Living science: the importance of science experiences in Brazil

By Jean Flanagan
Posted: June 17, 2013

This week we’re welcoming Roberta Manaa as a guest poster. Roberta has worked to connect the Brazilian public to cultural projects combining theater, cinema, and art with science since 2001. She is also a science fiction fan and has loved astronomy since childhood.

On a cold night in the pampas south of Brazil, I was outdoors, huddled in a blanket with a group of strangers and a shared passion: the universe and its secrets. We were waiting for space debris that would enter Earth’s atmosphere and burn, emitting light. The phenomenon is quite simple, but it creates a splendid spectacle. While we waited for the ignition of the cosmic dust we could also see moons, planets and clusters on the astronomer’s telescopes. That was two years ago. Back then, my passion for astronomy and science was reignited by that meteor shower, while I was experiencing it. Which raises a question: how important is it to live science?

Living science – programs that offer science as an experience

A number of Brazilian institutions offer science experiences for the public. The Federal University’s physics department in South Brazil offers stargazing activities, such as the one I described above, so people can have a hands-on opportunity to experience science. In these events, professors and students are available to offer explanation on subjects such as how stars are born. I even witnessed a heated discussion between two students about the destiny of our sun when it runs out of fuel. They ended up taking the case to the referee: their professor.

In Brazil, I recently moved to the nation’s Carnival headquarters, Rio de Janeiro, a city that houses two institutions dedicated to space: the Museum of Astronomy and Sciences and the Planetarium Foundation. The former focuses on promoting academic studies, lectures, courses, seminars, and publications, and welcomes schools for visits. It offers sky observation programs on Saturday evenings, when the public may see the sky with a centennial lunette (a historical instrument used to look to the stars) as well as with modern equipment. In addition, the institution promotes “cooking with chemistry” and “museum goes to the beach“, activities to explain the science in our everyday lives.

The Planetarium offers movie sessions for students, as well as science experiments for the public. The visitors can perform experiments that demonstrate how sunlight hits earth, explain the seasons, or show the composition of galaxies. On occasion, the telescopes are brought to low income communities.

The community uses Planetarium telescopes for stargazing. Photo kindly provided by the Planetarium Foundation.

The community uses Planetarium telescopes for stargazing. Photo kindly provided by the Planetarium Foundation.

Using cultural events to promote science

I’ve followed my mother’s footsteps to become a cultural producer: someone who is at the backstage of cultural projects and makes them possible. In this context, I work to create opportunities to expose people to art and science, as well as make them moved by what they have experienced.

In her book Not For Profit – Why Democracy Needs Humanities, Martha Nussbaum states that even scientific minds benefit from exerting creativity. Theater can do that: it boosts confidence and creates a sense of collectivity. Developing a character’s background exercises creativity, and adapting a story for the stage brings in a fresh perspective.

In one of my cultural projects, I collaborate with  Rio de Janeiro’s  Jedi Council, a gathering of Star Wars fans. We plan activities inside the Planetarium to hook sci-fi fans into the world of science by offering movies, debates with scientists, storytelling activities using puppets and costumes, and administering theater and costuming workshops. We also collaborate with Nova Chance, a volunteer-based Institute that serves the low-income neighborhood of Mangueira.

Roberta Manaa at a Jedi Council cinema club event. Photo by Carlos Voltor.

Roberta Manaa at a Jedi Council cinema club event. Photo by Carlos Voltor.

Exposing kids and teens to new adventures might ignite the same curiosity I experienced as a child listening to my father’s star stories. As Sci-Ed contributor Cristina Russo wrote earlier, “museum visitors don’t always visit the museum with the intention to learn, but mostly with the intention of leisure or entertainment. Learning is seen as secondary, an added perk.”  To create opportunities for the public to stumble upon knowledge through informal education is our purpose, considering “there’s less pressure to learn in these informal environments, so they can actually be fun.“

How about showing kids that being a scientist might be much cooler than being a soccer player or a funk singer? Will.I.am has been doing that with his foundation, as well as helping with scholarships students who want to go to college. A similar approach is being taken by Dr. Emdin, a professor of science at NYC, and the rapper GZA. Both met at a radio program hosted by Neil deGrasse Tyson. To tackle the problem that only 4% of African-American high school seniors are proficient in science in comparison to 27% of white seniors, they use hip-hop rhymes to teach the principles of physics. Neil deGrasse Tyson tells us in Space Chronicles: Facing the Ultimate Frontier:

“whenever we hold an event at the Hayden Planetarium that includes an astronaut… there’s a significant uptick in attendance. [...] The one-on-one encounter makes a difference in the hearts and minds of Earth’s armchair space travelers [...]. My reading of history and culture tells me that people need their heroes.”

Cristina Russo discussed this “astronaut effect” in a recent post on space education.

Limitations of funding

The Perseid meteor shower was an impressive astronomical event that was visible in the southern hemisphere, from Saturday the 11th to Monday the 13th in August of 2012. It was another opportunity to expose the public to the beauties of the universe: stargazing during the phenomenal passage of  that beautiful stream of debris. However, that incredible spectacle of nature was unable to change an institution’s pre-determined schedule: observations at the Planetarium take place only on Wednesdays. Given limitations such as this, can we keep the interest in science alive?

Unfortunately, a lack of funds for science, culture, and education is commonplace in public Brazilian institutions. A widespread problem we face in Brazil is a lack of interest from the government in science and culture that results in an unqualified workforce; some parallels can be made to the US, especially in times of sequestration. This is the consequence of decades of deficient investment in education and the lack of a long-term project for scientific development. To illustrate the point, in 2011 Brazil’s president removed the country’s support for the European Extremely Large Telescope, stopping its construction and therefore ending Brazilian scientists’ chances to participate in the observations. Fortunately Brazilian Congress has reopened the discussion on this issue.

I am lucky to have had a father who made me curious about the world I live in and about the other worlds. Growing up, he taught me about the rain, sky, thunder, moon and stars. He told me that the deeper we look into the sky, the farther we look into the universe’s past. He told me a star that we see now may have already turned into a supernova. Other children are not so lucky to have that deep scientific curiosity in their families.

How can we, as a society, help fill that role? By working alongside the Planetarium Foundation and the Jedi Council, I try to fill that gap by promoting culture and education. If kids do not have a background that inspires and enables them to build scientific knowledge, then it is our job to offer them the tools to grow that interest.

 

Category: Informal Science Education, Public understanding of science | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Anatomy Lesson

By Cristina Russo
Posted: June 10, 2013

It was a typical muggy day on a tropical summer afternoon. I walk down the stairs, straight to the basement. The building’s architecture follows the Portuguese Colonial style. There is no air conditioning, despite the 90 degree heat. The strong smell of formaldehyde is the first thing to notice. It is everywhere, even in the hallway and stairs. I’m used to it by now and it doesn’t bother me, not nearly as much as the humid heat. The smell changes with the weather though, and becomes much more aggressive in that AC-deprived Brazilian basement. I walk the hallway until I get to the last door on the right. Waiting inside are a few classmates, and our subject of study, which lies atop aluminum tables covered with white sheets.

The professor comes in. He is a faculty member at the College of Medicine and a surgeon at the local hospital. We lift the sheets and work together while the professor instructs us. We are a biology class, not medicine, so we don’t need to dissect. What we see comes “pre-dissected” for us by the medical students who had the same class earlier in the day. We observe, take notes, and draw. We have gotten so used to that setting that we are now unfazed. I accidentally drop my pencil on one of the tables. I pick it up, dry off the formaldehyde with my lab coat, and put it back in my pocket. When class is over, I leave the room and go to dinner. I’m relieved: the restaurant has air conditioning.

I was 18, a computer science major fascinated with robotics. My sister is the one who encouraged me to sign up for human anatomy. She went through the same experience years earlier during medical school, and she thought it was essential if I wanted to work designing prosthetics.

Ten years later, when she and I met again for a short vacation in Philadelphia, we both were doctors, but of different kinds. We decided to go, for our first stop, to the Mütter Museum of medical history. Here she influenced me once again, encouraging me to write about anatomy classes and the dissection of cadavers for this blog.

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Cadaver workshop for anesthesiologists and surgeons offered by an American hospital. Photo by Dr. Silvana Russo and used with permission.

You can’t learn anatomy from a book

Part of studying medicine is learning how to read the human body. Classes in human anatomy are essential and the way to master the art is with human cadavers and dissection.

Once I had passed the shock of the formaldehyde smell — it is reported to be the most common reaction by medical students — what I noticed is that the body is not a colorful, high-def, perfectly symmetric version of a textbook drawing. The human body, as perceived by my eighteen year-old self, is a mess of pink and brown. Nothing is clear-cut. Finding the heart? Fine. Distinguishing one cranial nerve out of twelve? Not so easy.

Another reason for studying actual bodies — and, if possible, several of them — is the anatomical variation between individuals. That is not captured in books or lectures. A human body is different from an illustrated body, and one body is different from the next. Anatomist Todd Olson makes the case for human cadavers in class: “I’ve been teaching and studying anatomy for over 40 years, and I’ve never seen a live or dead person that looks like an anatomy book, because every picture in an anatomy book identifies the ‘average’ condition. . . But none of us are 100 percent average.” Future doctors need to learn about the variations that come with race, age, and gender. The right kidney may be higher in some people, and others may even lack some blood vessels. (In fact, someone’s organs may all be in the opposite side, as discovered by anatomists and illustrated by Carl Zimmer’s story.)

The learning never stops. Large features are well studied in those anatomy classes, but smaller-scale ones are not. My sister, an anesthesiologist, recently signed up for a cadaver workshop run by a renowned American hospital. Her goal was to zoom in on tiny nerve ramifications and see how to access them to deliver pain treatments. As an example, she referred me to a dissection study where researchers were surprised to report that many bodies had three nerve ramifications, as opposed to the expected two. That kind of knowledge is helpful in her work with patients with chronic pain.

 

Unwritten benefits

When I started my research for this post, what I had in mind was the importance of the technical knowledge medical students gain from studying and dissecting human bodies. I also considered the “hands-on” learning that result in long-term memory, as described by Hasan et. al, and the “practice” component. (An anatomy professor told a nervous student to calm down: “If you make mistakes, that’s fine. Your patient’s not going to complain.”) I hadn’t considered another, unspoken objective:  for many college students, anatomy class is their first contact with death.

Medical students need to be prepared to deal with emergencies, trauma, and death. Many instructors also see it as a rite of passage — what Brent Robbins calls an “initiation into the worldview of modern medicine and its (historically and culturally) unique conceptualization of the human body.”

I called John Romano, comparative anatomy teacher, to ask about his approach on dissection and death. “I’m a blunt teacher” Romano explains, “I tell students that at one point everyone will be dead. When you teach biology, that is something they have to understand.”

In his high school class, Romano and his students dissect animals (rats, cats, fetal pigs, a cow’s heart, and sheep’s brain). Still, the teacher remarks on the amazing emotional transformational that kids go through by the end of the course: “their confidence goes way up. I see such a change from nervousness to complete confidence”, a crucial trait for a future medical or biology professional.

 

Replacing cadavers with computers

Some classroom settings are replacing dissections with computer models. Ethical implications are not an issue: everyone I spoke to believes the need for human cadavers and dissection is unquestionable.

The main limitation is budget. Even with the overwhelming majority of medical schools in favor of using human cadavers in anatomy lessons, they are difficult to come by. It is not only a matter of finding donors. It takes a lot of resources to hire skilled anatomists and develop the infrastructure required for the storage and preparation of the bodies. Imaging methods (ultrasound, x rays, CT scans, PET scans, MRI), are excellent complementary techniques, but not a substitute for the real body. Gunderman and Wilson believe that  radiology and other technologies have advantages, but can’t entirely substitute for cadaver dissection. He advocates for a combination of both.

Anatomy classes foster not only knowledge, but also emotional growth and maturity. They teach what Kennedy and Olson rank as the core dilemma of patient care: “the need to be personally engaged yet clinically detached.” All alternatives help, but they don’t give the student the connection to a real patient. Or, like Gunderman and Wilson said, “images do not naturally link the anatomy with a human face”.

 

References

Category: Higher Ed | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

ASAP Awards: Rewarding and acknowledging novel uses of Open Access resources

By Atif Kukaswadia
Posted: May 27, 2013
The Accelerating Science Award Program | Image from the ASAP Website (click to go to ASAP website)

The Accelerating Science Award Program | Image from the ASAP Website (click to go to ASAP website)

Those of you who know PLOS know that PLOS is a big advocate of Open Access – making research and findings available to everyone. To support Open Access work, and to highlight innovative and creative uses of OA, PLOS recently announced the new Accelerating Science Award Program (ASAP), three $30,000 award aimed at highlighting three exceptional ways that individuals have used OA research in fields as diverse as science and medicine, technology or even at the societal level.

Nominees can be individuals, teams or cross-disciplinary groups – as long as the Program Rules are met, it’s all fair game! I wanted to highlight this award for our readers, as I’m sure there are some of you using OA research in innovative ways, and I strongly encourage all of you to consider nominating yourself (or others) for this award.

I also ask that you spread the word through your institutions, organizations and other connections – this is a great initiative and can help promote excellent Open Access work that is occurring worldwide.

The deadline for ASAP nominations is June 15, 2013, using an online form located on the ASAP website.

Some specific details about the award: The project/idea must be based on research articles or content published through Open Access before May 1st, 2013 in a peer-reviewed journal or in a repository recognized in the Open Access community. If the use results in a publication, the publication must be Open Access. For those interested, there are details available on the Program Rules.

From the ASAP FAQ, here are some examples. These are for illustrative purposes only and don’t refer to anyone in particular, and there are other projects that would fit the ASAP requirements. If you are unsure, you can contact ASAP[at]plos.org to check.

The health minister of a low income country was able to confidently and quickly change cancer treatment protocols based on an oncology research article detailing successful uses of a repurposed cancer drug published by a peer reviewed, Open Access journal, which had been translated into multiple languages by a group of retired language teachers.

A climate policy expert took original figures and examples from a recent Open Access climate change research paper — correlating temperature increases with rises in ocean depth — and repurposed these findings in a policy-focused presentation at a conference of experts from 25 Asian and Oceanic countries – leading to the adoption of stricter emissions standards by several participating countries.

A technologist used the APIs provided by Open Access publishers and aggregators to chart trending topics in environmental science research. He then mapped these research priorities against NSF and RCUK grants to show how grant monies impact what areas researchers pursue.

A team of bioinformatics researchers utilized tissue samples from an Open Access repository to obtain tumor DNA sequence abnormality data, which they repurposed to create a new web-based app for oncologists to analyze a new patient’s tumor cells – thus facilitating personalized cancer treatment.

I’m excited to see the nominees for this award, and I can’t wait to see how people have used OA research in new and creative ways. Good luck to all the nominees!

Ed note: This post was posted simultaneously on www.MrEpidemiology.com

Category: Public understanding of science, Science teaching | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Learning to read the tree of life

By Jean Flanagan
Posted: May 20, 2013

Evolution education is entering an exciting time: scientists are working on the Open Tree of Life – the first comprehensive tree charting the evolutionary relationships of all named species — and many U.S. classrooms are preparing for state adoption of the Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS), in which evolution and common ancestry are central. However, in order to capitalize on these developments, students will need to become competent in the surprisingly tricky skill of “tree thinking.”

Lone tree. Photo by Daveybot on Flickr (CC-BY-NC-SA).

Lone tree. Photo by Daveybot on Flickr (CC-BY-NC-SA).

Trees are one of the most powerful metaphors in art and science. For biologists, the “tree of life” stands for both the unity and diversity of life. But are students and non-scientists accurately interpreting its branches? As I’ve discussed here before, misconceptions about the mechanism of natural selection — often referred to as microevolution — are rampant. However, understanding macroevolution — the big picture of biological evolution, including the common ancestry of life and the relationships among groups of living things — may be even more difficult.

Troubles with trees

Science education researchers have been documenting students’ troubles with trees for many years. Textbooks, museum exhibits, and other learning resources are filled with a variety of tree-inspired diagrams that often represent different types of information from each other. Different diagrams may show different levels of taxa (for example, species, genera, or orders). Some may be oriented horizontally and others vertically. And they may or may not include shared traits, shared ancestors, or time. Some researchers have argued that diagrams that are not cladograms — which use a simple branching system to depict clades, or groups that share a common ancestor — are less useful and only serve to confuse. Yet even cladograms themselves are notoriously easy to misinterpret.

Image by Alexei Kouprianov (CC-BY-SA).

Two styles of cladogram depicting identical relationships. Branches can rotate around nodes without altering the meaning of the diagram. Image by Alexei Kouprianov (CC-BY-SA).

Common misinterpretations of cladograms result from reading from top to bottom (horizontally oriented cladograms) or from left to right (vertically oriented ones) and inferring either an increase in “complexity” (likely reinforced by highly problematic “march of progress” diagrams) or passage of time. Similarly, instead of following the nodes back to a most recent common ancestor, many students focus on the tips (the parts marked with taxa names) and infer that spatial closeness implies a closer evolutionary relationship.

When describing what is represented in cladograms, students focus on perceived “similarities” rather than ancestry. For the most part, the more recently two taxa shared a common ancestor, the more similarities they will have. But because of confounding factors like convergent evolution (when distantly related taxa evolve similar traits in response to similar environmental pressures) perceived similarity can be highly inaccurate, and is not what is represented in a cladogram. For a full summary of the pitfalls with an abundance of clarifying diagram examples, see evolutionary biologist T. Ryan Gregory’s review article (pdf).

The National Evolutionary Synthesis Center (NESCent) recently held a meeting to address some of the challenges in evolution communication. In response to scientists outlining the misinterpretations of trees, paleontology writer Brian Switek tweeted:

If reading across the tips of a cladogram/phylogeny is misleading, we need new imagery for #evocomm to the public.

This suggestion dovetails well with the expectations for science practices set forward in the NRC’s A Framework for K-12 Science Education (from which the NGSS were developed):

By grade 12, students should be able to:
Represent and explain phenomena with multiple types of models—for example, represent molecules with 3-D models or with bond diagrams—and move flexibly between model types when different ones are most useful for different purposes.

Perhaps if students were given a totally different kind of visual model for common ancestry to use alongside the traditional tree metaphor, they could overcome some of the difficulties and learn something about the nature of scientific modeling in the process.

A change of perspective

I met Sonia Stephens a little over a year ago at the NARST (National Association for Research in Science Teaching) annual meeting and was immediately excited by her work. As part of her dissertation in science communication, she had responded to all the conceptual difficulties that trees seem to cause by creating a digital dynamic evolutionary map (DEM).

In her paper in Evolution: Education & Outreach, Sonia explains that the map is essentially a top-down cross-section of a phylogenetic tree. Multiple cross-sections, which animate in sequence, represent different points in time. Taxa appear as dots whose relative spatial distances are determined by phylogenetic relatedness. When reading a cladogram, the intuitive impulse to infer relatedness from spatial distance between branch tips inevitably leads to error. The DEM works with this intuition, rather than against it.

Visualization by Sonia Stephens (CC-BY-NC-SA).

The Dynamic Evolutionary Map showing the present day. Visualization by Sonia Stephens (CC-BY-NC-SA).

When I asked her about what people would need to understand in order to use the map, she said:

I assumed a basic knowledge of biology, having seen (though not necessarily knowing all the nuances of) phylogenetic trees, and familiarity with at least some terminology, e.g. evolution, genes, species, etc. In order to integrate the DEM into a classroom setting, you’d want to provide more context for these concepts.

The DEM is free to use (under creative commons license CC-BY-NC-SA) and Sonia is always interested to hear from possible collaborators.

Another digital innovation on evolutionary tree diagrams, the amazing OneZoom Tree of Life Explorer, will be visualizing the Open Tree of Life. As detailed in an article on the PLOS community pages, OneZoom’s tree breaks the static, paper-bound mold — and it includes three different fractal shape options, which may prevent some types of misinterpretation. However, unlike the DEM all versions retain the branching metaphor.

Rosindell & Harmon 2012

Users can toggle between three different tree shapes in the OneZoom Tree of Life Explorer. (Rosindell & Harmon 2012).

The flexibility of digital visualization has the potential to overcome many of the obstacles to “tree thinking.” I’m looking forward to seeing research evaluating the affordances of these new tools and the development of appropriate educational supports.

References

Gregory, T. R. (2008). Understanding evolutionary trees. Evolution: Education and Outreach, 1(2), 121-137.

Stephens, S. (2012). From Tree to Map: Using Cognitive Learning Theory to Suggest Alternative Ways to Visualize Macroevolution. Evolution: Education and Outreach, 5(4), 603-618.

Category: Public understanding of science, Science communication, Science education research | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Can a museum object be more like a dog?

By Cristina Russo
Posted: May 13, 2013

About a month ago I visited the Adam Lister art gallery. In one art exhibit, an artist had placed a gumball machine filled with what he called “tiny art”. The machine had a sign that encouraged people to play, by inputting one dollar and turning the knob. Puzzled, I scrambled for quarters to feed that gumball machine and find my prize. In return, I received a small plastic shelled ball – similar to the toy-filled shells in arcade gumball machines. Instead of a toy, the plastic ball held a piece of tiny art, created by one of the local artists in the community.  An art gallery has a different goal than a museum, but still, I thought we could re-use that idea. Can an exhibit encourage participation? From that moment on, I decided to learn more about the concept of a participatory exhibit or museum.

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A piece of tiny art is hidden inside its receptacle. Photo by the author.

Participatory museum

The participatory museum is a concept advocated by Nina Simon. At the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, she designs interactive exhibits that offer visitors a chance to create art. For example, the museum houses a table display with empty mason jars, paper, and pen, which invites visitors to share a memory. This idea is analogous to a “message in a bottle”. So far, visitors have already shared thousands of memories in jars, which go on display in a museum wall, side by side with the museum’s art collection. Some powerful, emotional memories have been stored (such as a mother’s note to her deceased son in Iraq). One take home message here is: art is no longer something you simply stare at.

I interviewed museum specialist Laura DiSciullo, who offered one such example of participation: “interaction may involve strangers interacting, or visitors interacting with past and future visitors by leaving a comment. There were times when I was the only visitor in an exhibit, but the experience was still interactive in that I could see what previous visitors had contributed, and leave my own contribution.”

In addition, she mentions exhibits that  “have elements geared toward intergenerational learning, esp. a family of visitors interacting. Not only are the adults helping the children learn (and perhaps vise versa), but it is also a social, bonding experience for the family.”

Social Objects

In her TED talk last November, Nina Simon states that “museum objects should be more like dogs”. Dog owners out there might understand what she means: you are outside walking your dog and are approached by friendly strangers who ask to pet him. Nina Simon sees museum artifacts as social objects. Like a dog, a museum object offers an excuse for strangers to have a conversation. Specifically, they are a “safe social object that mediates an encounter that otherwise wouldn’t have happened”. Dogs and social museum objects are opportunities for conversation; they mediate conversation between strangers.

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Teens discuss the stacks of money demonstrating income disparities among different races. Photo by Terry Gydesen at The Participatory Museum.

In her book, Nina Simon invites us to “imagine looking at an object not for its artistic or historical significance but for its ability to spark conversation”. This is how she defines the concept of social object. One social object example comes from a Santa Cruz museum exhibit that shows the income disparities between white and black populations in the exhibit Race: Are We So Different? A group of teenagers stares in shock at two piles of dollar bills, with wildly different heights. For Ms. Simon, the exhibit is mediating a serious conversation (income disparity) between a group of strangers (teenagers and other museum visitors), that might not have happened otherwise. Another powerful example of social objects is the wrecked car displayed at the Jeremy Deller: It is what it is: Conversations about Iraq exhibit, which prompts visitors and an invited expert (a veteran, journalist, or scholar) to debate.

wreckedcar

A wrecked car after an explosion in Baghdad. This social object sparks conversation at Jeremy Deller: It Is What It Is: Conversations About Iraq at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago. Photography © Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago by photographer, Analu Maria Lopez.

Bringing social objects to science museums

Science museums already offer opportunities for visitors to participate, mostly via interactive exhibits. But how do we bring debate, especially one that continues after a visitor leaves the museum?

Many science topics would benefit from serious discussion. Evolution, climate change, human origins, or vaccination (considering the current “antivax” climate) are a few that come to mind. How can science museums use social objects to help foster debate?

The Hall of Human Origins, at the National Museum of Natural History, emphasizes the evolutionary relationships between early humans and anatomically modern human. The hall welcomes visitors with a provocative message: “what does it mean to be human?”. It lines up reconstructions of early humans (such as Australopithecine and Neanderthals) that culminate with an impressive wall of skulls. Standing in front of that wall, one can join conversation that is invariably going on: some children are terrified, other are curious. I saw it for the first time when I was there with my sister, who is an MD. She unconsciously switched to doctor mode and starting point out to causes of death based on what she saw on skulls. “Here’s a brow fracture; this guy suffered a blow to the head”, or “that poor guy must have had a massive toothache.”

The hall also offers a lecture series called HOT – short for Human Origin Topics – that focus on controversial science and philosophical questions (e.g., evolution or religion). But perhaps the most popular object in the hall – and a great example of a social object – is the MEanderthal photo booth. Visitors line up to take their photo, which will be morphed into a Neanderthal version of themselves. Long lines form in this particular object, and people interact while waiting in line.  Laura DiSciullo told me that MEanderthal is “a fun conversation piece for friends and families, or perhaps strangers waiting in what can be a long line for this popular feature.”

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Giant drill at the Perot Museum of Science and Nature. Photo by Lara Solt at Dallas News.

Other science-based institutions offer social objetcs and exhibits. The National Zoo has a pizza playground, with the goal of teaching children where their food comes from (pepperoni does not sprout from the ground). The Perot Museum of Nature and Science displays a giant drill in their energy hall that – and if this seems controversial it’s because it is – that illustrates hydro fracking. DiSciullo also reminds me of “the world population counter [at the Hall of Human Origins] that continually increases, and the large display saying how much of our DNA we share with other species (including bananas).”

How can science museums become more social?

The process starts during exhibit design. DiSciullo explains that, during design, educators advocate for learning outcomes. One example, used by some museums, is the GLO, or Generic Learning Outcomes: “ [GLO] describe all the types of learning that can take place – learning facts is one possible goal for visitors, but not the only one.” In addition to learning, museum educators also encourage other outcomes, such as “helping visitors make connections between things they already know, or express themselves creatively, or make a positive behavior change based on what they’ve learned.” We’ve all seen programs like the one at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch, where visitors receive card to instruct them on sustainable and health decisions.

Nina Simon urges museums to answer the following questions: “how do you want visitors to learn from or interact with each other? Do you want to promote dialogue…? Do you want to promote group collaboration? Do you want visitors to respond to each other, to help each other, to create things together?” With those goals in mind, museums aim for a learning outcome of social interaction.  As museum consultant Darcie Fohrman reports to Simon, “In the museum field, we know that learning happens when there is discussion and conversation. We want people to ask strange questions and say, ‘I don’t get this.”

Category: Informal Science Education, Public understanding of science, Science education research, Science Museums | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

My Top 3 Geology Education Models

By Adam Blankenbicker
Posted: May 6, 2013

I love models. Specifically dynamic, non-digital models. I love building something and then seeing it work. And apparently, lots of other people enjoy them, too. There’s something about seeing something work in real life (if still a model) rather than on a screen that drives home a process and helps people really understand what’s at work. Whether it be science, technology or engineering, models are necessary for designing better products, and understanding processes we can’t always observe directly.

Geology, in particular, is a science that requires models to study hard-to-observe processes. Geology may happen too slowly, over millions of years, or too quickly.  The scale may be too big, or too small. Geologic processes can occur unexpectedly or they might just be too dangerous to get close to. Models help scientists study these processes, but they also help students and adults of all ages understand processes – and get them excited about learning, too.

Instead of writing specifically about the benefits of models in the context of science education, I wanted to share a few of my favorite geologic models that I have been able to develop over the years to get people excited about learning geology.

#3: Tectonic Forces

My current work at the National Museum of Natural History includes developing geology programming for a new education center that we will be opening this Fall, called Q?RIUS.  (Can’t pronounce it?  Just say “curious”.) When the website it up, I’ll be sure to let you know.

One experience in the works involves modeling how tectonic forces cause layers of rock to fold and fault through compression. Many universities do this in their geology courses, and post their videos online. In a museum setting, however, these models need to be developed so that even a 5th grader can operate it with minimal, or no supervision.

The model I have put together with the help of NMNH geologists and the exhibits department still needs some minor improvements, but most of the visitors who have tested the prototype have become really excited about tectonic forces. They have made strong connections between the model and the geologic structures they see in mountains and road cuts.

The model is a thin, rectangular cell, constructed of clear plexi-glass. The top is left open so that visitors can deposit layers of colored sand and flour. On one side are three rectangular bars that slide inwards, compressing the layers of flour and sand causing them to fold and fault.

NMNH Geologist Ben Andrews tests out a model to teach about tectonic forces. Photo by the author.

NMNH Geologist Ben Andrews tests out a model to teach about tectonic forces. Photo by the author.

My favorite visitor comment came from a girl in middle school who said it was fun and interesting to see something like this because diagrams and digital animations, like what they see in school, don’t feel real. Feedback like this affirms the importance of physical models as part of the learning experience.

#2: Landslides

The summer in which I was finishing my master’s thesis I signed up to teach a weeklong course in geological engineering to high school girls from around the country that came to visit Michigan Technological University. The program was called Women in Engineering, and fortunately I was granted the opportunity to lead this session despite not being a woman.

Each day for one week I would lead two two-hour-long sessions, repeating the same content, so by the end of the week the whole session went as well as it could have.  Sessions were filled with multiple experiences, but the wrap up at the end was modeling a landslide, or a failed dam. In this demo I had to do quite a bit of prep work, but it was worth so much more than the effort. I was able to access the concrete lab, where I shoveled buckets of sand into a large sieves to isolate 2 grains sizes of sand. Dirt was collected from outside the building, along with some pebbles.

The geological engineering lab had a number of metal containers, about 60cm long, 20cm wide and 20cm deep into which we made dams and hills. At one end students layered the sand with thin layers of dirt and saturated them as they built up their structure.  On the top they placed a thicker layer of dirt. To add some scale and context, we had them place Monopoly houses and hotels on the slope.

High school girls made models of landslides in Women in Engineering. Photo by the author

High school girls made models of landslides in Women in Engineering. Photo by the author

At the back of the dam or slope was space to allow us to pour water, which would begin seeping through the structure, over-saturating it. Now gravity would take over, and over the next five minutes we would slowly watch the top layer of dirt become wet and begin to slowly sag and slump. I would ask the girls to look for signs of impending disaster, but I’m pretty sure they were only waiting for their Monopoly house to fall over with the landslide.

#1: Volcanic Clouds

My first experience teaching was as a Peace Corps volunteer in Guatemala.  I was in the environmental education program, and was also able to conduct my research for my master’s degree on Santiaguito, the local volcano. At first, my focus was on the volcano and working with the country’s geological and meteorological institution, INSIVUMEH. But I soon became excited about getting others excited about learning science.

Both of the schools I worked at were very small (one teacher) and were located on plantations that butted up right to the flanks of the volcano. I thought this provided an opportunity to teach something about a very personal subject. About every hour or so the volcano would have a small eruption, producing a small cloud of ash that would float away, so I asked my students why the ash cloud floated away and didn’t just fall to the ground.

Answer: buoyancy. To explain why, the classes made large cubes out of tissue paper which were lightly glued together. Each face was about 1.5m X 1.5m. At one corner of each cube we left an opening into which we injected hot air with a hair dryer. Despite the logistical difficulties of creating three large cubes in a tiny classroom, we were able to complete the project, and early one morning before it warmed up we went out onto the soccer field and began blowing hot air into the cubes.

Well, the first two cubes didn’t take flight, so I was understandably getting nervous.  Fortunately the third and final cube was a success.  Even before it lifted off, those holding it down could feel it beginning to pull upwards as we were filling it with hot air.  After the countdown and release it began to lift slowly into the air and the younger kids began to trying to jump up and catch it.

Hot air-filled cubes stay afloat for the same reason as volcanic clouds: buoyancy. Photo by the author.

Hot air-filled cubes stay afloat for the same reason as volcanic clouds: buoyancy.  Volcano Santa Maria looms in the background, with the active Caliente Dome of Santiaguito behind the palm tree, just to the right.  Photo by the author.

Oh, and right after it took off, the volcano erupted.

Let’s Model!

Kids, adults, students of all ages, and lifelong learners can all benefit from using models.  One thing to keep in mind when teaching with models, however, is that they are not perfect analogies, but certain aspects of them are relevant to understanding a physical process; a case in point is the volcano and the buoyancy of the hot air balloons.  Nonetheless, just as important as helping us understanding science, models are very successful in getting people excited to learn science, whatever it might be.

Category: Informal Science Education, Science Museums, Science teaching | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Battlestar Pedagogica: Using Science Fiction to teach Science!

By Atif Kukaswadia
Posted: April 29, 2013
Science fiction is educational - SO SAY WE ALL! Picture courtesy BattlestarWiki

Science fiction is educational – SO SAY WE ALL! | Picture courtesy Battlestar Galactica Wiki

I’m a huge fan of science fiction and fantasy. There are few feelings quite as impressive as when an author crafts a world that draws you in (See: Arrakis, Middle Earth, Westeros, LV-246, Hogwarts etc). Perhaps what I find most fascinating though, is how quickly science fiction can turn into real life. For example, the tricorder from Star Trek was a fictional device that could scan different aspects of the environment depending on the requirement, ranging from geological, such as mineral content of rocks, to metereological, such as air pressure and temperature, to biological, such as heart rate and blood pressure. While this sounded like a great dream in the 1960s (when The Original Series aired), we’re now, within a single generation (pun *totally* intended), able to turn this into reality. The new Samsung Galaxy S4, for example, is slated to be released with a suite of health apps (dubbed S Health), including apps to measure heart rate, blood pressure as well as track caloric expenditure. Even things as simple as being able to communicate without needing a bulky cellphone have now become a reality.

As teachers and educators, we suffer from a very real limitation when it comes to teaching. Either due to time, lack of equipment or other constraints we cannot teach some issues the way we would like. But even in the most well-equipped lab, sometimes we can’t teach a concept because the technology doesn’t exist. In those situations, we can use outlandish examples to discuss a concept, and then work backwards from there to discuss the limitations we currently face, a concept called a Thought Experiment. By imagining a scenario, we can push the boundaries of our understanding, discussing the issue from a “what about if X happened,” or “Would Y still occur if A and B happened.” There are many types of thought experiments, and it means different things to different disciplines. I’m going to be using it to refer the use of a metaphor to explain a concept, which corresponds to the “prefactual” type of thought experiment, ie. what outcome would we expect if we had conditions A, B and C.

Zombies: Not just for entertainment anymore | Picture courtesy AMC, available online here

Zombies: Not just for entertainment anymore | Picture courtesy AMC

With some ingenuity and creativity, we can incorporate this into our (science) teaching. Aetiology is the nom de plume of Tara Smith, an associate professor at the University of Iowa, and a member of the Zombie Research Society. If you aren’t already reading her blog, I highly recommend it. She wrote a great blog post last year about using zombies to teach virus outbreaks. Building on the face of such commercial successes as The Walking Dead, Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter and the upcoming movie World War Z, originally a novel by the very talented Max Brooks (who also wrote the Zombie Survival Guide), this is something that youth, as well as adults, can easily relate to. While viruses are difficult to understand and visualize, everyone can understand zombies, and how they transmit “zombie-ism.” When you’re the last survivors of the human race, there are some very pertinent questions you must ask:

“How would you protect yourself if infection was spread through the air versus only spread by biting?”

“How well would isolation of infected people work if the incubation period is very long versus very short?”

“Why might you want to thoroughly wash your zombie-killing arrows before using them to kill squirrels, which you will then eat?” (via Aetiology)

In infectious disease terms, these are referring to the 1) vector of transmission (how does the virus travel), 2) length of incubation (how long does it take before you start passing on the disease and 3) cross-contamination (disease moving from one object to another). But this is much more interesting than talking about “why should you wash your hands before eating dinner,” especially when talking to kids. But these can be expanded even further – what if zombies can’t pass on “zombie-ism”? What if zombies only live for 3 days? What if zombies are affected by extreme hot or cold temperatures? There are endless possibilities for how this experiment could be modified, adapted and how boundaries could be pushed. It’s something the CDC used for Zombie Preparedness Guide - using zombies they managed to engage people and use social marketing to their benefit, something I discussed over on the PLOS Public Health Perspectives blog. I’m a fan of this sort of work, and have also talked about using World of Warcraft to model disease outbreaks.

But this isn’t just limited to Star Trek and fictional monsters. Comic books are also a great resource when it comes to teaching and learning, especially when it comes to physics. An interview with Jim Kakalios, author of “The Uncanny Physics of Superhero Comic Books” talks about how much force Superman would need to “fly,” or whether Gwen Stacey would have died when the Green Goblin threw her off the George Washington Bridge. One example was taken from the movie Batman Begins. In that movie, there’s a scene where Batman glides around Gotham City using his cape. Some physicists took issue with this scene, and tried to determine what would have happened in real life in the aptly titled paper: Trajectory of a Falling Batman. The authors concluded that, based on the information provided, Batman would be gliding at a speed of 80kph (~ 50mph). Landing at this speed would cause grievous injuries, and thus, they conclude:

Clearly gliding using a batcape is not a safe way to travel, unless a method to rapidly slow down is used such as a parachute. (Marshall et al., 2011)

Data is a sentient being, with thoughts and, following his meeting with Lore, emotions. So should he be treated as a human, with all the rights and responsibilities of such? And if not, what does it mean to be "human"? | Picture courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Data is a sentient being, with thoughts and, following his meeting with Lore, emotions. So should he be treated as a person? | Picture courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Of course this isn’t just limited to STEM (although I’ll limit it given the scope of this piece). Science Fiction is also a great backdrop of the discussion of other important issues. You can also use Star Trek to discuss philosophy, such as whether or not Data, a fully functional, sentient android is a “person,” and whether he should be afforded the rights and responsibilities as such. PopBioEthics has an excellent discussion of science fiction philosophy titled “Why Mass Effect is the most important science fiction universe of our generation.” It’s a long read, discussing racism, speciesism and sexism in the context of a science fiction universe where humans aren’t the dominant life form, and totally worth the time investment. Courses in this area are offered for credit at some universities – the course PHIL 180 at Georgetown aims to cover these issues and more as part of its syllabus. This is an ongoing theme in science fiction – those who have watched Blade Runner or read any of Isaac Asimov or Phillip K. Dick’s work (Do Android’s Dream of Electric Sheep, I, Robot) are intimately familiar with this the issue of sentience and what is a life.

So what do you think readers? Have any of you used methods like this to teach students?

 

Special thanks to Brian R. for the title of this post, and all my Facebook friends who suggested equally awesome titles. Thanks guys!

Category: Public understanding of science, Science communication, Science teaching | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Hobbies: idle pastimes or keys to science engagement?

By Jean Flanagan
Posted: April 22, 2013

Collecting and polishing rocks and minerals, hunting for shells and fossils, gardening, birding, keeping freshwater and marine aquariums – this was how I spent my childhood: hopping from one hobby to the next, all centered around the natural (or semi-natural) world. My interest in science and nature started before I can remember – it just always seemed to be there. I’m sure my parents had something to do with it, my dad being an aerospace engineer, and my mom a student of botany and horticulture and a sort of unofficial lifelong naturalist. But while they supported my hobbies (often with a great deal of time, effort, and patience), these activities were all primarily driven by my own interests and inclinations. They weren’t things I was pushed to do. Over the years I cycled through paleontologist, veterinarian, science teacher, ecologist and marine biologist as my career goal of choice, but it was always a given in my mind that I would go to college, study biology, and end up in some sort of science-related career. The career I was set on pursuing in any given year usually matched whichever hobby I was currently most engaged with.

A few representatives from my childhood rock and mineral collection. Photo by Jean Flanagan

A few representatives from my childhood rock and mineral collection. Photo by Jean Flanagan.

My own story is just one anecdote, and unstructured science activities that occur in individual homes are difficult for education researchers to study. However a few retrospective studies have pointed to the importance of hobbies for interest and persistence in science. In 1993 Gilbert Nazier reported on the results from an open-response survey of 96 science and engineering professors (in the fields of biology, chemistry, physics, geology, and civil, mechanical, and electrical engineering). The survey simply asked: “What factors in your life led you to choose science/technology as the career you would enter? (Give a brief description and indicate the approximate time of this factor.)” Responses were categorized into nine major categories: science/math hobbies, family influence, natural curiosity, reading, field trips, competitions, career awareness, and science/math ability. The top category was science/math hobbies, with a quarter of the professors including this factor in their response. Furthermore, 70% of those who included hobbies as an influence reported partaking in them prior to age 12. More recently, Adam Maltese and Robert Tai published results from interviews with 116 scientists and science graduate students (in physics and chemistry) about their first engagement with science. The authors found that 45% of the interviewees described their interest as intrinsic or self-directed, (as opposed to stemming from school or family influence) with many mentioning tinkering and hobbies, and 65% of the interviewees reported that their interest in science began before middle school.

Of course other factors strongly influence persistence in science education and careers, including gender and socioeconomic status. And interest alone is not understanding – it isn’t enough to succeed in science classes or careers. However, it could act as a powerful motivator that could help students push past obstacles in education that would turn others away. While I certainly picked up some science facts, concepts, and practices through my hobbies, they couldn’t have taken the place of my school science classes. However, I did bring added enthusiasm for science to the classroom. I was proud to contribute outside knowledge to the class, and eager to apply what I learned in class to my hobbies. My passion, fueled by hobbies, helped me make the most of school science classes when other students may have disengaged due to sub-optimal curriculum, teaching, or assessments.

The possibility that hobbies can influence future involvement in science raises the issue of privilege. Individual, home-based hobbies require money, time, and parental engagement. I was fortunate to have a family that was able and eager to fund and support my science pastimes – many other bright young students are not so lucky. These students must rely on what schools and science centers can provide, and depending on their location, sometimes only school. While schools and science centers can provide similar types of engagement for students, these activities are usually much more structured and less self-directed than personal hobbies. They also tend to have limited time frames, whereas personal hobbies can be pursued at will across many years.

In “Look, Don’t Touch,” an essay published last year in Orion Magazine, environmental educator David Sobel bemoaned the state of informal environmental education “programs.” For young elementary-age children, he argued, most programs aren’t actually informal enough – they typically come with long lists of rules. Supporting his case, he summarized a review of surveys of adults in environmental careers:

…environmentalists talk about free play and exploration in nature, and family members who focused their attention on plants or animal behavior. They don’t talk much about formal education and informal nature education. Only in late childhood and adolescence do summer camp, teachers, and environmental clubs start to show up as being contributors to the individual’s environmental values and behaviors. It seems that allowing children to be “untutored savages” early on can lead to environmental knowledge in due time.

Schools or school-museum partnerships could facilitate more loosely structured hobby time in after-school or other non-class-time programs. Unlike class time, or even structured field trips, there wouldn’t have to be instruction, or any explicit focus on learning – the overarching goal would be nothing more than enjoyment. Learning would occur naturally as hobby-related questions arise, or in the classroom when connections to hobbies become apparent. But perhaps more importantly, students without the resources to pursue hobbies at home would have the chance to gain the benefits of associating science with fun, self-selecting science activities they most identify with, and accumulating some practical expertise that could spawn feelings of competence in science.

Category: Equity in science education, Informal Science Education, Science education research | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Science fairs: rewarding talent or privilege?

By Jean Flanagan
Posted: April 15, 2013

 

This week we’re welcoming Erin Salter to Sci-Ed as a guest poster. Erin Salter is a biomedical engineer turned science writer. She left the academic environment where she used to grind bones and investigate osteonecrosis to follow her passion for outreach and communication. Erin currently works as part of the content team for Owen Software, where she sits at the desk next to Sci-Ed contributor Cristina Russo. In her spare time, she volunteers at the National Aquarium, writes the science blog Hypertonic, and swing dances. Find her on twitter @McSalter.

A typical science fair scene. Photo by Flickr user RichardBowen | CC BY 2.0

A typical science fair scene. Photo by Flickr user RichardBowen | CC BY 2.0

The room is crowded with row after row of trifold poster boards and judges squinting and taking notes. Among the posters illustrating the effects of soil character on worm health, or the effectiveness of hand sanitizer, I see a project on amino acid substitution due to missense mutations. I’m judging the middle school division, but this project is at the level of a high school or even college student. When it comes time to decide the winners, I battle the other judges who favor complex project topics over soundness of experimental design. The owner of the missense mutation project had access to resources and connections not shared by the students testing soil and hand-sanitizer. There are clearly two project tiers within the competition, and they aren’t separated by scientific understanding, but by access to the professional scientific world. If the mutation project wins over soil character, does it mean we are punishing students who don’t have pre-existing science connections?

A two tiered system: dividing students by access

This spring, science fairs like this one will take place across the country, culminating in the Intel International Science Fair, where students will compete for $3 million in prestigious cash prizes and scholarships. The fair I am volunteering at is a local event, far humbler in status, but still a chance for students to showcase their research skills. As the division I’m judging is middle school biology, I expected to see a lot of “kitchen cabinet” science: kids exploring the world around them through tools they can find at school or at home (e.g. comparing mold growth on different types of bread or testing methods to prevent cutting onions from making you cry).

What I didn’t expect was such a vast divide among the projects. On the one side are students equipped with minimal supplies and the basic science knowledge of 5th through 8th graders (10 to 14 years old). Their projects are simpler: factors that affect food spoilage or seed germination, household chemicals that can be used as insect repellant. On the other end, you have the students who have access to professional laboratory equipment — spectrophotometers, sterile culture hoods — and mentors who are professional scientists. Their projects are more ambitious and, from a sheer subject matter standpoint, far more impressive. These were middle schoolers dealing with RNA, bacteriophage, computer modeling, and proper statistics (something that is sometimes hard to find even in published scientific papers). It’s true that students show an impressive amount of knowledge of complicated subject matters and methods, but they also have the advantage of access to equipment and help the other students don’t.

Are we rewarding privilege as well as sound science?

The nominal purpose of science fairs is to promote student-led inquiry and give kids hands-on experience with the scientific method. Much of our science education centers on the “product” of science – established laws, facts, and theories. When we do classroom experiments, the outcome is almost always a given; these experiments are illustrations, not investigations. Student-led projects (like those done for the science fair) are one way to incorporate open-ended inquiry into education. In fact, the National Science Education Standards recommend that students be given opportunity to understand and practice the scientific process (hypothesis, testing, and conclusions). The newly released Next Generation Science Standards go further to recommend the integration scientific concepts and practices in the classroom, as scientific inquiry requires the coordination of scientific ideas with experimental skills. Science fair projects allow students to ask their own questions, design their own research methods, and analyze their own data, thus giving them the experience of the full arc of scientific inquiry. And, perhaps most importantly, science fairs are supposed to demystify science and take it from a just-so story to an accessible (and fun) activity.

Unintentionally weeding out students without access

However, the rewards system of the science fair is flawed. There is no equity of access to lab facilities and equipment or access to scientific mentors, meaning some students are disadvantaged from the start. Projects done in the lab or with the help of a scientist mentor are inherently more impressive. While a kid who investigates pollution in a local watershed and a kid who looks at the effects of a chemotherapeutic drug on different cancer cells may be equals in the rigor of their scientific method, the kid with the lab-based project simply stands out more. So, unfortunately, the students who win these science fairs will often be the ones with the best access.

A 2009 study of the Canada-Wide Science Fair found that found that fair participants were elite not just in their understanding of science, but in their finances and social network. The study looked at participants and winners from the 2002-2008 Fairs, and found that the students were more likely to come from advantaged middle to upper class families and had access to equipment in universities or laboratories through their social connections. Their posters were professionally printed or designed. They had parents or family friends who were scientists or engineers. While this isn’t to say that the parents did their children’s projects — the authors noted that the students displayed a high level of understanding of their project topic and procedures – students with a personal connection to a scientist who can help them with their project are at a significant advantage. In fact, most of the students used entirely non-school based resources, an option that is not available to many of their less well connected peers. Previous studies (Czerniak, 1996 and Gifford & Wiygul, 1992) also found that access to professional science facilities and mentorship were good predictors for science fair success.

It seems classic science fair competitions inadvertently weed out students who come from less advantaged backgrounds, and the kids who end up with the most positive outcomes are the ones who already have a strong connection to STEM at home. Furthermore, the competition aspect of the fairs may leave the non-winning students with the feeling that they’re not good enough for science. This can be especially discouraging for younger students just becoming interested in science. Having winners that primarily come from privileged backgrounds underlines the elitist idea that science is the lofty pursuit of few instead of a source of wonder that all can enjoy.

Can we fix the broken science fair system?

So how can we promote and reward student-led inquiry without creating a system that devalues the contributions of less privileged students? One quick solution would be to create two categories of competition: one for experiments done in a professional research lab setting and one for experiments done at home or schools. Awards would have to be given out equally to both categories. However, establishing an official two-tiered system would simply codify the unofficial two-tiered system already in place.

Another option is the “standards-based” science fair, where students compete against a set of standards rather than each other. Like the classic science fair, students are awarded points for meeting criteria like clear communication and quantitative data to support their hypothesis. Unlike the classic science fair, though, the winners are not the students with the highest scores. Instead, all students who reach a score benchmark are rewarded. The scoring guide and benchmarks should be rigorous and well established to avoid an “everyone wins” type of situation – you want to reward students for genuine effort and understanding rather than participation.

An added advantage of changing the system: diminishing the fear of “failure”

Taking project topic and sophistication out of the equation also allows students more room to explore, have fun with their projects, and (most importantly) – fail. Failure is simply part of the scientific process, as many of us who have torn our hair out over experimental non-results are aware. “Failure” of scientific experiments is valuable, however. It tells us that we need to change our approach and try something new. Screw-ups can lead us in directions we might never have explored, and in some cases, can lead to useful discoveries (post-it notes or penicillin are oft-quoted examples). However, negative results are practically unpublishable in scientific journals. Similarly, winning science fair projects are often those with positive results (the predicted outcome is correct or students build a working model of their design). The pressure to publish positive results is part of the reason for a sharp rise in paper retractions. Judging science fair projects on the rigor the scientific investigation rather than the flashiness of the topic or affirmation of the students’ original hypothesis may help instill the value of process over product early on in science education.

The sight that stuck in my mind as I left my science fair experience was not the beautiful posters of the “top-tier” projects or the confident smiles of the accomplished presenters. It was the transformation of a 6th grade girl with a “kitchen cabinet”-science project flanked by the posters of lab-science peers. It was the resignation that filled her mien as day went on, the way she went from smiling and joking with her friends to slumping in her chair, defeated. Traditional science fairs may reward excellence in science, but they also reward privilege. Students like that little girl are left behind, sorted out and discouraged early on by their lack of access. And that is, in a word, unfair.

Sources:

Bencze, J. L., & Bowen, G. M. (2009). A national science fair: Exhibiting support for the knowledge economy. International Journal of Science Education, 31(18), 2459-2483.

Gifford, V. D., & Wiygul, S. M. (1992) The Effect of the Use of Outside Facilities and Resources on Success in Secondary School Science Fairs. School Science and Mathematics, 92(3), 116-119.

Czerniak, C.M. (1996). Predictors of Success in a District Science Fair Competition: An Exploratory Study. School Science and Mathematics, 96(1), 21-27.

Rillero, P. (2011). A Standards-Based Science Fair. Science and Children, 48(8), 32-36.

Further Reading on science fairs:

The science fair a new look at an old tradition

Rethinking the Science Fair

 

Category: Equity in science education, Science education research | Tagged , , , , , | 17 Comments