Message in a bottle

     Now that I've gotten your hopes up about the prospect of me writing something fascinating and sending it out to sea with nothing but a thin layer of glass to protect it from the world, I have to let you down. I haven't put a message into a bottle, and I certainly haven't thrown a bottle into the sea (thanks for nothing, landlocked Ohio!). In fact, I haven't even written a message (though I did type one).

     For the final meeting of this seminar focused on effective communication of science to the public, we are using the concept of the message box to distill our work into a format that is easy to communicate. We are encouraged to think inside the box, where our thoughts are rigidly confined, sorted, and limited by space. While all of this sounds fairly negative, it seems that these restrictions are essential for scientists to effectively communicate with the public. The message box forces scientists to sort whatever it is they are trying to say into a few key areas. The issue is similar to the title of a scientific paper or newspaper article, and serves as the floor of the box. Perhaps the most important of the four walls is the so what? section, where scientists have to justify why anyone should even care about their work. Two opposing walls problems and solutions, help set the stage for the results and provide an outlook for the future, respectively. The last wall, benefits relates to the so what? wall by showing how the solutions can relate to the public.

     I struggled to complete my own message box for a few reasons. 1) I don't really have a complete research program in place yet. I've completed a few projects that are distantly related, and only two of them are even connected to my proposed dissertation work. This puts me in an awkward position, as I'm not sure I have a message yet, let alone one that can fit nicely into a box. 2) My research is not very applicable to people in general. Yes, I could use the findings from my work to generalize to all ecosystems, but that amounts to hand waving and straw grasping, neither of which make me terrible comfortable. While the organisms I study do occur in agricultural fields, my research focus is not applied to crop production or pest suppression. 3) Perhaps most importantly, I felt that the message box template was designed for researchers who work with real problems: global warming, epidemics, habitat loss, fishery collapse, cancer, the end of the world, and so on. It would have been nice to see an example from someone who works on something more mundane, or at least less directly applied to human welfare.

     I started to wonder if these examples were chosen simply because these are the ones that scientists want to communicate to the public. There certainly would be a bias toward reporting these kinds of messages to the public, but I don't think that means scientists studying in other fields should give up. Sure, someone who discovers that a species of amphipod communicates by releasing pheromones from its eyes might get a high-profile publication in a scientific journal, but will the public care? I like to think that people are fundamentally curious about the world and what scientists do to learn about it, but I don't think all research fields are equally interesting for a general audience. Hopefully this hasn't come off too negatively; I just don't see myself being interviewed for an article in the New York Times about my current research.

I'll just have to wait until I start a post-doc in microscopic extraterrestrial spider volcanoes, or something...

Fun science word of the day

     Science terms are renown for being cumbersome, confusing, and gratuitous. Certain scientists use these terms to separate themselves from the public and those who they consider lesser scientists. For example, I could describe my research in one of two ways:

1. I study spiders and how they affect the environment by eating things

2. I study generalist arthropod predators of the family lycosidae and how predator identity, defined by habitat mode and hunting domain, creates emergent multiple predator effects that cascade via trait- and density-mediated direct and indirect effects to regulate the detritivore food web

     See what I did there? But this post is not about the dangers of over-obscuring your work with fancy words. Instead I want to highlight a single science term I recently learned from one of my current students: conglobation. First off, I think it's a really neat looking word and it sounds cool. Call me silly, but those are important characteristics for a word to have. Here's the definition of conglobate, the root of the word:

1) adjective: formed into a ball 2) verb: to collect or form into a ball or rounded mass

Now, I came across this word in a project proposal about Armadillidium vulgare, the common isopod, or pill bug, or rolly-polly.

     These little guys are capable of conglobation, which has been shown to protect them from predators and water loss. After all, they are crustaceans, which evolved in the water and breathe air through special gills. These gills need to be moist to work, so conserving water is therefore important while living on the land. This is why isopods are typically found under logs or in other shaded, wet areas. Furthermore, when they are found in dry areas, they are frequently conglobated while they wait for more favorable conditions.

     One must wonder what it is like during conglobation. The isopod has all of its legs and underparts jammed against each other, with the opposite ends of its digestive tract in intimate proximity. The eyes and antennae are completely wrapped up in the rest of the body, so their sensory world basically disappears. There's nothing comparable in human biology, short of placing yourself in a sensory deprivation tank.

     As someone who studies animal behavior, I am always aware of the dangers associated with anthropomorphizing (ascribing human intentions to the decisions of other animals). That said, I wonder what these isopods think about while curled up. Do they review their day or plan for the future? Is conglobation unpleasant, or is it something they look forward to? What would human culture be like if conglobation was a regular part of our lives?

They Might Be Effective Communicators of Science to the Public

     This week I'm reviewing the album “HereComes Science” by They Might Be Giants. For those of you who have not heard of this band, for shame! They've been around for over 20 years and have created tons of great songs, some of which you know, even if you don't know it. More recently, they've taken on the world of children's music with their albums “HereComes The ABCs” and “Here Comes The 123s”. Their latest album in this genre tackles the issue of communicating science with the public by trying to reach young people through music, so let's see how they do.

Track 1 - Science Is Real

     Starting off strong, topics in science (the big bang, DNA, evolution) are contrasted with unicorns, elves, and angels. The poke at religion here is quite subtle, but certainly intentional. However, this isn't meant as a malicious atheistic attack, but rather as a way to show children the proper place for science. Science is used to gain knowledge about the world, whereas the other subjects are entertaining stories from which facts cannot be found.

     They do a decent job approaching the topic of a scientific theory, but ultimately fall short. Yes, a theory is more than a guess, and yes, a theory has survived numerous tests, but no, science cannot be used to prove anything. Theories, no matter how strongly supported, can always be toppled by new information, especially when that information comes to light after new technology has been invented to allow new questions to be asked. Track 10 actually illustrates this point well.

Track 2 - Meet The Elements

     Here we explore some basic chemistry and the idea of how elements combine to make new substances. I think this song would help to take an abstract concept, elements, and make it more tangible to young minds. The tie-in with biology (we're mostly made of four elements) is nice, and the simile with the box of paints simplifies the ideas without completely obscuring them. I could see kids getting excited about checking out the periodic table after memorizing this song. (My understanding of children and music is that songs will be repeated, at their demand, until everyone has memorized them, whether they want to or not.)

Track 3 - I Am A Paleontologist

     Children and creationists are similar in their passion for dinosaurs and lack of critical thinking skills. Fortunately, it's not too late to save our children. This song introduces the idea of form fitting function, which is a basic concept we try to teach at the college level. If today's children are anything like me, they'll be excited to hear the names of dinosaurs in the song, and work hard to learn them. They even included the dinosaur I was most proud to remember as a kid, Pachycephalosaurus! One can only hope that songs like this can spark an interest in pursuing a career in paleontology.

Track 4 - The Bloodmobile

     Fantastic metaphors abound in this song about the circulatory system. Some of my introductory biology students could have benefited from listening to this song instead of (not) studying their notes. We learn about how blood connects everything in the body and is the main form of transportation within us. There's anatomy, physiology, and immunology, and it's all presented in a fun, easily understandable way. I just might shed a tear the day a student tells me she is “pre-med” and was inspired by this song. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Track 5 - Electric Car

     This song is admittedly short on the science, though it does extoll the benefits of electric vehicles. Considering the bad reputation electric cars have had, it's probably worthwhile to make children interested in them early on. They could have incorporated some air pollution science in here to make the song more substantive.

Track 6 - My Brother The Ape

     This song subtly hints at the evolutionary connection between humans and the other great apes. The obvious similarities between us and our closest relatives are highlighted by contrasting our (apparent) lack of similarity with other organisms. This song is surely a response to the early criticisms Darwin met when he first proposed his ideas. The visceral reaction (Hey, I'm no monkey!) is headed off by this song by suggesting that our relatedness is a positive thing that should be celebrated, perhaps with a family reunion.

Track 7 - What Is A Shooting Star?

     This song gets stuck in my head all the time. Astronomers would be proud at how they delicately maneuver through the often-confusing terms used to describe rocks that fly around in our atmosphere. The row-row-row your boat song style is sure to help cement this one in the mind of the listener, and kids brought up on this will feel positively compelled to correct anyone who claims they found a meteor on the ground.

Track 8 - How Many Planets?

     Never mind how many there are, what do the planets sound like? This song teaches kids the order of the major celestial bodies in our solar system, without getting into any details. While it may not seem like science, this is exactly the same material kids will be getting in science class. So why not make a song out of it to make it more interesting? Pluto fans can rejoice in the fact that it is mentioned, though the reality of its status is affirmed in the last lines, where they lump it in with “a bunch of other stuff”. Sorry, Pluto.

Track 9 - Why Does The Sun Shine?

     More astronomy here, this time loaded with facts about our closest star, the Sun. There's a lot of science that went into our understanding of the facts in this song, and it should intrigue any curious kid who listens closely. And hey, even if you aren't listening to the lyrics, you can still jump up and down in your pajamas and scream about the Sun while you rock out.

Track 10 - Why Does The Sun Really Shine?

     While some may view this song as potentially confusing to children, it actually fits perfectly with attempts to teach them about science. In the last song, we learned that the Sun was a “mass of incandescent gas”, but here we are correctly informed that it is a “miasma of incandescent plasma”. Contradictory? Sure, but that's how science works. Before we understood that there was a fourth phase of matter, it made sense to think the Sun was a gas. Science progresses, we learn new things about the world, and our knowledge continues to expand. Hooray for science!

Track 11 - Roy G. Biv

     The visible spectrum of light is something that interests all children, and most of us learn this little trick to remember the order of the colors. This song was perhaps a great chance to introduce the idea of wavelength, photons, and energy, but a decision always has to be made about how much information should be packed into a given song.

Track 12 - Put It To The Test

     The power of science is highlighted here. Although the details of experimental design and the scientific method are not explained, children are encouraged to test claims that may be suspect. Blind belief makes life easy, but that doesn't mean the believer is right. Kids are naturally inquisitive, and anything that can prolong that questioning nature, forcing them to use their brains instead of automatically accepting everything they hear, will be to the benefit of everyone. That is, everyone except for the people who make their living by counting on others believing what they say without (or despite) evidence.

Track 13 - Photosynthesis

     The level of detail into mechanistic processes here is certainly lacking, but we have to remember the goal of this music. We're trying to teach children some science and get them excited about learning more. The electron transport chain doesn't need to feature prominently in a song in order for kids to learn something about plant physiology. To that end, this song succeeds.

Track 14 - Cells

     I've actually seen the music video for this song used in an introductory biology class. It's catchy and effective at summarizing cell theory: all cells come from other cells. Furthermore, we get some neat imagery to describe DNA. I think the greatest benefit of songs like this is to take ideas that people often find abstract and hard to understand (you can't easily see cells or DNA without fancy science stuff), and reduce them to simpler images. It's a good starting point that remains valid even after learning all the gritty details about the subject later in life.

Track 15 - Speed And Velocity

     Much like “What is a shooting star?”, this song focuses on some of the scientific terms that the public often mixes up. Speed and velocity are two different things, and physicists will be upset if you confuse them. The topic is fairly limited, so the lack of substance in this song shouldn't be surprising. I'm not sure anyone would want to listen to the calculus-based derivation of how position, speed, and acceleration are related to one another.

Track 16 - Computer Assisted Design

     I've never used a CAD program, but I know that they are invaluable tools for engineers. That said, there's not a whole lot of science to share about them. This song is mostly filler, and its length reflects that.

Track 17 - Solid Liquid Gas

     The science here is implicit. Instead of singing about the speed with which atoms move around in the different phases of matter, they use the music to do the work. Solids are slow moving, liquids are bubbly and flowing, and gasses are high energy, bounce-off the wall crazy. Kids will be well equipped for science class if they listen to this, especially if they dance along with the music.

Track 18 - Here Comes Science

     Requisite TMBG song about the album name. One does wonder why they made this track 18...

Track 19 - The Ballad Of Davy Crockett (In Outer Space)

     A silly song that's mostly a space adventure. They still manage to introduce some science terms, the fact that sound does not travel in a vacuum, and the issues with traveling at light speed. It could have been used to describe some of the other aspects of being in outer space, but heck, it's the end of the album, and they've already accomplished so much.

     So, are They Might Be Giants effectively communicating science? This semester we've talked a lot about what makes communication effective, and I think this album succeeds overall. The use of music certainly helps, but they also keep the jargon to a minimum and relate the science to everyday life. Humor features prominently as well. To what should their efforts be compared? Your average professor-researcher doesn't even attempt to reach out to an audience for science in the way this band has, I'd argue that They Might Be Giants communicate science to the public more effectively than the scientists themselves.

     Although the format is completely different, I think their efforts are comparable to those made by the authors of the children's books we read a few weeks ago. Not every song (or book) was full of mechanistic explanations, but they all aim to pique interest in science and the natural world. To that end, I think we can mark this album a success for scientific communication. The public is more likely to value science (and scientists) if they are excited about it and appreciate its importance. This album takes a step in the right direction by engaging young minds, and might even help to engage the minds of parents. Here's hoping.

Rewritten by machine and new technology

Bonus points if you know why this picture is here

     We now return to your regularly scheduled program of topics being discussed in the graduate seminar titled "Effective communication of science to the public". This week we are approaching the topic of science presented on that old thing that kids today don't even recognize: the radio.

     Listening to three selections of radio science made me realize how variable this medium can be. The first clip, about stem cells, was aired on my favorite radio science program, Science Friday. The speaker does a nice job avoiding the treacherous jargon of the field and distills the message down to its essential components. In doing so, he covers important background information for the topic (what are stem cells?), interprets recent findings, discusses the consequences of these findings, how it all applies to our lives, and where the field will be going in the future. This includes everything the mildly curious listener would want to hear without childlike over-simplification or unwarranted over-intellectualization.

     The second piece about the potential dangers of plastics, was decidedly less scientific and more focused on policy. Presenting scientific findings as tenuous conclusions is important (if only my students would appreciate that!), as misinterpretation of extremes (plastic is ALL GOOD or ALL BAD) is one of the major problems scientists have to deal with when communicating to the public. I was puzzled by the fact that the conclusions were tempered by the fact that rat and mouse models were used for the research. I was under the impression that most of the pharmaceutical, developmental, and disease research relevant to human health was conducted with these rodent models.

     The final segment dealt with ice, and was about as exciting as it sounds. An author about the wonderful world of ice was incredibly boring, poorly prepared, and didn't even seem to be an authority on the subject. Her professorial counterpart was distracting and committed the crime of talking down to his audience. I felt insulted by the simplicity of his metaphors, which may have been due to the fact that the subject is not too complex to begin with. When I listen to science shows on the radio, I don't need to hear about how much people think ice is pretty or fun to touch. Very atypical of my normal behavior, I turned off this clip before it even finished.

Some brief notes on the topic of radio science presented in an interesting book:

- The challenges of effective communication via radio are also present when delivering a talk at a professional meeting or presenting a lecture to students

- I'm not sure if every researcher would have interesting sounds to fill in the background. What would yours be?

- I think the reason that most scientists need this kind of advice in the first place is because we are trained to remove excessive description from our writing. Plus, too many of us are left-brained thinkers, who are inept when it comes to poetic things like using imagery or metaphors that evoke the senses. Bah!

(In)effective communication of (non)science to the public (part 2)

     In part one, I stuck to describing some (far from all) of the silliness that is present at the Creation Museum. It's one thing to assert that dinosaurs were all vegetarians, penguins roamed the jungles, and plants are not alive, but what really bothers me is some of the ethical claims made.

Gasp!

     According to Answers in Genesis, the group responsible for the Creation Museum, all ethics and morality come directly from the bible and nowhere else. This is the issue in the first sentence, as god's word (the bible) is considered an “absolute authority for right and wrong”. Humans have used many excuses to justify “abuse”. While this is certainly true, it seems that the absolute authority of the bible and other religious texts have been used to justify abuse as well. Sectarian violence in the middle east, the crusades, and the Spanish inquisition spring to mind. Christopher Hitchens has written a book that describes how god's word has been used to justify abuse throughout history. The bottom line is that drawing morality from the bible does not make people inherently more moral than those who draw it from elsewhere, and may in fact make them less moral.

     There's something terrifying about ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY. I think flexibility is important, though I'm sure  Hammurabi would disagree. More importantly, I am deeply offended when I hear people claim that anyone who doesn't draw their morality from the bible is an amoral person. I live my life according to what I think are just principles. I don't steal anything, and I certainly don't murder anyone. I do these things without having to read a book to know they are wrong. It's self evident that they are wrong. Consider this statement: It is unjust for the innocent to suffer. If you understand the meaning of the words “unjust”, “innocent”, and “suffer”, then the truth of the statement is apparent.

     The rest of the paragraph jumps all over the place. There's something about modern humans, who apparently are similar to ancient humans. Then we have a claim about the abuse of science, but without any examples to support that claim. Finally, there are claims made by evolution (?) about why humans are nothing special. What these three thoughts have to do with each other, I can't grasp, but let's look at what evolution has to say about humans.

     There are many people who reconcile the fact of evolution with the belief in a supernatural creator of some sort, believing that the creator  created and then evolution did it's thing. I don't buy into that because I see no reason to complicate the world with supernatural excuses for human ignorance. The magical, indescribable, and fundamentally unknowable actions of a supernatural being simply cannot be used to explain anything. They can be used as excuses for a lack of explanation, or a convenient place-holder until we figure things out, but their power to explain is nil. What's more, who's to say that humans are not accountable to anyone? I'm accountable to my students, advisor, professors, peers, family, friends, and myself. I don't get to act without consequences, and people depend on me for things. What an outrageous claim!

     Next we have a claim about the branching of the family Hominidae, which includes orangutans, gorillas, chimpanzees, and humans. This claim is supported by a mountain of repeatedly and independently confirmed empirical data, and countered by a book. How the truth of our evolution makes us nothing special evades me. We're the only species to invent the internet! We're the only species to do a lot of things, which seems pretty special to me.

     I'm not even sure what to say about this next one. Is death a  supernatural step in the cycle of life? It certainly seems to happen 100% of the time. Or maybe death is a natural step, but life is not a cycle, per se. I'm not sure what this would mean, but either way, it doesn't seem to have any bearing on whether or not humans are special in any way.

     Finally, we've got a serious taxonomic problem. The bible draws crazy distinctions between animals, plants, and humans. If humans aren't animals, what are we? Plants? Protists? Fungi? Bacteria? Something else? Biblical literalists also must grapple with the fact that humans and all other animals share a staggering amount of DNA, physiology, and anatomical features. Explanations for this are nothing more that ad hoc goalpost shifting, a practice that ultimately does nothing but pile one excuse on top of another. The claim that “only the fittest survive” misrepresents the scientific definition of fitness, and again fails to say anything about whether or not humans are special in any way. All of this is such a confused mess, it's quite comforting to see that scientists aren't the only ones having trouble communicating with the public.

     But all of my arguments are useless when held up against fanatical devotion to circular logic.

Behold the TRUTH! It is TRUE because it is TRUE!

     Why is it that religious leaders can say these four words and be done with it while scientists must toil endlessly to convince people that the climate is changing faster than expected, or vaccines don't cause autism, or that species change over time? Does it make sense to believe outrageous, extraordinary claims without evidence but then to reject decades of evidence in support of a comparatively mundane claim? What is the thought process going on here? There is much cake being had and eaten, which is supposedly impossible. In a world like this, how can scientists effectively communicate anything? We're immediately discredited, and while we try to communicate, Joe T. Public has the bible stuffed in his ears. Or a bunch of tiny bibles, I don't know. Perhaps time travel will be invented, allowing someone to go back and edit the first bible to say “P.S. Scientists are cool, trust them”...

     Why does the public express skepticism about claims made by scientists but not by religious leaders? Scientists actually have more books than religious leaders to support their claims, so it must not be related to the amount of evidence supporting a claim. The quality of the evidence might be the issue, but that brings us back to the first point. “God's word is true” is apparently of the highest quality, whereas all of the published results scientists have discovered aren't up to snuff. Is it even worth trying to communicate with these people?

     This all must have something to do with the values held by people. Why does the public try to investigate the personal motivations of scientists when they make claims, but fail to bring this same level of attention to their religious leaders? Is it because all scientists are immoral heathens out to corrupt the world with their knowledge? By comparison, anyone who believes a statement without evidence must be a good person. I know that I'm making a caricature of this whole mess, but my point remains: the public is selective in their willingness to believe claims, regardless of the evidence presented for or against those claims. It seems that the only way forward is to get the public to change their values, which has started to happen somewhat with the green movement. Caring for the planet by reducing consumption and pollution seems easily reconcilable with biblical values, but what is the stem cell researcher to do? When coming up against ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY, does it even make sense to try communicating with the public?

They sure do!

(In)effective communication of (non)science to the public (part 1)

       I recently traveled to a magical land, forgotten by time and reason. Dinosaurs roamed about and nothing ever died. Sound familiar? Well, if you've ever read the bible and taken it literally, this is how the world used to be. This view of reality is preserved at the CreationMuseum, located in Kentucky just a short drive south of Cincinnati. Their slogan: Prepare to believe. I really wasn't sure how to go about preparing, but I did bring my camera.

       The museum is run by a group called Answers in Genesis, a fairly extreme Christian group of young-Earth creationists. They are pretty nutty. Being a zoology graduate student with a fairly strong grasp on evolutionary principles, I made this trip largely for laughs and to see how the other side lives. It was also of interest considering the seminar I'm taking (Effective communication of science to the public) is the reason for this blog began.

       The Creation Museum (though arguably not really a museum) is big on dinosaurs. Really big. Every advertisement I've ever seen for the place features dinosaurs, and dinosaurs are the first thing we encounter upon entering. After the dinosaurs comes the ticket booth (an outrageous $25!), but then we're back to more dinosaurs. They then take your picture with dinosaurs ($20 if you want a copy!), and then you move along to see more dinosaurs.

 Dinosaurs and people together, wow!

       We're taken to a scene of a paleontological dig site, where two researchers work side by side on the same fossil. One is a creationist, the other is an actual scientist. This is some text that appeared near the exhibit:

       The first part is fine, and certainly true. The second part is also true, as scientists can look at the same set of data and come to different conclusions. The problem arises when one “scientist” interprets facts according to a book written a few thousand years ago and the other scientist interprets facts according to the current understanding of professionals in the field, which relies on peer-reviewed published records documenting empirical findings. The conclusions reached by these two researchers couldn't be more different. The creationist claims (from the authority of a book) that the world was created a few thousand years ago and all the fossils are a result of a global flood. The real scientist claims (from the authority of countless lines of empirical evidence that has been repeatedly tested and confirmed by other independent scientists) that the world was created billions of years ago and that fossils are a product of slow processes that continue to act today. Which of these claims makes more sense: believing you are right because a book says so, or believing you are right because your assumptions have been verified repeatedly for decades? I just don't get it.

     But who cares? Everything was just perfect in the world of the bible.

Look, a forest penguin!

     A literal interpretation of the bible creates some problems:

       Dinosaurs, cats, snakes, and hawks were all vegetarians. Neat! One must wonder why their teeth and digestive systems are so capable of seizing, ripping, and disintegrating protein from other animals. Or maybe one must not wonder about that. Don't wonder about that. Just accept the fact that despite the incredibly sharp and serrated teeth present in the jaw of the T-rex, it was content to eat peaches and dandelions. At least, that's what the bible says.

Delicious foliage!

       Wait a second! They were all eating plants, so why do the plants have to die but not the animals? The answer is simple: plants aren't alive!

Whew! That's good to know. I'll be sure to tell some botanists about this.

       But, you might protest, why do these organisms eat meat now? The answer, according to the book, is that after the fall of man everything changed:

Put those teeth to use!

       Some other things that could be hard to explain are easily handled when repetition from a book takes the place of critical thinking:

Revealed information? Sounds exciting!

Don't weed your garden, they're there to keep things in balance!

       Another big problem the bible has to deal with is why dinosaurs and other creatures no longer roam the Earth. The ark (a big boat) features prominently in the Creation Museum, and supposedly held two of each kind of animal.

Dinosaurs were on the ark, but I guess they all fell off to become fossils...

Assuming this model is correct, there may have actually been only one zebra on the ark!

     People who didn't get their tickets for the ark were left behind to work things out for themselves:

I don't see how choking someone will improve the situation.

     This is all pretty absurd, and I could go on and on about the ridiculous things I saw at the Creation Museum, but I'll stop here.

     Stay tuned for part 2, where I discuss what really bothers me about the Creation Museum and incorporate ideas about communication and the position of science in society.

P.S. To help myself sleep at night, I donated $50 to the National Center for ScienceEducation. This organization has played an integral part in defending science and reason from unsubstantiated pseudo-science masquerading as something that deserves attention in our classrooms. If you care about the quality of science education in this country, please give what you can to this group. They were largely responsible for the legal defeat of intelligent design in  Kitzmiller vs.Dover.

Story time

     There's an interesting discussion developing on ECOLOG, a listserv for ecologists, about the roll of hypotheses in ecology. At the base of this discussion is whether or not science needs to be hypothesis-driven. Certainly, statistical analyses are suited for hypothesis-driven science, but does that mean that other types of research are somehow less valuable? What about natural history studies? Documenting changes in community structure or detailing the life history of a species can be the first steps that lead to important, hypothesis-driven studies (i.e., the kinds of projects that will get funded).

     What does any of this have to do with children's stories? Most of these books deal with topics in basic science: biodiversity, life cycles, community interactions. None of these books are stories about hypothesis testing, and perhaps that is a good thing. For young children, we need to start introducing them to the biological sciences at the broadest, most easily understood levels. Perhaps if we can hook enough young minds, the larger issue of communicating science with the public will diminish...

Chickens Aren't The Only Ones
     The author's goal here is to share with children the fact that eggs exist beyond the ones chickens provide for our enjoyment. The science that's communicated here is basic organismal biology, and, as indicated by my blog title cum web address, it's a shame the author didn't use this opportunity to link organisms in an evolutionary context. Children are notorious for asking "why?", so it seemed fitting to put some kind of explanation into the book. Perhaps that was too much to ask...

Old Shell, New Shell
     The author takes a story about a hermit crab looking for a new shell and uses it to introduce an impressive array of organisms that most children will not be familiar with. The guide to all of the pictured species, with short blurbs about each, is impressive. I would have collected this information as a child and been proud to show off my identification skills at the drop of a hat. The introduction and concluding remarks regarding conservation are excellent additions for parents and their children. The sooner we can get children to care about the environment, the better.

Pumpkin Jack
     A disappointing tale of a jack-o-lantern left to germinate into a new pumpkin plant. I was truly excited for details about the decomposition process or even basic plant developmental biology, but alas, the story focuses more on what children do at different times of the year. The science here is superficial, though it is worth something to make sure children know where plants come from (i.e., other plants). I can't imagine a child ever wanting to read this book more than once, and I bet books need to be re-read ad nauseum to be remembered.

Round The Garden
     I was prepared to write a biting review of this story when I noticed it was written by an eight year old. Quite impressive, especially if he added the small flourishes like naming clouds and pointing out essential components of photosynthesis. Again, the science is fairly basic and doesn't explore much beyond the basics of the water cycle.

The Sea, The Storm, And The Mangrove Tangle
     This author includes what I think is an essential component of a good children's book intended to communicate science: an introduction. Whether written to be read to children or solely for the parents, this background is incredibly important because it allows questions to be asked & answered, and allows the readers to put the story in a realistic context. I read the story about the hungry caterpillar, but I never really connected it to lepidopteran ecology. This kind of science writing is the opportunity to take a cute story with pretty pictures and use it to actually educate a young person. Too often, this opportunity is wasted and perhaps not even comprehended by the author.

     Overall, the visuals were well done, especially when requiring a second look and concentration from the child. Detailed illustrations train children in skills of observation, which puts them well on their way to becoming scientists.

And remember, children are our future!