University catches student using smart glasses to cheat on exam

The University of Auckland caught a student wearing smart glasses during an exam this week, an incident that has forced the institution to confront a new frontier in academic dishonesty. The student was spotted by an invigilator despite a pre-exam announcement explicitly prohibiting smart glasses and watches. The glasses were removed, the student was permitted to finish the test, and a penalty was imposed—though the university declined to specify what that penalty was.

The technology at issue is straightforward in its potential for abuse. Smart glasses made by Meta under the Ray-Ban and Oakley brands contain built-in cameras capable of recording what the wearer sees. That video feed can be transmitted to someone outside the exam room—a friend, a tutor, or an AI system—which then provides answers back to the student, either through text displayed on the glasses' internal screen or through audio only the wearer can hear. The glasses retail between $350 and $750 depending on the model. Cheaper alternatives exist: K-Mart sells smart glasses for $99, though without the AI integration of the pricier options. The barrier to entry, in other words, is low.

Ulrich Speidel, a senior lecturer in computer science at the University of Auckland, explained the scope of the problem plainly. "You can go, for example, and record your questions, you can possibly send them to external helpers and most of those glasses also project stuff into the glasses that only the wearer can see." The technology collapses the distance between test-taker and helper. It makes the old methods—smuggled notes, answers written on hands or water bottle labels—look quaint by comparison.

The university's immediate response is procedural. Invigilators have been instructed to watch for smart glasses, which are identifiable by their broad hinge parts and large bridges. If a student arrives wearing them, supervisors can ask them to apply masking tape over the cameras. If the glasses are prescription, they can remain on the student's face with the lenses covered. It is a low-tech solution to a high-tech problem, and it works—for now.

But Speidel voiced a concern that cuts deeper. "I dread the day once smart glasses will be available as contact lenses. At that point I think it will be checkmate for us." Contact lens versions would be invisible to invigilators. There would be no hinge to spot, no bridge to tape over. The cat-and-mouse game would reach a point where detection becomes impossible.

One complication already exists: the white flashing light that Meta glasses emit when recording can be disabled. Preston Williams, an engineering student at AUT who owns a pair of Meta glasses for his detailing business, noted that the light makes covert use difficult. "I've got like a detailing business, so I do like POV videos and stuff. But I don't use it for tests, because there's a massive white flashing light. So it's kind of hard to be inconspicuous." But that inconspicuousness is purchasable. US tech journalist Joanna Stern found that dozens of services on Facebook Marketplace offer to disable the light for roughly $100. Those services do not appear to be available in New Zealand yet, but the knowledge exists and could spread.

The University of Auckland's computer science department has already begun shifting its defenses. It has moved toward pen-and-paper exams with randomized multiple-choice questions, meaning each student receives a different test. It is a strategy that neutralizes the advantage of external help—if your helper cannot see your specific questions, they cannot provide your specific answers. Other universities will likely follow. The arms race between students seeking new ways to cheat and institutions seeking new ways to prevent it has entered a new phase, one where the technology is getting smaller, cheaper, and harder to detect. For now, masking tape and vigilant invigilators hold the line. How long that holds remains an open question.