Although not yet an entry in this blog, for awhile I have been pondering the idea that science educators should rely more heavily upon scientific phenomena as models to explain their research. The very best example I have experienced is the "self-organizing critical systems" model that Andy Hurford once used to describe learning. Briefly, just as each particle that falls onto a sand pile has a statistical probability to cause a structural shift, so too do new experiences have a probabilistic chance of affecting a cognitive rearrangement. Here, a fascinating science concept is appropriate to explain a more elusive phenomenon, namely conceptual change. We should do more of this.
The notion of a pile of free metaphors renewed the potential value of this idea. The contrast is that rather than pulling a metaphor from a bin of "gently used devices" the starting point would be a scientific representation that would be re-cast as a mechanism to explain something. Not that there's anything inappropriate about using a literary metaphor (e.g., "creating a fundable project is like a visit to a cupcake bar") but rather the science metaphor elicits a different type of response — less admiration and appreciation for the cleverness of connections and more about rolling up one's sleeves and getting dirty with the idea.
Recently, a scientist suggested that our stumbling efforts to capture our work might be represented as trophic guilds. A quick search of articles revealed a piece called Insect community composition and trophic guild structure in decaying logs from eastern Canadian pine-dominated forests. The abstract explains that different species of insects are found on rotting logs and that they had different specializations. (This brought to mind the succession of insects found on rotting bodies and how insect evidence is used to solve crimes … but that book has been written and reviewed.) Here we can notice the flaws with appropriating a flawed scientific model and the parallel circumstance wherein a metaphor breaks down:
Perhaps therein resides some of the utility of trying out new metaphors and models, namely it makes clear what it is and what it is not. In terms of conservation efforts in the natural world, the trophic guild notion is effective for planning what to do with rotten logs as well as how to accommodate grazers on the African savanna (I can't help but note that in this context the "elephants" are called "megaheribvores"). However, from a sociological perspective, I think the naturalists have misappropriated and misinterpreted the complexity of guilds. The distinctions between craftsmen in a workshop and workers in a factory are substantial. And so I'm grateful for the "usefully wrong" suggestion that Crossroads be equated with a trophic guild. The challenge now is to better articulate what Crossroads is to more clearly distance it from less accurate representations.
The notion of a pile of free metaphors renewed the potential value of this idea. The contrast is that rather than pulling a metaphor from a bin of "gently used devices" the starting point would be a scientific representation that would be re-cast as a mechanism to explain something. Not that there's anything inappropriate about using a literary metaphor (e.g., "creating a fundable project is like a visit to a cupcake bar") but rather the science metaphor elicits a different type of response — less admiration and appreciation for the cleverness of connections and more about rolling up one's sleeves and getting dirty with the idea.
Recently, a scientist suggested that our stumbling efforts to capture our work might be represented as trophic guilds. A quick search of articles revealed a piece called Insect community composition and trophic guild structure in decaying logs from eastern Canadian pine-dominated forests. The abstract explains that different species of insects are found on rotting logs and that they had different specializations. (This brought to mind the succession of insects found on rotting bodies and how insect evidence is used to solve crimes … but that book has been written and reviewed.) Here we can notice the flaws with appropriating a flawed scientific model and the parallel circumstance wherein a metaphor breaks down:
Of 27 families that were classified as "common" (present in >25% of the logs from at least one decay class), 19 were found to vary significantly in rank-abundance across decay classes, with nearly all of these favouring logs that were either in an early (class I) or late (classes III-IV) stage of decomposition. These associations also reflected functional differences in trophic guild structure: xylophages and predators tended to be most abundant in fresh logs, whereas saprophages, fungivores, predators, and parasitoids tended to be most abundant in more highly decayed logs.My interpretation of a functioning guild was that it consisted of individuals at various stages and they were traversing along a pathway so some might achieve master status. In contrast, the trophic guilds model depicts workers at different stages that are static. With a downed pine log, the process involves disassembly as material moves from one class to the next. The laborers remain at the same station while the objects are transformed. I believe that the problem with applying trophic guilds to our efforts is that we imagine individuals becoming more skilled as a consequence of their refinement. It isn't the material that is transformed but it is the individual who emerges as a new product as a consequence of being a member of the guild.
Perhaps therein resides some of the utility of trying out new metaphors and models, namely it makes clear what it is and what it is not. In terms of conservation efforts in the natural world, the trophic guild notion is effective for planning what to do with rotten logs as well as how to accommodate grazers on the African savanna (I can't help but note that in this context the "elephants" are called "megaheribvores"). However, from a sociological perspective, I think the naturalists have misappropriated and misinterpreted the complexity of guilds. The distinctions between craftsmen in a workshop and workers in a factory are substantial. And so I'm grateful for the "usefully wrong" suggestion that Crossroads be equated with a trophic guild. The challenge now is to better articulate what Crossroads is to more clearly distance it from less accurate representations.
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