There is a problem with the public understanding of science. ÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´s have
taken measure of the public and it has been found wanting. It is simply
ignorant. No wonder there is little public sympathy for the scientific
community’s requests for more cash. Research in nuclear physics costs you no
more than the price of a pint. Well, given the option, millions would join
the queue at the bar.

If scientists see the public as lacking in knowledge, how does the public
regard science? The four authors, all associated with the University of
Leeds, have been finding out. In four detailed case studies, they look at
situations where ordinary people might have expected science to help them
to solve problems. In each case, science is found wanting.

How does science present itself to the parents of Down’s syndrome children?
Many feel a strong sense that they (or their partner) must be to blame for
their child’s condition. Genetic counsellors can provide information about
the three most common forms of trisomy (standard, mosaic and translocation).
Parents must struggle through the notions of cells, nuclei, chromosomes and
heredity to grasp this picture which is, as one parent pointed out, merely a
description and not an explanation.

ÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´s convey that their subject is coherent, objective and
unproblematic. They claim it is central to the solution of many practical
problems in everyday life. But when elderly people are struggling to keep
warm on a small budget, they do not simply aim to keep their room at a
uniform 18 degree C.

Whose science do you believe? The Black report on childhood leukaemias
around Sellafield met with a variety of responses; those most satisfied were
the workers at Sellafield, whose workplace the report exonerated. We are
inclined to believe what we want to believe, and we judge the messenger as
much as the message.

And whose science is it anyway? County councillors dealing with a problem of
methane from a local dump had access to expert advice from officials, but
the local people had no such source of technical knowledge. Science is being
increasingly oriented towards the needs of one section of society: industry.

So the public finds science to be uncertain, subjective and peripheral, a
body of knowledge and ideas that needs adapting if it is to be of any use in
solving real problems. What, then, are the implications for science
education?

There have been impressive strides in developing a school science that has a
human context, notably the Science and Technology in Society (SATIS 3)
projects of the Association for Science Education. Science is seen as having
a contribution to make to the solving of problems, alongside economics,
technology, politics and broader social concerns. Teachers (and pupils)
have welcomed these developments, but now the tide is being turned back. The
National Curriculum increasingly focuses on a tightly-defined body of
knowledge. The scientific method of investigation is a direct route to the
uncovering of unambiguous truths.

These authors call for an apprenticeship model of science education, a
process which initiates pupils into ‘a sense of what the scientific
enterprise is all about’, with its social and political context and its body
of developing, uncertain and incomplete ideas. The problem for teachers is
that we would be as much apprentices to the professional scientific
community as our pupils; the problem for government is that we might produce
a public with its own ideas about where science should be directed, and
which would demand more say in how its beer-money is spent.

David Sang teaches science in a comprehensive school in Sussex.

WHEN the cloud of radioactive dust from Cher nobyl drifted across Britain
in May 1986, the pupils of Ackworth School in West Yorkshire connected up
their Geiger counter to a datalogger and monitored its progress. Their measurements
were among the first to be publicly available, and helped to fill a gap
in our picture of the increased exposure to radiation that we all suffered.

Nuclear technology has been with us for more than half a century; it
seems that what most of us have learnt is that exposure to radiation makes
us radioactive, so that we glow in the dark, and grow an extra limb or two.
Of course, radiation is mysterious, invisible stuff; school science has
the task of making the hazards of radiation clear to all children before
they can leave compulsory education at the age of 16. This task will be
made somewhat easier (and cheaper) with the Atomic Energy Authority’s Radcount.

Radcount, which has been specifically designed for use in GCSE and A-level
science lessons, consists of a small Geiger-Muller tube attached to a portable
pulse counter. It has two advantages over the timer-counters most frequently
used in school laboratories. First, it is robust and portable (powered by
a 9-volt battery), with a clear digital display. Secondly, it is cheap.
It also has a useful output socket for connection to a datalogger.

Portability is a must. Students learn about radioactivity in the lab;
Radcount comes with clear instructions for all the usual school experiments.
However, students need to see how this knowledge relates to the rest of
the world. They can use Radcount to examine background radiation inside
and outside the building. They could take it on field trips to examine beaches
near Sellafield, or rocks in Cornwall. Students could also examine the levels
of radiation from different brands of coffee. An appreciation of the true
dangers of radiation can come only from an understanding of the level of
radiation to which we are exposed in our everyday, unglowing, four-limbed
lives.

The cost of Radcount, Pounds sterling 80, represents a sizeable proportion
of the average school’s annual budget for physics equipment. Is it worth
it? Schools are used to receiving well-produced and cheap educational materials
from the nuclear industry. No doubt some of these are Trojan horses – what
are we to do with all those glossy leaflets explaining how economical nuclear
power is? However, Radcount is something of a gift horse, and, having inspected
its teeth, it strikes me as being a worthwhile investment.

David Sang teaches science at a comprehensive school in Sussex.