I glanced back and forth between my computer screen and the student poster in front of me, comparing the two texts. It was indisputable, the student in my chemistry class had copied large chunks of text straight from Wikipedia.
My immediate reaction was frustration at the blatant cheating. He didn’t even try to hide it! But a hot temper wouldn’t serve either of us well.
After taking a moment to cool down, I pulled the student aside. “I noticed some striking similarities between your project and the Wikipedia page on the topic,” I said. “Can you help me understand what happened here?”
To my shock, he didn’t hesitate. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Yeah, that’s because I copied the text from Wikipedia and pasted it into my project.”
Okay, we’re saying the same thing, but we’re not on the same page. I tried again.
“Thank you for being honest,” I said. “But what you’re describing—taking someone else’s words and presenting them as your own—is plagiarism, and it’s not something I allow in my class.”
Instead of showing shame or anger, his face revealed only utter confusion. “But it can’t be plagiarism,” he insisted. “This isn’t English class.”
At this point in the story, I could easily transition into a long discussion about how siloed our subjects have become and the importance of interdisciplinary connections. But that’s not the point for today. The reality is this: opening students’ eyes to the deeply woven connections between disciplines is hard.
This student understood that plagiarism was wrong in English class, but he completely missed that the principle applied across all subjects. If it’s that difficult to convey the broad relevance of academic integrity, it’s no wonder I often feel stumped when trying to integrate the richness of faith into my science classes.
Perhaps for some, faith integration can feel like walking a dangerous ridgeline. On one side are controversial topics that feel too risky to touch, and on the other are superficial analogies that do little to enrich a student’s spiritual journey.
And for others, the challenge isn’t a theological tightrope but a sheer lack of space. With a curriculum packed to the gills—did you know there are over 400,000 species of beetles alone?—finding time for deeper connections can feel impossible.
When I struggle to create the rich, formative faith connections I know are possible in science, I often turn to the definition of Christian Deeper Learning (CDL): People of God’s story engaged in real work that forms self and shapes the world.
This definition makes me wonder what a science class would look like if it was built from those raw materials:
- What does it mean to be the people of God’s scientific story?
- How can we engage students in real scientific work?
- Could students form themselves and shape their world through science?
These are the questions that make me sit up a bit taller during lesson planning, opening up new possibilities for spiritual formation in my science classes.
In retrospect, the plagiarism situation itself provided an opportunity for intentional spiritual formation within this CDL framework. The student wasn’t being malicious; he genuinely thought the assignment’s purpose was simply to gather and reproduce information. When he understood the severity of his infraction, he was mortified.
Instead of strictly enforcing our school’s academic integrity policy, I decided this was a moment to help him understand what it means to be a person of God’s redemptive story.
After clarifying that one must properly cite sources and attribute ideas in ALL subjects, we had a lively discussion about why academic honesty is uniquely crucial in science. Science is a collaborative community endeavor; its very rigor is rooted in the shared exchange of ideas, peer review, and reproducibility. Honesty is not just a classroom rule—it’s the foundation of scientific discovery itself.
I then sent him home to redo the project in his own words. He returned with a well-researched, fully cited project, a deeper understanding of the nature of science, and a personal experience of the power of grace.
I don’t know if that student ever took another chemistry class. But I’d like to think he left my class with a slightly deeper understanding of what it means to be a person living in God’s story.
This fall, CSI will host the Faith & Science Symposium—a time for science teachers, Bible teachers, curriculum directors, and anyone else to come together and reflect on what Christian Deeper Learning looks like in the K–12 science classroom. We’ll break down the CDL definition and explore how each piece can inform our science instruction.
If you’re in the West Michigan region, we invite you to join us on November 7, 2025 at South Christian High School for this day-long intensive symposium. We’ll explore how to engage students in the big questions that modern science and technology bring to the classroom and intentionally expand the spiritual formation dimensions of our teaching.
Visit the CDL webpage for more information about the Faith & Science Symposium and to register.
