"The" Scientific Method? Not So.

"The" scientific method? What do theoretical physics, biochemistry, geology, and sociology share? Is this it?

1.Define the question
2.Gather information and resources (observe)
3.Form hypothesis
4.Perform experiment and collect data
5.Analyze data
6.Interpret data and draw conclusions that serve as a starting point for new hypothesis
7.Publish results
8.Retest (frequently done by other scientists) (from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scientific_method.)

Comparing methods as diverse as extrapolations from observations in geology, mathematical modelling in theoretical physics, genetic testing, instrument-guided observation, personal experience, and statistical analysis of, say, questionnaire data, it's fair to say that there is no such thing as "the" scientific method. There are, really, roughly as many methods as there are sciences.

More important, perhaps, is the observation that scientific methods are not a beginning to a creative process but a conclusion that, if wrongly conceived or taught, overlooks the actual creative work of a scientist.

Creativity in science can enter the process at any one of the eight seemingly algorithmic steps quoted above. At any moment, novelty in data, creative insight, unanticipated results, a new concept, a new formulation, a chance conversation or event, can provide an inroad to new science.

The danger in teaching science, especially to middle and high school students, especially by those who are not themselves scientists, is that we will teach dogma--"the" scientific method--that closes our students to the possibility of a creative encounter with science.

Student Ingenuity, Student Gullibility

Part of what I love about teaching is the endless amusement that students provide, deliberately or inadvertently.

School rules required a shirt with a collar. Robert showed up in a blue sweater with a clean white dress shirt visible at the neck. He went from class to class, polite and calm--which wasn't normal. At the end of school, as he shook my hand good-bye, he pulled on the collar and, surprise!, it came out from around his neck in one long piece. He had torn the collar off a shirt and worn it--just the collar--tucked carefully into the neck of his sweater. "What do you say about that, Mr. Sagarin?" he asked. I say, Robert, thanks for entertaining me.

Back when subway cars in New York had conductors who made actual stop announcements--not the audible but impersonal pre-recorded voices of today--at least one conductor, on arriving at Times Square, would announce, "Times Square. 42nd Street. Center of the Universe," giving that location its due in the imagination of the world. I was telling this slightly amusing story to a seventh grade class, when I saw Emma's eyes grow wider and wider. "Mr. Sagarin. Is Times Square REALLY the center of the universe?" she asked. Thanks, Emma. Now I'll never forget it.