It’s two months into the semester. The honeymoon is over. The problem on radiometric dating is confusing. Maybe he didn’t get enough sleep last night. Maybe he thinks he’s not smart enough to do math, and now all his friends are going to find out. Whatever the reason, he shakes his head and throws down his pencil and asks the question. “When am I ever going to use this?”
The question is probably a deflection. The issue is probably about something else entirely. But I think about that question every time they ask. Why? Why learn this stuff at all? It must be important because, though the details vary from state to state, they all agree on one thing, learning science is the law of the land.
I never needed a reason to learn science. (I did it reflexively, like breathing.) But many of my students do. And really, if our goal is to ensure that every single student who graduates from public school in the United States has a working knowledge of science . . . well, we probably should have a pretty good reason.
In his book, Why Science, James Trefil boils it down to three basic rationales. And I think it’s a pretty good summary. My list below is loosely based on his.
Reason #1: Opportunity
Or, more specifically, jobs. Parents want their kids to study science so that they can become doctors and engineers. Students tell me they want to study science so that they can get a good job and make enough money to live the life of security and comfort that they want. I expect there is some sense to this. Certainly there are more jobs (and better paying ones) in medicine than there are in art history.
But something strikes me as strange about this. Most students aren’t going to get science jobs. The Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that in 2015, STEM employment only made up 6.2% of total employment in the US. And my students seem to know that. Sure, there are a handful of students who have ambitions to be doctors and nurses. Others dream of becoming marine biologists, even if they don’t have any idea of what that might mean. (I think most of them hope that they might somehow get paid to swim with dolphins.) But even if all of them got the STEM jobs that they desire, that still only accounts for a handful of the students in my classes.
That can’t be the best reason I can offer.
Reason #2: The Greater Good
In his Open Letter to Students Returning to School, John Green argues that school isn’t actually for students. Rather it’s for the society they live in.
Everybody benefits when lots of people around them know lots of stuff. You get better health care, better agriculture, and more technological innovation. Fewer of us fall prey to health scams and fad diets and conspiracy theories. And people are better able to judge policy decisions about things like how to enforce public health initiatives and combat global climate change.
I think this is probably the real reason that public schools exist and why they require students to learn science. We’d all be better off if people entered adulthood with a modicum of scientific understanding. And the world is already better for the education that our students do receive. But even more to the point–people believe that that science education makes for a better society. And so, they’ll keep demanding that we teach it–even if it’s not their kids in school.
Reason #3: Sheer Awesomeness
This is the argument that learning science is a goodness in its own right. It’s like reading poetry or listening to great music. Who wouldn’t want to learn science? It’s one of the great joys of being alive on this planet. Science is one of the greatest things that human beings have ever done. To participate in that, even just as a spectator, is some kind of magic. The world is terrifying and beautiful all at once. And through science, we are lucky enough to admire it.
So What do I Say?
What do I say to that student whose look dares me to show them why they should care about molar masses or or meiosis or rocks? (God! Rocks of all things!)
Well, it’s probably not the first reason. If that student wanted to go into a STEM field, he wouldn’t be asking the question in the first place. And even if he did, telling him that science will open opportunities may not be entirely genuine. Sure doctors need to know a lot of human anatomy and cell biology, but what about plate tectonics or the Bernoulli principle?
The second reason, the greater good, may inspire a few altruists, but I imagine for most students that sounds like, “All right, kids! Time to pull your own weight. If you want to be part of this family, you’ve got to do your fair share of the chores.” It might be true, but I don’t think it’s going get kids to enthusiastically charge into the lab.
And the third reason, to my utter surprise every darn time, seems to somehow leave so many people shrugging. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
And maybe, for most students, I think that it is.
The Best I’ve Got
“What happened to the dinosaurs?” “Will the universe come to an end? “Is it possible that there’s life on other planets?” If I can’t convince you that these questions are worth asking and answering, then no matter how many doors of opportunity I open or how much better society is because of our work, I won’t have a compelling reason for you to spend your precious time in my classroom. I might carrot and stick you here. But if I do, the carrot and stick become the motivation–not the learning itself.
“Love and learning are similar in that they can never be wasted,” says Hope Jahren in her beautiful memoir of science, Lab Girl.
I’m not sure I can say that to a pouting, underslept, frustrated fifteen-year-old in a way that they can understand. But that is my reason for showing up and sharing what I can grasp of the masterpieces of human imagination.
“When am I ever going to use this, Mr. Lord?”
Well, if you’re lucky, you can use it right now.