Making molecular mechanisms familiar

A reflection on the pedagogy in Andrew Scott's 'Vital Principles'


Keith S. Taber



Andrew Scott's introduction to the chemistry of the cell is populated by a diverse cast of characters, including ballot machines, beads; blind engineers and blind-folded art-seekers; builders and breaker's yards; cars, freight vehicles and boats; Christmas shoppers, dancers; gatecrashers (despite gatekeepers) and their hosts; invaders, jack-in-the-boxes, legal summonses, light bulbs, mixing bowls, maelstroms, music tapes, office blocks; oceans, seas, rivers, streams, floods and pools; skeletons and their bones, split personalities, springs; sorting offices and postal systems; turnstiles, the water cycle, water wheels, ropes, pulleys and pumps; work benches and work stations; and weeding and seaweed forests.


Scott, A. (1988). Vital Principles. The molecular mechanisms of life. Basil Blackwell.


The task of the popular science writer

This piece is not a formal review of, what is, now, hardly a recent title 1, but a reflection on an example of a science book aimed at – not a specific level of student, but – a more general audience. The author of a 'popular science book' has both a key advantage over the author of many science textbooks, and a challenge. The advantage is being able to define your own topic – deciding what you wish to cover and in how much detail. By contrast, a textbook author, certainly at a level related to formal national examination courses, has to 'cover' the specified material. 2

However the textbook author has the advantage of being able to rely on a fairly well defined model of the expected background of the readership. 3 Students taking 'A level' physics (for example) will be expected to have already covered a certain range of material at a known level through science teaching at school ('G.C.S.E. level') and to have also demonstrated a high level of competence against the school maths curriculum. This is important because human learning is incremental, and interpretive, and so iterative: we can only take in a certain amount of new material at any time, and we make sense of it in terms of our pool of existing interpretative resources (past learning and experiences, etc.) 4


The teacher or textbook author designs their presentation of material based on a mental model of the interpretive resources (e.g., prerequisite learning, familiar cultural referents that may be useful in making analogies or similes, etc.) available to, and likely to be activated in the mind of, the learner when engaging with the presentation.


So, the science teacher works with a model of the thinking of the students, so as to pitch material in manageable learning quanta, that should relate to the prior learning. The teacher's mental model can never be perfect, and consequently teaching-learning often fails (so the good teacher becomes a 'learning doctor' diagnosing where things have gone wrong). However, at least the teacher has a solid starting point, when teaching 11 year olds, or 15 year olds, or new undergraduates, or whatever.

The textbook author shares this, but the popular science author has a potential readership of all ages and nationalities and levels of background in the subject. Presumably the reader has some level of interest in the topic (always helpful to support engagement) but beyond that…

Now the role of the science communicator – be they research scientist with a general audience, teacher, lecturer, textbook author, journalist, documentary producer, or popular science author – is to make what is currently unfamiliar to the learner into something familiar. The teacher needs to make sure the learners both have the prerequisite background for new teaching and appreciate how the new material relates to and builds upon it. Even then, they will often rely on other techniques to make the unfamiliar familiar – such as offfering analogies and similes, anthropomorphism, narratives, models, and so forth.

Read about making the unfamiliar familiar

As the popular science writer does not know about the background knowledge and understanding of her readers, and, indeed, this is likely to be extremely varied across the readership, she has to reply more on these pedagogic tactics. Or rather, a subset of these ways of making the unfamiliar familiar (as the teacher can use gestures, and computer animations, and physical models; and even get the class to role-play, say, electrons moving through a circuit, or proteins binding to enzymes). Thus, popular science books abound with analogies, similes, metaphors and the like – offering links between abstract scientific concepts, and what (the author anticipates) are phenomena or ideas familiar to readers from everyday life. In this regard, Andrew Scott does not disappoint.

Andrew Scott

Scott's website tells us he has a B.Sc. in biochemistry from Edinburgh, and a Ph.D. from Cambridge in chemistry, and that he has produced "science journalism published by academic publishers, newspapers, magazines and websites", and he is an "author of books translated into many languages". I have not read his other books (yet), but thought that Vital Principles did a good job of covering a great deal of complex material – basically biochemistry. It was fairly introductory (so I doubt much could be considered outdated) but nonetheless tackled a challenging and complex topic for someone coming to the book with limited background.

I had a few quibbles with some specific points made – mainly relating to the treatment of underpinning physics and chemistry 5 – but generally enjoyed the text and thinking about the various comparisons the author made in order to help make the unfamiliar familiar to his readership.

Metaphors for molecular mechanisms

Andrew Scott's introduction to the chemistry of the cell is populated by a diverse cast of characters, including ballot machines, beads; blind engineers and blind-folded art-seekers; builders and breaker's yards; cars, freight vehicles and boats; Christmas shoppers, dancers; gatecrashers (despite gatekeepers) and their hosts; invaders, jack-in-the-boxes, legal summonses, light bulbs, mixing bowls, maelstroms, music tapes, office blocks; oceans, seas, rivers, streams, floods and pools; skeletons and their bones, split personalities, springs; sorting offices and postal systems; turnstiles, the water cycle, water wheels, ropes, pulleys and pumps; work benches and work stations; and weeding and seaweed forests.

A wide range of metaphors are found in the book. Some are so ubiquitous in popular science discourse that it may be objected they are not really metaphors at all. So, do "… 'chloroplasts'…trap the energy of sunlight…"? This is a simplification of course (and Scott does go into some detail of the process), but does photosynthesis actually 'trap' the energy of sunlight? That is, is this just a simplification, or is it a figurative use of language? Scott is well aware that energy is not a concept it is easy to fully appreciate,

"Energy is really an idea invented by mankind, rather than some definite thing…

energy can be thought of as some sort of 'force resistance' or 'antiforce' able to counteract the pushes or pulls of the fundamental forces."

pp.25-26

But considerable ingenuity has been used in making the biochemistry of the cell familiar through metaphor:

  • lipids "have split personalities" (and they have 'heads' and 'tails' of course)
  • proteins can "float around within a sea of lipid"
  • proteins are "the molecular workers"
  • the inside of cells can be a "seething 'metabolite pool' – a maelstrom of molecules"; "a swirling sea of chemical activity…the seething sea of metabolism" (so, some appealing alliteration, as well, here 6);
  • the molecules of the cell cytosol are "dancing"
  • "...small compressed springs of ATP, can be used to jack up the chemistry of the cell…"
  • "…thermal motion turns much of the chemical microworld into a molecular mixing bowl."
  • "The membranes of living cells…form a boundary to all cells, and they cordon off specific regions within a cell into distinct organelles."
  • "Some of these gatecrashers within other cells would then have slowly evolved into the mitochondria and chloroplasts of present-day life..."
  • "the 'Ca2+ channels' to open up, this causes Ca2+ ions to flood into the cell …"
  • "the 'ribosomes' … are the chemical automatons"

The figurative flavour of the author's language is established early in the book,

"In a feat of stunning self-regulating choreography, billions of atoms, molecules and ions become a part of the frantic dance we call life. Each revolution of our planet in its stellar spotlight raises a little bit of the dust of earth into the dance of life, while a little bit of the life crumbles back into dust."

p.1

Phew – there is quite a lot going on there. Life is a dance, moreover a frantic dance, of molecular level particles: but not some random dance (though it relies on molecular motion that is said to be a random dance, p.42), rather one that is choreographed, indeed, self-choreographed. Life has agency. It is a dance that is in some sense powered by the revolution of the earth (abound its axis? around its star?) which somehow involves the cycling of dust into, and back out, of life – dust to dust. The reference to a stellar spotlight seems at odds with the Sun as symmetrically radiating in all directions out into the cosmos – the earth moves through that radiation field, but could not escape it by changing orbit. Perhaps this image is meant to refer to how the daily rotation of the earth brings its surface into, and out of, illumination.

So, there is not a spotlight in any literal, sense (the reference to "the central high energy furnace", p.39, is perhaps a more accurate metaphor), but the 'stellar spotlight' is a metaphor that offers a sense of changing illumination.

Similarly, the choreographed dance is metaphorical. Obviously molecules do not dance (a deliberate form of expression), but this gives an impression of the molecular movement within living things. That movement is not choreographed in the sense of something designed by a creator. But something has led to the apparently chaotic movements of billions of molecules and ions, of different kinds, giving rise to highly organised complex entities (organisms) emerging from all this activity. Perhaps we should think of one of those overblown, heavily populated, dance sequences in Hollywood films of the mid 20th century (e.g., as lampooned in Mel Brook's Oscar winning 'The Directors')?

So, in Vital Principles, Scott seeks to make the abstract and complex ideas of science seem familiar through metaphors that can offer a feel for the basic ideas of biochemistry. The use of metaphor in science teaching and other forms of science communication is a well established technique.

Read about science metaphors


Nature and nurture

Later in the book a reader will find that the metaphorical choreographer is natural selection, and natural selection is just the tautological selection of what can best reproduce itself in the environment in which it exists,

"…the brute and blind force of natural selection can be relied upon to weed out the harmful mutations and nurture the beneficial ones. We must always remember, however, that the criterion by which natural selection judges mutations as harmful or beneficial is simply the effect of the mutations on an organism's ability to pass its genetic information on to future generations."

p.182

So, natural selection is a force which is brute and blind (more metaphors) and is able to either weed out (yes, another metaphor) or nurture. That is an interesting choice of term given the popular (but misleadingly over-simplistic) contrast often made in everyday discourse between 'nature' (in the sense of genetics) and 'nurture' (in the sense of environmental conditions). Although natural selection is 'blind', it is said to be able to make judgements.

Form and function in biology

Here we enter one of the major issues in teaching about biology: at one level, that of a naturalistic explanation 7, there is no purpose in life: and anatomical structures, biochemical processes, even instinctive behaviours, have no purpose – they just are; and because they were components of complexes of features that were replicated, they have survived (and have 'survival value').

Yet, it seems so obvious that legs are for walking, eyes are for seeing, and the heart's function is to pump blood around the body. A purist would deny each of these (strictly these suggestions are teleological) and replace each simple statement with a formally worded paragraph completely excluding any reference to, or hint at, purpose.

So, although it seems quite natural to write

"…hormones… are released from one cell to influence the activity of other cells;

…neurotransmitters…are released from nerve cells to transmit a nerve impulse…"

pp.120-121

we might ask: is this misleading?

One could argue that in this area of science we are working with a model which is founded on the theory of natural selection and which posits the evolved features of anatomy, physiology, biochemistry,etc., that increase fitness are analogous to designed and purposeful features that support the project of the continuation of life.

Something that scientists are very quick to deny (that organisms have been designed with purposes in mind) is nevertheless the basis of a useful analogy (i.e., we can consider the organism as if a kind of designed system that has coordinated component parts that each have roles in maintaining the 'living' status of the overall system). We then get the economy of language where

  • hormones and neurotransmitters are released for 'this' purpose, to carry out 'that' function;

being selected (!) over

  • more abstract and complex descriptions of how certain patterns of activity are retained because they are indirectly selected for along with the wider system they are embedded in.

Do scientists sometimes forget they are working with a model or analogy here? I expect so. Do learners appreciate that the 'functions' of organs and molecules in the living thing are only figurative in this sense? Perhaps, sometimes, but – surely -more often, not; and this probably both contributes to, and is encouraged by, the known learning demand of appreciating the "blind [nature of the] force of natural selection".

Scott refers to proteins having a particular task (language which suggests purpose and perhaps design) whilst being clear he is only referring to the outcomes of physical interactions,

"A protein folds up into a conformation which is determined by its amino acid sequence, and which presents to the environment around it a chemical surface which allows the protein to perform its particular chemical task; and the folding and the performance of the task (and, indeed, the creation of the protein in the first place) all proceed automatically governed only by physical laws and forces of nature – particularly the electromagnetic force."

pp.54-55

In practice, biologists and medical scientists – and indeed the rest of us – find it much more convenient to understand organisms in terms of form and function. That is fine if you always keep in mind that natural selection only judges mutations metaphorically. Natural selection is not the kind of entity which can make a judgement, but it is a process that we can conceptualise as if it makes judgements.

This is a difficult balancing act:

"Nature is a blind but a supremely effective engineer. Through the agency of undirected mutation she continually adjusts the structure and the mechanisms of the living things on earth."

p.182

Nature is here treated as if a person: she is an engineer tinkering with her mechanisms. Personification of nature is a long-standing trope, once common among philosophers and not always eschewed by scientists in their writings (e.g., Nicolaus Copernicus, Henri Poincaré, Michael Faraday, even Albert Einstein have personified Nature) – and she is always female.

But usually a competent engineer tinkers according to a plan, or at least with a purpose in mind, whereas nature's tinkering is here described as 'undirected' – it is like she arbitrarily changes the size of a gear or modifies the steam pressure in a cylinder or changes the number of wheels on the locomotive, and then tinkers some more with those that stay on the tracks and manage to keep moving.

Read about personification in science

"All proteins begin life…"

Anthropomorphism: living metaphors

Personification (by referring to her, she, etc.) is not needed to imply entities have some human traits. Indeed, a very common pedagogic technique used when explaining science, anthropomorphism, is to use a kind of metaphorical language which treats inanimate objects or non-human beings as if they are people – as if they can feel, and think, and plan, and desire; and so forth.

  • "Once an enzyme had met and captured the required starting materials …"
  • "Some [non-protein metabolites] act as 'coenzymes', which becomes bound to enzymes and help them to perform their catalytic tasks."
  • "Cells, which had previously been aggressively independent individualists, discovered the advantages of communal life."
  • "descendants of cells which took up residence within other cells and then became so dependent on their hosts, and also so useful to them, that neither hosts nor gatecrashers could afford to live apart."

So, for example, plants are living beings, but do not have a central nervous system and do not experience and reflect on life as people do: so, they do not wish for things,

"…the oxidation of sugars, is also performed by plants when they wish to convert some of their energy stores (largely held in the form of complex carbohydrates) back into ATP."

p.144

Again, such phrasing offers economy of language. Plants do not wish, but any technically correct statement would likely be more complicated and so, arguably, more difficult to appreciate.

Dead metaphors

A key issue in discussing metaphors is that in many cases different readers are likely to disagree over whether a term is indeed being used figuratively or literally. Language is fluid (metaphorically speaking), and a major way language grows is where the need for new terms (to denote newly invented artefacts or newly discovered phenomena) is satisfied by offering an existing term as a metaphor. Often, in time the metaphor becomes adopted as standard usage – so, no longer a metaphor. These examples are sometimes called dead metaphors (or clichéd metaphors). So, for example, at some point, many decades ago, astronomers started to talk of the 'life cycle' of stars which have a moment of 'birth' and eventual 'death'. These metaphors have become so established they are now treated as formal terms in the language of the discipline, regularly used in academic papers as well as more general discourse (see 'The passing of stars: Birth, death, and afterlife in the universe').

So, when Scott writes of "how some micro-organism, say a virus, invades the body…"(p.109) it is very likely most readers will not notice 'invade' as being a metaphor, as this usage is widely used and so probably familiar. The (former?) metaphor is extended to describe selective immune components "binding to foreign invaders [that] can act as a very effective means of defence against disease." These terms are very widely used in discussing infections: though of course there are substantive differences, as well as similarities, with when a country defends itself against actual foreign invaders.

I suspect that considering the lipid bilayer to be "a stable sandwich of two layers of lipid molecules" (p.115) is for many, a dead metaphor. The reference to a DNA double-helix leading to"two daughter double-helices" reflects how atomic nuclei and cells are said to give rise to 'daughters' on fission: again terminology that has become standard in the field.

Sharing a psuedo-explanation for covalent bonding

One phrase that seems to have become a dead metaphor is the notion of electrons being 'shared' in molecules, which "…are formed when their constituent atoms come together to leave at least some of their electrons shared between them" (pp.28-29). Whilst this seems harmless as a description of the structure, it is also used as an explanation of the bonding:

"'hydrogen molecules and water molecules (and all other molecules) are held together by virtue of the fact that electrons are shared between the individual atoms involved, a similarity recognised by saying that in such cases the atoms are held together by 'covalent' bonds.

p.29

But we might ask: How does 'sharing' a pair of electrons explain the molecule being 'held together'? Perhaps a couple with a strained relationship might be held together by sharing a house; or two schools in a confederation by sharing a playing field; or two scuba divers might be held together if the breathing equipment of one had failed so that they only had one functioning oxygen cylinder shared between them?

In these examples, there is of course a sense of ownership involved. Atoms do not 'own' 'their' electrons: the only bonds are electromagnetic; not legal or moral. This may seem so obvious it does not deserve noting: but some learners do come to think that the electrons are owned by specific atoms, and therefore can be given, borrowed, stolen, and so forth, but should ultimately return to their 'own' atom! So, if we acknowledge that there is no ownership of electrons, then what does it even mean for atoms to 'share' them?

So, why would two atoms, each with an electron, become bound by pooling these resources? (Would sharing two houses keep our couple with a strained relationship together; or just offer them a ready way to separate?) The metaphor does not seem to help us understand, but the notion of a covalent bond as a shared electron pair is so well-established that the description commonly slips into an explanation without the explainer noticing it is only a pseudo-explanation (a statement that has the form of an explanation but does not explain anything, e.g., "a covalent bond holds two atoms together because they share a paired of electrons").

Read about types of pseudo-explanation

Elsewhere in the book Scott does explain (if still anthropomorphically) that viable reactions occur because:

"In the new configuration, in other words, the electromagnetic forces of attraction and repulsion between all the electrons and nuclei involved might be more fully satisfied, or less 'strained' than they were before the reaction took place."

p.36

How are metaphors interpreted?

The question that always comes to my mind when I see metaphorical language used in science communication, is how is this understood by the audience? Where I am reading about science that I basically understand reasonably well (and I was a science teacher for many years, so I suspect I cannot be seen a typical reader of such a book) I do reflect on the metaphors and what they are meant to convey. But that means I am often using the familiar science to think about the metaphor, whereas the purpose of the metaphor is to help someone who does not already know the science get a take on it. This leads me to two questions:

  • to what extent does the metaphor give the reader a sense of understanding the science?
  • to what extent does the metaphor support the reader in acquiring an understanding that matches the scientific account?

These are genuine questions about the (subjective and objective) effectiveness of such devices for making the science familiar. There is an interesting potential research programme there.


Shifting to similes

The difference between metaphors and similes is how they are phrased. Both make a comparison between what is being explained/discussed and something assumed to be more familiar. A metaphor describes the target notion as being the comparison (nature is an engineer), but the listener/reader is expected to realise this is meant figuratively, as a comparison. A simile makes the comparison explicit. The comparison is marked – often by the use of 'as' or 'like' as when physicist Max Planck suggested that the law of conservation of energy was "like a sacred commandment".

Read about examples of similes in science

So, when Scott refers to how proteins "act as freight vehicles transporting various chemicals around the body", and "as chemical messages which are sent from one cell to another" (p.10), these are similes.

Springs are used as similes for the interactions between molecules or ions in solids or the bonds within molecules

"…even in solids the constituent molecules and atoms and ions are constantly jostling against one another and often vibrating internally like tiny sub-microscopic springs. All chemical bonds behave a bit like tiny springs, constantly being stretched and compressed as the chemicals they are part of are jostled about by the motion of the other chemicals all around them."

p.39

[Actually the bonds in molecules or crystals are behaving like springs because of the inherent energy of the molecule or lattice: the 'jostling' can transfer energy between molecules/ions and 'springs' so that the patterns of "being stretched and compressed" change, but it is always there. The average amount of 'jostling' depends on the temperature of the material. 5]

In the way the word is usually used in English, jostling is actually due to the deliberate actions of agents – pushing through a crowd for example, so strictly jostling here can be seen as an anthropomorphic metaphor, but the intended meanings seems very clear – so, I suspect many readers will not even have noticed this was another use of figurative language.


One way of marking phrases meant as similes is putting then in inverted commas, so-called scare-quotes, as in

"A rather simple chemical 'cap', for example, is added to the start of the RNA, while a long 'tail' consisting of many copies of the nucleotide A is added to its end…The most significant modifications to the precursor, however, involve the removal of specific portions from the interior [sic] of the RNA molecule, and the joining together of the remaining portions into mature mRNA… This 'splicing' process …"

p.79

Here we have something akin to a cap, and something akin to a tail. As noted above, a difficulty in labelling terms as metaphors or similes is that language is not static, but constantly changing. In science we often see terms borrowed metaphorically from everyday life to label a technical process as being somewhat like something familiar – only for the term to become adopted within the field as a technical term. The adopted terms become literal, with a related, but somewhat different – and usually more precise – meaning in scientific discourse. (This can be the basis of one class of learning impediments as students may not realise the familiar term has specials affordances or restrictions in its technical context.)

Here 'splicing' is marked as a simile – there is a process seen as somewhat similar to how, for example, radio programmes and musical recordings used to be edited by the cutting and resequencing strips of magnetic tape. Yet gene splicing is now widely accepted as a literal use of splicing, rather than being considered figurative. [I suspect a young person who was told about, for example, the Beatles experiments with tape splicing might guess the term is used because the process is like gene splicing!]

The following quote marks a number of similes by placing them within inverted commas:

"The interior of the cell is criss-crossed by a network of structural proteins which is known as the cytoskeleton. The long protein 'bones' of this skeleton are formed by the spontaneous aggregation of many individual globular protein molecules…

Cells use many strong chemical 'pillars' and 'beams' and 'glues' and 'cements', both inside them, to hold the internal structure of cells together, and outside of them, to hold different cells together; but the electromagnetic force is the fundamental 'glue' upon which they all depend."

pp.995-6

Again the phrasing here suggests something being deliberately undertaken towards some end by an active agent (teleology): the cell uses these construction materials for a purpose.

There are various other similes offered – some marked with inverted commas, some with explicit references to being comparisons ('kind of', 'act as', 'sort of', etc.)

  • "…amino acids comprise the chemical 'alphabet' from which the story of protein-based life (i.e., all life on earth) is constructed"
  • "the endoplasmic reticulum is a kind of molecular 'sorting office'"
    • endosomes and lysomes "form a kind of intracellular digestive system and 'breaker's yard'."
    • "Proteins can act as gatekeepers of the cell…"
    • "Proteins can…act as chemical controllers"
    • proteins "can act as defensive weapons"
    • "The proteins which perform these feats are not gates, but 'pumps'..."
    • "Proteins could be described as the molecular workers which actually construct and maintain all cells…"
    • "…proteins are the molecular 'labourers' of life, while genes are the molecular 'manuals' which store the information needed to make new generations of protein labourers"
    • "Membrane proteins often float around within a sea of lipid (although they can also be 'held at anchor' in the one spot if required)"
    • "A ribosome travels down its attached mRNA, a bit like a bead running down a thread (or sometimes like a thread being pulled through a bead)..."
    • "…the 'ribosomes' – molecular 'work-benches' composed of protein and RNA…"
    • Nucleic acids "act as genetic moulds"
    • "the high energy structure of ATP really is very similar to the high energy state of a compressed spring"
    • "Some vital non-protein metabolites act as a sort of 'energy currency'…"

Advancing to analogies

Metaphors and similes point out a comparison, without detailing the nature and limits of that comparison. A key feature of an analogy is there is a 'structural mapping': that is that two systems can be represented as having analogous structural features. In practice, the use of analogy goes beyond suggesting there is a comparison, to specifying, at least to some degree, how the analogy maps onto the target.

Read about examples of analogies in science

Scott employs a number of analogies for readers. He develops the static image of the cell skeleton (met above) with its 'bones', 'pillars' and 'beams' into a dynamic scenario:

"Structural proteins are often referred to as the molecular scaffolding of life, and the analogy is quite apt since so many structural proteins are long fibres or rods; but we think of scaffolding as a static, unchanging, framework. Imagine, however, a structure built of scaffolding in which some of the scaffolding rods were able to slide past one another and then hold the whole framework in new positions."

p.96

Many good metaphors/similes may be based upon comparisons of this type, but they do not become analogies until this is set out, rather than being left to the listener/reader to deduce. For this reason, analogies are better tools to use in teaching than similes as they do not rely on the learners inferring (guessing?) what the points of comparison are intended to be. 8

So, Scott offers the simile of molecules released as 'messengers', but then locates this in the analogy of the postal system, before using another analogy to specify the kind of message being communicated,

"Cells achieve such chemical communication in various ways, but the most vital way is by releasing chemical 'messenger' molecules (the biological equivalent of the postal system, if you like analogies), and many of these messengers are either proteins, or small fragments of proteins."

"A biological messenger molecular is more like a legal summons than a friendly note or some junk mail advertisement – it commands the target cell to react in a precise way to the arrival of the message."

pp.102-103


In the following analogy the mapping is very clear:

"One gene occupies one region of a chromosome containing many genes, much like one song occupies one region of a music tape containing many songs overall."

p.7

Song on music tape is to gene on chromosome


For an analogy to be explicit the mapping between target and analogue must be clear, as here, where Scott spells out how workstations on a production line map onto enzymes,

"The production line analogy is a very good one. The individual 'work stations' are the enzymes, and at these molecular work stations various chemical components are brought together and fashioned into some new component of product. The product of one enzyme can then pass down the line, to become the substrate of the next enzyme, and so on until the pathway is complete."

p.147

Some analogies offer a fairly basic mapping between relatively simple systems:

"If there is lots of A around in the cell, for example, then the rate at which A tends to meet up with enzyme EAB will obviously increase (just as an increase in the number of people you happen to know entering a fairground will increase the chances of you meeting up with someone you know)."

p.150
fairgroundcell
people at a fairgroundmolecules in the cytosol
you at the fairgrounda specific enzyme in the cytosol
people entering the fairground that know you personallymolecules of a type that binds to the specific enzyme
chance of you meeting someone you knowrate of collision between enzyme and the specific molecules it binds to

An analogy with a vote counting machine


Scott compares a nerve cell, the activity of each of which is influenced by a large number of 'input' signals, to a ballot counting machine,

"…most nerve cells receive inputs, in the form of neurotransmitters, from many different cells, so the 'decision' about whether or not the cell should fire depends on the net effect of all the different inputs, some of which will be excitatory, and some inhibitory, with the pattern of input perhaps varying all the time.

So any single nerve cells acts like an [sic] tiny automatic ballot machine, assessing the number of 'yes' and 'no' votes entering it at any one time and either firing or not firing depending on which type of vote predominates at any one time.

…Nerve cells receive electrochemical signals from other cells, and each signal represents a 'yes' or a 'no' vote in an election to determine whether the cell should fire."

pp.166-8


Turnstiles in Alewife station, image from Wikimedia Commons (GNU Free Documentation License)

Scott uses the image of a turnstile, a device that blocks entry unless triggered by a coin or ticket, and which automatically locks once a person has passed through, as a familiar analogue for an ion channel into a cell. The mapping is not spelt out in detail, but should be clear to anyone familiar with turnstiles of this kind,

"When it is sitting in a polarised membrane, this protein is in a conformational state in which it is unable to allow any ions to pass through the cell. When the membrane around it becomes depolarised, however, the protein undergoes a conformational change which causes it briefly to form a channel through which Na+ ions can pass. The channel only remains open for a short time, however, since the conformational upheaval [sic] of the protein continues until it adopts a new conformation in which the passage of Na+ ions is once again blocked. The overall effect of this conformational change is a bit like the operation of a turnstile – it moves from one conformation which prevents anything from passing, into a new conformation which also prevents anything from passing, but in the process of changing from one conformation to another there is a brief period during which a channel allowing passage through is opened up."

p.163

An analogy between a sodium ion channel in a membrane, and a turnstile of the kind sometimes used to give entry to a sporting ground or transport system.


Whether there is an absolute distinction between metaphors/similes and analogies in practice can be debated. So, for example, Scott goes beyond simply suggesting that the nanoscale of molecules is like a mixing bowl, but does not offer a simple mapping between systems,

"Thermal motion turns much of the chemical microworld into a 'molecular mixing bowl' … So the solution of the cytosol acts as an all pervading chemical sea in which many of the chemicals of life are mixed together by random thermal motion as if in a molecular mixing bowl."

p.40

We could see the ocean as a simile (marked by 'acts as an') and the mixing bowl as another (marked by the scare quotes, and then 'as if in a') – but there is a partial mapping with a macroscopic mixing bowl: we are told (i) what is mixed, and (ii) the agent that mixes at the molecular scale, but it is assumed that we already know these should map to (i) the ingredients of a dish being mixed by (ii) a cook.

In places, then, Scott seems to rely on his readers to map features of analogies themselves. For example, in the following (where "The chaos of a large department store on Christmas Eve, or during the January sales, is a reasonable analogy [for the cell, as] there is order and logic within a scene of frantic and often seemingly chaotic activity"), the general point about scale was well made, but (for this reader, at least) the precise mapping remained obscure,

"The frantic chaos of chemistry proceeds too fast and too remotely for us to follow it without great difficulty. We are in the position of airborne observers who see trainloads of shoppers flowing into the city on Christmas Eve morning, and trainloads of the same shoppers laden with purchases flowing back to the suburbs in the evening. From the air we can see the overall effect of suburban shoppers 'reacting' with the shops full of goods, but we remain unaware of the hidden random chaos which allows the reaction to proceed!

p.44

Perhaps other readers immediately see this, but I am not sure what the shoppers are: molecules? but then they are unchanged by reactions? As they flow together into and out of the city (cell?) they could be ions in a nerve cell, but then what are the purchases they carry away (and have they paid for them in energy)? What are the trains? (ion channels? ribosomes?) What are the shops (mitochondria)? Perhaps I am trying to over-interpret an image that is not meant to be specific – but elsewhere Scott seems to have designed his analogies carefully to have specific mappings.


A reference to "a cofactor called 'heme' which actually acts as the chemical vessel on which the oxygen is carried"seems, by itself to be a metaphor, but when read in the context of text that precedes it, seems part of a more developed analogy:

"The most obvious system of bulk transport in the human body is the blood, which flows through our arteries, capillaries and veins like a 'river of life', bringing chemical raw materials (oxygen, water and food) to every cell of the body, and taking waste products away. Within this bulk system, however, the actual job of transporting specific substances is sometimes performed by small 'freighters' such as individual blood cells and even individual protein molecules."

p.98

The precise form of transport acting as an analogue shifts when the discussion shifts from the transport process itself to what I might refer to as the loading and unloading of the 'freighter',

"So the binding of one oxygen molecule to one subunit of an empty [sic] haemoglobin complex greatly encourages the binding of oxygen to the other three available sites. This makes the multi-subunit haemoglobin complex a bit like a four-seater car in which the first person into the car unlocks the door for another three passengers. The crucial step in loading the car is getting the first person in, after which the first person helps all the others to climb aboard.

An opposite effect occurs when loaded haemoglobin reaches a tissue in need of oxygen: the loss of one oxygen molecule from one subunit causes a conformational change in the complex which allows the other three oxygen molecules to be off-loaded much more readily. A suitable analogy to this would be an unstable four-man boat, since, if one man jumps overboard, he may rock the boat sufficiently to make the other three fall out!"

pp.100-101

Why is a child like an office block?

Child is to zygote as office building is to light bulb? (Images from Pixabay)


Scott compares the development of the child from a single cell with a self-assembling office block,

"When a human egg cell begins to divide and create a newborn child it achieves an enlargement equivalent to a lightbulb giving rise to a massive office block 250 metres high; which then, over the next 15 years or so, stretches and widens to an astounding 1,000 metres in height and nearly 250 metres across. In the 'office block' that is you all the plumbing, heating, lighting, telecommunication and ventilation systems were assembled automatically and work together smoothly to sustain a bewildering diversity of very different 'suites' and 'offices'.

p.4

Scott later revisits his office analogy, though now the building is not the growing organism, but just a single cell (one of the 'offices' from the earlier analogy?),

"Cells are not stable and unchanging structures like office blocks. Instead, most parts of a cell are in a state of continual demolition and renewal, known as 'metabolic turnover'. Imagine an office block in which a large team of builders is constantly moving through, knocking down existing walls and using the bricks to build up new ones; ripping apart the furniture and then reassembling it into new forms; peeling off wallpaper, then using it as the raw material to produce new paper which is then put back up again; and all the time some new materials are arriving through the door, to assist in the continual rebuilding, while some of the older materials are constantly being discarded out of the windows. The living cells is in a very similar siltation, with teams of enzymes constantly ripping down the structure of the cell while other teams of enzymes build it up.

Life in the office block imagined earlier might sometimes be a little difficult and chaotic, but at least when change was required it could be brought about quickly, since the necessary tradesmen and supplies would always be on hand; and any mistakes made during the building process could always quickly be put right. Metabolic turnover bestows similar advantages on the living cell."

pp.118-119

The reference to 'teams' of enzymes is another subtle anthropomorphic metaphor. Those in a team are conscious of team membership and coordinate their activities towards a common goal – or at least that is the ideal. Enzymes may seem to be working together, but that is a just a slant we put on processes. Presumably the two sets of teams of enzymes (a catabolic set and an anabolic set) map onto the large team of builders – albeit the enzymes seem to be organised into more specialised working teams than the builders.


Some of Scott's prose, then, combines different ways of making the science familiar, as when he tells the reader

"Water, in other words, is the solvent of life, meaning that it is the liquid which permeates into all the nooks and crannies of the cell and in which all the chemical reactions of life take place. There are various small regions of the cell from which water is excluded, especially within the interior of some large molecules; but the chemistry of life largely proceeds in an ocean of water. It is not a clear ocean – thousands of different types of chemical are dissolved in it, and it is criss-crossed by a dense tangle of giant molecules which form 'fibres' or 'cables' or 'scaffolding' throughout the cell. Swimming through the cell 'cytosol' (the internal 'fluid' of the cell) would be like struggling through a dense underwater forest of seaweed, or through a thick paste or jelly, rather than darting though clear ocean."

p.6

On the molecular level, the water inside of a cell is "an ocean" (a metaphor), which can access the "nooks and crannies of the cell" (a metaphor). The ocean is interrupted by "giant molecules which form 'fibres' or 'cables' or 'scaffolding'…" These terms seem to be used as similes, marked by the use of inverted commas, although Scott also uses this convention to introduce new terms – 'cytosol' is not a simile. Presumably 'fluid' (marked by inverted commas) is being used as a simile as the cytosol is not a pure liquid, but a complex solution.

[The quote implies that "It is not a clear ocean – [as/because] thousands of different types of chemical are dissolved in it", but dissolved solutes would not stop a solution being clear: the actual ocean is very salty, with many different types of ions dissolved in it, but can be clear. Lack of transparency would be due to material suspended, but not actually dissolved, in the water.]

If this is a metaphorical ocean, it is an ocean that would be difficult to swim in, as the tangle of giant molecules is analogous to "a dense underwater forest of seaweed" so it would be like swimming trough "a thick paste or jelly".


The water cycle of life

Perhaps the pièce de résistance in terms of an analogy adopted in the book was the use of a comparison between metabolism and the water cycle,

"I have drawn an analogy between the creation of living things containing many high energy chemicals (i.e. those in which the electromagnetic force is resisted much more than it could be), and the raising water vapour from the sea into the sky. We can continue with this analogy as we look deeper into the energetics of the living cell."

pp.126-127

Scott does indeed develop the analogy, as can be seen from the quotations parsed into the table below:

target conceptanalogue
"…thermodynamic law determines that the energy of the sun must disperse out to the earth and raise the energy level of the things that are found there.
The raw materials of life are some of the things that are found there, and the energy from the sun raises these raw materials up into the higher energy levels associated with organised life,
just as
it raises water up into the sky and deposits some of it in tidy little mountain pools."
"…I have drawn an analogy between
the creation of living things containing many high energy chemicals…
and
the raising water vapour from the sea into the sky."
"The raising of water to the skies is not an isolated and irreversible event, but part of a cycle in which the water eventually loses the energy gained from the sun and returns to the earth as rain, only to absorb some more energy and be lifted up once more, and so on…
Similarly, of course,
the creation of a living being such as yourself is not an isolated and irreversible event, but is part of a cycle of life and death, of growth and decay…"
"If we look inside the chemical mechanisms of the living cell we find that they can harness the energy available in the environment, most of which ultimately comes from the sun,
in a manner similar to
the [person] who has built a water wheel, a pump, a reservoir and many secondary wheels used to power many different tasks…."
"In living things
the roles of
the water-wheels and pumps
are played by
various systems of proteins and membranes,
whilst
the the most common immediate energy reservoir is a chemical known as 'adenosine triphosphate' (ATP).
ATP is the cell's
equivalent of
water stored in a high level reservoir or a tank
because
it takes an energy input to make it, while energy is given out when it breaks apart into ADP and phosphate."
"The considerable resistance to the electromagnetic force embodied in the structure of ATP imposes a strain on the ATP molecule.
It is like
the compressed spring of a jack-in-the-box just waiting to be released;
and when it is released in some appropriate chemical reaction, then the energy level of the molecule falls as it splits up into ADP and phosphate.
Just as the force of water falling from a high gravitational energy level to a lower one can be harnessed to make various energy-requiring processes proceed,
so
the force of an ATP molecule falling from a high chemical energy level to a lower one can be harnessed to make a wide variety of energy-requiring chemical reactions proceed…"
"The ATP manufacturing enzyme
is closely analogous to
a water-wheel,
for
as the hydrogen ions are allowed to flow back through the enzyme,
just as
water flows over a water-wheel,
so
the ensuing chemical reactions 'lift up' the precursors of ATP into their high energy ATP state."
"The principle of such energy coupling
can be understood by the simple analogy of
the water flowing downhill over a water-wheel, and thus serving to turn the wheel and, for example, raise some weight from the ground using a pulley."
"These proteins are the molecular machines
which take the place of
the water-wheels and ropes and pulleys which can couple the falling of water down a mountainside to the lifting of some weight beside the stream"
An extended analogy between two systems

Whether this should be seen as one extended analogy, or more strictly as several, somewhat distinct but related, comparisons is moot, as becomes clear when trying to map out the different features. My best attempt involved some duplication and ambiguity. (Hint to all designers of teaching analogies – map them out as parallel concept maps to help you visualise and keep track of the points being made.)


An analogy (or set of analogies) between biological/biochemical and physical systems


Visualisation – mental simulation

Teaching analogies usually link to what is expected to be (for the members of the audience) a familiar situation, experience, or phenomenon. Readers will be familiar with an office block, or swimming in water.

However, it is also possible for the science communicator to set up an analogy based on a scenario which is unlikely to be familiar, but which can be readily imagined by the reader.

"To appreciate the power of random motion to bring about seemingly purposeful change, imagine a room full of blindfolded people all instructed to walk about at random 'bouncing' off the walls and one another. Imagine also that they have been told to stop moving only when they bump into a small picture hanging from a wall. Finally, suppose that all the pictures are hung in a second room, linked to the room full of people by a narrow open doorway…"

p.40

Few if any readers will have been familiar with this scenario, but the components – groups of people in rooms, blindfolding, adjoining rooms, pictures hung on walls – are all familiar and there is nothing inherently problematic about the scenario even it does not seem very likely. So, here the reader has to build up the analogy from a number of familiar but distinct images.

So, we might consider this a kind of 'gedankenexperiment' or thought experiment – the reader is prompted to consider what would happen if…(and then to transfer what would happen to the target system at the molecular scale). Perhaps some readers immediately 'see' (intuit) what happens in this situation, but otherwise they can 'run' a mental simulation to find out – a technique scientists themselves have used (if probably not regarding blindfolded people in picture galleries).

Analogies only reflect some aspects of the target being compared. The features that map unproblematically are known as the positive analogy, but there is usually a negative analogy as well: features that do not match, and so which would be misleading if carried across. Realistically, the negative analogy will usually have more content than the positive analogy, although much of the negative analogy will be so obviously irrelevant that it is unlikely to confuse anyone.

So, for example, in the analogy the blindfolded people will be wearing clothes, may exchange apologies (or curses) on bumping into each other, and will likely end up bruised – and human nature being what it is, some may cheat by sneaking a look past the edge of the blindfold – but no reader is likely to think these are features that transfer across to the target! Perhaps, however, a reader might wonder if the molecules, like the blindfolded people, are drawing on a source of energy to keep up the activity, and would tire eventually?

There are some other potentially more problematic aspects of the negative analogy. In the thought experiment, the people have been given instructions about what to do, and when to stop, and are acting deliberately. These features do not transfer across, but a reader might not realise this, and could therefore understand the analogy anthropomorphically. It is in situations like this where the teacher can seek feedback on how the analogy is being interpreted (that is, use informal formative assessment), but an author of a book loses control once the manuscript is completed.

Molecular mechanisms made familiar?

There is nothing unusual in Scott's use of metaphor, simile and analogy in seeking to help readers understand abstract scientific ideas. This is an approach common to a good deal of science communication, within and beyond formal teaching. Vital Principles offers many examples, but such devices are common in books seeking to explain science.

I did raise two questions about these techniques above. How do we know if these comparisons are effective in communicating the science? To find out, we would need to talk to readers and question them about their interpretations of the text.

In formal science teaching the focus of such research would likely be the extent to which the presentation supported a learner in acquiring a canonical understanding of the science.

However, as I suggested above, if such research concerned popular science books, we might ask whether the purpose of such books is to teach science or satisfy reader interest. Thus, above, I distinguished an objective and a subjective aspect. If a reader selected a book purely for interest, and is satisfied by what they have read – it made sense to them, and satisfied their curiosity – then does it matter if they may have not understood canonically?

When I read such texts, I wonder about both how a general readership responds to the comparisons offered by authors to make the unfamiliar familiar, and what sense the readers come away with of the science. I guess to some extent popular science authors at least get some level of feedback on the former question – if readers come back for their other titles, then they must be doing something right.

I thought Scott showed a good deal of ingenuity and craft in setting out an account of a challenging and complex area of science – but I would love to know how his different readers interpreted some of his comparisons.


Work cited:

Notes:

1 I have picked up a good many 'popular science books' over the years, but quite a few of them got put on the shelves till I had time to engage with them in any depth. Other things usually got in the way – lesson/lecture preparation being the most demanding imperative for soaking up time over my 'working' life. Retirement has finally allowed me to start going through the shelves…


2 In the English context, perhaps elsewhere, the textbook is now also often expected to not only cover the right content, but follow the examination board's line on the level of treatment, even to the degree of what is acceptable phrasing. Indeed, there are now textbooks associated with the different exam board syllabuses for the 'same' qualification (e.g., A level Chemistry). This seems very unhealthy, and come the revolution


3 The model I am referring to here is the mental model in the teacher's mind of the learner or reader – the background knowledge they have available, their existing level of understanding, the sophistication of their thinking, the range of everyday references they are familiar with which might be useful in making comparisons, their concentration span for dealing with new material or complex language …

If we think of teaching-learning as a system, many system failure (failures of students to understand teaching as intended) can be considered to be due to a mismatch – the teacher's mental model is inaccurate in ways that leads to non-optimal choices in presenting material (Taber, 2001 [Download article]).

This is the basis of the 'learning doctor' approach.

Read about Science learning doctors


4 This is the crux of the so called 'constructivist' perspective on teaching science – a perspective discussed in depth elsewhere on the site.

Read about constructivism


5 There was little in the book I really would have argued with. However, there were a few questionable statements:


"Yet this apparent miracle is completed thousands of times each day throughout the world [in humans], and similar miracles create all manner of simpler creatures, from elephants and birds and flies to bacteria and flowers and mighty oaks."

p.5

This statement seemed to reflect the long-lasting notion of nature as a 'great chain of being' with humans (in the middle of the chain, below a vast range of angelic forms, but) top of the natural world. Bacteria are simpler than humans, I would acknowledge; but I am less sure about flies; even less sure about birds; and question considering trees and other flowering plants, or elephants, as (biologically) simpler than us. This seems an anthropocentric (human-centred), rather than a scientific, take.


"…the periodic table… lists the 92 naturally occurring atoms (plus a few man-made ones) which are the basic raw materials of chemistry…"

p.19

There are clearly more than 92 naturally occurring atoms in the universe. I believe we think there are 90 naturally occurring elements. That is 90 "naturally occurring [kinds of, in the specific sense of proton number] atoms".


Similarly, "a 'compound' is any chemical [sic] composed of two or more atoms chemically bonded together" (pp.29-30) would imply that H2, C60, N2, O2, F2, P4, S8, Cl2, etc are all compounds (when these are elements, not compounds).


Another slightly questionable suggestion was that

"…electrons appear to surround the atomic nucleus, but in a way that allows them to dart to and fro in a seemingly chaotic manner within a particular region of space."

p.21

The notion of electrons darting back and forth does not really reflect the scientific model, but the orbital/quantum model of the atom is subtle and difficult to explain, and was not needed at the level of the description being presented.


A more obvious error was that

"…'heat' is just a measure of the kinetic energy with which particles of matter are moving…"

p.26

In physics, the temperature of a material is considered to reflect the average kinetic energy of the particles (e.g., molecules). But heat is a distinct concept from temperature. Heat is the energy transferred between samples of matter, due to a difference in temperature. So, when Scott writes

"We all know that heat energy moves inevitably from hot places to cold places, and that it will never spontaneously move in the opposite direction."

p.32

this could be seen as a tautology: like saying that imports always come into the county rather than leave – because of how imports are defined.

Although heat and temperature are related concepts, confusing or conflating them is a common alternative conception found among students. Confusing heat with temperature is like confusing a payment into your bank account with the account balance.

Moreover, Scott uses the wrong term when writes,

"[The molecules of?] Chemicals come into contact with one another because they are all constantly moving with the energy we call heat."

p.191

This internal energy that substances have due to the inherent motion of their particles is not heat – it is present even when there is a perfectly uniform temperature throughout a sample (and so no heating going on).


Scott tells readers that "Another name for … a voltage difference is a 'potential difference'…" (p.162) but the term voltage (not voltage difference) normally refers to a potential difference, p.d.. (So, the term voltage difference implies a difference between potential differences, not a difference in potential. If you had one battery with a p.d. across its terminals of 6.0V, and another with a p.d. across its terminals of 4.5V, you could say the 'voltage difference' between the batteries was 1.5V.)


A common alternative conception which Scott seems to share, or at least is happy to reinforce, is the 'fairy tale'* of how ionic bonding results from the transfer of an electron from a metal atom to a neutral non-metal atom,

"When sodium atoms react with chlorine atoms electrons are actually transferred from one atom to the other (see figure [which shows electron transfer from one atom to another]). One electron which is relatively loosely held by a sodium atom can move over to become attached to a chlorine atom."

p.30

This describes a chemically very unlikely scenario (neither sodium nor chlorine are found in the atomic state under normal conditions on earth), and if a sodium atom were to somehow collide with a chlorine atom, the process Scott describes would be thermodynamically non-viable – it requires too much energy to remove even the outermost 'relatively loosely held' electron from the neutral sodium atom. Perhaps this is why in the school laboratory NaCl tends to be prepared from solutions that already contain the sodium ions [NaOH(aq)] and the chloride ions [HCl(aq)].

* For example, read 'A tangible user interface for teaching fairy tales about chemical bonding'

It is hard to be too critical of Scott here, as this account is found in many chemistry text books (and I have even seen it expected in public examinations) although from a scientific point of view, it is a nonsense. That many learners come to think that ionic bonding is due to (or even, 'is') a process of electron transfer is surely a pedagogic learning impediment (Taber, 1994) – a false idea that is commonly taught in school chemistry.

Read more about common misconceptions of ionic bonding


6 As the author of a paper called ' Mediating mental models of metals: acknowledging the priority of the learner's prior learning', I must confess to being somewhat partial to some decent alliteration.


7 Many scientists will believe there is a purpose underpinning the evolution of life on earth, and will see creation as the unfolding of a supernatural plan. (Some others will vehemently reject this. Others still will be agnostic.) However, natural science is concerned with providing natural explanations of the world in terms of natural mechanisms. Even if a scientist thinks things are the way they are because that is God's will, that would be inadmissible as a scientific argument, as it does not explain how things came about through natural processes.

Read more about science and religion


8 Teaching, or for that matter writing a science book, is informed by the teacher's/author's mental model of how the reader/listener will make sense of the text (see above). How they actually make sense of the text depends on the interpretive resources they have available, and bring to mind, and it is common for learners/readers not to interpret texts in the way intended – often they either do not make sense of the information, or make a different sense to that intended. A teacher who is a 'learning doctor' can seek to diagnose and treat these 'teaching-learning system failures' when they inevitably occur, but teachers can avoid a good many potential problems by being as explicit as possible and not relying on learners to spontaneously make intended associations with prior learning or cultural referents.

Read about being a learning doctor

As suggested above, authors have an even more challenging task as their readerships may have a diverse range of prior knowledge and other available interpretive resources (e.g., a popular television programme or pop star in one country may be unknown to readers from another); and the author cannot check they have been understood as intended, in the way a teacher usually can.


Is mass conserved when water gets soaked up?

Setting up a thought experiment on plant growth and mass

Keith S. Taber

Image by truthseeker08 from Pixabay 

Sophia was a participant in the Understanding Science Project.

I was aware that research has suggested that children often do not appreciate how carbon obtained from the carbon dioxide in the air is a key source of matter for plants to build up tissue, so learners may assume that the mass increase during growth of a plant will be balanced by a mass reduction in the soil it is growing in.

"The extra [mass of a growing tree] comes from the things it eats and drinks from the ground. It's just like us eating and getting larger."

Response of 15 year old student in the National science survey carried out the Assessment of Performance Unit of the Department of Education and Science, as reported in Bell and Brook, 1984: 12.

During an interview in her first year of secondary education (Y7), Sophia reported that she had been studying plants in science, and that generally a plant was "a living thing, that takes up things from soil, to help it grow" (although some grew in ponds). Sophia was therefore asked a hypothetical question about weighing a pot of soil in which a seed was planted, with the intention of seeing if she thought that the gain in mas of the seed as it grew into a mature plant would be balanced by a loss of mass from the soil.

Sophia was asked about a pot of soil (mass 400g) in which was planted a seed (1g), and which was then watered (adding 49g of water).

The scenario outlined to Sophia

There seemed two likely outcomes of this thought experiment:

  • A learner considers that the mass of pot, seed and water is collectively 450g, and assumes that as the mass of plant grows, the mass of soil decreases accordingly to conserve total mass at 450g.
  • A learner is aware that in photosynthesis carbon is 'captured' from carbon dioxide in the air, so the mass of the plant in the soil will exceed 450g once the plant grows.

Of course, a learner might also invoke other considerations – the evaporation of the water, or the acquisition of water due to condensation of water from cold air (e.g., dew); that soil is not inert, but contains micro-organisms that have their own metabolism, etc.

I first wanted to check that Sophia appreciated we had (400 + 1 + 49 =) 450g of material at the point the seed was first watered. That was indeed her initial thought, but she soon 'corrected' herself.

Any idea how much it would weigh now?

[Four] hundred and fifty, no, cause, no cause it will soak it up, wouldn't it, so just over four hundred (400).

So we had four hundred (400) grammes of soil plus pot, didn't we?

Uh hm.

…And we had one (1) gramme of erm, of plant seed. Just one little seed, one (1) gramme. And forty nine (49) grammes of water. But the water gets soaked up into the soil, does it? So when it's soaked up, you reckon it would be, what?

Erm, four hundred and twenty (420).

Sophia's best guess at the mass of the pot with soil (initially 400g) after planting a 1g seed and adding 49g of water was 420g, as the water gets soaked up.

So, Sophia suggests that although 49g of water has been added to a pot (with existing contents) of mass 401g , the new total mass will be less than 450g, as the water is soaking into the soil. Her logic seems to be that some of the water will have soaked into the soil, so it's mass is not registered by the balance.

If you poured the water in, quite quickly, not so quickly that it splashes everywhere, but quite quickly. Before it had a chance to soak up, if you could read what it said on the balance before it had a chance to soak up, do you think it would say four hundred and twenty (420) grammes straight away?

No, it would probably be just under, erm, four hundred and fifty (450).

And it would gradually drop down to about four twenty (420) say, would it?

Yeah.

Might be four hundred and fifteen? (415) Could be four hundred and twenty five (425)?

Yeah.

Not entirely sure,

No

but something like that?

Yeah.

It appears Sophia recognises that in principle there would be a potential mass of 450g when the water is added, but as it soaks up, less mass is registered.

Sophia recognises that mass is initially conserved, at least before the water soaks into the soil.

In other words Sophia in the context of water soaking into soil is not conserving mass.

This is a similar thought experiment to when students are asked about the mass registered during dissolving, where some learners suggest that as a solid dissolves the total mass of the beaker/flask plus its contents decreases, as if the mass of the dissolved material is not registered (Taber, 2002). In that case it has been mooted that ideas about buoyancy may be involved – at least when it is clear that the learners recognise the dissolved material is still present in the solution.

However, that would not explain why Sophia thinks the balance would not register the mass of water soaked into the soil in this case. Rather, it sees more a notion that 'out of sight' is out of mass. Sophia's understanding of what is happening to mass here would be considered an alternative conception or misconception, and is likely based on her intuition about the scenario (acting as a grounded learning impediment) rather than something she has been told.

Sources cited:
  • Bell, B., & Brook, A. (1984). Aspects of Secondary Students' Understanding of Plant Nutrition. Leeds: : Centre for Studies in Science and Mathematics Education, University of Leeds.
  • Taber, K. S. (2002). Chemical Misconceptions – Prevention, Diagnosis and Cure. London: Royal Society of Chemistry.

Higher resistance means less current for the same voltage – but how does that relate to the formula?

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

The higher resistance is when there is less current flowing around the circuit when you have the same voltage – but how does that relate to the formula?

Adrian was a participant in the Understanding Science Project. When I interviewed him in Y12 when he was studying Advanced level physics he told me that "We have looked at resistance and conductance and the formulas that go with them" and told me that "Resistance is current over, voltage, I think" although he did not think he could remember formulae. He thought that an ohm was the unit that resistance is measured in, which he suggested "comes from ohm's law which is the…formula that gives you resistance".

Two alternative conceptions

There were two apparent alternative conceptions there. One was that 'Resistance is current over voltage', but as Adrian believed that he was not good at remembering formulae, this would be a conception to which he did not have a high level of commitment. Indeed, on another occasion perhaps he would have offered a different relationship between R, I, and V. I felt that if Adrian had a decent feel for the concepts of electrical resistance, current and voltage then he should be able to appreciate that 'resistance is current over voltage' did not reflect the correct relationship. Adrian was not confident about formulae, but with some suitable leading questioning he might be able to think this through. I describe my attempts to offer this 'scaffolding' below.

The other alternative conception was to conflate two things that were conceptually different: the defining equation for resistance (that R=V/I, by definition so must be true) and Ohm's law that suggests for certain materials under certain conditions, V/I will be found to be constant (that is an empirical relationship that is only true in certain cases). (This is discussed in another post: When is V=IR the formula for Ohm’s law?)

So, I then proceeded to ask Adrian how he would explain resistance to a younger person, and he suggested that resistance is how much something is being slowed down or is stopped going round. After we had talked about that for a while, I brought the discussion back to the formula and the relationship between R, V and I.

Linking qualitative understanding of relating concepts and the mathematical formula

As Adrian considered resistance as slowing down or stopping current I thought he might be able to rationalise how a higher resistance would lead to less current for a particular potential difference ('voltage').

Okay. Let’s say we had, erm, two circuits, and they both have resistance and you wanted to get one amp of current to flow through the circuits, and you had a variable power supply.

Okay.

And the first circuit in order to get one (amp) of current to flow through the circuit.

Yes.

You have to adjust the power supply, until you had 10 volts.

Okay.

So it took 10 volts to get one amp to flow through the circuit. And the second (unclear) the circuit, when you got up to 10 volts, (there is) still a lot less than one amp flowing. You can turn it up to 25 volts, and only when it got to 25 volts did you get one amp to flow through the circuit.

Yes, okay.

In mathematical terms, the resistance of the first circuit is (R = V/I = 10/1 =) 10Ω, and the second is (25/1 =) 25Ω, so the second – the one that requires greater potential difference to drive the same current, has more resistance.

Do you think those two circuits would have resistance?

Erm, (pause, three seconds) Probably yeah.

This was not very convincing, as it should have been clear that as an infinite current was not produced there must be some resistance. However, I continued:

Same resistance?

No because they are not the same circuit, but – it would depend what components you had in your circuit, if you had different resistors in your circuit.

Yeah, I've got different resistors in these two circuits.

Then yes each would have a different resistance.

Can you tell me which one had the bigger resistance? Or can’t you tell me?

No, I can’t do that.

You can’t do it?

No I don’t think so. No.

Adrian's first response, that the circuits would 'probably' have resistance, seemed a little lacking in conviction. His subsequent responses suggested that although he knew there was a formula he did not seem to recognise that if different p.d.s were required to give the same current, this must suggest there was different resistance. Rather he argued from a common sense position that different circuits would be likely to have different components which would lead to them having different resistances. This was a weaker argument, as in principle two different circuits could have the same resistance.

We might say Adrian was applying a reasonable heuristic principle: a rule of thumb to use when definite information was not available: if two circuits have different components, then they likely they have different resistance. But this was not a definitive argument. Here, then, Adrian seemed to be applying general practical knowledge of circuits, but he was not displaying a qualitative feel for what resistance in a circuit was about in term of p.d. and current.

I shifted my approach from discussing different voltages needed to produce the same current, to asking about circuits where the same potential difference would lead to different current flowing:

Okay, let me, let me think of doing it a different way. For the same two circuits, erm, but you got one let's say for example it’s got 10 volts across it to get an amp to flow.

Yeah. So yes okay so the power supply is 10 volts.

Yeah. And the other one also set on 10 volts,

Okay.

but we don’t get an amp flow, we only get about point 4 [0.4] of an amp, something like that, to flow.

Yeah, yeah.

Any idea which has got the high resistance now?

The second would have the higher resistance.

Why do you say that?

Because less erm – There’s less current amps flowing around the circuit erm when you have the same voltage being put into each circuit.

Okay?

Yes.

This time Adrian adopted the kind of logic one would hope a physics student would apply. It was possible that this outcome was less about the different format of the two questions, and simply that Adrian had had time to adjust to thinking about how resistance might be linked to current and voltage. [It is also possible too much information was packed close together in the first attempt, challenging Adrian's working memory capacity, whereas the second attempt fed the information in a way Adrian could better manage.]

You seem pretty sure about that, does that make sense to you?

Yes, it makes sense when you put it like that.

Right, but when I had it the other way, the same current through both, and one required 10 volts and one required 25 volts to get the same current.

Yes.

You did not seem to be too convinced about that way of looking at it.

No. I suppose I have just thought about it more.

Having made progress with the fixed p.d. example, I set Adrian another with constant current:

Yes. So if I get you a different example like that then…let’s say we have two different circuits and they both had a tenth of an amp flowing,

Okay. Yes.

and one of them had 1.5 volt power supply

Okay yes.

and the other one had a two volt power supply

Yeah.

but they have both got point one [0.1] of an amp flowing. Which one has got the high resistance?

Currents the same, I would say they have got different voltages, yeah, so erm (pause, c.6s) probably the (pause, c.2s) the second one. Yeah.

Because?

Because there is more voltage being put in, if you like, to the circuit, and you are getting less current flowing in and therefore resistance must be more to stop the rest of that.

Yes?

I think so, yes.

Does that make sense to you?

Yeah.

So this time, having successfully thought through a constant p.d. example, Adrian successfully worked out that a circuit that needed more p.d. to drive a certain level of current had greater resistance (here 2.0/0.1 = 20Ω) than one that needed a smaller p.d. (i.e. 1.5/0.1 = 15Ω). However, his language revealed a lack of fluency in using the concepts of electricity. He referred to voltage being "put in" to the circuits rather than across them. Perhaps more significantly he referred to their being "less current flowing in" where there was the same current in both hypothetical circuits. It would have been more appropriate to think of there being proportionally less current. He also referred to the greater resistance stopping "the rest" of the current, which seemed to reflect his earlier suggestion that resistance is how much something is being slowed down or is stopped going round.

My purpose in offering Adrian hypothetical examples, each a little 'thought experiment', was to see if they allowed him to reconstruct the formula he could not confidently recall. As he had now established that

greater p.d. is needed when resistance is higher (for a fixed current)

and that

less current flows when resistance is higher (for a fixed p.d.)

he might (perhaps should) have been able to recognise that his suggestion that "resistance is current over, voltage" was inconsistent with these relationships.

Okay and how does that relate to the formula you were just telling me before?

Erm, No idea.

No idea?

Erm (pause, c.2s) once you know the resistance of a circuit you can work out, or once you know any of the, two of the components you can work out, the other one, so.

Yeah, providing you know the equation, when you know which way round the equation is.

Yes providing you can remember the equation.

So can you relate the equation to the explanations you have just given me about which would have the higher resistance?

So if something has got a higher resistance, so (pause, c.2s) so the current flowing round it would be – the resistance times the voltage (pause, c.2s) Is that right? No?

Erm, so the current is resistance time voltage? Are you sure?

No.

So Adrian suggested the formula was "the current flowing round it would be the resistance times the voltage", i.e., I = R × V (rather than I = V /R ), which did not reflect the qualitative relationships he had been telling me about. I had one more attempt at leading him through the logic that might have allowed him to deduce the general form of the formula.

Go back to thinking in terms of resistance.

Okay.

So you reckoned you can work out the resistance in terms of the current and the voltage?

Yes, I think.

Okay, now if we keep, if we keep the voltage the same and we get different currents,

Yes.

Which has, Which has got the higher resistance, the one with more current or the one with less current?

Erm (Pause, c.6s) So, so, if they keep the same voltage.

That’s the way we liked it the first time so.

Okay.

Let’s say we have got the same voltage across two circuits.

Yes.

Different amounts of current.

Yes.

Which one’s got the higher resistance? The one with more current or the one with less current?

The one with less current.

So less current means it must be more resistance?

Yes.

Ok, so if we had to have an equation R=.

Yes.

What’s it going to be, do you think?

Erm 

(pause, c.7s)

R=

(pause, c.3s)

I don’t know. It's too hard.

Whether it really was too hard for Adrian, or simply something he lacked confidence to do, or something he found too difficult being put 'on the spot' in an interview, is difficult to say. However it seems fair to suggest that the kind of shift between qualitative relationships and algebraic representation – that is ubiquitous in studying physics at this level – did not come readily to this advanced level physics student.

I had expected my use of leading (Socratic) questioning would provide a 'scaffold' to help Adrian appreciate he had misremembered "resistance is current over, voltage, I think", and was somewhat disappointed that I had failed.



Memories from a pandemic

Memories from a pandemic: On recollection, confabulation, and verisimilitude!

Keith S. Taber

I had gone into the office to collect something. (My office is in the Science Education Centre of the University's Faculty of Education, located on the site of Homerton College Cambridge.) Due to the global pandemic, and government advice (and later instructions) the office had been in lock down for some time. I'd been away for so long that aspects of the room seemed unfamiliar! The room was something of an oblong, at the back of the building near the technician's area. It was rather cluttered: that was certainly familiar, but it struck me, having been away for some weeks, just how cluttered.

I was pretty sure I needed to collect a lead, but could not see the lead I wanted. I noticed some leads with very thick insulation connecting to the computer – were these SCART leads: I did not remember these being used in the office. But that was not what I was looking for.

I've been in this office quite a few years (well over a decade now) and whilst looking around I found some things I had rather forgotten about. There were some small toy cars – of the kind that that were used on some gravity powered racing tracks when I was a child. These were approx. 1:64 scale, and made to roughly replicate real models, and painted in various colours. It might seem an odd thing to have in an adult's (there may be an unjustified assumption there?) office, but for my first decade in the University I had largely worked in teacher education and led on the physics teaching component – so that provided a good excuse for having lots of different toys!

Another thing that was initially unfamiliar was a large card. This was about A3 size, or originally A2 but folded like a greetings card. Inside were various other post-card sized cards attached, as well as some confectionery wrappers! What was this? It was coming back to me. One year I'd sent a message out to all the students who had finished the course (this was presumably our one-year Educational Research course), and many had replied from all over the world, and I'd made this as a record. Had I sent them all chocolate, and they had returned the wrapper with a greeting? Or had they sent that the confectionery to me from different locations? I was not sure now – the details were bit hazy.

Coming back into the office, and indeed into Cambridge from the satellite town where I live, for the first time in a while was a little odd. I could see into the school next door to our site. There were not many children (most were now at home, with just key workers' children and vulnerable children being in school to be looked after) but those there seemed to be playing happily (both outside and inside classrooms – I could not see anyone supervising) and unperturbed by the current emergency. This seemed reassuring, if a little odd.

I could also see into a classroom of an adjacent college (not a college of the university, but one of the many independent sixth form colleges that allow, mostly overseas, students to study at Cambridge at university entrance level). There were a few young people visible studying. A teenage boy and girl were sitting next to each other working on something together. They were even touching I noticed – nothing inappropriate in normal times – but these are not normal times.

I'd been to the College Combination Room (a staff room for all those working in Homerton – whether academics, clerical, gardeners, or whatever). It was almost empty. I had a conversation there with a colleague I recognised. I think I had wanted to say something about the prime minister being in hospital, along the lines that if he were to die from COVID-19 that would be a terrible loss to his family and friends, but might do wonders for getting across the government's message about social distancing – his one death could save hundreds. But although this was a thought experiment along the lines of those 'trolley' dilemmas used to explore ethical reasoning, I thought it might come across as a little callous. (It is one thing to conjecture scenarios involving the deaths of unnamed imaginary people, but not a real, ill, human being.) [Since publishing this, I have learned this evening on the BBC Radio News that Mr Johnson's health has deteriorated, and he has been placed in intensive care. I do, of course, wish him well along with others suffering from the disease.]

I saw it was 14.00 (2 p.m.) and felt I should have gone to the main faculty building to take a class (although there are no classes now, so just force of habit there I suppose). I wanted to get a cup of coffee to take with me to the class (force of habit, again?), but I saw the coffee machine, and all the tea making paraphernalia, were gone. I assumed that this was because of the current emergency – having a place where people can come to get tea and coffee would encourage the social mixing that we need to avoid. The College must have taken all the refreshments away.

On leaving the Combination room I moved into a corridor (known as Pauper's Walk) but, as I entered the corridor, I saw another colleague enter from the far end. Current protocols suggested to me that I needed to stand back against the wall, and allow her to pass on the other side. However, she had not seen me for a while, and seemed to want to come up to me to talk.

Back in my office, I noticed that some things had been moved since I had been in regularly (pre-pandemic). Some filing cabinets had been shoved out of position, apparently to get access to some large cupboards built into the walls. I did know what was in those cupboards – actually I am not sure I had ever noticed them before. I assumed the technicians used them for storage and had been in to get something, and had needed to shift the cabinets across the floor.

I also noticed that the builders (who had been on site an interminable time, working on one project after another) had made a small hole in the floor in the corner of the room. Through that I was able to see the large, and very 'modern' looking, installation beneath the floor of the store room – presumably the new power plant to heat the building. I could see it was subject to a continuous, and quite extensive, waterfall. I wondered if this was necessary. If the building is closed at the moment, was this not wasting a good deal of water? Or, I wondered, was it a safety precaution that the core needed to be kept cooled even though we were not meant to be operating at the moment?

I had given up on finding the lead I was looking for, and decided I should head for home. I felt a little uneasy about this. The restrictions were still in place. If I was stopped by a police officer, could I really justify my going to work as essential if my main justification had been to look for a lead that I could manage to work at home perfectly well without? I was also uneasy about getting the bus back from the centre of Cambridge to my home – did I really want to be using public transport at this time?

It was then that I started to experience what might be considered cognitive dissonance. Why had I not been concerned about getting the bus into Cambridge? Actually, I did not recall having got the bus into work. The only other viable way I could have got there was cycling, which given the distance, my fitness, and my cargo trike, was, although certainly possible, not an undertaking I would likely have made and immediately forgotten. It was at this point that I released that I did not remember going into work because I had not done so. It was a dream, and, realising that, I woke up at home.

But it was a dream like so many of my dreams – experienced as real, and involving a lot of remembering of things that never happened. (I do not mean remembering the dream when awake, but the experience of remembering in the dream). There is an independent college just adjacent to our building where I often see students studying as I pass by. But no school. The combination room was a real (or at least realistic) memory, as was the colleague I talked to there and the corridor outside – but the other colleague who approached me in the corridor (although seen with clarity in my dream) was not someone I know, or as far as I know based on any real person.

The office I was in (in my dream) was not actually my office, or any office we have in the building (much more like an office I shared at the Institute of Education in London for a year when a visiting fellow there), and was in a different part of the building to my real office.

There is no power plant built under our store room (though last Summer something like this, sans waterfall, was built under the Homerton College lawn). I had left my laptop power lead in the office when I brought the laptop home, and I had considered whether I should go back for it (before we were officially banned from the University buildings) and see if there was anything else I needed before the lock-down: but had decided it was not necessary or a good use of time, or sensible in the circumstances. (But why could I not find the right lead in the dream?)

I have various things in the office from my days working on the PGCE teacher preparation course (a magnetic pendulum for example), but I am not sure if there are toy cars (perhaps there are, and I have forgotten them in my waking life). The large card displaying messages (and chocolate wrappings) from various students has no real counterpoint, but could perhaps be seen as a composite of various post cards and gifts I've been given or sent by students over the years.

The Dream of Human Life
After Michelangelo
The National Gallery
The Dream of Human Life
After Michelangelo (From The National Gallery)

Why bother writing about a dream at such length? Because it made me think about memory. In the dream I experienced things that are real, some that were realistic enough (the non-existent colleague in the corridor seemed as real as the real one in the Combination Room) and some that seem (now) fantastic distortions or syntheses of past experiences.

But what was most notable, to my mind, is the role of memory in the dream. When I found the cars, and the card, I was initially nonplussed, but then remembered them from years before (even though, in the case of the card at least, I could not have actually remembered something that never existed). When there was no coffee available in the Combination Room I remembered the current restrictions and inferred this was a precaution the College had taken.

When I found the hole in the floor of my office, I remembered that the builders have been excavating and installing equipment beneath the store room next door (they had not, and the store room was not next door to my actual office). However, a shiny new futuristic apparatus as part of the heating system had recently been open to incidental passer-by inspection as part of ongoing (and indeed interminable) works elsewhere on site – perhaps conflated in my dream with the ground source heat pump under the lawn. In my dream I recognised and remembered things that were real, imagined but possible, and fantastic (the waterfall installed in the excavated cave under our store room, even if not exactly where "the sacred river, ran, through caverns measureless to man"), with equal verisimilitude, as seeming equally likely and trustworthy. The imaginary colleague was as real to me as the remembered real one.

I had no doubts during my dream that I had been in my office, even if it seemed a lot narrower than I recalled. I did not remember having toy cars there, but immediately saw why they might have been useful in teaching. I was initially not at all sure what to make of the large card with the various additions attached inside – but then I 'remembered' (actually, constructed an account of) what I had done years before, and the responses this had initiated, and what I had then done to commemorate those response from past students. It seems a little odd that in my sleep I could 'remember' this unlikely object, but could not remember having gone into work (where there is much genuine experience on which to have constructed a recollection). Perhaps I was just reaching the point where I (my body) was ready to wake, and so my dream became lucid, initiating my awakening. (The thinking we do in dreaming seems worth the effort at the time, until we realise it is 'just' a dream.)

It is perhaps not surprising that in dreams we recognise, and even remember, things that are not real, things that are distorted, and things that are syntheses or different experiences, or that are actually post hoc justifications that enable us to make sense of otherwise confusing (dreamed) experiences. What struck me, though, was how this phenomenon – the way memory seems to cheat and fabricate during dreams – was actually no different from how research suggests memory works in our waking lives. When students tell me they have been taught something that I realise is incorrect in their science lessons, I am always aware they may be recalling correctly, but it is also quite possible that what they 'remember' being told was not what the teacher actually said at the time.

So we might readily dismiss as false things we thought we were remembering when dreaming. But we usually trust a memory we have when we are awake, although research has shown that the things we remember clearly in our waking lives can also be distortions – or even confabulations – as our mind guesses and fills-in what we infer must have happened in order to to make sense of current experience.

A sobering, perhaps even arousing, thought.