science and belief

Those of us who devote ourselves to science literacy are challenged by the term "belief" — sometimes it fits and in other cases it causes fits. As an example of the latter, here is the position of someone who is an active campaigner for evolution in schools. Her National Center for Science Education is on the front lines battling creationists and "intelligent design" incursions in to public schools. I like that their logo is a rendition of Darwin's original notebook sketch of a "tree of life" -- just prettied up to look nice on a web page.

Below is a statement by Eugenie Scott (Exec. Director of NCSE) describing the need for careful language when talking about evolution. Her concern is based in potential misinterpretations of what it is that scientists do, especially within the context of evolution (from a Science New article, August 1, 2009 "Accept It…"):

You believe in God. You believe your sports team is going to win. But you don’t believe in cell division. You don’t believe in thermodynamics. Instead, you might say you “accept evolution.”

The point Dr. Scott is making is that when a scientist relies upon "belief" when talking about evolution, then the public may interpret that perspective as mere opinion. She points out that education is politicized. She feels responsible for educating the public about the facts of evolution. Within those efforts, she avoids controversy by refusing to invoke "belief" in reference to the work of scientists.

However, within discussion about the nature of science, we concede the human dimensions of the scientific enterprise: our fallibility due to pre-judgments, the significance of creativity ways of looking at problems, and the tentativeness with which we make scientific claims. In this vein, physics professor John Armstrong at Weber State University, offers this explanation of science:

The scientist believes that the universe is understandable and that the universe is knowable. And we don't know if that's true or not. And so when somebody talks about science-based reasoning or faith-based exploration — I mean, science is faith-based. Right? You believe the human mind can comprehend the universe.

So what is a science teacher to do? It seems this is another example where maintaining a careful balance is required. Perhaps it would be best to follow Eugenie Scott's advice when trying to represent the culture of science for students. But when we are safe to become philosophical, perhaps then we could concede that part of what makes science so compelling for the professional is the shared ideology or belief system that all our efforts will have a pay-off. Without any guarantee that it will in fact come to pass, we operate with the belief that the universe can make sense when examined with a scientific worldview. We just need to be careful who is listening when we make such confessions.

myths and misconceptions

Perhaps the most nagging worry I have for science teachers (myself including) is that students will complete a course holding onto myths and misconceptions. Misconceptions about science concepts will be a conversation for another day and in a different place. However, there is an excellent essay about myths related to the Nature of Science written by Bill McComas. What I enjoy about this essay is that it so effectively draws upon history lessons to explain how we reached our current state of confusion.

I find the section on "scientific method" myth to be quite powerful. More than describing that the steps are just wrong, McComas helped me by understanding what led to this craziness. And in some ways, this is a good lesson in how to overcome misconceptions about science content. The combination of what is right AND what is wrong about the other idea advanced my understanding ... and hopefully that of my students.

The multi-step list seems to have started innocently enough when Keeslar [in the 1940s] prepared a list of characteristics associated with scientific research. This list was refined into a questionnaire and submitted to research scientists for validation. Items that were highly ranked were put in a logical order. Textbook writers quickly adopted this list as the description of how science is done. In in the hands of generations of textbook writers, a simple list of characteristics associated with scientific research became a description of how all scientists work.

Sometimes I think about scientific understanding as an object we can hold in our hands. We use this concept (maybe it's a lens) to examine what we see. In order to get rid of an incorrect idea, we can't simply add to it. We must discard the wrong tool and replace it with the new one. And for the new one to prove its power, it should provide both a clearer explanation AND be useful for a wider set of events. For diagrams like this one to be powerful (sorry if it's too small to read but it's supposed to show that the "scientific method" doesn't proceed in a straight line) such illustrations must be strong enough to overshadow what was being used before.

Whether McComas intended to or not, I wonder whether we should not only teach the accurate information but give attention to the wrong ideas. The challenge with scientific misconceptions (e.g., the Sun is closer to the Earth in summer) may require pulling those naive ideas to the surface. Knowing what is wrong may be necessary to appreciate what make the better idea so superior. I suppose what might be worth considering when working with older students is that they can benefit from knowing why their ideas are wrong. It worked for me and my appreciation of the myth of the scientific method.

making meaningful mistakes

A reasonable goal in life is not to be viewed as a screw-up. Stumbling and fumbling is not how most of us wish to be perceived by our peers or our students. However, we can become so concerned about appearances that we shield ourselves from the benefits of learning from our mistakes. I am proposing that each of us should have as our goal to make a mistake each day in order that we might push ourselves to continuously refine our practices.

Several who have written about the development of expertise (including Malcolm Gladwell in his book Outliers) have identified a ten thousand hour rule. In brief, what seems consistent across anyone who is an expert (musician, athlete, etc.) is the accumulation of 10,000 hours of practice. Here is how Ericsson differentiates between experts and novices:

The difference between experts and less skilled subjects is not merely a matter of the amount and complexity of the accumulated knowledge; it also reflects qualitative differences in the organization of knowledge and its representation. Experts' knowledge is encoded around key domain-related concepts and solution procedures that allow rapid and reliable retrieval whenever stored information is relevant. Less skilled subjects' knowledge, in contrast, is encoded using everyday concepts that make the retrieval of even their limited relevant knowledge difficult and unreliable.

Hospitals were once required to conduct autopsies. Teaching hospitals (where new doctors were trained) were to maintain a rate of 25%. But that stipulation is not longer enforced. Furthermore, hospitals must absorb the expense (a few thousand dollars) because insurance will not cover the costs. An April 2005 article in the NYTimes Magazine called Buried Answers argues that doctors may continue to misdiagnose illnesses if they avoid using evidence from a post-mortem examination. An autopsy can reveal whether a person died for the reasons the physician claimed or not. But without an autopsy, a doctor may continue to believe his or her view diagnosis was correct. Even the word "autopsy" suggests these are potential learning events as the etymological derivation is "the act of seeing for oneself."

As clear-eyed professionals, we accept the fact that we will make mistakes. Rather than fear those, we should embrace them as opportunities to become smarter. Just as an expert musician practices in order to become more skilled, so too can a science teacher move closer to expertise. Your reflections or debriefings are the educational equivalent of autopsies. You learn what you did wrong and then you develop and grow in order to avoid such problems in the future. During his talk to TCPCG students last fall, William Ayers encouraged us to tally up all our mistakes at the end of every teaching day. And the next morning, we forgive ourselves for those transgressions and vow to do better.