Imagine you are stranded on a deserted isle and you can take only one lesson with you: what would it be? It's a variant of a familiar game. Pointlessly unrealistic, of course. No matter. As with many thought experiments, the purpose is more deeply philosophical. Namely, the question invites reflection--not about favorite books or music or interesting people--but about what, ultimately, is the most important element in education. Yes, really. Take a moment to reflect. OK: evolution, hands down. That would be the answer--if what mattered was content. Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution. Yet others may surely contend that the core of is not the content, but rather the process. Give a student a concept and they can learn for a day; teach a student how to investigate, and they can learn for a lifetime. Teaching the process of seems so much more fundamental and enabling. What a potent conclusion. Imagine what this priority would imply about state-wide multiple-choice exams! What havoc! Yet I would wager that most teachers would feel quite liberated if teaching process of was their primary charge from the public. One could stop rushing through the textbook and cramming lectures with facts that students could find equally well on the Internet, given a bit of savvy how-to and critical thinking, so fundamental to effective research itself. One could focus on scientists themselves, their compelling stories, the route to discovery, the celebration of creative insight, the processes of reasoning: that is a lesson that is both satisfyingly human and concretely useful. So: process of science? Hardly an original answer, but surely provocative enough to start us pondering why this is not more central or dominant in state standards or the tests derived from them. Perhaps teachers and educational researchers need to reflect more thoroughly on how one demonstrates this form of understanding, so that it is not so easily shunted to the periphery when administrators and political demagogues scream Accountability. But with only a single lesson, one should choose carefully Ultimately--call me an optimist, perhaps--I have faith that if reliable information is important, someone will seek it. Eventually, they will find how to sort the reliable information from the rubbish. If they care. That is, they will figure out all the scientific methods that have emerged from centuries of meta-scientific learning: the role of empirical evidence, the virtue of accurate measurements, the need for controlled experiment, double-blind studies, statistical analysis of error, honest reporting, et cetera. Science will be able to reassemble itself on a deserted isle, if knowledge is important at all. That might mean that the primary lesson should be an appreciation of science, respect for truth, and enthusiasm for seeking knowledge: more affective than cognitive. Indeed, I regard this goal as high among many teachers' reasons for teaching--although reward may be scarce for acknowledging so publically. Parents, however, often seem mindful of the value of this lesson, possibly the occasion for the most frequent unsolicited (and welcome) expressions of gratitude that teachers receive. Honoring this third option as the number one lesson may be as revolutionary as the former. Imagine the core of being more about emotion than reason or intellect. Wow, that would step on some sacred bovine toes. My own candidate for Most Important Science Lesson (MISL), however, departs from all these fine proposals. Foremost, it shifts focus from the process of one layer deeper, to the of science that sometimes vague set of concepts about and how works--or, in this case, how does not work. The nature of was (re)established as an important benchmark in education in several important reform documents in the 1990s, from the National Research Council (1996) and the American Association for the Advancement of Science (1993) to BSCS (1993). …
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