Wonder and the humanity of science

It’s been quiet around here lately, in part because the lab has been busy. Although various projects are moving forward, there have been more challenges and frustrations than usual in the past few weeks. I’ll be the first to admit that all those bumps in the experimental road are par for the course, but sometimes they wear me down more than they should.

However, I’ve recently finished a fabulous book that reminded me exactly why I love doing science. The book is Richard Holmes’ The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science. It’s not yet available in the US, but I highly recommend it. (Check out the Guardian review by Jenny Uglow, which provides a much more eloquent description than I can.) This book is perhaps my favorite history of science book yet. Why? Because it focuses broadly on the scientific endeavor… the people who participate in science and their varied personalities, the role of collaboration and professional societies, the interaction between science and the public, the long and twisted process of doing science, including the wrong-turns and the lucky breaks. Most of all, the book does an incredible job of exploring the emotions that accompany the practice of science.

Holmes captures the sense of wonder of the Romantic generation, both the scientists and the public. He explores the interaction of the Romantic poets with the men and women of science. I was interested to learn that Samuel Taylor Coleridge was a staunch defender of science. “[Colderidge] thought that science, as a human activity, ‘being necessarily performed with the passion of Hope, it was poetical.’ Science, like poetry, was not merely ‘progressive.’ It directed a particular kind of moral energy and imaginative longing into the future. It enshrined the implicit belief that mankind could achieve a better, happier world.” The role of wonder, longing, imagination, and humanity are probed throughout the book.

I found Holmes’ epilogue to be particularly thoughtful. He considers where he started the book, and what he discovered through the process of writing it: “We need to understand how science is actually made; how scientists themselves think and feel and speculate. We need to explore what makes scientists creative, as well as poets or painters, or musicians. That is how this book began.”

I’ve been thinking about the humanity of science this week, in part because of a question that my Adopt-a-Physicist students have asked me. These students have been told by their high school physics teacher that science is about people, and yet in high school physics, what students see is facts and equations. The people, the emotions, the struggles, the triumphs, the adventure, they go unseen. Although physics is the accumulation of many people’s knowledge over the course of hundreds of years, the human minds, interactions, creativity, and mistakes all get lost in the physics facts. Would people be more attracted to science if they saw this? I know many scientists don’t like to acknowledge this messy, political, human part of the endeavor, but to ignore it is to pretend that doing science is something it’s not.

I think it is awe and wonder that often entice us into physics, and keep us going despite the sometimes difficult journey.  We don’t always convey the wonder to a broader audience, focusing instead on sharing concepts and facts. Are astrophysics and particle physics popular in the general media because they capture the wonder better than the more practically-minded condensed matter physics?

Holmes concludes his book by reflecting on the role of science today: “Above all, perhaps, we need three things that a scientific culture can sustain: the sense of individual wonder, the power of hope, and the vivid but questing belief in a future for the globe.” Too often I let the day-to-day frustrations and setbacks in lab get in the way of the wonder and the hope. I need to remember to be filled with wonder, and to share that wonder with others, particularly those who are not scientists.

Exploring the laboratory landscape: Computer simulations

Continuing my exploration of curricular labs, I’m interested in considering the inclusion of computer simulations and computer modeling activities in lab. For improving conceptual understanding or exploring new concepts not covered in class, having students explore computer simulations or build computer models can be valuable. In particular, computers can help students visualize and control things at the scale of the very small, the very large, or the very fast. Matter and Interactions VPython programs or the PhET simulations can enhance student understanding and be integrated effectively into labs.

Nevertheless, I’m hesitant to make computer simulations the primary focus of lab. Where possible, I prefer combining simulations and/or modeling with hands-on activities. Integrating hands-on work with computer simulations gives students a better perspective on the interplay between theory and experiment. Students can build a model for a system, and then compare their model with an actual physical system that they measure. One of my concerns with favoring computer simulations at the expense of hands-on experiments is that much of the skill building aspect of lab (trouble shooting, data collection and analysis techniques, dealing with uncertainty and error analysis, designing and evaluating experimental set-ups) can be lost if the lab is entirely computer based.

While some lab skills can only be learned from experience, the PER group at Colorado found interesting results when they studied student performance in labs that focused on circuits. They compared performance, both in terms of conceptual understanding and hands-on effectiveness, of students in a traditional labs and students who first explored a computer simulation and then turned to hands-on activities. The students who used simulations first had a better conceptual understanding, and they were faster at building a real circuit, than the students who had been doing hands-on circuit activities for the entire time. Clearly, in certain settings, simulations can be powerful pedagogical tools.

Two other aspects of computer simulations/modeling are worth mentioning. On the up side, the equipment budget is small for labs that are primarily computer-based, which is a benefit when resources are tight. On the down side, if students are working in groups, it is much easier for one person to dominate if all of the work takes place in front of the computer screen, either coding or running simulations.

Is there an ideal mix of hands-on and computer-based lab activities?

Exploring the laboratory landscape: Classic experiments

As an experimentalist, I naturally think labs are a critically important part of the physics major. I still remember it was the lab for my electronics class that sealed the deal on my becoming a physics major. I enjoy teaching labs, and I appreciate that labs can be particularly beneficial for students who are hands-on learners. Despite all this, I rarely think as deeply about teaching and designing labs as I do about my classroom teaching and activities. I think this is partly because of the limits of equipment budgets and the time involved in developing new labs. Both of these factors make it difficult to completely revamp the laboratory portion of a course, and thus when I inherit a course, I often adopt the labs that have already been used, making modifications where needed. Recently I’ve spent more time reflecting on various aspects of curricular labs, and over the coming days I’m going to use this forum to think aloud on this topic.

In my mind, there are a number of issues that must be considered… the function of “classic” experiments, the place of computer simulations, the balance between canned labs and build-an-experiment labs, the appropriate level of guidance, the importance of lab notebooks, write-ups, and oral presentations, the role of curricular labs as preparation for undergraduate research experiences.

Of course, before addressing any of these questions, one must begin by asking what are the goals for any particular lab? I don’t consider the main purpose of labs to be simply verifying ideas presented in the classroom. Rather, I consider labs to be an opportunity for skill building (from experimental techniques to visual presentation of data), introducing or clarifying concepts, and giving students an appreciation of various aspects of the experimental process. Andrew Morrison, in his article in The Physics Teacher in December 2008, noted a disconnect between students and faculty about the purpose of labs. When he asked his introductory physics students whether they agreed or disagreed with the following statement, “The main purpose of the lab is to reinforce concepts covered in the lecture,” nearly all students agreed. Morrison advocates discussing goals for labs with students early on in a course so as to address the discrepancy.

Eric Ayers, of CSU Chico, gave a great talk at a session on advanced labs at the AAPT Winter Meeting this year. In his talk, he emphasized that when planning labs it’s much more important to ask “What skills do I wants students to learn?” than “What experiments do I want students to do?” I think this is true of labs at many levels, not just the advanced lab. This brings me to one of the topics I’ve been thinking about…

The function of “classic” experiments

In modern physics and advanced lab courses, the “classic” experiments often play a large role–the Millikan oil drop experiment, the Frank-Hertz experiment, the Rutherford scattering experiment, etc. In my mind, the historical role of an experiment or the notion that “all physics majors do this experiment” is never a sufficient reason for including a particular experiment in the curriculum, but many of these classic experiments do give students skills and experience with particular types of data collection and analysis that are useful. In addition, it is possible to combine the experimental skills with an appreciation for the historical perspective. For example, in our sophomore level modern physics course, we have students do the Millikan oil drop experiment. The most important factor in having students do this experiment is NOT to have students prove that the fundamental unit of charge is 1.6 x 10^-19 C. Rather it’s a good introduction to some ideas in analysis and interpretation of data. In particular, I like to link this lab with an assigned paper on the Millikan/Ehrenhaft controversy, and the questions surrounding Millikan’s contention that his published results represent all data collected for a 60 day period when his lab notebooks indicate there is data that he did not include. Having done the experiment and seeing the difficulty of tracking the oil drops, students must begin to consider critically questions about the quality of data collected, the role of record-keeping, the obligations in reporting results, etc. In this case, the historical nature of the experiment and the associated controversy serve to get students to think about the ethical implications of data collection and analysis.

Coming soon… computer simulations in the lab