Category Archives: Interpreters

The science communicator as an “agent of change”

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The first few pages of Nancy Baron’s book  (Escape from Ivory Tower: A Guide to Make Your Science Matter) set the bottom line, the “so what” of why science communication is important and the common cultural clashes tied to the idea of communication, advocacy and policy making. I particularly like her use of the term “agent of change” to assign an important role to scientists who do engage in communicating their science to broader audiences, both as a self- fulfilling role and as a societal role, to give the publics the information they need to make informed decisions or to simply understand the work of science, its true limitations, and also its essentiality.

Do you consider yourself a science communicator? Science educator? Agent of change?

In our group, we have been talking about this needed cultural change in the ways we see and understand learning in various educational landscapes. That to me entails us seeing ourselves as such “agents of change” and committed to become social scientists, who are among the growing body of professionals struggling to become better science communicators. Just as we call for a new cultural of learning, we should also turn attention to the communication processes it entails, in order to contribute to this hybrid space between science discoveries and public perception as a space of accuracy, fruitful dialogue, needed awareness and welcoming changes.

Looking at our growing steps to become important agents in this hybrid space between what we do and what we say, our group will be producing a series of articles in simple but not simplistic language for the International InterpNews magazine starting this fall, tying our various works to the ideal of a change in learning cultures and the role of interpretation in a global education era. It is a commitment to reach a broader audience, to do what we preach and to learn with it. I am proud to be part of this professional community and have valuable opportunities to play the role of an “agent of change”.

 

Hiking is like education

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Whenever and wherever I hike I always take a little time to reflect in the peace and quiet of nature. I hear sounds all around me, both natural and man-made, but I also pay close attention to my inner dialogue. Recently, I was hiking in Crater Lake National Park and had an epiphany: hiking is like education.

First, when you hike you need to know where you are and where you’d like to be, both physically and mentally. You need to know the trail you plan on hiking, how long and difficult it will be, and how much time it will take you to complete. You then need to compare that data to your ability and ask yourself “Is this hike something I can do? Will it challenge me just enough but still be enjoyable?”

Educators, rather formal or informal, need to have a foundation to rely upon. We are taught basic educational practices and learn the theories on which those practices are built. However, it’s important to keep up with changing curriculum, standards, and practices. One way to do so is through professional development. My experience working with teachers who participate in professional development indicates that these are the teachers who know where they are and know they want to push themselves further but don’t quite know where they’ll end up. Involvement in one professional development opportunity alone helps educators see education and pedagogy in new ways. No doubt that professional development and its questioning, challenging, and pushing of practices is difficult for some educators but everyone involved tends to learn something and move forward in some way.

Second, you need to be prepared with the appropriate tools and gear for your hike. No matter how long you plan being on a trail, you should always carry water. Wearing proper clothes and shoes is also important for your comfort and safety. Carrying a compass or a topographical map might be necessary, especially for hiking in the backcountry or un-manned terrain.

Likewise, educators need to utilize the variety of tools available. As technology infiltrates our everyday lives more and more, it must be mentioned here. Museums have been thinking about technology integration for years and have adapted as the technology has changed. We have moved from audio tours on iPods to Hatfield’s CyberLab and touch table exhibit. I’ve seen iPads used on the museum floor, in classrooms, and on school field trips. Every tool has affordances and constraints. A map is useful but having a compass and knowing how to use it will make it easier to orient your map. Educators need to think outside of the box and plan to use a variety of resources available. Technology can be a great resource in education but that doesn’t mean it’s the only, or the best, option for all activities. The tool needs to match the terrain being traversed. Books, paper and pencil, markers or crayons, and the schoolyard are sometimes more appropriate to use.

Third, it is not necessary to listen to your surroundings but I highly recommend doing so. Without a doubt you will hear both natural and man-made sounds (i.e. the birds chirping and the inevitable plane flying overhead) but you’ll also hear your own thoughts and, if you’re like me, begin the reflective process. “Wow! This is challenging. What am I doing here?” One of my favorite sounds to stop and listen for is wind moving through trees or mountains. What I like about this sound is that something is created from nothing. It is simply air being pushed through certain crevices or against specific objects and a sound is created. If you don’t stop, stand still, and listen then you’ll miss it altogether.

While an educator’s inner dialogue and reflection of practices is important, what is even more important is to listen to the students. Start dialogues and encourage multiple voices during learning experiences. Not only should the educator know and respect the learner’s background and what is happening in their day-to-day life, but other learners should also be exposed to that information. Critical pedagogy is a must but that teaching and learning environment needs to be respected and the power of voices, or the sounds of the classroom, needs to be recognized.

Can you think of other comparisons? Or a different analogy altogether?

Mining Nuggets of Collaboration

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Shawn and I will be going to the National Association for Interpretation Workshop this week in Reno, Nevada. We will be talking to interpreters about bridging the gaps between Free-Choice Learning research and Interpretive practice, “mining the nuggets” for cross-communication and visibility among professionals in both worlds, discussing potential benefits from interdisciplinary use of concepts, principles and research findings towards the shared goal among both communities of practice.

Museums are informal education settings where Free-Choice Learning (FCL) takes place and where educators and practitioners are also interpreters. FCL in such settings draws from strong learning theories and their contextual application, targeting audiences such as museum educators, evaluation staff, exhibit designers, program developers, volunteer personnel and volunteer managers. These are also the targeted practitioners mediating learning in museums through use of interpretive tools, principles and resources.

Given the complimentary nature of practice in both FCL and Interpretation fields, understanding cross-disciplinary potential and dissemination are ways to create collaborative resources and further the research and understanding of how learning takes place in museums, how the theoretical discourses relate to/build upon interpretive principles and use of interpretive tools. This confluence can have meaningful implications on interpretive program design and implementation in museum settings and others alike, as to promote valuable learning experiences for visitors.

This is what we will be brainstorming at the workshop. So bloggers please respond with any insights you may have on possible collaboration avenues and links you consider important to be made here.

Thanks!

 

Talk the talk

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How did I learn to communicate scientific information to the public? While I was working towards my bachelor’s degree in biology I started working as an interpreter at a city park in Indianapolis.  The position was advertised through the university’s biology department and I decided it’d be a great way to get involved in the community. A lot of what I did was nature hikes with home-schooled youth, Boy Scouts, and Girl Scouts, and a few family events. My knowledge about indigenous plants and animals grew every week (i.e. I learned a lot of content). While I simultaneously gained confidence talking to people, I received very little training on how to communicate. The experience, however, was a driving force for where I am now – environmental education. My communication knowledge and skills have developed in recent years from coursework and from having Shawn as a mentor.

How can we teach others to communicate science to the public? As Laia stated last week, we led a workshop about outreach. We focused on questioning, observing, and reflecting and the workshop seemed well received. During a small group discussion, some scholars and I talked about how to start a conversation with a stranger, engage kids with complicated science concepts, and how to talk to someone who is aggressive and says your research is wrong. These are all important and relevant topics, which we addressed using past experiences and how those experiences were handled. Hopefully the workshop is a stepping-stone for the scholars as they continue to think about and pursue outreach and communication opportunities. You can visit their blog to see what they had to say about communicating science at daVinci Days (a Corvallis event).

So, how did you learn to communicate science to the public?

Tank Wrangling

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Wrangling these wave tanks really is a full time job, but we have making progress with our next round of prototyping this week.

The tsunami tank has had an interface face lift with updated kiosk software, and the technical issues we were having with the wave makers locking up seem to have been subdued (fingers crossed).

 

We were having issues with visitors throwing lego for building their tsunami-resilient structures all over the place, so I moved the lego storage actually on to the tank using clip-on cups.

 

I also decided to start using plastic sign holders to prototype signage actually on the tank. This way, I can switch out sign versions easily and more frequently if I need to. These are just simple slanted sign holders I clipped in to the edge of the tank table.

 

We also moved our prototype wave buoy closer to the wave energy tank, and Allison is in the process of making up some labels for it.

 

 

Right now I am working on overarching signs to tie the three tanks together, and create a more holistic wave laboratory exhibit. Here is the plan I have so far to help us work toward this.

 

 

There is lots to do this summer, but it’s great to get moving on our plans. The exhibit has become very popular in the visitor center, so I’m interested to see how the visitors and staff react to it as we prototype more of the signage pieces

 

Fish Stick Boyfriend

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I’d like to introduce you to a type of Science Center visitor I call “Fish Stick Boyfriend.” Here’s a common demographic profile, based on my own experience:

-White

-Male

-30-35 years old

-Visiting with a female companion (and sometimes children)

The interaction generally follows a simple pattern. Fish Stick Boyfriend frowns and paces while his companion darts from exhibit to exhibit. I’m siphoning a tank, and she is too engaged with the surrounding interpretive content to notice I’m there. Fish Stick Boyfriend notices me, though. He wants to talk.

“So,” he says, pointing at an equally disinterested rockfish, “can you eat those? What do they taste like?”

He’s being sarcastic—at least that’s what he thinks he’s doing. Fortunately, I’ve seen many Fish Stick Boyfriends before, and I know what’s going on. I tell him what rockfish tastes like and where to get it. Then I tell him why it tastes the way it does, and how that relates to the animal’s life history. Then I show him an animal that tastes different, explain why, and tell him where he can go to buy it.

Fish Stick Boyfriend is now usually smiling and looking at some exhibits, and occasionally we actually start talking. His initial comment reveals some useful things:

1. He feels out of place

2. He’s familiar with fish as food

3. He wants to interact with somebody, but he chose an aquarist over a designated interpreter

On the exhibit floor, I’m “just a guy.” Visitors sometimes feel comfortable talking to me when they might avoid an interpretive volunteer or education staff member. Part of the reason may be that I’m usually facing the same direction they are—a small but significant proxemic distinction. I’m talking with them, rather than at them. I’m having a conversation, rather than giving a lecture. It’s not even much to do with what I say—the visitors’ perception makes all the difference.

When it comes to engaging the peripheral learners in a group, I’ve found that the most effective interpreters are often not interpreters at all. Fish Stick Boyfriend doesn’t think he likes Science Centers, but he’s comfortable talking to “the guy who cleans the tanks.” He sees me as a peripheral figure, too.

Over the past few years, I’ve developed a rough, conversational interpretive plan for just about every object in the Visitor Center. The octopus sculpture at the front desk can be used to talk about anatomy. Laura’s footprint decals can be used to talk about population genetics via variations in calcaneal pitch. Exhibits under construction can be used to talk about interpretation itself.

Whether you’re a trained interpreter or not, it’s important to recognize your relationship to the visitor experience. If you’re not perceived as a representative of the institution, you can use that as a position of power on behalf of the visitor. You’re “just a guy” or “just a girl,” changing a light fixture or measuring a table or feeding a frog or miming the destruction of an uncooperative video player. Some visitors may see you as the only approachable person in the building, and your response is crucial.

Fish Stick Boyfriend is bored, and only you can help him.