Event: National Science Week Victorian Event Holders Meeting for 2015
National Science Week 15-23 August 2015, www.scienceweek.net.au
Event: National Science Week Victorian Event Holders Meeting for 2015
National Science Week 15-23 August 2015, www.scienceweek.net.au
If you are wanting to get into a science communication career then the
ACT branch Careers and Networking Night at ANU is for you.
And people in the field looking for fresh new talent can meet all the
up-and-comers.
When: Thursday April 23, 5:15 pm-6:30 pm
Where: Green Couch Room, Australian National Centre for the Public
Awareness of Science (CPAS), Physics Link building 38A, ANU
Cost: Free.
Register here: https://www.eventbrite.com.au/e/asc-careers-and-networking-night-tickets-16479602936
The night will begin with a series of short talks highlighting different
pathways and careers in science communication. Hear about current and
exciting new undergraduate and postgraduate courses offered by CPAS which can kickstart your sci comm career.
Guest speakers include:
Lara Davis – How a chemistry graduate ends up a geoscience
communicator, via a Dip Ed.
Amanda Cox – Digital comms professional, science marketing at ANU, from a biochemistry background via the not-for profit and government worlds.
Phil Dooley – PhD in physics turns IT trainer, high school workshopper
then science writer at ANU.
Katie Howe – Comms professional, no science background, hey how did
she get in here?!
Anna-Lisa Hayes – Environmental scientist turns science communicator
in the government sector.
Following the talks there will be an opportunity to network over FREE food
and drinks.
Please register here: https://www.eventbrite.com.au/e/asc-careers-and-networking-night-tickets-16479602936
When: Thursday April 23, 5:15 pm-6:30 pm
Where: Green Couch Room, Australian National Centre for the Public
Awareness of Science (CPAS), Physics Link building 38A, ANU
Cost: Free.
Thanks to Natalie Bedini for the invitation.
Thank you to Denis Warne for the book review.
We are accustomed to science communication being the depiction of scientific concepts, by the scientific community for an external party. There are, however, instances where it is the conventional scientific community that needs to do the listening. There are also communication lessons to be learnt from ways in which others convey science-related knowledge. Both situations apply in the growing recognition of Aboriginal peoples’ valuable knowledge of the Australian landscape and climate, and the environmental management strategies embedded in their culture.
D’harawal Climate and Natural Resources is a compilation of such knowledge of the D’harawal people. D’harawal country extends south from Sydney Harbour to the Shoalhaven River. The compilation represents methodical research by Frances Bodkin who is both an Aboriginal knowledge holder and a “Western” trained scientist. Her expressed motivation is “proving that the Australian Aboriginal people possess cultures that are … based on the scientific premise of observation and experience, and the results recorded, through stories, in the memories of future generations.” In short, here is a body of scientifically relevant knowledge, spanning a long history. It comprises much more than simple observational facts, extending into effective management and conservation practices. If we let ourselves go there, it also embraces alternative environmental values.
As with seasonal calendars published elsewhere, climate can serve to bridge the cultural gap. Everyone can talk about the weather – it is a tangible common ground that helps make knowledge comprehensible. Bodkin goes further than most calendars. She addresses climatic cycles beyond the annual cycle in some detail. She also delves into subject matter where cultural practice may have lessons for scientific management of the environment.
Four primary cycles are documented: the daily cycle, the annual cycle (comprising six seasons), the Mudong cycle (spanning 11–12 years beginning with “the appearance of the Southern Aurora over D’harawal lands”), and the Garuwanga cycle with four seasons encompassing historical knowledge of long-term climate change – stories which may have significance in this era of climate change. Additionally, of particular interest to those involved in land and biodiversity management, Bodkin describes fire management, through both annual and Mudong cycles, and management of special places such as the Wirrimbirra, or sanctuaries, which played a role in species conservation.
For scientists concerned with the natural world, how can they learn from this body of knowledge which is expressed in ways to which they may be unaccustomed? There are cultural differences. Indigenous knowledge is always in a holistic context, it is not compartmenalised into scientific disciplines, nor even are social implications separated from the science. Bodkin shows us many instances of this and demonstrates how the cultural embodiment provides the means of both knowledge preservation and application of sustainable management practices. The knowledge is not expressed as abstract models but as stories told in appropriate context. Little is numerically expressed – nothing occurs on strict dates but in response to environmental circumstance. If you wished to date the historical sweep of the Garuwanga cycle, the stories would need to be correlated with science from other sources. Clearly effort is required on the part of the scientific audience.
Bodkin’s work like many seasonal calendars has proven popular – it has been discussed on ABC radio, depicted on the Bureau of Meteorology’s Indigenous Knowledge website, and underpinned a major project of Sydney’s VIVID Light festival 2012. For the science communicator, there are lessons to be learnt from the tools of Aboriginal communication of knolwedge: story told in tangible context, cultural integration, and artwork.
The book is short and Lorraine Robertson’s illustrations have made it a work of beauty. However, it can challenge the thinking of both natural scientists and science communicators.
Book details:
D’harawal Climate and Natural Resources
Compiled by Frances Bodkin
Illustrated by Lorraine Robertson
Published 2013 by Envirobook, Sussex Inlet, NSW
I’m a scientist. But over these past few years, I’ve discovered that I’m a writer, too. This side of myself surprised me, though it really shouldn’t have—if you’d asked me when I was 6 or 8 or 11 years old what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d have said “writer.” But then around Grade 8, I did a project on whale communication and somehow ended up becoming an ecologist studying birds, frogs and marsupials. That’s how it happens, I guess.
As an undergrad, I never realised how much of science is writing. I envisioned a career of exotic fieldwork and experimental design and gel-running, and although I do those things from time to time, I spend most of my working life (the part not feeding marsupials or cleaning their poo, anyway) reading and writing. Publishing papers, applying for grants, reporting to stakeholders—these are jobs that must be done and done well to succeed in science. In fact, there are countless metrics to calculate your scientific value based on how much you publish, where you publish and how many times your work has been cited by others in research papers, on Twitter, or in the media. So yes, I’m a writer.
But I have to admit, academic papers sucked the soul out of me and any desire to read and write I may have harboured. Between 2004–2007, I don’t think I read anything that wasn’t a journal article (except maybe the Harry Potters), and I’m pretty sure that every chapter in my PhD thesis started with the same sentence. This was not the creative, inspired writing that I’d dreamed of as a child. So when my daughter was born and I had a few years away from university life, I reacquainted myself with fiction. I read books for pleasure – stories that had nothing to do with the metabolic constraints of tadpoles or the jumping performance of metamorphic frogs. Stories that nonetheless affected me, made me see the world differently, gave me perspective. I also began writing my own stories and blogging regularly.
Now that was reading; that was writing.
I returned to academic life in 2013, but I’m not the same scientist that I was before. Now, I look for evocative, clever word usage in whatever I’m reading, and writing and editing has become one of my favourite parts of the job. But I’m not satisfied with just that. What I want to know is, can we use fiction to:
Most undergraduate and post-graduate science programs teach basic academic and essay writing, but reading and discussing fiction could show students what it is that makes great stories great – engaging and memorable. Writing fiction can give students the writing practice that’s critical for improvement and encourage them to approach ideas from different angles. I think we can teach important scientific concepts through stories, too; and no, not just science fiction stories. I’m interested in the idea that science might be integrated into stories just like spinach can be baked into chocolate brownies (yes, it’s possible!)—I love science, and I also love spinach, but I recognise that not everyone feels that way.
On a physical level, learning happens when information is gathered from the environment and placed into context, producing a lasting change in the brain. In other words – learning requires that we comprehend and that we remember. Like other art forms, fiction uses analogy and example to link information with emotion, encouraging viewers to see the same information in a different way and in the context of the human experience. Students learn better when they’re interested in the subject matter and when they see how it relates to them and their world (but particularly to them). In this regard, fiction is entertaining, and gives ideas and information a wider vantage that encourages emotional connection and big-thinking. As a supplement to traditional forms of science teaching, I think fiction could motivate, inspire and augment learning in young scientists.
Thank you to the ASC for awarding me a 2014 Professional Development grant, which supported my enrolment in an online fiction writing course through Stanford University. The 10-week course was exceptional. I learned the fundamentals of good writing (plot, character, point of view), but most importantly, I gained valuable feedback on my own short fiction. I hope to get some of my creative work published this year—and yes, it’s chock full of science.