In The Educated Mind: How Cognitive Tools Shape Our Understanding
(University of Chicago Press, ÂŁ19.95, ISBN 0 226 19036 6), a carefully
argued and readable book, Kieran Egan argues that this failure is due to an
education system based on conflicting goals that can never all be fulfilled. We
are, he says, setting ourselves impossible targets by attempting to use
education to produce good citizens equipped with the social skills and values
required by society, to impart knowledge and to fulfil the potential of each
student. Success in all three areas is mutually exclusive, he claims.

Egan proposes a radical change of approach for the whole process of
education. Drawing on sources as diverse as Plato, Rousseau and Piaget, he
discusses how maturing children develop the ability to use a variety of
intellectual “tools” to understand the world around them. He suggests that
different tools for understanding—somatic, mythic, romantic, philosophic
and ironic—be used to discover how children and young people are best able
to learn, offering a vision of education that recapitulates the way humans
develop cultural understanding.

Flesh is placed on the bones of these ideas by chapters on the implications
for the curriculum and teaching. Egan also offers a Web site for interactive
communication on his ideas.

There is much in this book to interest and excite those who discuss, research
or deliver education. For example, when discussing science education, he says:
“The more general and speculative theories in any [scientific] discipline are
treated like a disreputable relation who, even though the children find her
exciting and entertaining, must be kept hidden from view”. Egan warns that a
common result is that the more imaginative students, who might enormously enjoy
scientific study and contribute significantly to the exercise, are disenchanted
and repelled.”

In The Big Bug Search by Caroline Young and Ian Jackson (Usborne,
ÂŁ4.99, ISBN 0 7460 2703 6) each double-page spread is adorned with an
illustration of a different environment, stuffed full of bugs, creepy-crawlies
and minibeasts. Around the edge are individual pictures of species with a small
piece of information about each.

The amount of science information is limited, however, because there isn’t
much text, and youngsters are in danger of thinking that the world is teeming
with an unrealistic number of minibeasts. But most of the children who looked at
the book for me relished the opportunity to look closely at the pictures, find
bugs, and learn about them in an untextbooky way.

Another beautifully illustrated book on the shortlist is really two books in
one. The Incredible Journey to the Centre of the Atom/The
Incredible Journey to the Edge of the Universe by Trevor Day and Nicholas
Harris (Kingfisher, ÂŁ9.99, ISBN 0 7534 0084 7) reads in both directions.
Read one way, it is a poetic description of a journey from the outer reaches of
the Universe to the centre of an atom. Turned upside down and read in the other
direction, it’s a brief scientific explanation of this lyrically described
journey.

This is an ambitious idea, particularly in the combination of descriptive
writing and scientific explanation. I am not sure that it is completely
successful—the descriptions seem a bit pretentious and the science a bit
dry—but then I’m a grown-up. It left the younger children cold, but the
older ones enjoyed it as a “cool” approach.

Miles Litvinoff wrote a worthy book, The Atlas of Earthcare (Gaia,
ÂŁ14.99, ISBN 1 85675 077 9). It introduces young people to the Gaia
theory, giving an overview of the issues, looking at the environments of the
Earth and how human activity threatens them. Litvinoff suggests how we can learn
from past mistakes and offers possible solutions. The drawback is that it looks
like a textbook. For many children this, combined with the heavy information
load and a price of almost ÂŁ15, is enough to deter them from buying it. A
pity because it is both interesting and readable.

The next two are from the paperback series Horrible Science (Scholastic, ISBN
0 590 55807 2, ÂŁ3.50 each). They have bright, attention-grabbing covers
packed with loads of information—wacky and offbeat as well as
mainstream—plus black-and-white comic-style artwork. The books look like
fiction, but are full of facts, surprises and humour. Nick Arnold’s Blood,
Bones and Body Bits gives a tour of the body, complete with lots of
gruesome details no teacher would dare to reveal, and dreadful jokes. The book
also manages to pack in an enormous amount of biology. It was very popular with
youngsters from six to 13.

Ugly Bugs is in the same mould, covering the usual range of wee
wriggly things with irreverent humour and gory details. It looks at bugs, their
behaviour and their impact on human society. Again, it manages to cover a
considerable amount of science in among the fun.

What Happens When . . . ? (Macdonald, ÂŁ9.99, ISBN 0 7500 2187)
is more about technology than science: what happens when you order a pizza, when
you flush the toilet, when you surf the Internet, and more. The illustrations
are funny, fascinating and detailed. They hold the attention of younger or less
able children, while the clear explanations pack in considerable information for
the older or more able child. It’s very good.

Which of these lovely books will win? For me, it should be What Happens
When…?, innovative, informative and fun, or Blood, Bones and Body
Bits, a cheap, accessible, funny book with lots of science. After reading
the latter one child wrote: “I did not know I liked science until I read this
book.” Books that elicit that sort of response from an eight-year-old girl
deserve a prize.

My thanks to the KS2 pupils at St James First School in Alderholt, the
volunteers from Cranborne Middle School, and William, Thomas, James and Edward
for their valuable opinions.

Claiming that education is misguided and misdirected, Orr supports his argument by noting that students live mainly in urban or suburban settings and come from variable and uncertain home backgrounds. They are taught lots of facts but little context: each subject is contained within its own tight boundaries. And the motivation to learn comes not from striving for the greater good of the human race or our planet, but rather from the size of the potential salary to be earned. The emphasis of both education and life has been on short-term gain rather than long-term development. Education occurs in a moral vacuum, and has helped to drive the world to the brink of self-destruction.

Earth in Mind is a collection of Orr’s essays written between 1990 and 1993 for a variety of audiences. He considers the shortcomings of the American education system from his standpoint as chair of an environmental studies programme, and offers radical solutions. This makes for a fascinating, if sometimes irritating, read.

So what is to be done? The major thrust of Earth in Mind is that we need to develop a new way of getting young people to look at the world if we are first to recognise the environmental damage that is now going on, and then to make painful decisions to remedy it before it is too late. Orr believes that teachers should do this – but such radical solutions demand that education must be rethought and then reconstructed.

What would Orr’s reconstructed education system look like? To begin with, as much education as possible would occur outside. Every student would spend one long spell living in close contact with the natural world. Quoting Stephen Jay Gould, “… we will not fight to save what we do not love”, Orr feels that outdoor education serves two purposes: showing young people what is being lost, and enabling them to develop a deep-seated love of nature.

Subjects would be taught across traditional boundaries, encouraging students to work towards a basic understanding of disciplines ranging from thermodynamics through the principles of ecology and environmental ethics to steady-state economics. Education would focus on the whole person and their place in the greater scheme of things – and the products of this system would save the world.

Earth in Mind is written about the American education system, but many of Orr’s ideas are also applicable to education in Britain. How relevant are they here?

Many science educators are working hard to increase pupils’ awareness of the moral and ethical issues raised by science and technology. Many would like to see more room for such reflections in the curriculum. Crossing the boundaries between subjects also forms part of the National Curriculum, at least in theory. But education policy in Britain over the past fifteen years has jettisoned the ideals of liberal education, upon which Orr has based his proposals, replacing them with a system in which the student is merely a unit of input/output. In this system, financial constraints, the restrictions of National Curricula and exam syllabuses, assessment by results of both pupils and teachers, all make the likelihood of a total rethink of the education system vanishingly small.

It may be right, it may be necessary and long overdue, but if the future of the planet depends on the reconstruction of the education system, I fear we should all book our tickets for the space shuttle now.

This book is a the latest addition to a series from Open University
Press designed to encourage teachers and curriculum developers to rethink
how science and technology should be taught in schools.

Michael Reiss invites us to consider the common image of science and
technology as the province of White Anglo-Saxon Protestant males (WASPs),
and suggests that this image is inappropriate and limiting in our pluralist
society. He draws attention to the many groups other than WASPs who have
contributed over hundreds of years to the total of our scientific knowledge,
and highlights the way science and technology teaching in schools and colleges
tends to ignore them. Reiss considers a variety of contentious areas of
the science and technology curriculum and provides alternative models for
teaching these subjects which do not perpetrate the WASP myth.

The way in which Reiss expands and illustrates his ideas is excellent.
In areas where people may feel defensive or under threat, he uses a light
touch to put across the impoverished view of science and scientists which
has been expounded over the years. Illustrating this with a fascinating
range of examples, he does not berate teachers for the errors of the past,
but offers examples of good practice to not only enhance science teaching
but to challenge the presentation of science and technology in education.

Some of the points seem small and almost trivial, yet Reiss argues
that even minor adjustments to science teaching could produce great benefits.
The other iss-ues he raises are much larger, and in some cases teachers
will already have addressed them: most biology teachers are sensitive about
how they teach evolution, human population studies and contraception.

Biographical material in the final part of the book demonstrates the
contribution made by women and members of ethnic groups to scientific and
technological knowledge. I found this section not only enlightening but
also disturbing, with evidence of how the work of so many fine minds suffered
because they had the wrong colour skin or the wrong arrangement of sexual
organs.

This is a stimulating and thought-provoking book. It is genuinely interesting
and enjoyable to read, with touches of humour to leaven some of the more
intense material. I was left inspired but with strong reservations. Reiss
has iden-tified a genuine cause for concern in our education system, and
proposes immediate and practical ways for teachers to produce a richer science
education for all. But how are such curriculum changes to be achieved?

This book is unlikely to fall into the hands of many practising teachers.
Science and technology educators have an increasingly limited input into
the training of the new graduate teachers who would carry such reforming
attitudes into science departments. In-service training might heighten
awareness, but that relies on local education authorities having the funds
and the will to produce suitable programmes. Reiss suggests few large-scale
mechanisms to bring about the changes for which he argues so cogently. This
is a weakness in an otherwise excellent text.

Ann Fullick is a science educational consultant and writer.

‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ is a sound adage, but it must be said
that the cover of the new Dorling Kindersley Science Encyclopedia makes
an excellent impression. Science books do not in general leap out from the
bookshelves asking to be picked up and examined. This one does. The main
attraction is not the range of striking and colourful illustrations but
the shiny reflective material used for the lettering and borders. This unusual
feature flashes colour and interest and irresistably draws the reader, regardless
of age and sex, into picking it up.

Do the contents of the book live up to the expectations generated by
the cover? On the whole, they do. The book claims to be the ultimate guide
to science and technology for the 1990s and beyond which, with the arrival
of CD-ROMs among other things, must be taken as publisher’s hyperbole. It
also claims to support the National Curriculum for Science at Key Stages
2 and 3, and this it does extremely well.

The list of contents is followed by a two-page explanation of how to
use the book. This is fairly easy to understand, though I wonder how many
youngsters will stop and read it. This is followed by some time charts which
seem of limited value and are the weakest part of the book. After this,
things get much better.

The encyclopedia is sensibly organised into 12 thematic sections which
cover a wide range of science and technology subjects. Within each section
is a series of related topics, with extra information in boxes and relevant
cross-references at the bottom of the page. Biographical details of a large
number of scientists are highlighted too. As well as men, women are well
represented, and the images avoid stereotypes of scientists as earnest individuals
in white lab coats.

The material is presented with great enthusiasm – everything I looked
up came over well, making me want to look up more. The presentation is lively
and stimulating, although at times this is a little overdone, making the
thrust of the inform-ation difficult to extract. There is a wealth of illustration
and unusual examples along with different and interesting pictures throughout,
making every page visually appealing.

The quality of the information in the book is high, although there are
occasional weaknesses. Examples include a diagram of the eye that is poorly
labelled, some dubious material on plate tectonics, and trains moving round
a circular track which are surely not, as the caption claims, pulling in
the same direction. There are elements that can appear factually loose or
gimmicky to a scientifically knowledgable adult (a ‘person’ made of carbon
monoxide molecules, pictorial representations of quarks and gluons), but
these will be effective at transmitting difficult ideas and concepts to
young people.

However, criticisms of the contents are largely nit-picking. This is
a book that it is a real pleasure to dip into. For 7 to 14-year-olds, the
information contained in the encyclopedia would be challenging, interesting
and more, in many cases, than they will ever need.

A copy of this encyclopedia would be valuable in almost any setting
– in a library certainly, but much more so in the home. Although it is not
cheap, the overwhelming evidence from friends and sons is that The Dorling
Kindersley Science Encyclopedia will be used not only by those involved
in school projects and homework, but also enjoyed by all members of a family.
The financial investment should be well rewarded, for this is a fascinating,
exciting and rewarding book to encounter.

Ann Fullick is a science education consultant and writer. She is currently
cowriting a trilogy of A-level science books to be published by Heinemann
early next year.

As always, it is easier to ask questions about the statistics concerning
pass rates and entries than to use them to provide meaningful answers. There
has been an overall growth in the number of students taking A levels; this
year’s entries were 1.7 per cent up on the previous year. But this growth
has not been evenly spread.

Mathematics and the sciences have seen a drop of nearly 5.5 per cent
in their share of candidates in the past year alone. If this pattern were
to be maintained for the next five years, it would represent a fall of over
30 per cent in the proportion of young people studying these subjects after
the age of 16.

In contrast, other subjects have seen rapid growth. Perhaps the most
notable are the social sciences and business studies, the latter increasing
its share of students by a massive 19 per cent in one year – albeit from
a relatively modest base.

The spread of grades among subjects was also uneven. About 30 per cent
of schools students taking mathematics and the physical sciences achieved
grade B or better. This figure fell to the mid-twenties in biology and the
humanities; in social science and business studies, it dropped to below
20 per cent.

In stark contrast, only 66 per cent of students taking physics passed
the examination. This figure compares with the fact that more than 85 per
cent of those sitting French or German achieved a pass.

These figures raise the question of why it is that the diminishing number
of mathematics and science students tend to do either very well, or to fail
completely. Also, why are the subjects which are increasing in popularity
those in which relatively few candidates achieve high grades? And what are
the implications for would-be reformers – or indeed non-reformers – of the
A-level system?

Those students who have aptitude and interest in mathematics and the
sciences seem to be continuing to pursue courses in them, and to do well.
Students who find these subjects harder seem less likely to take up a place
on a course; and, even if they do so, studies show that they find the subjects
particularly difficult – and in many cases dull – resulting in a lack of
success at the end of the course.

This perception of ‘hardness’ is more marked in potential science students
than in those considering other subjects. As a result, students who stay
on to study at A level are now opting for subjects which are seen either
as less difficult than science, or as directly linked to employment prospects
immediately following education.

The system as it stands thus produces able science students, with a
firm grasp of their subject, at the expense of the many others taking the
examination who fail to reach a satisfactory standard. And this is not to
mention those who fall by the wayside during the course itself. In addition,
students in those groups taking A level for the first time are channelled
into a restricted range of subjects, and are on the whole lost to mathematics
and the sciences.

Overall, one student in four entering the examinations at the end of
their two year A-level courses comes away with nothing to show for it. This
year alone that represents 80 000 young people. In the physical sciences
the situation is even worse – nearly one student in three leaves school
laboratories empty-handed.

There are, of course, some who claim that these facts do not really
matter. They argue that the figures suggest we are continuing to produce
high-quality science students who will go on to university, and provide
the basis for the country’s future strength in research and development.

This argument can be countered on two grounds. First, the reliability
of using A-level grades to predict university performance is known to be
poor. This in itself is a comment on A levels as they now stand, both as
a preparation for study in higher education, and as a method of assessment.

As long as a grading system exists in which candidates are compared
one with another – rather than against a set of agreed performance criteria
– there will always be those condemned to fail in order that normal distribution
of grades can be made to fit. Secondly, we may allow ourselves the luxury
of ensuring that we continue to win our quota of Nobel prizes. But we must
also accept that bread and butter technical scientists are needed to develop
ideas and sustain our industries. All nations have a growing need for scientifically
literate non-scientists working as lawyers, economists, politicians and
business people.

If Britain is to compete successfully in a world of increasing technical
complexity and growing economic competition. We must educate a much greater
proportion of our young people in mathematics and the sciences than we do
now.

One alternative approach was outlined in the Higginson report of 1988.
This claimed that there was a ‘remarkable consensus’ in favour of a new
approach to A levels (the approach in Scotland is already much broader).
In particular, it highlighted the need for a system of education where each
stage is designed to meet the needs of the majority of those who take it,
rather than as a preparation for the stage which follows.

This approach would not mean sacrificing much of the ‘rigour’ for which
many praise our A-level system. But it would mean opening up science education
to those who currently reject it after the age of 16.

This year’s A-level results make it clear that, as with our car, the
time has come now to consider trading in our old and less than reliable
model of 16-to-19 education for a shiny new one. If we wait much longer,
we will remain at a grave disadvantage in competing with other nations in
science and technology

Ann Fullick is a science education consultant. Patrick Fullick lectures
in education at the University of Southampton. Both write science textbooks.