When I attended uni, I wanted very much to be able to share my love of science and what I was learning with the world. Thus, I decided to volunteer at a local museum called Imagination Station and sign up as a substitute teacher at the locals schools. I was young, idealistic, and frankly quite stupid about the whole affair. I was bright-eyed, ready to serve, and thought that I could handle everything that came way — even the harder questions that kids might ask.

I found out quickly that when you’re teaching to the public as a substitute or volunteer, you often have to dance around controversial topics, and other topics are just so taboo you don’t mention them if at all possible. Part of this is appropriateness — there are just certain things you just don’t bring up to kids and talk about if you can help it, the other part sheer terror at the rage that parents can have in their minds at the mere thought of an educator educating their child by answering questions. Example: Evolution and sexual education. Evolution and sexual education are two very taboo topics that you are supposed to skim to meet regulations, but to go into detail often gets the community of “helicopter” parents up in arms.

Teens get depressed for various reasons and the stressors are real. Image via Paradigm Malibu

I had the unpleasant experience of a young lady in 8th grade asking me a question about sexual encounters and STDs. My educator instinct wanted to share the facts with her, while my human instincts told me to comfort the girl for she seemed to be concerned on a personal level. My human instincts took control, and I asked her if there was something in particular on her mind so I could narrow it down from a very wide topic. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she said she might be in trouble. As my heart broke for this young lady, I told her what I could about STDs in a vague, non-specific way. I told her if she were in trouble, she’d have to go to a doctor, and for that, she’d have to tell her parents.

Two days later, her parents stormed into the school and demanded an immediate conference with the principal and myself. They raged. They ranted. They dressed me down. They tried everything they could to make me apologise. I couldn’t apologise for what I did on behalf of the good things I did for this girl. I eased her mind with knowledge. I gave her the tools and hope that she could use to gain more knowledge and empower her life. There was no way I was sorry for that — no matter how much the parents demanded it and the principal pleaded with me to appease them.

While these controversial and taboo topics are nearly impossible to discuss in school settings, it’s only slightly easier to discuss them openly in out of school environments. We are not instructed to avoid these topics, but we are cognizant of the bottom dollar, and we need to tread carefully to keep the customers, and thus the money, flowing in. Angry, over protective parents do not allow their children to visit museums where they might be educated in tough subjects in an academic way. The school experience taught me that, and thus I would often look at the children sadly and say, “This is a topic for your parents.” It was a trite expression, but the kids understood it well enough to know that we were protecting ourselves against emotional adults.

Emotion. Magic. It’s pretty much the same thing.

Despite of these hitches in communication and education, I was not giving up hope. As I broke out on my own, I undertook a project to design and teach a science literacy class at a secular community centre. It was here that I thought I’d test the waters of teaching and discussing slightly controversial topics, which is a forgiveable offence in the event that anyone was offended. I felt fairly comfortable and secure that I wouldn’t lose my project and job if I stayed to the only slightly more controversial topics. I’m not ready to pit evolution against creationism yet, but homoeopathy seemed a relatively safe topic to tackle.

April 15-21 (2013) was Homoeopathy Awareness Week, and just happened to be the week after I started working with my science literacy group on critical thinking. My original plan was to assign a quick reading assignment of comparing and contrasting conventional (western) medicine systems to homoeopathy. The students, however, surprised me. They wanted to try to do their own little mini Pugwash like event (check out my post about Pugwash inspiring me to tackle these topics), and they volunteered to take it one step further with a mock session in which they divided themselves into two teams to compare, contrast, and debate conventional medicine and homoeopathic medicines.

I was curious and admittedly astounded by their drive, so I gamely changed plans and allowed them to do their own research and mini Pugwash event. I should back up here to note that this science literacy group I teach are all post-high school age people with a desire to learn more and understand science, but never really had the desire or chance back in school. The main reason they are all there is to learn the fundamentals of science and how to apply it. That being said, this experiment went better than well, really.

My students found a creative, yet analytical way to discuss the controversial topic of homoeopathic medicines. They explored the concepts of why people would turn to this method using interviews, they explored the history of homoeopathy, they looked at where and how homoeopathy can help, and they even delved into the legal problems of curing with homoeopathic remedies. They then compared this with conventional medications, why they work, why they fail when not taken properly, and tied it all back into the fears and beliefs that drive people to turn to homoeopathic remedies in the first place.

This showed me that with a little effort and time, I can teach others to think a little more critically about what they read, see the deeper meanings and connections, and learn to read beyond the biases. Most impressive of all about this experiment was that they did a really good job of teaching themselves and each other how to read and think about the issues at hand so they could make an informed decision later on.

Is directed self-discovery the secret to opening up tough conversations and encouraging science literacy?

The original post appeared on AAAS Member Central in August of 2013. This version has been updated with pertinent facts to better tell the tale which were edited out in the AAAS version as per the AAAS editing team. This is the complete version as I originally wrote it.