If you are a high school student in the state of Florida, chances are you have taken a Florida Virtual School (FLVS) course. Perhaps it was for a random graduation credit, maybe you wanted to accelerate your math or science class for the following year. But when you do the assignments, the goal is to get that “A”. You turn to Brainly or GauthAi, which contains multiple assessment answers. Honestly, I get why so many students make that choice: it’s convenient and low stakes. But I think that convenience comes with a cost: we’re slowly giving up the skills we are supposed to be learning.

FLVS is designed to be flexible. It is entirely online and self-paced, letting students move through the content on their own schedule. According to a published FLVS legislative report from the 2023-2024 school year, FLVS serves over 240,000 students annually and reported 713,779 course completions that year. Last year on campus, 347 students enrolled in an online course, with multiple students taking more than one course. It’s impressive how many students take advantage of these courses, but it also highlights how big the opportunity for academic dishonesty is.

While these programs offer students opportunities to get ahead in their studies, they also open tabs for dishonesty. The temptation to cheat seems almost “built-in” to the system, and that’s where the heart of the problem starts.

While taking online classes, students do not receive in-person supervision as they complete their coursework; instead, they gain access to AI, shared documents, online forums, and Quizlet sets containing exact assignment answers. I’ve noticed that it’s easy to justify this as “help” rather than cheating, and that makes it feel normal.

Research from the Educational Testing Service found that 32% of students admitted to cheating on a test, while 60% admitted to copying homework at some point. This is exacerbated in online classes. Multiple surveys by Times Higher Education found that about 54.7% of students admitted to cheating on online exams, compared with a lower rate of 23.9% before online learning during the pandemic. 

We used to do our work on our own, using our textbooks, our parents, and maybe even occasionally Google when we needed help with assignments. Cut to 2026, and we rely on ChatGPT to solve 2+2. Frankly, this shows that the goal of learning is taking a backseat to convenience. The convenience of technology has become a double-edged sword: it can help learning, but it also makes shortcuts too tempting.

When learning becomes digital, so does dishonesty. Copying from a shared document or pasting from AI can feel less like “cheating” and more like a task done on autopilot. At school, we are already preoccupied with shows, concerts, tournaments, and exhibitions; however, the academic environment on campus encourages students to take as many courses as possible in order to improve their GPA and class rank.

That normalization of academic dishonesty shifts students’ mindset: instead of asking, “Do I understand this?” they begin asking, “How quickly can I complete this?” I have always thought that education should never be about the rate at which you complete your work, but rather the knowledge you gain and the mistakes you learn from.

The implications of cheating go beyond a single assignment. Over time, the credibility of online courses weakens, affecting students who never cheated. For example, if a student took a math course online and took the next advanced class the following year, they may struggle if they didn’t truly learn the material of the previous year online. This, in turn, brings down class averages and slows the pace of learning altogether. 

The issue doesn’t lie in the existence of platforms like Quizlet; it is how easy the purpose changes, going from supporting learning to replacing it. I used to use Quizlet to study for a test, but now with a note-taking feature, it can create notes for us in just seconds. It takes away from learning in its most tangible form.

FLVS has a clearly stated Academic Integrity Policy requiring all submitted work to be original and completed without unauthorized assistance. In a self-paced environment, enforcement becomes more complicated. Unlike at school, no teacher is walking between desks during a quiz.  This lack of supervision shows that self-discipline is more important now than ever, and many students aren’t ready for that responsibility.

Gaps created by a lack of academic integrity in online courses can resurface in harder classes, standardized tests, or college coursework, where shortcuts are harder to rely on.

My first FLVS Course in freshman year revealed something startling and unexpected. While searching online for vocabulary flashcards to study, dozens of sets appeared that included direct answers to quizzes, Discussion-Based Assessments (DBAs) and even segment exams- not just study support.

I noticed that my peers didn’t seem to care about the fact that they cheated rather than learning the material, as compared to taking the time to understand each concept. That normalcy creates a pressure for other students to cheat, and for those who don’t cheat, creates an uneven playing field, shifting the focus of education from learning from mistakes to being perfect.

Strict monitoring alone won’t solve this. Reducing academic dishonesty requires a cultural shift: one that moves away from hyperfixating on GPAs, designs assessments based on real-world and personal applications, openly discusses boundaries around AI use, and explains why honesty matters beyond the fear of punishment. 

Academic integrity is about taking ownership of your learning. Online courses may give freedom, but demand responsibility. True learning comes from effort, as well as reflection — not shortcuts. The real test at the end of the day is whether we can control ourselves.