Teaching science
is one of the most demanding professions. It is under pressure from
government and industry because the nation needs more workers with maths and
science skills (or so I am told), and from parents and students who believe
that a bachelors degree in science will gain them respect and employment. Let me
not fail to mention that the scientific community adds their own special brand
of pressure with the vast knowledge base and diverse perceptions of truth. Teaching
science feels important.
But as a teacher
of science I forget all of this when I am sitting in front of a student with a
question. Then the only thing I am thinking about is the question and the best
way to answer it. Should I direct the student to a book, an online resource, an
experiment (my ultimate favourite), or should we talk it through immediately? Questions
are the heart and soul of good science, because questions lead to answers and
answers lead to great questions. Students who cannot ask questions may stumble
forward and finish a course, but they are unlikely to have sufficient curiosity
to become scientists – regardless of the degree they receive.
I want to teach
in a way that encourages students to let their curiosity wander and grow,
latching onto ideas and thoughts all over the playing field. So as I sit here
at the beginning of another academic year I feel again the pressure to
reconsider my teaching materials and methods and find new ways to connect with
the diverse group of students who will be sitting in my classrooms next week. Is
it possible that their brief time with me can be used to inspire them to think
differently about the world around them and learn to be better chemists and
better citizens? I think it is possible, and I am going to do everything in my
power to make sure they learn to think – at very least!
