Illiterate Science: a students plea to America to save itself (from herself)

I was recently at a friend’s house for dinner, when the conversation took an interesting turn. My friend’s father, a political science professor at Iowa State University, began lamenting the inability of scientists to communicate. The repercussions, he said, were more than just the loss of many good brains to the human gene pool.

Once he began this train of thought, the train in my mind ran down a slippery slope and took on some velocity. It isn’t rocket science to figure out that science should be influencing public policy, educational policy, and the business world. What really is the best way to solve global warming? How should we be teaching our children? What materials make the fasted combat jet? These are all questions which we turn to science to answer, but “science” doesn’t necessarily answer back.

The problem is that “science” can’t answer. It doesn’t speak English. Take it from an English major who is attempting to not fail out of her double in physics. I speak English and therefore my professors do not understand what I am saying. My fellow students do not understand what I am saying. I try to phrase electrodynamics, quantum mechanics, and mathematical formulae in English, only to end up with a language that no one, even me, understands. Obviously, this makes my life a little difficult, thus the “trying not to fail out of her double in physics.” It seems that even at a liberal arts college, the sciences are no longer are willing to have polygamist relationships with human brains.

Unfortunately, in order for science to be helpful, it must provide answers. Unfortunately, answering takes communication skills. It’s no longer about what you know, but what you can sell. If you want an example, just look at the arms industry.
The train keeps on rolling, and it takes me back to the welcome speech for my summer quantum physics internship.

“There are plenty of good experimentalists and theorists who never get the attention they deserve. What separates them from the famous physicists? Communication. You have got to get peoples attention… Now, can you all introduce yourselves when I call your name? It will probably take me awhile to remember all of your faces. Jean Dahlquist?”

A green haired girl (me) raises her hand. “Hi. If it helps, Jean rhymes with green.”

“I think I will remember you.”

So… the student at the very bottom of her class is the most memorable intern, just because of a clever rhyme and green hair. This lowly student is, according to previous speech, therefore destined to be a great and famous physicist. Dear God. The train crashes and explodes into a million flaming shards.

I end this essay with a plea. Please America, do yourself a favor and integrate Science education. If I’m going to be a famous scientist, you’ve got serious problems.

THE POST POST:
This was kind of a continuum on last week. I believe the above says it all.