I’m working with some colleagues who are scientists at UQ, and who are interested in improving the teaching of science within their department. Science teaching at universities is patchy, with some really excellent teachers, but given that most scientists (a) have no formal teacher training and (b) would really rather be researching than teaching1, about the best-case scenario is that they teach as they were taught. And some university science teaching is pretty abysmal.
So it’s encouraging that these guys are interested in teaching, are good at it themselves and are paying attention to what it takes to teach well. It’s also encouraging that they’ve called in my colleague Kim and I from the School of Education, acknowledging that we have some expertise to share in this area.
But there’s something mystifying: I see it with this team, and I’ve seen it before both in people I’ve spoken to and in articles and letters to the editor and so on. ‘Educational theory’ seems to be a dirty word to these people. I half expect them to cross themselves or make the sign to avert the evil eye and spit every time they mention it. They talk about losing their dignity by using ‘education jargon’. This is a known problem: a recent paper on improving university teaching in Australia said science faculty are the most ‘refractory2 to change’.
Leave aside the fact that they seem not to realise that it’s kind of rude to do that in front of us educators. We’re tough, we can take it. But what does it do to their attempts to improve their teaching if they have an active contempt for the very bodies of knowledge that can inform it?
I think in the past I’d probably have taken on the problem directly, and tried to convince them of the value of educational theory, perhaps by using some examples, and to remind them that their fields have as much or more ‘jargon’ – they just call it the technical language of that field of study. But I think I’ve mellowed – and perhaps even come to see how stubborn people’s prejudices can be. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em”.
So I think my next book will be a very practical, focused, theory-3 and jargon-free instruction manual for beginning science faculty who are trying to make a start in teaching and older science faculty who want to improve their teaching. Because the thing of it is, I don’t think any of them want to be bad teachers – they just don’t always know how to be good ones. I’ve been doing research work on explanations in science teaching, and if this project we’re pulling together now comes off will be doing a couple of years of research directly on university science teaching. The work from the Carnegie academy on the ‘scholarship of teaching’ will be relevant too.
It’ll be a few years before it comes out: hey, I have a book published in 2004 and one in 2006, so if the Man book comes out in 2008 this would the 2010 book! But I think it’s one that would be useful, and fun to write, and hopefully would sell.
- and all their promotions and rewards are about research, not teaching
- ‘refractories’ are the little bricks inside kilns that keep the heat in – they resist the movement of energy from one place to another
- or, if not ‘theory-free’ then at least ‘theory-hidden’: that is, I’ll know what theory underlies the presecriptions, but won’t talk about it in the book
Note: I’ve recently decided to dig up and dust off the ‘Man Book’ I wrote a couple of years ago, update and expand that manuscript and look for an Australian publisher. There might be a week’s work in the polishing, and then the submission process tends to be (1) snail mail off a copy of the book proposal letter and a couple of sample chapters (publishers seem to be resisting a move into the 21st century), (2) wait 6-8 weeks, (3) get a rejection slip, (4) rinse and repeat. So while that cycle is going on, for as long as it takes, it’s time to start thinking about what the next book might be… which is what this post is about. Of course, plenty of papers to publish in the mean time…