what's the story

What is the story we tell ourselves within science education? For at least fifty years, this story has been about America's economic and geopolitical superiority. Long after we beat the Soviets to the moon there are continued calls to improve the science and engineering pipeline. The deceptiveness of such assertions seems undiluted by evidence to the contrary (see recent RAND report). But because of the theme of USA vs. the world, such claims work so well because they align with the the long-standing narrative.

Colleagues who express dissatisfaction with the science education are frustrated by the current story. They (and I) desire a different direction — and I am suggesting this requires a new story to guide us. But we are waiting for it to be written. It has become increasingly evident that until this story can be told and retold that a “movement” is unlikely to get underway. I am not offering to be the author of such a story. Instead, I believe we will remain mired in the same conditions until a new story captures our collective ambitions.

Essayist Charles Johnson typifies the power of narrative He suggests that narratives can lose their power and impeded growth, change and improvement. His recent essay "The End of the Black American Narrative" offers insights about the storylines people work and live by. What rings so true is not only his stance about Black America but also the utility or burden of narratives:

A good story has a meaning (and sometimes layers of meaning); it also has an epistemological mission: namely, to show us something. It is an effort to make the best sense we can of the human experience, and I believe that we base our lives, actions, and judgments as often on the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves (even when they are less than empirically sound or verifiable) as we do on the severe rigor of reason.

Johnson, and others like Glaude, have proffered new narratives to guide members of their community. I wonder what would be contained within a new story of science education that has layers of meaning as well as an epistemological mission. How could we build a place where such a story might emerge, crystallize, and grow?

pitiable

Something about going to campus to work on the weekend is an abomination to me. But because I need many copies of a multi-color report for a meeting Monday morning, there was no way around it. Our department has long-standing supply stringencies and so I found myself printing on the backs of papers left behind by the former occupant of my office.

As one would expect, sometimes the printer jammed (only once) but several times it threw more than one page through at a time. I grabbed the outputs and sorted into piles so I could return the blank-sided papers to the feeder tray. Some offending pages seemed destined to be rejects again so I turned to toss them into the blue recycle bin — and it was gone! I looked around and saw that the putters of the former office owner were also gone. He had taken the recycle bin! Come and gone, over the weekend, without notice or without leaving a note or even a signal.

I continue sorting papers as I create a pile to take down the hall to the big bin. I flip a few pages over and scan the text: interview transcripts, chapter drafts, course handouts, etc. Suffice it to say I occupy this office because all of these went unpublished. The one that caught my eye and seems especially pitiable was a list titled "You Might Be a Grad Student If …" Here are some choice entries:

• You have ever brought a scholarly article to a bar.
• Everything reminds you of something in your discipline.
• You have accepted guilt as an inherent feature of relaxation.
• Professors really don't care when you turn in work anymore.
• You wonder if APA style allows you to cite talking to yourself as "personal communication"

Nothing too outlandish here (and not as snarky as other descriptions of grad student culture). Except that this list reminds me about what can happen to those who embrace graduate school so much that they are unable or unwilling to make the leap to independence. Of course all of this comes to mind given the events that lead me to be sitting at the desk I now occupy. And yet it reminds me that for many people, the concern is getting students into graduate school. My worry is how to help them get out and stay out.

fifty years later

In talking with a School of Ed budget guy, he was quite amazed by how little the Amherst Crossroads cost. Except for the poet, the total expenditures came to under $20K. This is quite nice because it means we don't have to be stingy with reimbursing attendees at Crossroads IV. Truth be told, since a substantial portion of the budget is designate for participant costs, there is a good possibility that even after Alta there will be remaining funds that are specially reserved for that purpose. His suggestion was to consider a smaller, follow-up conference — and now the wheels are turning.

I began to wonder where a small group of people might meet in June of 2009 for the purpose of wrapping up the funded cycle of Crossroads and weighing in on the next generation. It occurred to me that somewhere in New England might be nice at that time of year, in part because it might permit representatives from local foundations to attend -- and maybe bring a satchel of cash. But where? Portland, Maine has a major airport. Newport, Rhode Island is also close to a decent runway and would be a nice setting. And then there's Cape Cod.

Everyone in science education has heard of Woods Hole but it is not only associated with some mystical gathering in the fog of history, but we act like we don't know where it was physically located. Well I do. Anatomically speaking, it is within the armpit that forms the Cape Cod peninsula. It's within easy driving distance of Logan Airport (BOS) and Providence (PVD). Before July Fourth is still not exactly summer vacation out there. And a little bed-and-breakfast inn would be a decent place to gather a small collection of Crossroaders.

It may not be a coincidence that Bruner's Woods Hole Conference was held almost exactly fifty years ago (September 1959). Is it time for a Woods Hole II? Will that be the year where science education finally gets onto a trajectory that is appropriate for the 21st century? Stay tuned!

half > 10%

Someone I know was being self-deprecating when pointing out that they are tired of doing things halfway. It struck me as an interesting comment, in part because I know about the work environment. I suspect many would be surprised to hear that their colleague is not content with the current level of productivity. But, as is often said, it's all about the context.

You see, in this setting not that many people are applying themselves. Or most people are not applying themselves. I think a reasonable estimate is that most are operating at about 10% of capacity. This has many benefits to individuals: they seem rested and content, and it seems to promote longevity. One who has been especially good at conserving his energy arrived in his current (and only?) position in the mid-1960s. Here one could find support for the oft-disputed myth about humans only using 10% of their brain.

So if one person is just involved halfway in an environment populated by ten-percenters … heck, that guy's doing the work of five of us! And as long as the system remains closed and nobody changes their behavior patterns, then things will remain hunky-dory. The problem arises when somebody recognizes what it might mean to be at 100%. Should such a dramatic realization dawn upon the group, the halfway guy seems pitiful if not feeble.

My lovely high school social studies teacher opined that no one should begin vast projects with half-vast ideas. Admittedly, 100% seems to be a standard none of us can sustain, presumably because that would require unwavering effort on only one task. But being aware of only giving 50% seems to me to be enough reason to either aim for 100% or begin to relax -- even to sink to 20% is twice as good as the others. Under those arrangements, to fully invest oneself in just one day in five still preserves the appearance of being energetic and ambitious.

wanting to communicate

I would like to believe that most people would prefer to be understood — except for folks like Mick Jagger who are famous for being obscure to comic effect. So when we discuss how to help people stay connected, I do believe that they want to do so. It's just that the process needs to be intuitive and beneficial. When it comes to Crossroads, I think if the mechanisms were in place that people would continue the conversations after the conference has concluded.

It seems to me that writing a blog can be liberating and lonely. On the one hand, I can compose commentary about anything I like. But then again, why post it in the first place. If I'm only generating text for my own amusement, I might as well jot it down in one of the many half-used memo pads in my top drawer. What could make all of this appealing though is not in having to reply directly to messages, as we do with email. Instead, we could communicate via blogs somewhat asynchronously and in tandem.

What is required would be first an easy mechanism for people to post brief bits for the colleagues to view. Blogger seems to make this easy. The challenge has been having an easy way to keep up with others' blogs. It seems to me that if, through a template or by simple instructions, a novice blogger could easily track other postings (without feeling obligated to reply) that might do the trick. But then again, if the software is going to make a posting flash and display a big red box that says "error" in all caps, that will do little to encourage others to take up the blogging torch.

toys as salvation

Being tired because of the many constant projects, it's more than a little amazing that I have not caught a cold. That's typically what my body does to and for itself. So when the home Mac crashed, that was likely to put my immune system over the edge. The passing of the old Mac was no surprise: how many professors keep a computer for six years? I was prepared to make a new purchase and it was hastened by having the iMac on life support.

It has been a hassle: trying to transfer files, reload software, remember passwords, and to re-establish Internet access. But I have been uncharacteristically calm. Sure the new Mac looks swell. However, I must confess that something unusual and lovely is at play. Apparently the campus computer center has been running a promotion and I lucked into it. While their intent was to lure parents and their proto-freshmen who are on campus for summer orientations, the Computer Center has delighted me with a new toy. I bought it all with my own money rather than sneak it into a grant.

My soul is soothed and my fingers love dancing across the screen. Sure there's still plenty of email to read, papers to grade, and correspondence to maintain -- especially with the imposed embargo while I try to transition from computers. But the iPod Touch makes me very happy. I would not have considered buying it for $300. And yet now that I have it, everything else seems less tense and urgent.

vexillation

According to a morning news program, yesterday was Flag Day and those who study flags are vexillologists. This term shares its root-word origins with vexillum (a flag or banner) and vexillation (a group, often soldiers, assembled under one standard). Thus a Roman legion would gather itself around a banner that was hung horizontally and toted about by a vexillator.

How interesting it would be for a group of individuals to gather together under a banner. Now etymologically, there are no clear connections between being vexed and congregating under a vexillum. The flag itself may not be significant except as a visual signal that says, “Here is where we gather to confer.” Not only would the banner serve as a reminder about the cause shared by the legions assembled around it, but it signal others where such efforts are taking place.

little things

It seems quite easy to forget the excitement of accomplishments. This past week, the pre-service post-graduates were required to teach a direct instruction lesson to their peers. Avoiding subject matter issues, each was to train others how to perform a skill. The range was amusing: boxing techniques, wrapping a horse leg (with a homemade prosthetic), brewing coffee with a French press, placing badges on an Army uniform, passing a hockey puck. Because they were using a high interest skill, their students were quickly won over to the tasks. And because the skill was familiar, the proto-teachers could focus their attention upon supplying feedback.

Many expressed a great sense of accomplishment as well as wonder at how much they had learned from others. They were not simply pleased with themselves for surviving. They had a genuine sense of success at something that seems worthwhile and real. This exercise, for them, was an important step toward becoming a teacher. I had forgotten the joys associated with realizing that one is moving closer toward a dream. So even though I am still anxious when teaching a new group for the first time or delivering material that I do not feel I have yet mastered, the fist-pumping excitement by my students amuses me.

In a similar vein, Rob received approval from the IRB to move forward with his dissertation. I knew it was only a tiny hurdle but I was still relieved when he received the go ahead. What I thought was noteworthy were the compliments he received on his materials. Not only did the reviewers note that his materials were well written, but they added that it “was a pleasure to read.” But once again, I seem to have forgotten what a milestone this was, namely to win IRB approval for the first time. Luckily, I was shaken out of my numbness by a follow-up email from Rob: “Did I mention I got IRB approval? There is nobody I can share this news to that actually understands what it means. So I will keep mentioning it to you.” Now I see how liberating this last hurdle was because now the dissertation can begin without any other conditions or hesitancies.

Perhaps I am losing touch with the value of accomplishments that may seem like little things. Maybe it’s because now the little things do not seem to require as much effort beyond being tenacious or stubborn. Or maybe because I reside of the far side of accomplishments I believe that the journey leading up to the summit was less treacherous. Some mini-celebrations are probably in order and my attention should probably turn to looking for reasons to celebrate – because it now appears that I am surrounded by accomplishments by others.

archival emails

Because I have the same computer that was purchased while we were in Utah, I have a cache of emails dating back to March 2003. One from the Old Inbox was from an NSF program officer who offered advice about when to submit a conference grant. Another was from a NARST employee who indicated the need to supply my SS# in order to be reimbursed – presumably for FARSE expenses. There is also email from my brother in which we solidified his flights from Iowa to Utah to help me replace the garage roof and go snowshoeing.

Since I am reluctant to delete emails from Adam, my inbox gets bloated – until I learned how to create archives. Undoubtedly, this archive is incomplete. For one, there are only 1300 entries and some are replies from me. Also, that we have been unable to recover the correspondence about the origins of the Crossroads name is evidence that there are some omissions — exhausting perhaps, but not exhaustive. Despite those gaps in the logorrheaic record, there are pieces that provide fascinating indicators about what was going on when they were first posted:

Date: Thu, 10 Apr 2003 09:32:46 -0600
From: "Adam JOHNSTON"
To: john.settlage@ed.utah.edu
Subject: brewing conceptual change

Some of us brew beer. Many more of us brew trouble. You brew both.

Your experience with the unfortunate orientation of your fermenter and
the realization of the physics concept invovled is surely exactly the
kind of conceptual change experience worthy of research and publication.
Perhaps in JEST. "Brewing Conceptual Change" . . .

Have a good time in COSprings. Hope that hops don't eat spouse and
house while you're away.

-a

There it is: the source of this blog's name. We transition into the post-email correspondence mode. I suppose I should have anticipated the "Dear John" letter. And deep down, there was a part of me that knew it was coming. Maybe it won't be so bad because change can be good. But if you catch me sighing or looking wistful, just know that I'm learning to accept the new arrangements. With luck, keyboards will still occasionally receive an aspirated misting of coffee.