A New Language For Science

By Roberto Trotta

Would you try to cross the South Pole wearing only flip-flops? Or row across the Atlantic on an inflatable swimming pool? Or describe the beauty and mystery of the universe using only the most common 1,000 words in English?

In my book “The Edge of the Sky — All you need to know about the All-There-Is” I try to achieve something seemingly impossible with the simplest of means: to rethink our understanding of the universe using only a handful of different words (707, to be precise). My aim was to discuss some of the biggest questions in science today, in a language that is accessible to everybody.

The first challenge I faced was to talk about the universe… without using the word ‘universe’, for this was not on the list of the 1,000 words. I was shocked to discover that many of the words I would have liked to use were not available to me. For example, I couldn’t use ‘galaxy’, ‘particle’, ‘planet’, ‘earth’, or ‘scientist’. It seemed hopeless!

But as I persevered, something unexpected happened.

A childlike perspective of the cosmos

A new voice started to emerge from the format itself. So ‘galaxies’ became ‘Star-Crowds’; ‘particles smashing together’ became ‘drops kissing each other’; ‘planets’ were ‘crazy-stars’; the ‘Milky Way’ became the ‘White Road’, ‘scientists’ became ‘Student-People’. The extremely limited lexicon I was working with created a poetic straitjacket that gave me a new, childlike perspective on the cosmos.

Armed with this simple yet powerful language, I found I could tackle all the subjects I wanted, from the Big Bang to the possibility of parallel universes.

To some, reducing the vast and rich English lexicon to a mere 1,000 words is plain wrong, tantamount to a butchery of the English language. Others have seen in my experiment a radical approach to science communication: jargon-free and full of metaphors and imagery. By getting rid of all but the simplest of words, the story of the universe acquires the immediacy of folk tales, or perhaps of a post-apocalyptic future when the ‘proper’ words for complex scientific ideas have been lost.

An excerpt from the book follows below:

It seems crazy that student-people should think that there is a lot more stuff that you can not see than stuff that you can see. Still, they do. In fact, they believe that there is about five times more Dark Matter than normal matter.

If you look around us with a Far-Seer, you will realize that the White Road is made of many, many stars. There are about three times twenty stars in the White Road for each person on our Home-World.

And if you use a Big-Seer, you will find that there are as many other Star-Crowds in the sky as there are stars in the White Road.

And yet all of this is just a tiny bit of everything there is.

The universe speaks to us through the language of mathematics

This is not to say that science is simply a fictional narrative among many others. The unique power of science rests on its ability to observe, infer and quantify regularities about the world we live in, that is, the ‘laws of nature’.

But translating the contents of mathematical expressions into natural language raises the question of whether any choice of words is sufficiently accurate for the purpose. Is ‘electron’ any better than ‘Very Small Drop’ to describe what a physicist understands by that term, and all the complex quantum-mechanical ideas associated with it?

Despite its richness and many shades of subtlety, the English language cannot replace the full depth of understanding allowed for by mathematics — no natural language could. For all natural languages cannot be but an approximation of the true, exact and mysteriously powerful language of nature: mathematics. In the end, natural language descriptions of the fundamental nature of the universe and of its governing laws are bound to be inadequate.

My translation of complex cosmological ideas into very simple English tries to subvert the inadequacy of natural language, when compared with mathematics, by reducing it to the smallest number of atoms. Just like the periodic table of the elements can explain the entirety of the chemistry we see around us, so I imagined that the most common 1,000 words could provide the building blocks for a new description of the complexities of the universe.

Whether or not I have succeeded in my goal is a question that only my readers can answer. If my book can inspire some of them and generate a new spark of wonder for the cosmos we live in, I’ll be happy.

—–

* ScWRL editors: A major focus of good science communication is to simplify language and minimize jargon (see here and here). Roberto’s fascinating concept bears strong parallels with this aim, but we wouldn’t recommend students try to limit themselves to the words that fall under the Edge Of The Sky umbrella, especially when writing for academic audiences.

—–

If you are intrigued by the Edge Of The Sky concept, give it a whirl by using the following web-based tool: www.upgoer5.info.

** This is an edited version of a VOICES blog post accompanying Roberto’s British Council English Lecture in November 2014.

About Roberto Trotta

Roberto Trotta is an astrophysicist at Imperial College London, where he studies dark matter, dark energy and the Big Bang, and an STFC Public Engagement Fellow. He is also the Director of Imperial’s Centre for Languages, Culture and Communication

Roberto was named as one of the 100 Global Thinkers 2014 by Foreign Policy, for “junking astronomy jargon”.

www.robertotrotta.com

@R_Trotta

Wooing our Future Science Communicators – an Instructor’s Journey (Part 1)

By Elizabeth Scherman

When I was six years old, my mother shook me awake from a sound sleep. She led me, pajama-clad and rubbing my eyes, to our back yard. The Perseid meteor shower was at its peak, and my father did not want one member of our family to miss it. I never wanted to come back in.

Astronomy has remained a fascination of mine. I am not a scientist. My field is the study of communication – for me, the critical analysis of text, image, and rhetoric. This summer I will be at the University of California, Berkeley, teaching a Writing for the Sciences course in their Academic Talent Development Program (ATDP) in the Graduate School of Education.

ATDP has, for over 30 years, been offering challenging courses to intellectually curious students from kindergarten through high school. Most ATDP students love the STEM classes. Put them in a web development or biotechnology class and they’re happy. Put them in a writing class and they’re – well, they need to be wooed.

But how do you convince a 16-year-old future physicist that words matter? My home office is a clutter of books. Leonardo da Vinci, Isaac Asimov, Rachel Carson, Steven Hawking, Neil deGrasse Tyson. Which of these will woo my students, pushing them along the path to understand that words – their own words – matter?

Everything is on the table, including popular culture from Star Wars to Dr. Who. Students will be researching, talking, writing, and standing up to present their own talks. Every word they write will be for a real-time audience, whether for a technical school or a newspaper editorial.

I don’t yet know what will work. As usual, my students will be my teachers. My job is to shake them awake, get them to write, and point out the meteors as they fall. I expect them to resist, rubbing their eyes, then look up, look inside, write. And never want to come back in.

** ScWRL editors: To find out how Elizabeth’s journey progressed, read part 2 here. We look forward to part 3 in the future… **

About Elizabeth Scherman

Elizabeth Leigh Scherman researches representations of divergent bodies in media as well as the rhetoric that accompanies such portrayals, whether in scientific literature, cinema, television, or other forms of popular culture.

She holds a Ph.D. in Communication from the University of Washington and is senior tenured faculty at Bates College in Tacoma, Washington. Her work has appeared in peer reviewed journals and edited collections, including Disability Studies Quarterly, The Galaxy is Rated G: Essays on Children’s Science Fiction Film and Television, edited by R.C. Neighbors and Sandy Rankin, The Worlds of Farscape, edited by Sherry Ginn, and an upcoming anthology, Tim Burton: Essays on the Films, edited by Johnson Cheu.

Scherman is developing original curriculum for teaching writing to students interested in STEM fields and will be teaching and initiating this curriculum at the University of California, Berkeley, Graduate School of Education, Academic Talent Development Program in the summer of 2016.

How Do You Get That Writing Done?

By Stephen J. A. Ward, February 15th, 2016

Academics and other friends frequently ask me: You are a writing juggernaut. How do you get it all done – your books, chapters, online columns? What’s your secret?

One answer: I need to get a life.

Another answer: I have more time to write than you. I am retired. But I was productive before I retired.

A less charitable view: I churn out superficial pieces. Ouch. I hope that is not true.

I cannot fill your head with original, publishable ideas. I can’t make you a brilliant writer. But I have a few methods for getting things done.

It is all about organization. You must become a raving, semi-committable nut about process. In two ways: (1) You must be totally clear about why you are writing. (2) You must be totally clear about your plan of attack. If you are not clear on these two things, don’t even start writing. Forget it. Go back and get clear.

Why are you writing? Obvious, right? Not so. Many scholars and researchers become excited about a topic or new idea. They start writing, feverously. Then they get entangled in execution problems: They over-write. They wander around – the way we accidentally get off the main highway and go down alleyways. Then the alleyways lead to dead ends.

Here is the best way to know if you are clear: Write an introduction to your anticipated magnum opus in under 800 words. Then write a two-paragraph abstract of the introduction. State in precise and plain terms your topic, your contribution, and why it is important. I said precise and plain. Then give it to some ordinary person – the person next to you on the bus — and see if they understand it. If you struggle with the introduction, you lack precision in purpose. If you plunge into writing anyway, you will regret it.

What is your plan of attack?

By a plan I mean a rigorous outline of the piece. I am an outline fanatic. Certified. I guide everything I write with “levels” of outlines. I have an overall table of contents, to be sure.

But much more. I have an outline for each chapter. I have an outline of each section of the chapter. I place word limits on each section. What is more, I alter the outlines as I go along as better ways of organizing material occur to me. Outlines evolve.

I never write without the relevant outline beside me. It prevents me from getting lost in the verbiage. The outline also tells me if I am spending too much time on a particular section.

I am sure Freud could explain my reliance on outlines as sort of a security blanket. But, never mind Freud. They work for me.

A few more tips:

Find a time of day to write: Protect that time. Set deadlines for sections and stick to them. Try to write a little bit every day. I type notes to myself where I stop for the day, so I know how to resume the thread of thought.
Go to the beach: When you become frustrated with a section, take a break. Walk the beach, walk the dog. My best ideas have come when I am not at the keyboard. I keep pencil and pen all over my apartment (and in my car) in case a good thought strikes.
Use paper and pen: There are times when I get really stuck, despite my outlines. I take a notebook and pen and sit on my balcony. I sketch the concepts I am struggling to organize. I draw little boxes for ideas and use primitive arrows to connect them. Suddenly out of this maze, I SEE a better pattern. I then quickly type the pattern into my computer. Whew! I have posted some of these primitive drawings on Facebook to the amusement of friends.
Write first, edit later: Once you have done (1) and (2), start writing. Do NOT stare at an empty screen and induce writer’s block. Do not write one perfect sentence at a time. Just start writing, darn it, even if the prose is mediocre. Let the ideas pour out of you. Write long. Then, go back and edit, and fix. This editing, remarkably, will give you great ideas on what you are really trying to say, and its structure. A virtuous circle: write an outline–write copy–edit copy–then improve the outline.

So my advice is: With Prussian discipline you must channel and structure your marvelous insights and ideas.

For those poor souls who still believe, romantically, that you can rely on inspiration and who dislike structure, what can I say?

I am not your best guide.

I wish you well.

About Stephen J. A. Ward

Stephen J. A. Ward is an internationally recognized media ethicist, journalist, educator, consultant, keynote speaker and award-winning author.

He is Distinguished Lecturer in Ethics at the University of British Columbia and acting co-chair of the Ethics Advisory Committee of the Canadian Association of Journalists.

Ward was a war correspondent, foreign reporter and newsroom manager for 14 years and has received a lifetime award for service to professional journalism in Canada. He covered conflicts in Yugoslavia, Bosnia and Northern Ireland.

His current research is on the future of media ethics in a global interactive world. Also, he acts as an expert in other areas of ethics.

Lift-Off for JEMI+ — an International Undergraduate Journal

By David Oliver

In 2001, UBC spearheaded a new type of laboratory course. The vision was to create an educational experience that would immerse undergraduates in research – students would learn by doing real science!

The course was structured around ongoing projects. Each term student teams would develop an independent research question, draft a proposal, and conduct experiments in the laboratory. At the end of the course their results would be documented as a scientific manuscript and published in a course-based journal titled ‘Journal of Experimental Microbiology and Immunology’ (JEMI). Over the next ten years, 18 volumes of JEMI resulted.

In 2014, Professor William (Bill) Ramey (the course’s pioneer) retired, and I was hired as his replacement. I began learning about course-based undergraduate research experiences (CUREs). Auchincloss et al. (2014) suggest that an effective laboratory research experience should integrate opportunities to practice science, experience the process of discovery, to do meaningful work that has real-world impact, to collaborate, and to build off previous science. In our CURE, students work in teams to develop research questions based primarily on data and observations reported in JEMI. The projects are novel, the outcome is unknown, the data is new, and the conclusions are scientifically meaningful. Sometimes teams interact with other researchers on campus. Learning is facilitated by the instructors rather than directed. Unlike traditional labs, students aren’t given recipes to follow. Students often note that the transition into doing independent research is challenging but with teamwork, some guidance, reassurance, and patience they collectively succeed.

The course is scaffolded around several writing assignments that serve as developmental guideposts and project milestones. Students write an individual proposal, a team-based proposal, a draft manuscript, and finally submit a revised manuscript. Each assignment represents an opportunity for our teaching team to provide feedback on writing. Editing the early assignments sometimes requires significant attention but over the term we see marked improvement. This development is likely attributed to our feedback as well as our students’ growing engagement with writing and technical familiarity with their research area.

Over the first few months I had an opportunity to be mentored by Bill. During our discussions we had the idea of expanding JEMI, perhaps to include reviewers or even authors from outside of UBC. Could we engage the world? Could we enhance the experience even further for UBC undergraduate students?

With more thought the idea of an international version of JEMI emerged. The goal was to create a top-tier undergraduate journal for the publication of original research articles in the fields of microbiology and immunology. Moreover, the new journal would include a peer review process, which would draw on the expertise of graduate students and post-doctoral fellows around the world. In addition to great science, this new journal would be a cross-cutting educational forum where students at the undergraduate, graduate, and post-doctoral levels would engage activities related to scientific writing, communication and publication. With the support of Dr. Mike Gold (head of our department) and a UBC Science Centre for Learning and Teaching (SCLT) grant, we launched what is now JEMI+.

Over the past few months, JEMI+ has taken shape. Doctoral candidate Kirstin Brown is heading the editorial team and our first few papers are working their way through the peer review process. At the end of 2015, the first JEMI+ paper was published online. This paper has caught the interest of up-and-coming undergraduates hoping to add a peer-reviewed publication to their CV.

JEMI+ has broad teaching and learning potential. Undergraduate students can share their research – and their writing – on the world stage, the international community is invited to participate, and the science has real value. Graduate student and post-doctoral fellows are keen to participate. Our initial rounds of peer review have been fair, thorough, constructive, and realistic.

At this early stage, it’s already clear that many of our undergraduate students understand the value of a peer-reviewed publication in terms of career advancement. However, it’s also becoming apparent JEMI publications are a meaningful source of personal pride, which in turn may contribute to building a sense of self-efficacy in young scientists. Further, the involvement of graduate students and post-doctoral fellows provides opportunities for scientific mentorship and teaching.

** ScWRL editors: We look forward to sharing David’s experiences and insights through this blog as JEMI+ continues to grow, and as more and more students benefit from its research-based and writing-focused rationale. **

About David Oliver

Dr. David Oliver is a faculty member in the Department of Microbiology and Immunology at University British Columbia.

Dave provides Course-Based Undergraduate Experiences at the fourth year undergraduate level. He is also Editor-in-Chief of JEMI and JEMI+.

10 Top Tips for Getting Into Science Communication

By Anthea Lacchia (@AntheaLacchia), Press Officer at Nature

As Richard Dawkins reminds us in ‘Unweaving the Rainbow’, understanding the origin of the colours of the rainbow does not take away from its beauty or the awe it inspires. Communicating science as a career is all about inspiring those moments of wonder, from the eye-widening and jaw-dropping ones to the quieter, slow-burning variety.

These are some words of advice for those wishing to pursue a career in science communication, based solely on my experience (please note the sample size of 1!):

Just do it! (on the side)

If you want to set off on this path, there are many ways to start. Whether it’s volunteering at your local science museum or science centre, helping out in science school fairs, writing a science article for your local newspaper or starting a blog, make sure you start gaining experience early on. I was always an avid writer but I first became interested in science communication at university, when I joined the science section of the student newspaper. I became more and more involved, progressing from staff writer, to deputy editor, to editor. I became an expert juggler, balancing PhD research with science writing. What I did on the side — which took up many an evening and weekend — was crucial to getting my first job as press officer at Nature. My advice is to start adding that all-important experience to your CV right now.

Take advantage of university life

If you are based in a university, you are privy to a unique source of science stories. Meeting the scientists based at your university and finding out about their latest research will allow you to produce science articles, podcasts, videos, and blog posts. Contact your university press office as well: there might be opportunities to collaborate and learn from those already working in the field. Email people! Be heard! If you are studying science, why not try your hand at science communication competitions such as FameLab? Does your university have a science museum or an art-science space such as the Science Gallery where you might volunteer?

Get involved everywhere you can

Volunteer at your local radio station, travel to conferences such as ESOF (European Science Open Forum) and AAAS (American Association for the Advancement of Science) and interview the scientists and policymakers there. Observe professional journalists at these events. What kinds of questions do they ask? What kinds of stories are they looking for? Pitch your story ideas to magazines, and attend courses and seminars. Don’t be put off if you are not instantly successful. Opportunities to learn writing skills include science-writing clubs, such as Earthzine’s writing club.

Stay on top of things

The latest opportunities in science communication, in terms of jobs, internships and volunteer positions, are often posted on mailing lists such as UK’s PSCI-COM and STEMPRA. Although these are UK-centric, they can also offer inspiration and ideas to those outside the UK as well.

Do your research

There are so many different elements of science communication, from public engagement, to science policy, to freelance writing etc. Do you want to produce TV shows about science? Do you want to travel to different schools teaching children about chemistry? Do you want to be a science writer, or a press officer? Science comedian? Photographer? Documentary maker? It’s a good idea to read about and familiarize yourself with the areas you are most interested in. Narrowing down your choice can help you tailor your time to the demands of those scary future job applications. Have I mentioned it’s a good idea to look at job descriptions early? Your CV will thank you later. You may also try entering the business through placements such as the BBC’s journalism trainee scheme.

Listen to the naysayers (but move on)

One thing is guaranteed: there will be plenty of negative voices along the way, probably starting from the nagging ones inside your head! Some will tell you that it is best to stay in academia and communicate science in your spare time. This works very well for many scientists, who are passionate about communicating their research, but such opinions should not discourage you if your heart is set on a career in science communication. Although a career in research and academia offers much, part of the thrill of communicating science lies in working with different topics from one week to the next. There is always something new and interesting to learn as you write each story — from the discovery of a new drug to the realization that fly poo can contaminate crime scenes by planting human DNA.

Be aware of your story (and own it)

Whatever area you choose to specialise in within the broader field of science communication, you must learn to tell a story. Finding your story and choosing your angle are key skills to practice early on. Remember that being aware of one’s audience is key, and that telling a story that is clear is always better than telling a story that involves too many narratives.

Ask for and share information

I have found that people working in science communication are generally very pleased to share information and advice with those starting out. Whether it’s a scientist giving you a heads-up on a discovery or a science editor that lets you know of a job opening in their magazine or newspaper, people are happy to help. But you have to ask them first!

Get thee to the Twittersphere

Science communication has a prominent home on Twitter. Following your #scicomm idols will allow you to stay on top of the latest debates in the community, as well as be aware of what is happening at conferences. You might even spot an embargo break! Twitter is also a great platform to share your latest articles and blog posts. Opportunities such as the Naturejobs Career Expo journalism competition or the Economist’s Richard Casement internship, which offer a way into science journalism, are often posted on Twitter.

Enjoy it

The path that leads to science communication is fraught with… fun! I am a firm believer in doing something you love. So I would advise you to persevere, work hard, and don’t be afraid to gravitate towards the fun.

About Anthea Lacchia

Anthea Lacchia has just completed her PhD in Geology at Trinity College Dublin and is currently working as Press Officer at Nature. Her research is focused on biostratigraphy and involves the collection and study of goniatite fossils, extinct relatives of squid and cuttlefish.

A winner of the 2015 Boston Naturejobs Career Expo journalism competition and recipient of the Science Journalist of the Year Award at the Student Media Awards (SMEDIAS), she has experience both in science writing and editing. She has covered diverse topics ranging from the DNA of lager yeast, to new cures for inflammatory diseases, to the role of science communication in academia. She loves talking to scientists about their research and is always on the look out for new stories.

In her spare time, she enjoys hiking, swimming, creative writing and looking after her rescue cat, Pedro. You can follow her on Twitter @AntheaLacchia.

Lighting the bulb – inspiring the next generation of scientists

By Helaine Becker

I love science. And writing. And kids. So it is not strange that when I began my career as a professional writer, I gravitated toward writing science for children.

No one really knows how many science books for kids are produced and sold each year – there aren’t good statistics. But even without the numbers in hand, a quick look at any school library’s shelves will reveal the answer: it’s a LOT.

In addition, most of those titles need to be replaced regularly. The market, it turns out, is insatiable for up-to-date books on popular topics. The demand for dinosaur books, for example, never goes extinct.

But cranking out yet another “All About T-rex” title isn’t the answer. Books for kids have evolved since the heyday of Dr. Seuss and Curious George. In the current environment, a same-old, same-old presentation simply can’t compete.

Even though I’d cut my teeth in the publishing and school supply industries, it still took me years of trial and error to identify what was required in today’s marketplace. This is what I discovered – the key characteristics of top-notch, top-selling, contemporary science books for kids:

➢ Accuracy. Raise your hand if you think pearls form because a bit of grit gets into the oyster. If yes, you probably learned this “fact” when you were a kid. And now you’re stuck with a deep-seated, but incorrect, understanding of the world.

I only learned the true story of the pearl while researching The Big Green Book of the Big Blue Sea (Kids Can Press). I fact-checked a ‘fact’ that I ‘knew’ was true: that oyster tidbit. I thought doing so was a formality; a waste of time even.

Yet when I looked for a good source to cite for the snippet, I couldn’t find one. I found lots of cut-and-paste text saying the same thing (grit, grit, grit). But no reliable data. I spent countless hours digging deeper. When I finally burrowed down to some solid research, I was shocked. Pearls, it turns out, are formed when a parasite, not a bit of grit, gets into the oyster’s gut.

You, too, will have to vigilantly triple-check your ‘facts’ if you don’t want to perpetuate myths and falsehoods.

➢ Unique approach. Kids can find every single fact about dinosaurs on the web for free. So why would anyone pay good money for a book that collects facts? They won’t. So you need to look at your topic with fresh eyes, and provide information in a way that cannot be duplicated by a simple Google search.

How to do it? There are zillions of creative possibilities. In my current book, Worms for Breakfast: How to Feed a Zoo (Owlkids Books), for example, I explored themes of animal conservation, adaptation and nutrition – by creating a recipe book!

➢ Up to date. It can take up to two years from the time you start writing until your book arrives in stores. But no one will want a book that’s past its best-before date before it even comes out. So how do you keep it current?

First, use only data that was published within the last year or two. And second, get the jump on next year’s findings by talking to scientists in the field.

When I was writing Zoobots: Wild Robots Inspired by Real Animals (Kids Can Press), I interviewed roboticists all over the world by phone, skype and email. They told me about the stuff they were working on. They gave me a sneak peek into lab results that weren’t published yet. They shared their photos too!

➢ Graphic-heavy. Contemporary ‘kidlit’ is strongly influenced by two factors – pop culture and the U.S. Common Core curriculum (see here). The first demands that books be as visually interesting as video games or animated television. The second demands that nonfiction include a wealth of infographics to help kids deal effectively with data – charts and graphs, timelines, diagrams, etc. While you will not be responsible for the overall design or look of the finished book, be prepared to suggest ideas for at least some of these elements.

➢ Style. If you don’t currently have contact with actual children on a regular basis, arrange to get some STAT! Nothing will kill your project faster than language or tone that is stodgy, full of jargon or age-inappropriate.

Talking over kids’ heads is a pitfall, but so is talking down to them. While eight-year-olds may require simpler language and more concrete examples than adults, that doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of understanding complex information. My upcoming book, Monster Science (Kids Can Press), is aimed at 8-12 year olds, yet it covers complex topics such as apoptosis, evolution, genetic engineering, and electrical activity in neurons.

The challenge for the kidlit science writer, then, is not to simplify high-level concepts, but rather to present them clearly. Doing so is both art and skill, and takes practice to achieve. But when you can do it well, not only will your children’s book be better, but so will all your other science communication projects.

About Helaine Becker

Helaine Becker is the bestselling author of more than 70 books for children and young adults, including 15 science-related books and the “enduring Canadian Christmas classic,” A Porcupine in a Pine Tree. She’s a multi-time winner of the Silver Birch Award and a two-time winner of the Lane Anderson Award for Science Writing for Children. Helaine also wrote four seasons of the children’s television show, Planet Echo: Dr. Greenie’s Mad Lab, which aired on APTN, and has produced dozens of science-related teaching materials for educational publishers in Canada and the U.S.

Her latest books include the middle-grade novel, Dirk Daring: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie (Orca Books), Worms for Breakfast (Owlkids) and Top Secret: Uncovering Your Inner Spy (Scholastic Canada).

Helaine is a member of several writing organizations including CANSCAIP (Canadian children’s writers) and CSWA (Canadian Science Writers). She blogs with other science writers for children at Sci-Why. She also volunteers for several literacy organizations and charities including First Book, ABC Literacy, CODE and Librarians without Borders. She is also a certified pyrotechnician, so expect fireworks at any time.

Why — and how — students should be encouraged to ask for help with their writing

By the Writing Across the Curriculum team

Assignments can be daunting, and so can writing. So when science students face writing-heavy assignments – potentially for the first time at university – anxiety can take hold. As instructors, it’s important to know how best to encourage students to seek help with their writing, without implying they need it based on weak performance. Writing anxiety or weaknesses in certain areas are not things to be ashamed of, and writing experts at UBC recently stressed how important it is to remove the negative stigma of seeking help. Even strong writers can improve the quality of their work by developing their process, so we should encourage all students to be proactive in seeking help.

The good news is that excellent help is available! But, at a recent Community of Practice (CoP) meeting organised by coordinators of the Writing Across the Curriculum Program, the participants underlined that a reluctance to seek this help continues to hamper some students’ prospects as writers.

Three top tips emerged. First, including information on how and where students can seek writing help in course syllabi helps to make doing so seem more normal. Second, encouraging students to talk about their writing worries and weaknesses with their peers helps to build confidence in seeking help by underlining that classmates have similar concerns. And third, providing examples of high-quality work can help students understand what they should be aiming for — after all, it’s hard to know if you need to seek help if you don’t know what a great piece of writing looks like.

Integrating peer review into writing classes — perhaps as part of a scaffolded project where students provide feedback to each other on early drafts — can also help students see where their specific strengths and weaknesses lie. Discussing these issues with their peers, rather than in a professor’s office, helps to build empathy, and asking tutors for help in the areas that most need development maximises the possible learning gain.

When it comes to seeking help outside the classroom, most universities have their own writing centres, where tutors work with students to tackle any writing issues they wish to focus on in short, stress-free sessions. For UBC students, it is possible to book free appointments online to talk about their writing concerns with peer tutors. Many of these peer tutors initially accessed the services as students themselves, before deciding to help others in their current roles, so they are able to offer true empathy as well as expertise.

A friendly, understanding face is just what the (writing) doctor ordered, but plucking up the courage to get to that appointment is the key. By implementing the three top tips discussed at the recent CoP meeting, we hope your students will soon come to think of asking for help with their writing as being as normal as asking for directions to get to the writing centre, where they can take their first steps to becoming better writers…

A big classroom is no barrier to teaching science writing — lessons from the front lines

By Robin Young

Have you ever been involved in a large class? How big was it? 50? 100? 300? The class that I coordinate, Biology 200, involves 1,200 students in a single term. It’s bigger than my high school was, and it’s one of the biggest classes in the Biology Program. Because it’s so big, people often assume that we must rely on computer-graded, multiple-choice tests, and that we don’t do any meaningful writing. To be honest, I’m terrible at writing multiple-choice questions, so I avoid it. As for writing, Biology 200 has always had an essay, but in the past it’s been pretty labour intensive, and not much fun for anyone. So, a few years ago we decided to change that.

So how do you build a writing assignment for 1,200 students that doesn’t crush the teaching team under the weight of supporting it? It’s a tall order, to be sure. It took a combination of creative thinking and careful planning, and the result was what we call our ‘Press Release Assignment’. Here’s some things I’ve learned about building writing assignments from this experience.

The ‘easy’ way is often very labour intensive.

When instructors think about designing assignments, the easiest way to design is to have students write things, which the instructors will then read and mark. With 1,200 students, that simply won’t work. We can’t mark everything. So the things that we do mark need to be chosen wisely. The rest of the supporting assignments must be dealt with some other way, so that they don’t overwhelm us. For Biology 200 we used a combination of online quizzes and in-class facilitated workshops. For another class I used outlines instead of full drafts, for the same reason.

Think carefully about what you want students to learn from the writing, and your own limitations, and design with both in mind.

When I decided to change the writing assignment, I knew I needed to address the issues that students were having with reading scientific literature. They also struggled to translate science into plain English. And I wanted to keep it short (to reduce marking time). Once I knew that, having the students write a press release about a single science article seemed logical. A press release is about a single paper, and by design is short and in plain English. It has the additional advantage of allowing us to change the assignment, simply by changing the assigned paper.

We would all much rather work on ‘real’ things.

A press release is nothing like a scientific paper. It has a completely different goal than a scientific paper, which requires a different format and style than anything the average science student has written before. If I wanted students to succeed, I’d have to teach them the format before they could even start. So why bother? Why not just have them do a paper summary instead?

The answer is simple. Paper summaries are boring and students will treat them as such. A press release is something they can relate to. They can see the point of the writing, and they can see examples of them in the news every day.

As instructors who are going to have to read many of these assignments in a row, we really want our students to try to be interesting when they write. A press release is, by its very nature, meant to be interesting to draw the reader in. A paper summary has no such requirement.

Think about what will be hardest for the students, and then figure how to help with that portion.

When I settled on the press release format, I knew that the format itself was a challenge. I also knew from experience that students always struggle to translate science into plain English. To support them, I enlisted the help of Eric Jandciu, who holds both a Chemistry and Journalism degree. Together we built a workshop on science communication to help with language, and to highlight key differences between press releases and scientific papers.

What’s interesting to me about this assignment is that I don’t feel like it’s trying to teach the students anything new, but somehow this format is more focussed on the key things we’re trying to teach: scientific literacy, and clear, concise writing. The students ask us much better questions about the science in the papers they’re reading than they ever did before. They also report that they’ve learned that communicating science accurately in plain language is tougher than they expected. I’m not sure any student will ever say that they ‘like’ a writing assignment, but they can see the value in trying to write a press release that goes beyond their cell biology course.

For my part, I will admit an ulterior motive in building a press release assignment. I think that there is an increasing divide between scientists and the public. Carl Zimmer wrote a very nice piece exploring this issue. Biology 200’s press release assignment exposes students to science communication early in their careers. The students themselves report that it helps them think about the news differently. Graduate teaching assistants also get some mentorship on the topic, which is good timing for them; this year there were two TAs that had their work showcased in the news. We scientists have a responsibility to make our work accessible, so that those with no specialized training can understand it. If we don’t, and the public then ignores or misinterprets our work, then we have no one to blame but ourselves.

About Robin Young

Robin never meant to be a botanist. That happened by accident. She grew up in Montreal as the daughter of a nurse and a veterinarian, so zoology and human health were high on the dinner table discussion topic list. After surviving the Québec cegep system, she did a B.Sc. at McMaster University, went backpacking in Europe and finally started graduate work in the Faculty of Medicine at Université de Montréal (En français). Through this she discovered a love for microscopes that was more important than any previous interest in studying animals. So when the opportunity arose to join the Botany Department at UBC for her PhD work, the promise of lots of really cool microscopy made it easy to leave the Animal Kingdom behind.

These days you can find her in front of the class, trying to sneak a little plant biology into every course she teaches. You can also find her on Twitter (@RobinYoungUBC), where she mostly retweets cool microscopy pictures.

AUDIO: Why adding writing assignments to science classes needn’t be a headache

May 31, 2016

By the ScWRL team

There are a number of reasons to incorporate writing assignments into science classes, and these extend far beyond the discipline-specific learning goals you may have for your students. Just as science communication has taken off as a field in recent years, instructors and researchers are growing increasingly aware that teaching students how to write about science will provide them with important life skills.

By learning to write well, students will be able to compete for precious academic funding, communicate effectively in debates about scientific and governmental policy, and convincingly outline sound arguments that support a course of action.

Despite this growing desire to teach science students writing skills, some instructors are reined back from doing so by fears over a lack of expertise, and by concerns that they don’t have the necessary time to take on the challenge. But, taking the first steps in designing and integrating writing assignments needn’t be a headache…

Instructors can start by integrating small assignments that don’t weigh too heavily on the shoulders of their grading team. If feeling more adventurous, they can easily scaffold smaller assignments into one larger one, and in doing so, they can ask students to engage in peer review at each step. As well as helping to build a deeper understanding of the scientific publishing process — and it’s purposes — this addition means students will receive feedback and guidance at regular intervals, which should in turn cut down grading time when the final piece of writing is handed in.

In the below podcast, one of a number on the ScWRL site, the coordinator of the Writing Across the Curriculum program and the coordinator of the First-Year English program at UBC discuss the benefits of integrating writing assignments in science classes in much greater detail, as well as outlining some top tips for choosing which types of assignments work especially well.

Designing Writing Assignments - Podcast

If the discussion proves useful, perhaps you might consider subscribing to our Soundcloud channel, and/or checking out other podcasts in this series on the ScWRL site, which include expert advice relating to peer review, grading and providing feedback, and tutoring writing.

We have also created freely available resources to complement each podcast. For the one above, we have produced sample writing assignments that could be quickly and easily integrated into an upcoming science class.

Are you an expert in that?

June 14, 2016

By Nicola Jones

I have lost track of how many times I have received emails from hopeful high school students who read one of my news articles and wanted help with their project on sea level rise, or climate change, or volcanoes or earthquakes or the ongoing effort to grow enough food for the planet and keep emissions in check.

While I applaud these students for reaching out to a real person for help (as a journalist I find this the most efficient way to learn something new), I can’t help wonder what the heck their teachers are thinking, presuming that their teachers suggested this avenue of research. Sure, I have written news stories and features about sea level rise, climate change and all the rest, sometimes for authoritative publications like Nature or Yale Environment 360. Some of these articles must sound very convincing, chock full of facts, telling examples and compelling conclusions. I’m flattered, really I am. But I am NOT an expert in these subjects. I am an intermediary.

These emails I get are symptomatic of a bigger problem. Kids today aren’t being taught (or aren’t learning) how to vet information and expertise. Yes, I delved into each topic, for a while, and spoke to some leading experts about their research. But some of these articles are years old. And I never did the research myself; I’m a journalist who spoke to people, heard their stories, and tried to make sense of it all, briefly, and entertainingly, for my audience to read. As the saying goes, scientists know an awful lot about a little; journalists know very little about an awful lot. If these students want the current facts, they should go straight to the research papers, summary reports and people that I go to, not to me.

Re-used under CC BY-SA 2.0 licence.

This is important. In today’s information deluge, there are ever-more people spreading their theories as facts and hiding behind a cloak of apparent expertise (think Wikipedia, which has the sheen of an encyclopedic authority but actually can be, and often is, biased or just plain wrong). People seem ever-more-willing to Google things like “should I vaccinate my kids” and follow the advice they find in Yahoo answers rather than on the pages of the World Health Organization. Particularly when it comes to science, people can be befuddled by a cloak of fancy jargon into thinking that something must be true. Take the famous case of the sad disappearance of Madeleine McCann from a resort in Portugal in 2007 – newspapers reported that a “forensic analysis” by Danie Krügel of the University of Bloemfontein, based on a “DNA sample and GPS satellite technology”, had traced the missing child to the beach. After some further investigation, it was noted that Krugel was director of security at the university rather than a researcher, and the “device” in question couldn’t possibly do what it claimed to do (read more here).

We need to be teaching our kids (and university students / journalists / scientists) how to weigh information in the information age. What’s the so-called expert’s background? Do they have a real medical degree or a PhD from a credible institution, or is “doctor” just a nickname? How many years’ experience do they have, and what sort of experience? Do they have financial motivations? Where does the funding come from for that website that looks like a newspaper but is actually the front for an advocacy group? I’d love for these high school students who reach out to me, and my kids, to have the skills to critically evaluate information, know who to turn to for facts, and generally not be swayed by uninformed voices.

I admit there are blurry lines here. I probably do know more than these students about the given subject. (I’m not cruel; I tell them politely what I know, which is pretty much whatever I wrote in the article they read in the first place, and point them in the direction of further, more robust information.) Some journalists become authoritative experts on a subject by dint of following one specific story for years, or literally writing the book on an obscure topic. Some scientists have good pedigrees but wacky ideas outside the consensus view. All the more reason to teach people how to assess expertise for themselves.

So, should you listen to me on this subject? I can tell you I have been a journalist since 2000, and I did a science undergrad before that. I have worked for UBC teaching science journalism (for which I was paid), and I am friends with Eric Jandciu who asked me to write this blog post (for which I was not). You could check all that, and maybe you should.

About Nicola Jones

Nicola is a freelance science journalist, writer and editor living in the mountains of Pemberton, BC, where she splits her time between finding interesting stories and being a mom.

10 tips for the 10-minute conference presentation

July 21, 2016

By Elizabeth Saewyc

You’ve spent months on your research, but have only 10 minutes to present it to the world. Yikes! But, fear not! There are some easy, practical ways to make it memorable.

In a striking back-to-back comparison showcased in the video below, I give a standard 10-minute research talk riddled with features that characterize too many dry scientific presentations. You’ll nod your head as you recognize them from your own and colleagues’ past efforts. Then watch, as I transform the same material in a subsequent presentation that showcases the potential of strong science communication to bring research alive with a little preparation. And no, we’re not talking about animating your slide deck. This is about the power of words to truly communicate research.

10 Tips for a Dynamic 10 Minute Conference Presentation

RESEARCH TOOLBOX; 10 Tips for a Dynamic 10-Minute Conference Presentation from UBC Nursing.

My top 10 tips are:

Aside from the “I have nothing to disclose” statement, don’t start by thanking by name all the people on your first slide (your co-authors). Instead, say good morning or good afternoon, whichever is relevant, then start your presentation with a bit of dramatic statement – either the scope of the issue, something people don’t normally think of, something that sounds contrary to what people normally believe but hints at your results, or at least makes it clear why this research was needed. It’s a way of being compelling and catching attention, it projects confidence and draws people in. Not humour, though, that’s hard to pull off.
The slides should illustrate your presentation points, not be your presentation. They should have no more than 3-4 points per slide, in phrases, not sentences, and no more than two lines per point (preferably one). Use bar charts or graphs or pictures where you can, with limited words.
Don’t read the slides, make the points with slightly different words, and expand on them a bit.
Speak slowly, way, way slower than you think you need to – we will always talk faster during a public speaking situation, so it’s important to speak slowly and clearly, especially since there will be people who have English as a second language in the audience, and are likely jet-lagged. Most of us speak at 120 words a minute, so that means, for a 10 minute presentation 1200 words max. Write out your script so that you have exactly those many words—the minute you digress, you run over time.
Don’t be afraid to make a short statement with a bar chart or table on the slide, like “As you can see from this table, Southeast Asian girls reported poorer mental health than boys,” and then fall silent for a bit, letting people absorb the info before you switch to the next slide (this can heighten the drama/attention, and makes you look very polished and confident–even if you’re counting in your head how long to wait before you switch the slide and speak again!).
Never, ever say, “okay, I know you can’t read this, but…” If it’s unreadable, too many lines, too small font, or too busy a table or figure, do not include it. Come up with a different way to convey the key points, because the minute you apologize for your slide, you’ve lost them.
Avoid swooping transitions, nifty animations, cutesy cartoon graphics, and wild shifts of colour or font; anything that might make your audience seasick or dizzy won’t win you respect or attention.
Remember to put in the “so what?” conclusion, or a concrete couple of clinical implications–or go back to your dramatic opening statement and bring it into the ending. If you’ve paced yourself with your 1200 words or fewer, you’ll have time to give the final punchline of what we should do now, or what we know now, because of this work.
Say thank you! But don’t say, “I’d like to thank my supervisor, my committee, my colleagues, my family, my carpool, my dog…” and don’t mention the funding source, even if it’s listed on your last slide as an acknowledgment. Leave it for people to read during questions.
Wear something bright red–a scarf, a tie, a blouse, a pocket handkerchief, a jacket, a dress; it draws the eye, enhances their alertness, and will help people find you afterwards to tell you what a fabulous job you did on your presentation, and what they liked about your study, or ask another question about it.

About Elizabeth Saewyc

Elizabeth Saewyc, PhD, RN, FSASHM, FCAHS, is Professor and Associate Director of Research & Teaching Scholarship, and heads the Stigma and Resilience Among Vulnerable Youth Centre. http://www.saravyc.ubc.ca/