Klassen IHPST 2007 - University of Calgary

5 downloads 6106 Views 639KB Size Report
The Construction and Analysis of a Science Story: ...... The data were analyzed by both the author and a graduate student with expertise in physics and.
The Construction and Analysis of a Science Story: A Proposed Methodology STEPHEN KLASSEN Department of Physics, University of Winnipeg, Winnipeg, Manitoba, R3B 2E9, Canada. E-mail: [email protected] Abstract Science educators are beginning to establish a theoretical and methodological foundation for constructing and using stories in science teaching. At the same time, it is not clear to what degree science stories that have recently been written adhere to the guidelines that are being proposed. The author has written a story about Louis Slotin, which deals with the beginnings of radiation protection, to serve as a case study. In this paper, the story is dissected and evaluated with the view to begin to establish a method of literary criticism for science stories. In addition, student responses to the story are investigated and interpreted.

1. Introduction More than two decades ago, Bruner wrote that “in contrast to our vast knowledge of how science and logical reasoning proceeds, we know precious little in any formal sense about how to make good stories.” (1986, p. 14). “Making good stories” is always a challenging process, especially for science educators who have not, for the most part, had training in the humanities and who have usually not had the opportunity to develop creative writing skills. Although people naturally use their imaginations and are attracted to good stories and historical accounts, these essential qualities of thought are the very ones that tend to be absent in the study of science and also in science education. Moreover, expository writing, especially the textbook variety, tends to be devoid of human interest and lacks natural humanistic engagement. To change this situation, Bruner recommended that we “convert our efforts at scientific understanding into the form of narratives” (1996, p. 125). Bruner reflected a shift in emphasis in cognitive psychology, which was mirrored, in the 1980’s and 1990’s, by science educators who were becoming interested in contextual teaching and the use of narrative forms (Kenealy, 1989; Martin & Brouwer, 1991; Stinner, 1995; Wandersee, 1990). Despite the growing advocacy of the story approach, there have not been many experimental studies making use of science stories in the classroom. Those that have been undertaken support the continued development of the science story as a teaching tool (e.g., Carey, Evans, Honda, Jay, and Ungar, 1990; Hellstrand and Ott, 1995; Kubli, 1999; Klassen, 2007; Lin, 1998; Solomon, Duveen, Scot, and McCarthy, 1992). Using stories in teaching is not new in the sense that it has likely always been apparent to good teachers that stories make learning experiences memorable. However, there is no established tradition of theoretical approaches and frameworks based on narrative theory and learning theory for the use of story. It is possible that the dearth of classroom studies may, in large measure, be due to the lack of a well– established theoretical backing. Recently, the need for such a tradition has been addressed by several scholarly articles which go beyond simply advocating a story approach and begin to provide a theoretical background for science stories (Klassen, 2006a; Kubli, 2001; Metz, Klassen, McMillan, Clough, & Olson, 2007; Norris, Guilbert, Smith, Hakimelahi, & Philips, 2005). The objective of this paper is to add to the basis for writing effective science stories by showing how a science story can be researched, written, and analyzed and how student responses to the story can be investigated and interpreted.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

2

2. What Makes a Good Science Story? Although there is advocacy for using science stories and even some evidence that they are effective in improving teaching and learning of science, there is no established basis for evaluating stories other than observing their effect on learning when they are used in the classroom. Such studies, while valuable in their own right, provide little information on how to construct good stories. Nevertheless, basic criteria for evaluating science stories have been advanced in the study by Norris, et. al. (2005), who rate science “stories” to see whether they qualify as narratives, at all. Other work in this area has been done by Kubli (2001) who uses narrative theory to suggest how certain literary elements may improve the effectiveness of science stories and by Klassen (2006b) who links the structure of science stories to learning. Norris, et. al. (2005) describe eight essential elements of narratives, namely, (a) event-tokens, (b) the narrator, (c) narrative appetite, (d) past time, (d) the structure, (e) agency, (f) the purpose, and (g) the role of the reader or listener (Norris, et. al., 2005). The work of Klassen and Kubli amplifies various aspects of the eight elements that Norris, et. al. proposed. Kubli raises two additional elements—the effect of the untold and irony. Science stories can be analyzed using these ten elements of narrative and a case study with such an analysis is provided in this paper. Although such analyses can be performed, they can only identify deficiencies in stories, not serve as a formula for writing stories. Writing a science story is, in the final analysis, a creative act which cannot be reduced to a method. Still, as in the study of literature per se, it should be possible to subject science stories as a genre to ‘literary’ criticism. Science stories differ from stories in the humanities in at least two critical aspects, namely, the purpose of the story and the role of the reader or listener. The central purpose of the science story is, after all, to improve the teaching and learning of science, not to just entertain or to communicate a message as is the case for a story in the humanities. Yet, this aspect is problematic in that, as Norris, et. al. (2005) have pointed out, it is not at all easy to accomplish the explanatory purpose in narratives. Secondly, the desired response of the reader or listener, in this case the science student, is not only affective engagement, as may be the case for stories in the humanities. At this point, it is not quite clear as to the immediate reader or listener response that is being sought if it is not necessarily just engagement or understanding. To achieve more clarity on these issues, it is first necessary to select the kind of science story that one wishes to study. Several ways of using science stories have been identified in the literature (Metz, Klassen, McMillan, Clough, and Olson, 2007; Stinner, McMillan, Metz, Jilek, and Klassen, 2003), but in this study, the story will be used as a ‘door opener’ to instruction (Kubli, 2005; Metz, et.al., 2007). Furthermore, I have chosen the term “literary” to describe this type of story, which denotes a brief story, longer and more detailed than an anecdote (Shrigley & Koballa, 1989) or vignette (Wandersee, 1990). The literary story is designed to stand on its literary merit and not only on its historical and scientific merits. To lend further authenticity to such a story, the basis will be history of science (Klassen, 2006a). 2.1 SCIENCE STORIES THAT RAISE QUESTIONS Stories to be used as door openers do not have as their primary purpose the explanatory function, but they are intended to make the concept being taught more memorable, to help reduce the distance between teacher and students, and to assist in illuminating a particular point being made (Kubli, 2005; Metz, et. al., 2007). Door opening science stories provide “reasons for needing to know”. Another, perhaps more significant purpose behind such stories is to raise questions or leave the student with unresolved problems or issues which form a significant part of the science material being taught. These questions arise not only from the story itself, but from the scientific issues and science concepts that the story contains. According to Gil-Pérez, et. al. (2002), questions play a central role in constructivist pedagogy. In their words, ‘[f]rom a scientific point of view it is essential to associate knowledge construction with problems: as Bachelard (1938) stresses, “all knowledge is the answer to a question” ’ (p. 566). One would, then, expect that well-

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

3

told stories would provide an incentive for students to raise a number of questions that they consider both interesting and important. According to Kubli (2001), stories rely on the effect of the untold to heighten curiosity. The questions that we expect students to ask as a result of a well-told science story should be motivated by curiosity about the events of the story and the scientific issues raised. Schwitzgebel (1999) maintains “that there is a kind of curiosity human beings have that is satisfied [only] when an explanation is presented and understood” (p. 472). According to Schwitzgebel’s account of theory-formation in children, explanationseeking curiosity is the result of a contradiction between what children see happening and their “expectations”, which Schwitzgebel interprets as theories. For instance, explanation-seeking curiosity “might be characterized as something like a ‘why did that happen?’ or ‘how is that possible?’ reaction” (Schwitzgebel, 1999, p. 481). It is easy to see how stories might produce this type of curiosity in the listener. The effect of the untold or a violation of expectation might, indeed, result in a need to explain. An example of a violation of expectation in a story is in the use of situational irony, where the entire situation of the story is opposite to what the reader or hearer expects. Schwitzgebel suggests that it may be possible to test for “patterns of affect and arousal associated with the emergence and resolution of explanation-seeking curiosity” (1999, p. 481). Another way in which the presence of explanation-seeking curiosity could be tested is by having students write down the questions that are brought to mind immediately upon hearing a science story. The potential efficacy of this approach is supported by research on told stories that shows that learning is improved when students generate their own questions and, subsequently, also their own answers (Cox and Ram, 1999). The method of having students record their own questions has been chosen for the present study and the results of using this method in the classroom are presented in this paper. 2.2 MAKING A POINT WITH A SCIENCE STORY

It is an important characteristic of stories that they make a point. Not only is it a characteristic, but listeners to stories try to make sense of the story being told by attempting to determine the point of the story (Vipond and Hunt, 1984). A “point-driven” response to a story is one of a number of ways of responding to a story that are not mutually exclusive. Student attempts at coming to a “point-driven understanding” of a science story could be tested by having them write down what they perceive as the point being made after hearing the story.

3. Critiquing a Science Story A method for critiquing science stories can now be outlined. Even before the story is written, the appropriate historical basis must be outlined. The historical case must conform to sound historiographical principles and utilize reliable historical sources. It goes without saying that the history used must relate to the science material for which the story is being prepared. Next in the process is the writing of the story in the form in which it is to be used with students. Here the creative process dominates and ways must be found to relate to the interests of students. At this point an analysis of the story based on the eight characteristics of Norris, et. al. (2005) and the additional two characteristics of Kubli (2001) may take place. For the last stage of the story analysis, student responses to the story will need to be analyzed. To be as unobtrusive as possible, written student responses may be incorporated into the assignments for the unit to be taught. Immediately after the story is told, students could be asked to record three questions that came to mind as they listen to the story and to write what they consider to be the main point being made by the story (see Appendix II for an example). These student responses may be treated as formative assessment for the purpose of determining how instruction would need to be adjusted as a result of the

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

4

inclusion of the story. The design of the assignment and the analysis of the students’ responses need not necessarily be envisioned as a research study but, also, as a technique to improve instruction by providing a type of formative assessment of student responses to the story.

4. A Case Study: The Story of Louis Slotin The motivation for researching and writing stories for inclusion with instruction sometimes arises out of dissatisfaction with existing teaching units that have been handed down from instructor to instructor, in perpetuity. Such a situation arose for this author in the context of teaching the properties of radioactivity in a second-year university physics laboratory class. The focus of the exercise had been to measure the absorption of radiation by dense materials, with the ultimate objective being to determine the absorption coefficient of lead. As it stood, the exercise lacked context and any sense of importance for making the measurements. An obvious context for such measurements is the field of radiation protection and the need for appropriate and safe shielding when using radioactive materials. Not only is the context appropriate, but it necessitates the introduction of important new concepts along with the former somewhat sterile exercise. However, how to integrate these concepts with a story from the history of science is not obvious, at first glance. Fortunately, this author happened to come across the documentary movie Tickling the Dragon’s Tail: The Story of Louis Slotin (Henning & Phillips, 1998) during the time that a revision of the radiation absorption lab became necessary. The story of the movie deals with the scientist, Louis Slotin, who worked in the Manhattan Project and distinguished himself by assembling the first atomic bomb ever to be exploded. The story holds additional attraction for many of this author’s students, as they identify with Slotin having been born, raised, and educated in Winnipeg. 4.1 HISTORIOGRAPHICAL CONSIDERATIONS The writing of a story that is meant to utilize history of science cannot proceed without considering what interpretation of history is to guide the selection and adaptation of historical materials. In the first place, history of science is subject to a broad spectrum of possible interpretations. One end of the spectrum is what Herbert Butterfield (1931/1959) called the whig approach to history in which history of science is viewed in light of current knowledge. Implicit in this approach is the assumption that current knowledge is superior to the knowledge of past scientists. Critics of the whig approach object to applying current days’ standards to history because historical figures operated in a different environment with different assumptions and standards than they do today. The other end of the spectrum of approaches is the localized view in which history is interpreted only in light of the knowledge and context of the time and place in question. This approach, referred to as horizontal history by Mayr and diachronical history by Kragh, has been criticized on the grounds that history cannot be interpreted when comparisons to the larger context cannot be made (Mayr, 1990; Kragh, 1987). Furthermore, it has been claimed that purely diachronical history is uninteresting to the non-specialist in that it is a chronology of events restricted to the local context (Mayr, 1990; Kragh, 1987). Then there are also internal histories of science written primarily by scientists, some of who participated in the events about which they wrote many years later. The purposes of such histories are to provide legitimization for the science, to aid in the socialization of novices, and to pass on exemplars that will be used as models for problem-solving (Kragh, 1987). Internal history often provides an official version of the roots of the discipline that tends to romanticize the events and portray science as an inevitable consequence of the force of progress. Exposing students only to this version of history encourages a distorted view of the nature of science, not to mention of the history, itself. For the purposes of writing a story to serve as an introduction to, or framework for, the teaching of a topic in science, aspects of all of the historical interpretations mentioned may be present to a certain

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

5

degree. Certainly, the overriding consideration will be to portray the history accurately, especially in using the best original and secondary sources. Any account must also be sensitive to the practices, beliefs, and social mores of the time. However, usually there will be areas of these historical practices, beliefs, and social mores that do not resonate with current-day students. Any story arising from the history must be sensitive to such possible areas of misunderstanding, all the while not implying current superiority. Of course, the history of an event in the discipline that has been written for students of the discipline cannot help but provide some degree of legitimization and socialization. The goal is to portray scientists as human beings, “warts and all” (Winchester, 1990), in order to give students the opportunity to become affectively involved in the story of science. Usually, the listeners to such stories will have a substantial degree of empathy for the protagonists of the stories. 4.2 HISTORICAL DETAILS Unless otherwise stated, the following historical sketch is based on Hayes (1956), Moon (1961), Malenfont (1996), and Zeilig (1995). Louis Slotin was born in Winnipeg on December 1, 1912 to devout Russian-Jewish parents. The family was fairly well to do and Louis’ father, who ran a local livestock agency, purchased a fine river property as their residence. The property stands today, although no longer owned by the family, but, essentially, the same as it was then. After high school, the young Louis enrolled at the University of Manitoba. His younger brother recalls Louis studying with extreme intensity. The hard work paid off as Louis received the University Gold Medal in both Chemistry and Physics upon graduating with a Batchelor’s degree. Louis continued his studies at the University of Manitoba, and in 1933 obtained his Master of Science degree in chemistry. That same year Louis moved to London, England to continue his studies under Professor A. J. Allmand at King’s College London. In July of 1936, Louis successfully defended his doctorate in chemistry, winning the prize for best thesis. The following year, Louis tried to get a position with Canada’s National Research Council, but was turned down. Instead, he went to the University of Chicago as a research associate, working on the cyclotron. The work was difficult and Louis received no pay whatsoever for two years. During that time his father regularly sent him money for food and rent. In 1941, Louis began work at the famous “Met” lab of the Manhattan project and was, subsequently, moved to Oak Ridge Tennessee, where he worked with Eugene Wigner on the problem of plutonium production. Louis distinguished himself as competent and hard-working on each project, ensuring his ultimate recruitment into the A-bomb program. He arrived at Los Alamos, New Mexico in December of 1944 where he threw himself into his work with the usual energy. Soon he had developed an unrivalled reputation at assembling the components of the as-yet-unexploded prototype bombs in order to achieve near criticality. Criticality is that point in an intensifying set of nuclear reactions at which it becomes selfsustaining and could, if not allowed to expand due to the heating, result in an atomic explosion. Even if the point of explosion is not reached, the criticality threshold, when crossed, results in the release of massive amounts of radiation. When the plan for creating near criticality was first devised, it was described by one of the participants as “tickling the tail of a sleeping dragon” (Frisch, 1979, p. 159). Thereafter, the criticality experiments were known as “tickling the dragon’s tail”. On account of his expertise, Slotin was trusted with the task of assembling the first atomic bomb, code-named “Trinity”, and handing it over to army personnel for transportation to the detonation site on July 16, 1945. One of his most prized possessions was a scribbled receipt for the bomb. At this time, Louis had not yet received his American citizenship and was not allowed to travel to the launching site of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs. After Japan surrendered in August of 1945, Loius was finally able to tell his family about his wartime occupation. Louis’ father learned, to his shock, of his son’s role in working on the atom bomb. The son’s response to his father was that “we had to get it before the Germans” (Zeilig, 1995, p. 24). Louis’ family

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

6

recalled that despite his seeming zeal for the project, Louis was nevertheless troubled by what he was doing. Slotin’s close friend, Philip Morrison, remembered that the two of them frequently spoke about war and peace. After the war, Slotin was assigned to Navy nuclear tests, “much to [his] disgust” (Zeilig, 1995, p. 24). Louis would much rather have returned to Chicago to resume his peacetime research. Moreover, the post-war experiments in which Slotin was involved were not without their perils. While Louis was away from the laboratory on August 21, 1945, his friend, Harry Dalglian, had a horrendous criticality experiment accident, exposing himself to a lethal dose of radiation. Slotin spent many hours at the bedside of his dying friend. After Harry’s death, the criticality tests were moved to the Palajito laboratory from the Omega Site laboratory where they had been working before (Loaiza & Gehman, 2006). Enrico Fermi, who was also in Los Alamos at the time, warned Slotin that he would be dead in a year if he kept on doing the criticality experiment. Although there was some work being done on designing a remote control for the test, “such devices had not been fully developed to the point where they were considered reliable to perform the task of critical assembly studies” (Hayes, 1956, p. 8), and so, the manual tests continued. By this time, Slotin had taken over the leadership of the critical assembly group from Otto Frisch (Frisch, 1969). Slotin began to make plans to return to Chicago. Having received his American citizenship, he was scheduled to travel to the Marshall Islands to attend the Operation Crossroads test at Bikini Atoll on July 1. After that, he planned to move back to Chicago. By May 21, 1946, Alvin Graves had already been assigned to take Louis’ place on the project. On that day, Slotin was to orient Graves in the experimental procedures so that he could leave. Five other scientists were working on other projects in the laboratory at the time, and a security guard was stationed there, as always. Graves asked Slotin to demonstrate a critical assembly. At first, Slotin didn’t think he had the materials on hand, then remembered that they had a number of bomb cores there and announced that he could put together a demonstration “in about two minutes” (Froman & Schreiber, 1946, p. 1). Some light-hearted banter ensued, with Darol Froman, also a Canadian, remarking that if Slotin “were going to do it in two minutes [he] was going to leave, but would stick around if he took a half-hour for it” (Froman & Schreiber, 1946, p. 2). Froman notes that this was not meant seriously, as everyone in the room had complete confidence in Louis’ ability and judgment. At the time the criticality experiments were being done manually by placing the core of the bomb into a pair of hemispherical beryllium shells hollowed out in the center where the core fit, exactly. The plutonium core had a nickel covering which prevented both contamination and the escaping of the alpha radiation. The cores were strangely warm but, by themselves, harmless to the touch. Gloves were not necessarily used to handle them. The shells, called tampers, were placed one on top of the other to make a sphere, and served as neutron reflectors so that the neutron density in the core would reach the level to initiate a nuclear chain reaction. Of course, the upper shell was never allowed to touch the lower one, as criticality would be achieved, instantly. To prevent that from happening, spacers had been machined to place between the two halves. However, in order to approach criticality, Slotin would have to remove the spacers and use a screwdriver as a wedge and hand-manipulate the spheres into a state of near-criticality. Slotin soon had the demonstration ready to go, and when it no longer interfered with other work going on in the room, he lowered the upper hemisphere with his hands and kept the hemispheres separate with a screwdriver blade, which also served to gradually decrease the gap between the spheres. The onset of criticality was detected by the increased emission of gamma-radiation, which was detected by Geiger counters. The experiment began and what happened next was recorded by Froman shortly thereafter. Froman wrote that [i]t could not have been more than two or three minutes after the start that I turned because of some noise or sudden movement. I saw a blue flash around the Be tamper and felt a heat wave simultaneously. At the same instant, Slotin flipped the outer top tamper shell off. … This stopped the reaction.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

7

… Slotin’s left hand, which was holding the top hemisphere, was definitely in the glowing region. The total duration of the flash could not have been more than a few tenths of a second. Slotin reacted very quickly in flipping the tamper piece off. … A few seconds after the accident, only Slotin, Graves, and myself [sic] were left in the room. … The rest of us left immediately, going up the corridor. Slotin called for an ambulance and then prepared a sketch showing our positions at the time of the accident. (Froman & Schreiber, 1946, p. 3)

Raemer Schreiber, who was also present in the room, described the accident this way, almost 50 years later: What [Slotin] did was to lower one of the hemispheres of beryllium over the core sitting in the bottom half and hold it open with a screwdriver. The idea was to lower it down to where there was just a small gap and, if it gets critical, then you could stop it at that point. You could waggle the screwdriver and make it multiply or quit. … But the screwdriver slipped. The thing dropped completely closed and that made it super critical, prompt critical. It was stopped by the expansion of the core and the beryllium but it was enough to put out a lethal shot of radioactivity. (quoted in Calloway, 1995, p. 2)

According to Schreiber’s recollection, Slotin said at the instant after the accident: “Well, that does it”, meaning that he probably knew in an instant that he was a dead man (quoted in Calloway, 1995, p. 2). Louis became very ill and died an excruciating death nine days later, on May 30th. Slotin’s close friend, Philip Morrison, was constantly at his beside during that time. Ironically, both Harry Dalglian and Louis Slotin’s accidents happened on Tuesday the 21st of the month, using the same bomb core, and they both died in the same hospital room. The funeral for Louis Slotin was held on June 2nd outside the family home with almost 3,000 people in attendance. Some time later, a memorial park was established nearby on Luxton Avenue overlooking the Red River. The inscription on the bronze plaque reads: This park is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Louis Slotin who willingly and heroically laid down his life to save seven fellow scientists during an experiment May 21, 1946 at the Los Alamos atomic research project in New Mexico, U.S.A. As the laboratory was being swept with deadly radiation, Dr. Slotin spontaneously leaped forward covering the experiment with his body. Dr. Slotin was taken to hospital where he died nine days later. His seven coworkers survived. Dr. Slotin and his family had resided at 125 Scotia Street, just a short walk north of this park. Descendents and family members of the late Dr. Slotin still reside in Winnipeg.

There was a fairly general consensus that Slotin was not culpable in the accident and that his quick reaction, not to mention the shielding effect of his body, had literally saved the lives of the others in the room. What scientists of the time did not know is that it was the self-limiting nature of the nuclear chain reaction that had terminated the burst of radiation and not Slotin’s quick reaction. The US government issued a citation of bravery and the editor of the local newspaper wrote a poem in Slotin’s honor. However, a report issued at the time blamed project management for being “negligent in failing to recognize the need for effective safety controls, requirements to ensure reproducibility, and the development and implementation of suitable procedures” (Malenfont, 1996, p. 2). Many of the experiments done at that time presented serious dangers. Hacker (1987) writes that [t]he reasons were largely psychological. Proper care precluded any danger at all; nothing could happen unless an assembly exceeded the critical amount. A long series of trouble-free tests could foster a degree of overconfidence. “Those of us who were old hands felt impervious to the invisible danger,” a member of the critical assemblies group recalled. “I am afraid that familiarity indeed breeds contempt of danger.” (Hacker, 1987, p. 73)

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

8

Although much work had been done on radiation safety before the war, standards and procedures were developed hazard by hazard and project by project. As new situations and hazards presented themselves, there were, literally, no generally set standards, procedures, or even an adequate realization of the degree of danger presented (Malenfont, 1996, Hacker, 1987). In retrospect, the experimental procedures of scientists at the time may seem reckless now, but considering the context of the time, it is not clear whether scientists like Slotin should, indeed, have known better. 4.3 WRITING A LITERARY STORY ABOUT LOUIS SLOTIN The historical sketch or case, engaging as it may be, is too lengthy and detailed to be used in a typical science class during the course of instruction. The focus of instruction must remain on the science and not on the history. Moreover, normal instructional time pressures preclude the use of lengthy narrative passages. If it is to be introduced at all, the historical-scientific context is better conveyed by means of a brief literary story (Metz, Klassen, McMillan, Clough, & Olson, 2007). In writing a story, an attempt was made to make connections with the student’s personal experience at the beginning. For the Louis Slotin story, such a connection is created for university students in Winnipeg by pointing out that Louis grew up in Winnipeg and studied at university, there. The guidelines in writing this particular story were to portray the actual circumstances of Slotin’s death and the response of the community at the time, and, at the same time, to include some scientific issues pointing to the importance of radiation protection as a field of study. The title this author chose, “The Dragon’s Revenge”, is an ironic reference to the nickname that the scientists gave to the experimental procedure which, ultimately, resulted in Slotin’s death. The story, with line numbers for reference, is given in Appendix I. Historical Accuracy Several creative details not directly from the historical record are included in the story. These are the description of Slotin’s coming to work (l. 1 – 2); thoughts attributed to Slotin, consistent with the historical record, (ll. 2 – 10; 29); the location where Fermi might have warned Slotin of the dangers (l. 8); the screwdriver falling to the floor; and the words “I’m dead” (l. 28), which Slotin might have thought, according to Schreiber (Calloway, 1995). Otherwise, the story is faithful to the available historical records. 4.4 AN ANALYSIS OF THE STORY The historical background and the historiographical approach are used to produce the setting of the story. Writing a historical case such as the one here is well-established and relatively uncontroversial. Beyond that, the story’s literary features must draw on narrative theory as was outlined in a previous section. The ten essential features to be assessed are (1) event-tokens, (2) the narrator, (3) narrative appetite, (4) past time, (5) the structure, (6) agency, (7) the purpose, and (8) the role of the reader or listener, (9) the effect of the untold, and (10) irony. The Slotin story will be examined in the light of each of these important elements of stories. Event-tokens Narratives consist of events that involve characters and the settings in which the events take place. The story’s events are related by an underlying chronological sequence which may be explicit or implied. Successive events are made more significant in the light of preceding events. Events lead to changes of state. In “The Dragon’s Revenge” there is one main character, Louis Slotin, along with the minor characters Enrico Fermi, Alvin Graves, Philip Morrison, Thomas P. Ashlock, and six unnamed observers. The setting of the story is the Manhattan Project research of Louis Slotin taking place in Los Alamos on

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

9

May 21, 1946. The events of the story unfold according to the following sequence: Slotin arrives at work  has doubts about the project  remembers Fermi’s warning  demonstrates bomb criticality to Graves and the six other observers  lets the screwdriver slip  is subjected to a massive dose of radiation  reacts quickly to separate the hemispheres  realizes that he has been mortally injured  is attended by Morrison as he dies  is eulogized by Ashlock. The sequence of events constitutes a chronology and, by itself, does not raise interest unless the motives and choices of the characters create causative links between events (Coffin, 2004, Klassen, 2006b). These aspects will be discussed under the headings “structure” and “agency”. The Narrator The narrator, either a participant in the story or an observer, determines the point and purpose of the story and selects the events and their sequence. In “The Dragon’s Revenge”, the narrator is an observer. From ll. 1 – 29 the narrator functions as subjective story-teller and from ll. 30 – 44 takes on the role of commentator. From ll. 1 – 29, the tone is personal, revealing the innermost thoughts of “Lou”. In l. 30, the tone becomes impersonal, for instance, referring to Louis as “Dr. Louis Slotin”. The point of the story is raised in the last two lines: “If the science of radiation protection had been sufficiently developed by 1946, then this story would likely never have taken place”. Simply put, the point of the story is to illustrate the importance of applying the principles radiation protection. Narrative Appetite A skillfully-told story will raise curiosity in the listener on account of a desire or need to know what will happen next. The use of suspense and foreshadowing in the story will produce narrative appetite. In “The Dragon’s Revenge”, foreshadowing is achieved by the pronouncement of Fermi that “You won’t last a year if you keep doing that experiment” (l. 10). Similarly, suspense is produced through a foreboding tone as the highly-dangerous procedure is undertaken: “As he rotated the screwdriver slightly this way and that, the shell moved up and down. From across the room the familiar crunching sound of the Geiger counters swelled and ebbed. Then it happened.” (ll. 21 – 23). In this passage, time seems to slow down as increasingly more detail is provided, giving the listener the impression of heightened import. Past Time A story takes place in the past—that is, the narrator recounts events that have already taken place. Even though the events underlying the story are historically sequential, the telling of the events may move back and forth through time by means of flashbacks. The important aspect of the events is that they are portrayed as unique and unrepeatable. This is evident in “The Dragon’s Revenge”—the events and details leading up to Slotin’s death comprise a set of circumstances that are both unprecedented and unrepeatable, and this is readily apparent to the listener. The uniqueness of the story adds to its appeal. The listener may say to herself or himself, “This has never happened before and will never happen again”. The Structure A sense of structure in the story is already implied by its string of event-tokens. According to Toolan (1988), “[a]n event bringing a change of state, is the most fundamental requirement of narrative” (p. 90). The overarching structure of the story has an opening situation, complications that produce rising action, and a resolution in the end; which may be either a success or failure. In “The Dragon’s Revenge”, Louis Slotin, by virtue of his position and expertise, is called upon to demonstrate the criticality experiment to Alvin Graves. However, the dangerous nature of the experiment complicates the situation. When the screwdriver slips, the action rises to the point where the radiation is released and Slotin realizes that he

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

10

has, so to speak, killed himself. The resolution comes when Slotin dies, apparently a hero to those around him. The structure can also be viewed in terms of change-of-state and event sequences that produce the sense of flow in the story (Coffin, 2004; Klassen, 2006b). A way of representing such sequences is by a number of “minimal stories” that can be represented as “initial state  event  (as a result) final state” (Klassen, 2006b). A major portion of “The Dragon’s Revenge” can be represented by a complex set of minimal stories as follows. Lou was working on the A-bomb and then, as a result, had to demonstrate the criticality experiment to Alvin Graves and then, as a result, the screwdriver slipped and then, as a result, a torrent of neutrons and gamma rays were released and then, as a result, Lou received a lethal dose of radiation and then, as a result, Lou flipped the bomb-shell off the table and then, as a result, the others in the room were saved and then, as a result, Lou was considered a hero.

The entire story cannot be represented in such a simple fashion, as some sequences are of a compound nature; for example, the sequence, “Lou was working on the A-bomb and then, as a result, had to perform criticality experiments and then, as a result, was warned by Fermi; and then had to demonstrate the criticality experiments to Alvin Graves …” is an example of the intersection of two minimal story sequences. Agency Stories involve characters who are moral agents—that is to say, the characters must make choices and live by the consequences of those choices. In “The Dragon’s Revenge”, Louis Slotin chooses to perform the highly-risky criticality procedure instead of declaring a moratorium until a mechanical method can be worked out. During the war, the sense of urgency precluded stopping the experiments. At the conclusion of the war, it is probable that the psychological sense of familiarity masked the normal sense of danger. Such factors make the narrative characteristic of agency into a highly-complex issue. The Purpose Stories generally help listeners better understand their world and people’s place in it. They do so while raising a sense of empathy in the listener or reader. Stories often have a “moral” or point to them. In the case of “The Dragon’s Revenge”, the point being made is that the application of knowledge of radiation protection is essential for the safe performance of experiments in nuclear physics. At the same time, the listeners are expected to be highly sympathetic to the plight of Louis Slotin. The point of the story is also analyzed below from the viewpoint of student responses. The Role of the Reader or Listener The story assumes a certain type of listener who will respond in a certain way; for example, the listener must recognize the genre of story and interpret what is being told in that context. The listener must want to know what will happen next, engage in the story, and develop empathy. But, more importantly, the listener should be forming questions in response to the story. According to Schwitzgebel (1999), these will likely be “why” and “how” types of questions. Written questions given by students in response to the Slotin story are analyzed, below. The Effect of the Untold A brief story like “The Dragon’s Revenge” cannot include very many details of the events that took place. According to narrative theorists, the sparse nature contributes to listener engagement, since the listener

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

11

must either “fill in the blanks” between provided pieces of information (Kubli, 2001; Shrigley and Koballa, 1989) or form questions which could be answered, later. Irony Often stories turn out differently than the listener is led to believe in the beginning. Sometimes expectations that the listener has are contradicted by the story. For instance, listeners may be led to believe that Slotin is headed for fame and recognition as a result of his important role in bomb assembly. However, the fame and recognition is only achieved in his tragic death—a supreme irony. Although irony is an important element of narratives, it is not essential in the same sense as the previous features. There is, after all, no reason why a story cannot turn out as expected. Summary of Analysis As Norris, et. al. (2005) show, prose passages that purport to be stories do not necessarily adhere to all of the key elements of narrative. However, if science educators wish to become proficient at writing good stories, they should adhere to all of the elements, with the possible exception of the last. If narratives are being used to attempt to produce some degree of “narrative effect” (Norris, et. al., 2005), then it would stand to reason not to omit any of the key narrative elements. As the analysis above has demonstrated, “The Dragon’s Revenge” illustrates, at least to some degree, all ten of the narrative elements. Establishing this type of comparison should be a basic requirement for science stories. However, whether the story has any elements of greatness is not for the author to determine, but rather for the hearers, readers, and critics. 4.5 RESEARCH STUDY DESIGN The Slotin story has been used by the author over a period of two years with four different second-year physics laboratory classes. Appendix I contains the story, as it was told to students. The telling of the story was accompanied by PowerPoint images of relevant photographs without any associated captions (see www.sci-ed.org under “Resources” for a copy). Immediately upon hearing the story, students were asked to complete the assignment questions listed in Appendix II. A total of 40 student responses were gathered. Each student could provide up to three questions and one point of the story. The story-telling session together with the associated assignment took around 15 minutes and was administered to four different second-year physics laboratory classes over a period of two years. After course marks were submitted, all identification was removed and the responses were transcribed into a database. Three responses were discarded—two which were considered inadequate and another which was considered incoherent. The 37 remaining responses contained a total of 104 questions. 4.6 ANALYSIS OF STUDENT RESPONSE DATA Several assumptions were made in advance of analyzing the responses. First, the questions would need to be categorized by type. It was assumed that the explanation-seeking question types (‘Why did that happen?’ or ‘How is that possible?’) as proposed by Schwitzgebel (1999), would be present. Since the story is based in history and science, it was realized that other question types might also be present. Second, the questions would need to be categorized by domain. Since the story, based in history and science, was designed to raise student interest and had a somewhat controversial background, it was postulated that questions would relate to (a) history, (b) science, (c) egocentric, personal interest in the story, and (d) concern about ethical issues. Last, the point of the story, as given by students, would need to be categorized. Since the author’s purpose was to point out the importance of knowing about and adhering to radiation safety, it was postulated that students would see the point as relating to radiation safety or the dangers or potential dangers of radiation.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

12

The data were analyzed by both the author and a graduate student with expertise in physics and philosophy. Any categories that were identified beyond those already proposed were adopted by consensus. Where the interpretation of any data was in doubt or differed between readers, the issues were discussed and a consensus was reached.

Categories of Question Type Upon analysis, the following types of questions emerged: (a) Why did something happen or why did something not happen? (b) How is something possible or how does it work or how could it be done? (c) What happened, what would have happened, what would happen, what could happen, what is happening, or what will happen? (d) What is or was such and such? (Define) (e) When did something happen? (f) Who did it or who was involved? (g) Where did it happen?

In order to interpret all of the questions, some of them were re-cast into a somewhat clearer form. Several questions appeared, on the surface, to be yes or no questions, but a more careful reading revealed an underlying question; for example “Although the others in the room did not die due to the radiation, were they affected?” was recast as “How were the others in the room affected by the radiation?”. The question type results are given in Table 1.

Table 1: Question Type Responses Question type

Why

How

Frequency (%)

29 (28%)

9 (8.5%)

What

Define

16 33 (31.5%) (15.5%)

When Who Where

Other

15 (14.5%)

2 (2%)

Examples of Question Type The ‘why’ questions related mostly to the actions of Louis Slotin and reflect a degree of incredulity, for example, “Why wasn’t a more stable mechanism used to hold such a dangerous device?” or “Why were they handling such a dangerous bomb with only a screwdriver?”. Other ‘why’ questions related to scientific issues, as in “Why was Beryllium used as a shell for Plutonium?” or “Why didn’t the others die?”. The ‘how’ questions were mostly of a scientific nature, for example, “How, exactly did the radioactive particles interact with Louis’ organs to make them shut down?” or “How did they know the radiations were made of neutrons?”. The ‘what’ questions reflected the students’ curiosity about the events of the story, for example, “What actually happened when the two hemispheres came together?” or “What happened to other people in the room?”. The ‘define” questions, like the ‘how’ questions were mostly of a scientific nature, for example, “What are gamma rays?” or “What was the blue light?”. The ‘when’, ‘who’, and ‘where’ questions were of a straightforward historical nature, for example, “When was the science of radiation protection developed?” or “Who else was involved in creating the atom bomb?” or “Where did he go to school?”.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

13

Only two questions could not be categorized and this was on account of their incoherence. Categories of Question Domain Upon analysis, the question domains (a) scientific, (b) historical, (c) ethical, and (d) personal emerged (as had been postulated). There were few ambiguities in fitting the question data into the various domain categories and only one question had to be placed in the ‘other’ category. The question domain results are given in Table 2.

Table 2: Question Domain Responses Question domain

Historical

Scientific

Ethical

Personal

Other

Frequency (%)

69 (66%)

29 (28%)

3 (3%)

2 (2%)

1 (1%)

Examples of Question Domain The historical domain questions generally embodied curiosity about the events of the story and the surrounding circumstances, for example, “How did Slotin come to this opportunity to build the A-bomb?” or “What little did the scientists know about dealing with radioactive materials?”. The scientific domain questions embodied curiosity about scientific knowledge unfamiliar to the students, for example, “What does radiation do to the cells in your body?” or “Why didn’t the others die?”. There were few questions that could be categorized in the ethical domain. An example of such a question is “How is this story viewed in comparison to the number of lives lost due to the atom bomb?”. Also, few questions could be categorized in the personal domain, exclusively. For most, the historical or scientific issues seemed to dominate the personal aspect. An example of a question in the personal domain is “Will I be exposed to radiation like Dr. Slotin?”. Only one question could not be placed into any of the domain categories.

Categories of Point of the Story Upon analysis, the categories for the point of the story were found to be (a) the danger of radioactivity, (b) the importance of radiation protection, and (c) other. Unlike the other aspects of the data, many responses were found that did not fit into the postulated categories. Since each student gave up to three questions, there is a smaller amount of data for the point attributed to the story. The ‘point of the story’ results are given in Table 3. Table 3: Point of the Story Responses Point of the story

Dangers of radiation

Importance of radiation protection

Other

Frequency (%)

10 (27%)

8 (22%)

19 (51%)

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

14

Examples of Point of the Story About half the students (49%) were able to express what could be considered a point for the story. Examples of the ‘Dangers of Radiation’ category are “Radiation is deadly when not handled properly” or “Radiation is extraordinarily deadly in large doses”. Examples of the ‘Importance of radiation protection’ category are “Radiation protection is very important” or “Had there been research done on radiation protection, a great scientist’s life could have been saved”. 4.7 DISCUSSION OF STUDENT RESPONSES Explanation-Seeking Curiosity As has been specified at the beginning, one of the major purposes for using door-opening science stories is to raise questions in students’ minds. Not only is the raising of good questions important from a constructivist pedagogical point of view, but there is reason to believe that questions are implicitly involved in theory formation. Therefore, evidence for the generation of good questions as a result of listening to the story would serve as a major indicator that stories may serve to enhance learning. The data presented in the current study support the conclusion that good questions were, indeed, generated as a response to the story. The largest number of questions were of a type that suggested higher-level thinking—that is to say, thinking which operates beyond the simple factual level as would be the case for the ‘when’, ‘where’ and ‘who’ type questions. There was, however, evidence that the students were inexperienced with generating well-framed questions, as indicated by a number of questions which appeared, on the surface, to be yes or no type questions. This suggests that students might well benefit from instruction on the nature of good questions and practice in formulating questions. The Balance between the Scientific and Historical Domains An analysis of the question domain revealed that most of the questions fell either into the historical or scientific domains. The questions falling into these domain categories did so in a ratio of 3 to 7 (scientific to historical). The ratio of scientific to historical questions seems to indicate a particular “character” for the story. The S-H ratio may serve as a major indicator of the characteristics of a story. The Lack of Egocentric and Ethical Questions The initial expectation was that some questions would be of a personal, egocentric, nature. Surprisingly, very few questions fell clearly into that category. A few questions, while not egocentric in nature, did indicate personal interest in Slotin. For example, the question “Where did he go to school?” indictes a degree of personal interest in the story, even though it is historical in nature. Because the background for the story was the Manhattan Project, it was assumed that some issues of ethical concern over the atom bomb would be raised. This was not the case, for the most part. The only explanation that can be offered, beyond an obvious lack of concern for the issue, is that student thinking tends to be highly constrained by the classroom context, i.e., physics, in which they are operating. Determining the Point Normally, when one thinks about the point of a story, one is actually determining the thesis of the author’s story—the underlying message or the idea behind the story. Such an idea has to have certain qualities: it should be expressed in a complete statement, have universal application, avoid the use of the character’s name, and express a point of view. Formulating such a thesis statement is not altogether simple as a simple reflection on the possible pitfalls seems to indicate. A thesis statement may be confused with a theme or a moral, sometimes even simply a topic. A theme, like the thesis statement, expresses a point of view, but it is not expressed in a complete statement. A topic may simply be a

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

15

statement of fact. Another response might be an identification of the moral of the story, which might be expressed as a slogan. The moral is the lesson to be learned and is expressed in terms of actions to be taken or avoided. Alternatively, simple observations that are mere commentary on the subject might be mistaken for the point. In examining the student responses to the point of the Slotin story, one can see the level of sophistication of the response by determining to which of the above categories each belongs. Since students were instructed to formulate the point of the story and likely assumed that it would have to be expressed in a complete statement, none of the student responses merely identified the topic—radiation protection—or the theme—the dangers of radiation or the necessity of radiation protection—as the point of the story. Morals and slogans appeared quite frequently, as in “Don’t play around with bombs.” Several students expressed the point in a thesis statement, such as “[R]adiation can be extremely dangerous if you are not protected from it”, and “[I]n breaking new scientific ground there are risks that are taken and sacrifices made”. Some of the thesis statements were vague, for example, “Advances in science do have a price.” Many of the responses were merely commentary. They ranged from statements such as “Radiation protection was not very advanced in 1946” to “The main points are to highlight Slotin’s participation on the Manhattan Project and to bring a tragic example to light in the wake of doing an experiment on Radiation protection”. Answering the Questions Although students may ask good questions, they also need to be provided with answers, or, at least, with the opportunity and resources to obtain the answers for themselves. The answers for most of the historical questions that students asked are provided in the historical details provided in an earlier section in this paper. It is recommended that the “Historical Details” section be provided to students at the end of the class in which the story is used. The scientific questions need to be answered either in the laboratory exercise which follows the story or in other course lectures.

5. Conclusion The case study reported in this paper has outlined a methodology for the researching, writing, using, and testing of door-opening, literary science stories. It has been demonstrated that an analysis of the historical and narrative features of the story can be carried out in a systematic fashion. In practice, the analysis and writing of the story would comprise a cycle of writing a draft, analyzing, and then revising the story. The case study has also detailed a method of testing for student responses to the story, which can be achieved in an unobtrusive and time-efficient fashion. It has been found that the telling of the story and the collection of student responses can be accomplished in about 15 minutes. An analysis of student responses to the story reveals features of the story in the balance between the scientific and historical domains and aspects of student thinking in their ability to ask questions of an analytical nature. However, the ability of students to determine and express the point of the story was found to be somewhat limited. The current study has the limitation of not being able to test for a “narrative effect” (Norris, et. al., 2005). Such a phenomenon could, for instance, be tested by analyzing the effect of an expository prose passage with similar content in parallel with the story. Unfortunately, in the author’s department, not large enough student populations are available to attempt such a study. Science stories, such as the one utilized in the accompanying case study, must be placed into an overall instructional model for their utilization, such as the story-driven contextual approach (Klassen, 2006a; 2007). It is hoped that other science-story enthusiasts will further develop and test the methodology and model as outlined in this paper.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

16

Acknowledgements This research was supported by a five-year grant from NSERC’s CRYSTAL program at the University of Manitoba and funding from the Maurice Price Foundation. Thanks are due to Sarah Dietrich for transcribing the data and to Vince Bagnulo for participating in the data analysis.

References Bruner, J.: 1986, Actual minds, possible worlds, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, MA. Bruner, J.: 1996, The Culture of Education, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA. Calloway, L.: 1995, ‘Nuclear Naiveté’, An Albuquerque Journal Special Reprint, July, 1995. Carey, S., Evans, R., Honda, M., Jay, E., & Ungar, C.: 1990, ‘An experiment is when you try and see if it works’, International Journal of Science Education 11: 514–529. Coffin, C.: 2004, ‘Learning to Write History: The Role of Causality’, Written Communication 21(3): 261–289. Frisch, O.R.: 1969, ‘The Dragon Experiment’, Keynote address at the Fast Burst Reactors Conference held at the University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, January 28–30, 1969, in R.E. Malenfont.: 2005, Experiments with the Dragon Machine, Report LA-14241-H, Los Alamos National Laboratory. Frisch, O.R.: 1979, What Little I Remember, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, MA. Froman, D.K., & Schreiber, R.E.: 1946, May 28, ‘Report on May 21 Accident at Pajarito Laboratory’, in R.E. Malenfant: 1996, ‘Lessons Learned From Early Criticality Accidents’, Report submitted to the Nuclear Criticality Technology Safety Project Workshop, Gaithersburg, Maryland, May 14–15, 1996. Hacker, B.C.: 1987, The Dragon's Tail: Radiation Safety in the Manhattan Project, 1942–46, University of California Press, Berkeley, CA. Helstrand, A., & Ott, A.: 1995, ‘The utilization of fiction when teaching the theory of relativity’, Physics Education 30(5): 284–286. Hempelman, L.H., Lushbaugh, C.C., & Voelz, G.L.: 1979, ‘What Has Happened to the Survivors of the Early Los Alamos Nuclear Accidents?’, paper submitted to the Conference for Radiation Accident Preparedness, Oak Ridge, TN, October 19–20, 1979. Henning, B. (Producer), & Phillips, P. (Director).: 1998, Tickling the Dragon’s Tail. [documentary]. Great North Productions. Kenealy, P.: 1989, ‘Telling a Coherent “Story”: A Role for the History and Philosophy of Science in a Physical Science Course’, in D. E. Herget (ed.), HPSST, Proc. of the First Int. Conference, pp. 209–220. Klassen, S.: 2006a, ‘A Theoretical Framework for Contextual Science Teaching’, Interchange 37(1–2): 31–61. Klassen, S.: 2006b, ‘Does a Science Story Have Heuristic Power to Promote Learning?’, paper presented at the First International Conference on Story in Science Teaching, Munich, July, 2006. Klassen, S.: 2007, ‘The Application of Historical Narrative in Science Learning: The Atlantic Cable Story’, Science & Education 16(3–5): 335–352. Kubli, F.: 1998, Plädoyer für Erzählungen im Physikunterricht—Geschichte und Geschichten als Verstehenshilfen, Aulis, Cologne. Kubli, F.: 1999, ‘Historical Aspects in Physics Teaching: Using Galileo’s Work in a New Swiss Project’, Science & Education 8: 137–150. Kubli, F.: 2001, ‘Can the Theory of Narratives Help Science Teachers be Better Storytellers?’, Science & Education 10: 595–599. Kubli, F.: 2005, ‘Science Teaching as a Dialogue—Bakhtin, Vygotsky and some Applications in the Classroom’, Science & Education 14(6): 501–534. Lin, H.: 1998, ‘The Effectiveness of Teaching Chemistry through the History of Science’, Journal of Chemical Education 75(10): 1326–1330.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

17

Loaiza, D., & Gehman, D.: 2006, ‘End of an Era for the Los Alamos Critical Experiments Facility: History of critical assemblies and experiments (1946–2004)’, Annals of Nuclear Energy 33, 1339–1359. Malenfant, R.E.: 1996, ‘Lessons Learned From Early Criticality Accidents’, report submitted to the Nuclear Criticality Technology Safety Project Workshop, Gaithersburg, Maryland, May 14–15, 1996. Malenfant, R.E.: 2005, Experiments with the Dragon Machine, Report LA-14241-H, Los Alamos National Laboratory. Martin, B. E. & Brouwer, W.: 1991, ‘The Sharing of Personal Science and the Narrative Element in Science Education’, Science Education 75(6): 707–722. McLaughlin, T.P., Monahan, S.P., Pruvost, N.L., Frolov, V.V., Ryazanov, B.G., & Sviridov, V.I.: 2000, A Review of Criticality Accidents, 2000 Revision. Report LA-13638, Los Alamos National Laboratory, Los Alamos, NM. Metz, D., Klassen, S., McMillan, B., Clough, M., & Olson, J.: 2007, ‘Building a Foundation for the Use of Historical Narratives’, Science & Education 16(3–5): 313–334. Moon, B.: 1961, October, ‘The Nuclear Death of a Nuclear Scientist’, Maclean’s Magazine. Norris, S., Guilbert, M., Smith, M., Shahram, H. & Phillips, L.: 2005, ‘A Theoretical Framework for Narrative Explanation in Science’, Science Education 89(4): 535–554. Shrigley, R.L., & Koballa, T.R.: 1989, ‘Anecdotes: What Research Suggests about Their Use in the Science Classroom’, School Science and Mathematics 89(4): 293–298. Solomon, J., Duveen, J., Scot, L., & McCarthy, S.: 1992, ‘Teaching about the nature of science through history: Action research in the classroom’, Journal of Research in Science Teaching 29(4): 409–421. Stinner, A.: 1995, ‘Contextual Settings, Science Stories, and Large Context Problems: Toward a More Humanistic Science Education’, Science Education 79(5): 555–581. Stinner, A, McMillan, B.A., Metz, D., Jilek, J.M. & Klassen, S.: 2003, ‘The Renewal of Case Studies in Science Education’, Science & Education 12(7): 617–643. Toolan, M.J.: 1988, Narative: A critical linguistic introduction, Routledge, London. Wandersee, J.H.: 1990, ‘On the value and use of the history of science in teaching today's science: Constructing historical vignettes’, in D. E. Herget (ed.), More history and philosophy of science in science teaching, Florida State University, Tallahassee, FL., pp.278–283. Zeilig, M.: 1995, ‘Dr. Louis Slotin and “The Invisible Killer” ’, The Beaver: Exploring Canada’s History 75(4): 20– 26.

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

Appendix I: Story “The Dragon’s Revenge” 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

It was a typically sunny spring morning in 1946 as Louis Slotin hurried towards the institutionally-drab laboratory building. Lou chuckled wryly to himself. Life had turned out rather differently for him, having grown up in Winnipeg, graduating from the University of Manitoba as a chemist, and now known as a physicist working in Los Alamos on the A– bomb! A sobering thought crossed his mind, like it did frequently. Was he right in his belief that the restoration of world peace had depended on Manhattan project research? But his thoughts were interrupted as he strode up to the top–secret Pajarito lab housing the bomb criticality tests. He recalled crossing paths with Nobel Laureate Enrico Fermi here a while back. What Professor Fermi said to him then kept coming back to his mind like a recording—“You won't last a year if you keep doing that experiment.” “That Experiment” was testing the assembly of the plutonium bomb core with its beryllium shell. The procedure had been dubbed, ominously, as “tickling the dragon's tail”. The day passed quickly for Lou as it will for someone obsessed with his work. It was now past 3:00 in the afternoon and Lou was ready to demonstrate the testing of the bomb core to Alvin Graves, who was to take his place on the project. Six observers were looking on from a distance. Grabbing the hemispherical beryllium shell by the thumb–hole on the top, Lou carefully lowered the top half onto the bottom half covering the plutonium core, holding them apart with a screwdriver. Lou had mastered the technique of making the shell come as close to the core as possible without becoming super critical and emitting a lethal dose of radiation. It was necessary to test the bomb cores in this way to insure that they functioned correctly. As he rotated the screwdriver slightly this way and that, the shell moved up and down. From across the room the familiar crunching sound of the Geiger counters swelled and ebbed. Then it happened. No one knows what broke Lou's concentration, but something did. The screwdriver slipped and clattered to the floor and a blue flash filled the room as the top shell touched the bottom, releasing an unimaginable torrent of neutrons and gamma-rays. Time seemed to come to a screeching halt. Almost instinctively, Lou, using his hands, grabbed the lethal assembly and flipped the bomb–shell off the table and onto the floor with what seemed a deafening crash. “Well, that does it—I'm dead!” Lou heard himself say. “Tell me this is a nightmare,” he thought. But it wasn’t. Dr. Louis Slotin had been exposed to 21 Sieverts of radiation in an instant as the bomb became supercritical when the top half came completely in contact with the bottom. His quick reaction may have saved the lives of everyone else in the room that day, May 21, 1946. However, Dr. Slotin died an excruciating death from extreme radiation exposure on May 30. Slotin's close friend, Dr. Philip Morrison, sat with him night and day as his organs shut down one by one and gangrene set in. Everyone considered Dr. Slotin a hero. The local newspaper in Los Alamos published a tribute written by associate editor Thomas P. Ashlock, which began, May God receive you, great–souled scientist! While you were with us, even strangers knew The breadth and lofty stature of your mind ‘Twas only in the crucible of death We saw at last your noble heart revealed. What a tragedy! If the science of radiation protection had been sufficiently developed by 1946, then this story would likely never have taken place.

18

THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY

Appendix II: Student Assignment Did you read the laboratory outline for this lab before coming?

 No

 Yes, I skimmed it

 Yes, I read it completely

Do you already know about the Louis Slotin story?

 No

 Yes, but few details  Yes, I’m familiar with it

Listen to the story of Louis Slotin: The Dragon’s Revenge

Observations Write down three questions that have come to your mind by the time the story ends. 1. 2. 3. What would you say is the main point being made in the story “The Dragon’s Revenge”?

19