Some years ago I had an ethical dilemma regarding classroom teaching. One student was consistently absent from class, and on occasion she missed turning in assignments or taking exams. I discussed this with her, and she explained that she had cancer and was getting treatment at medical facilities and thus had to miss class and assignments. I felt obvious sympathy and asked her to bring medical documents to me as verification so that I could prorate her work. She found reasons on each occasion why she could not bring a document from a medical professional. She brought notes from what were presumed to be family members but not a medical document.

When the end of the semester came she indicated she’d be getting treatment for her cancer during the final exam week and could not take the final when scheduled. She cried and narrated a story that provoked true sympathy. I took her to the department advisor, to discuss the matter with her regarding what possible avenues were available to her so that she’d not flunk the course. Again, she gave a sad story of years of cancer treatment. The advisor and I agreed that if the student brought documentation from the medical facility, the student could get an incomplete and take the exam at a later time. She’d receive a grade for the course after she took the final exam.

I followed her out of the advisor’s ofi ce, in which she had wept openly about her illness, and on my way to my ofi ce I saw her talking with another student in the hall. In that conversation the student was not crying but talking cheerfully and with laughter. That jolted me. The tone of that conversation was a sharp contrast to the tears in the advisor’s and in my office just prior.