a benchmark he feels required to meet. Comparison may be especially unhelpful when it shifts attention away from the progress he is already making. When Mooho attempts even a short expression in English, the most important feature of that moment may not be its grammatical accuracy, but his willingness to use the language to communicate.
This has also led me to reconsider the meaning of support. Encouraging a child does not necessarily mean asking for more visible performance or directing him towards increasingly difficult books. Support may instead involve creating a range of low-pressure opportunities, attending carefully to his responses, and recognising small signs of confidence. It also requires allowing English to remain a means of communication and discovery rather than turning it into a continual test of competence.
Soho has already found a doorway into English that she is eager to enter. Mooho’s doorway may look different and may be located somewhere less obvious. My task as his mother is perhaps not to open it for him, still less to lead him through the door his sister has chosen. It is to make several pathways available, to notice where his curiosity begins, and to remain nearby while he decides which direction to take.
Waiting, in this sense, is not passive. It involves respecting a child’s pace while continuing to provide carefully chosen books, experiences, and opportunities. It means recognising that development cannot always be hurried and that interest may emerge through unexpected routes. I am learning to trust that Mooho can develop his own relationship with English—not by following his sister’s path, but by discovering a world that gives him a reason to open the book and continue reading.
References
Yun, S. (2026, July 30). Seoul National University Computer Engineering Students Penalized for AI Cheating. The Chosun Daily. URL: https://www.chosun.com/english/national-en/2026/07/30/MCC3MYEQNBCXXKPGFS6R7F3W2Y/.
Share a Campus Story
Have you learned something through a course, research project, exchange programme, field experience, or university community?
Turn that experience into an article for an international readership.
[Read the Submission Guidelines] [Submit an Article]