IN AN article in New Scientist last month, Andy Coghlan reported on
projected shortages of British science and engineering graduates in the
1990s and beyond (‘Crisis looms for science as teenagers abandon higher
education’, This Week, 10 February). Nor is the problem confined to Britain.
In Australia, abysmally low entrance requirements for science courses at
universities demonstrate an alarming lack of interest in careers in science.
Politicians, the media and the science community readily acknowledge the
existence of the problem, but there has been little real effort to propose
any sort of solution. Yet real progress could be made through a closer linking
of science and education, a revamping of the public face of science, and
a timely injection of funds.
Behind the looming shortage in Australia is a deterioration in the quality
of science education, due to a shortage of qualified science teachers and
a general undervaluing of education. The key issues, as so often stated
in the current debate, are career structure, communication and cash. Addressing
any one of these factors in isolation is an exercise in futility. But tackling
all three simultaneously could produce results.
Many top scientists chose a career in scientific research primarily
because they were inspired by an enthusiastic science teacher. Good science
teachers certainly inspire, but poor science teaching destroys the curiosity
and thirst for inquiry that children show from an early age. The consequences
are a lack of interest in scientific careers and a dwindling of the numbers
entering science teaching courses.
This trend is confirmed by the entry requirements for science courses
at Australian universities, where admission is based on a points system.
This year, the University of Queensland is asking a score of 820 in the
final year of school, 60 lower than in 1989, while the entry score for science
at the University of Sydney has dropped to the level of the lowest admissable
score for entry to the university. Corresponding falls in demand for science
education courses suggest that fewer top-quality teachers are entering the
profession, at a time when many are leaving, disillusioned and attracted
by the salaries in industry.
Throwing money at teachers to encourage them to stay in the profession
is seen by some as the best way out of the crisis. Australia’s Minister
for Education, John Dawkins, said recently that scientists, engineers and
teachers should get better pay, with significant increases going to retain
maths and science teachers. But what government could afford the enormous
costs associated with granting a significant salary increase to such a massive
number of teachers? Pay rises linked to career restructuring have been proposed,
but the proposals do not go far enough to attract the numbers required.
Consider what could evolve, however, from a constructive liaison between
science and education. The research community and teachers must surely be
able to agree on some common goals and work together to their mutual benefit.
Of utmost importance in any such collaboration would be recognition of the
damaging schism between the worlds of science and education, a divide which
must be bridged. It is enormously difficult to cross from pure science into
education or vice versa, not least because of the qualifications hurdles
each side has erected. But if teachers could also work as researchers, and
researchers as teachers, a whole range of benefits would follow.
A teacher who worked for, say, three days each week in a school and
two days in a research environment would experience science at first hand,
possibly for the first time. The diversity of the work, regular contact
with the scientific community and a wealth of resources to take back to
the classroom could serve only to increase self-esteem and a feeling of
professional worth. Renewed enthusiasm among science teachers could fire
up the next generation of potential scientists and help to stop the rot.
What would the science community gain from such an arrangement? First,
there would be a greater supply of scientific talent, after the necessary
period of in-service training. Next, the teacher-as-researcher would bring
a broader perspective to the research environment than currently tends to
be the case. And perhaps most importantly, the scientist who chose to work
as a teacher for part of the time would be better equipped to address effectively
the issue of communication of science to the world beyond the laboratory.
The image of science has taken a battering in recent years, not least because
of poor communication between scientists and the general public. Enhanced
communication through a researcher-as-teacher programme could improve this
situation, by bringing scientists out into the community to inform the public
and present a balanced scientific view on major issues.
The concepts of teacher-as-researcher, researcher-as-teacher will not
catch on overnight, given the traditional conservatism of teachers and schools,
scientists and research organisations. The cost of such an exercise would
not be insignificant, either. But even modest funding, made available as
the shortage of scientists starts to be felt, could get a programme running.
Even Australian industry might be persuaded to contribute, given its vested
interest in the country’s scientific and technological future.
Paul Butler is a teacher and science writer living in Melbourne.