John Settlage

Demythologizing Science Teacher Education: Conquering the False Ideal of Open Inquiry

Each of us holds onto various myth within our lives and careers. We might prefer not to acknowledge these, especially to ourselves. But mythology is a potent force in life and not only when we read fiction or watch movies. One example is the myth of ‘‘six degrees of separation’’ which alleges that any two people in the world can be connect through a short list of acquaintances. This principle, fostered by social psychologist Milgram (1967), investigated how peoples social networks could be used to forward a package to someone unknown to them. In one study, Nebraska participants (presumable as far as a Harvard/Yale professor could imagine to still be within the civilized world) were told to send a package to a designated person in Massachusetts. Rather than mail the package directly, people were to send the materials to a person they knew on a first name basis who would be likely to know the target person. At each step, the package would move closer to the desired recipient. To Milgrams surprise, the median number of intermediating people, from sender to addressee, was five. What a comfort it would be, even though counter-intuitive for a large global population, to know that human beings are all connected to one another. However, despite the manner in which ‘‘six-degrees’’ has captured the publics imagination, there is scant evidence to support this notion. It turns out that Milgrams study was so flawed and difficult to replicate that the concept of six degrees of separation qualifies as a myth. Kleinfeld (2002) examined Milgrams original research materials and concluded that ‘‘Milgrams fascinating findings have slipped away from their scientific moorings and sailed into the world of imagination’’ (p. 62). One issue was that the median of five intermediates was based upon a completion rate of barely 30%. Nearly three-fourths of the package never reached their destination. Furthermore, Kleinfeld uncovered that the recruiting methods used by Milgram selected for people within existing networks. In follow-up studies, when connections were attempted across social boundaries (i.e., racial categories and social class) the success rates fell so low that almost none of the packages reached their target. In summary, the six degrees concept, despite its heartwarming tale of a world community, it is difficult to substantiate. What many of us viewed as a delightful truth is actually a mere fable.

On Acknowledging PCK's Shortcomings

While reviewing journal manuscripts, conference proposals, and job applications over the past several months, I have been struck by the frequent mention of pedagogical content knowledge (PCK). Within science teacher education, PCK skulks about as a strangely persistent yet unfulfilling notion. PCK intrigued me when I first heard of it 25 years ago; today PCK is a source of considerable frustration because it sparkles, but offers little substance. For example, PCK helps me as a science teacher educator to explain how neither a strong grasp of subject matter nor the mastery of management skills is sufficient for classroom success. On the other hand, PCK lurks as an intellectual dead-end for those who might contemplate it as the foundation for a research agenda. How can something so useful in my science methods classes also be so ineffectual as a research paradigm? After all these years, I recognize that PCK is equivalent to a mirage in the desert or a mythical siren along the shore. Foolish passions cause us to imagine the fulfillment of our longings: a shimmering pool of water, a beautiful enchantress, or an explanation for the ambiguity of teacher expertise. And while not harmful in and of themselves, pursuing these seductions can lead us to becoming lost, shipwrecked, or stuck. My purpose in this essay is to delve into PCK to unpack its many problems while also considering what it might provide. By examining the stalled progress and historical ambivalence toward PCK, I offer a cautionary tale for those who might otherwise become ensnared. I am not alone in being disheartened by PCK. There is unsteadiness about PCK within the research literature. Rarely does the construct capture and sustain any single scholar’s work for an extended period of time, although there are exceptions (e.g., Abell 2008). My concerns escalate when a search for PCK in drafts of the national Framework for K-12 Science Education (NRC 2012) comes up empty. Furthermore, the term ‘‘PCK’’ does not appear in documents specifying exemplary tools and practices for science teachers (e.g., Wilson 2011; Windschitl et al. 2012).

Framing the Professional Development of Members of the Science Teacher Education Community

On office walls, we used to display photos and posters with the aid of yellow gummy stuff or with special squares of poster mounting tape found during raids of the office supply cabinet. The assemblage of pictures and a few clippings on the walls looked okay – for a college dormitory. More recently, we have had the need to remove items from an office wall (either for a new coat of paint or for a move to a new space), and in the process discovered that a more enduring display of materials improves the overall look of an office wall. Specifically, framing a photo from the High Sierras or the picture of a loved one not only frees us from the need for that yellow gum, but also gives a new perspective and brings a new importance to the image. The frame improves the image and sets it apart from the background wall, distinguishing it clearly from the pieces on the wall.

Prognosis for Science Misconceptions Research

Dear Professor, I am an engineer working on two educational projects and have been searching online for educators in the state who might be able to point me in the direction of research done on best teaching methods. The assistant dean’s secretary suggested that I contact you to see if you could help point me in the right direction. The first project is an after-school program for elementary and secondary school students. While I plan to spend some time reinforcing proper grammar and the correct use of apostrophes, the majority of time will be devoted to critical thinking and science concepts. The second project is a series of educational videos using exploration techniques (from robotics to adventure sports) to teach concepts in the fields of science and engineering (e.g., demonstrating how F = ma allows a skydiver to move laterally through the air by deflecting the airflow with his body or how the conservation of angular momentum allows a snowboarder to change the rate of his spins in midjump).

The use of urban students’ photographs as a data source and the complexity of their elementary teacher’s interpretations

Photographs taken by urban students, along with the associated interview transcripts, were provided to their teachers partway through the subsequent school year. The teachers were prompted to describe their impressions of the photos relative to their knowledge of the students. In addition, the teachers were asked how these insights might shape their instructional practices. The photographs proved to be informative to the teachers, and they were able to propose changes in practices for individual students. Unfortunately, they were unable to articulate changes that might make the curriculum more culturally responsive for the students.

The Perils of Ignoring the Past

Because titles of journal articles are usually dull, clever titles can catch my eye. An essay with the subtitle of Piaget Is Dead and I Don’t Feel So Good Myself was one that made me chuckle (Bjorklund 1997). Rather than speculate about generating titles that attract readers, I wish to comment upon penchant for the shiny and new. We tend to ignore the efforts of our academic predecessors in favor of educational fads—fads that include everything from new philosophies to new technologies. The Piaget article implies that ideas of the past are no longer useful. However, we should be more discerning about what we bury versus what we bless within the field of science education. Even though some developments of the past may have little bearing on contemporary research and practice, we should avoid the tendency to use the arbitrary standard of newness as a criterion for an author’s or an idea’s value. Clinging to history only perpetuates mistakes; jumping onto a new academic craze by virtue of pure cleverness is no more likely to resolve problems within science education. Perhaps Ralph Waldo Emerson is to blame for our tendency to ignore the roots of our intellectual heritage. In his essay ‘‘The American Scholar,’’ he urged his 1837 audience to discontinue relying on European philosophy by instead initiating a new and distinctly American way of thinking. While planting the seeds for pragmatic philosophy, Emerson was perhaps too successful. While recommending that U.S. citizens discontinue their intellectual apprenticeship with Europe, we developed a taste for novelty that can prevent us from paying attention to older ideas that have been fruitful. In a sense, while Emerson encouraged us to let go of the hand of our predecessors, once we broke free and struck off on our own, we placed a premium on ideas that may have no merit beyond being non-old. The consequence for science education parallels the Pooh and Piglet scenario where they discover the footprints of whom they surmise are Woozles when, in actuality, they’ve walked in circles and