9/17: Scientific Texts -- Are Dry and Impersonal a Given?

In reading Buehl’s and Spratley’s dissection of texts in the science disciplines, I couldn’t help but notice that they unfairly malign these texts as overly complex and “impersonal.” Why does it necessarily have to be this way? If Buehl and Spratley approach reading science text with this level of presumed boredom and disdain, how can we expect our students to approach it any more optimistically? If I read Buehl’s chapter critically, I find that it urges the student to assimilate into accepting and reading whatever boring textbook the institution throws at them, rather than encouraging us as teachers to meet them on their level or choose more accessible texts. Buehl describes the deemphasizing or sidestepping of textbooks as “harmful,” which strikes me as a little narrow-minded. On the other hand, Spratley makes me check that reaction by arguing the importance of being able to read classic science textbooks for a successful academic future. It’s true that my goal first and foremost should be setting my students up for success, but what do I do when that success hinges on teaching material that might let them pass standardized tests but won’t improve their love of science? Their futures shouldn’t be dictated by my desire to take a stand for what I believe should be taught in their curriculum. I don’t really have an answer for this dilemma, but it’s something I hope we’ll all continue to think about.

If there is something that Buehl and I definitely agree on, it’s the difference between “doing reading” and “engaging in reading.” I’m reminded of something that was emphasized to me when I worked as a producer in the film industry: the etymology of the word “entertain” is “to maintain someone in a certain frame of mind.” At some point in the last few centuries, the meaning of that word was lost to a sense of “mindless entertainment,” which conjures up images of Homer Simpson lounging on the couch, laughing absent-mindedly to a VHS of Football’s Greatest Injuries. But if we keep in mind the original meaning of the word, we can aim to entertain in our classroom – to take responsibility in keeping our students engaged.

To shed light on content area literacy, I’d like briefly to examine an exercise in literacy called the Kuleshov experiment. In the 1910s, early filmmakers were just discovering how to piece together different images in an order to convey meaning, and they learned that audiences came equipped with several film literacy skills instinctually. Kuleshov proved this by showing audiences the same exact shot of an expressionless actor after a bowl of soup, after a young girl in a casket, and after a beautiful woman. Audiences raved about the actor’s ability to so subtly portray hunger, sadness, and desire. Little did they know that it was the text of the film doing the heavy lifting, not the actor. You can try the experiment out for yourself here:

Since these early days of film, audiences have become literate in new symbols, ones that are less innate. In the world of movies, a woman throwing up in the morning means she’s pregnant, someone who coughs is likely about to learn of a serious illness, and a tense sustained violin stroke means to watch out for something bad around the corner. Just consider this re-cut Mary Poppins trailer:

How does our mind re-interpret what we’ve seen before as a musical comedy into a chilling horror film? We’ve been able to build this film literacy not just on an individual level, but on a cultural level as well. My point here is that we intuitively know that teacher-at-the-chalkboard teaching is not the only way to develop literacy skills. Most people have “film literacy” whether or not they know it, because they likely enjoy watching movies and practice it constantly. We should seek to come up with ways for students to enjoy and develop literacy in our content area in the same way, so that they might not even be aware they’re doing it.

The way both Buehl and Spratley address science texts places a large emphasis on vocabulary, whereas science subjects like physics and chemistry are truly closer to a mathematics text, requiring the understanding and application of formulas to real-life problem-solving. As an example, below I’ve included a photo of the only formulas (all of which are fairly simple for advanced-level physics) we’ve defined in the first 3 weeks of Special and General Relativity, a course I find to be quite demanding. As you can see, in this science as well as others, it’s less about the vocabulary and more about understanding what to do with it.

Buehl and Spratley also place a lot of importance on prior knowledge, which is frustrating but difficult to disagree with. I have a personal story about the benefits and pitfalls of prior knowledge and insider language: When I began my undergraduate degree at an “elite institution” in a philosophy and theology seminar, I discovered that my peers came equipped with a vocabulary that they used to describe works of Greek and Roman literature. I was the only student in my class of 14 who hadn’t taken Greek, Latin, or Italian in high school, and I was approaching works like Dante’s Inferno and The Odyssey with no prior knowledge outside of references to them in pop culture. I went home after our first class meeting and cried, convinced that I was stupid and could never fit in there. Weeks later, I realized that my classmates had certain vocabulary they knew to use when discussing that content area, but that didn’t mean that their comprehension and interpretation of it necessarily had to be better than mine. I got into a habit of asking my peers to define words that they used in seminars – not to stir up trouble but to help my understanding -- and realized that half the time, they didn’t even know what they were saying.

This story leads me to two questions: 1. What can we do to make sure our students don’t feel the way that I did, like I was in a separate world from ever being able to understand the subject? 2. How can we keep our students from being like my peers in that seminar, who knew all the insider language, but weren’t using it to their full advantage? In this discourse on discourse, I think it’s important that we don’t encourage the ability to “talk the talk” while neglecting the ability to “walk the walk.”