When ChatGPT burst onto the academic scene in late 2022, it felt as though someone had dumped a semi-truck of perfectly punctuated prose onto every campus. Two years later, teachers, integrity officers, and even students themselves are still asking the same question: “How can I tell if this paper was written by a human or an AI?” I’ve spent the past eighteen months reading hundreds of suspicious essays, cross-checking them with detectors, and talking to colleagues who do the same. Below are the five red flags we spot most often, along with a few caveats, because no single clue is foolproof.
Open an essay and see a crisp introduction that ends with a tidy three-point thesis; three body paragraphs that each begin with “First,” “Second,” and “Finally”; and a conclusion that starts with “In summary”? That structure almost screams ChatGPT. The model’s default training heavily emphasizes clarity and organization, so it tends to serve up the classic five-paragraph template even for assignments that ask for something less rigid.
A Smodin’s AI Detector often flags essays with this kind of overly balanced symmetry, since such mechanical precision is a hallmark of machine-generated text. Human writers certainly use formulas too, but they usually bend the template. A sophomore might drift into an anecdotal hook, forget a topic sentence, or conflate two supporting points. Real drafts are a bit messy. ChatGPTs are suspiciously symmetrical, like a sandcastle made with the same bucket every time.
That rigid outline isn’t inherently “bad” writing, but it often signals that the author did not wrestle with ideas organically. If your assignment asks for original synthesis or exploratory thinking, an identikit structure suggests the student let the AI do the heavy lifting.
A second giveaway is the sheen of grammatical perfection paired with shallow insight. ChatGPT seldom misspells a word, mangles a comma, or mixes verb tenses. What it does miss is depth. You’ll see statements like, “Climate change is a significant global challenge that requires multifaceted solutions,” followed by three paragraphs that merely rehash public-facing facts.
Ask yourself: Does the essay make nuanced connections to course readings, lecture points, or recent class discussions? Can you hear the student’s personal wrestling with the material? If the prose reads like an elegantly wrapped present containing very little substance, an AI may have wrapped it.
Artificial intelligence models continue to hallucinate sources that compose articles, authors or page numbers that are non-existent. I have already opened an essay that references the journal named The Journal of Environmental Sociology, Vol. 42, Issue 3 (2023) which stops at 36. False URLs or DOIs, references with the correct year and the incorrect title, and page numbers that exceed the length of the journal all raise some red flags.
When we spot even one phantom citation, we dig further. Roughly 60 percent of the time (in my department’s informal tally), the rest of the essay turns out to be AI-generated as well. Students who rely wholly on ChatGPT often paste the references section straight from the model output without cross-checking.
Another classic marker is micro-level redundancy. The essay might cycle through the same transitional phrase, “Furthermore,” “In addition,” “Moreover,” almost every other sentence. You may also notice tautological constructions like “each and every,” “various different,” or “past history” peppered through the draft.
Humans certainly repeat themselves, but we usually vary transitions out of sheer boredom or pick up colloquialisms from speech. ChatGPT sticks to a small, safe set of connectors unless explicitly told otherwise. A quick search for duplicated bigrams (two-word combinations) in a suspect essay often yields far more hits than in genuine student writing.
Last but not least, be aware of the mechanical shift of tone. A paragraph may start with a joke-one-liner, followed by a headlong plunge into the most formal of registers: “Later on, the consequences of said phenomenon are expressed... In my case, these jolts occur when a student prompts ChatGPT to add humor or sound academic in two separate prompts and composes the results together.
Humans do blend styles, but usually with transitional phrases or an intentional rhetorical effect. AI-spliced text jumps without warning, like a movie scene missing a few frames. Also look for first-person pronouns appearing once and never again, or references to personal experiences that don’t match the student’s background.
No single sign is a conviction. A meticulous human could write a flawless five-paragraph essay; a distracted student might accidentally paste a wrong citation. The trick is pattern recognition. Two or three of the red flags above, in combination, raise the probability that ChatGPT did the bulk of the drafting.
When in doubt, I do three things:
Run the text through a reputable AI detector as a preliminary screen.
Ask the student more questions about where they got their information and how they wrote it.
Compare the submission with previous writing samples from the same student.
Consistency across those checks is more convincing than any automated score.
Even the best detectors still miss about 10-20 percent of AI text and produce false positives, especially on shorter passages. That’s why I treat them like a breathalyzer: a helpful indicator, not the judge and jury. If results hover in the “maybe” zone, I lean on oral defenses, revision logs, and classroom writing samples for triangulation.
For institutions that need fast triage, platforms such as Smodin bundle an AI Content Detector, plagiarism scanning, and rewriting tools in one place. More on that below.
Smodin’s AI Content Detector flags passages with high probabilities of AI authorship in seconds, letting you prioritize which essays deserve a closer manual look.
Smodin stores a scan report you can share with the student. Combine that report with Smodin’s plagiarism checker and their draft history (if you require version uploads) to build a fuller picture before making an integrity ruling.
Not necessarily. Drop the essay into Smodin’s AI Humanizer to see how much the text changes. If the tool can “humanize” it dramatically without altering meaning, that’s indirect evidence the original was machine-like.
Absolutely. Students can draft in their own words, then run the text through Smodin’s rewriting or citation generator to polish language and ensure reference accuracy without outsourcing the thinking.
Traditional plagiarism tools only compare against existing sources. Smodin supplements by detecting AI-generated text content that, by definition, hasn’t been published elsewhere, filling a growing gap in academic integrity workflows.
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