Depression, Incest and the Nature of Science

Stories are the secret reservoir of values; change the stories individuals or nations live by and tell themselves, and you change the individuals and nations

Ben Okri, Birds of Heaven

Several students have left Arcadia to attend other local high schools, only to return to Arcadia after a few weeks, saying they preferred it - or, more directly, that they hated the other school. There are

at least

two possible ways of construing this:

1. Arcadia doesn't prepare students adequately for a 'real' high school: because of the more 'primary-like' atmosphere, students are conditioned to extra levels of support from teachers for dealing with their weaknesses and lack of organisation, and they just can't 'hack the real world'.

2. Arcadia is so great, so nurturing, caring, relevant, integrated, interesting, that all other high schools pale into insignificance. When they leave the Arcadia environment, students miss the levels of support and interaction, they miss the personal feel of small teams, they miss the integrated curriculum.

Candace is an experienced and reflective teacher. She's one of those teachers who was a 'naughty girl' herself, and it's given her a real empathy for kids who struggle at school. She's also raised two sons and taught technology classes, and has great skills with handling difficult boys. I know I have plenty to learn from Candace, and I take this opportunity to ask her about something that seems to keep bubbling up for me - how much responsibility for the way students learn and behave is owned by the teacher?

"There are a couple of kids I wouldn't mind talking about. One is Adrian. I mean, Adrian's still a naughty boy, basically... But you've asked him to take care of the attendance rolls and absence lists for the whole team, and I think giving him those responsibilities has helped him..."

"Oh yes, he's very good in that role," says Candace, "when he's given a responsibility to do something - or when the task suits him." We laugh together, holding our steaming mugs, and other teachers look up from their conversations. Candace continues more quietly. "Actually, he treats responsibility with great respect. He also accepts whatever correction he's given quite happily - he knows when he's done the wrong thing, and accepts the consequences."

I think for a moment, and suggest, "I think in a way that's a strength of your approach, though. You've made it very explicit: 'You're responsible for your behaviour' - these consequences are logical."

"Yeah, that's right, but I think the kids have also gotta understand that ultimately you - as teacher - are responsible for the class - in fact you're the boss." She laughs again. "And you can make that very explicit, and say 'I have accountability for these things'."

"But," she continues, "I just wonder whether, by giving them all this responsibility... if they hit an autocratic teacher next year, I have great concern. But really I think they do it because they respect me, they also respect themselves, and they do it because they like what happens in my room."

I pause for a moment, then, "I was just going to say - do we undervalue relationship? You know, they have skills with this meta stuff about responsibility, but they really have a relationship with you. And I think we undervalue that. I think each teacher has to develop a relationship, and the first phases are gonna be tough. And your first phases were tough with this bunch..."

"Oh yeah, absolutely," Candace nods emphatically. "I mean every phase and every new bunch is tough."

I continue, "I think Simon's the other one who's interesting to talk about, because he's really - I don't see him as being a naughty boy, in here, but in his other class he was..."

"No he's not a bad kid at all. His father said to me 'Simon has always had to respect people - he doesn't respect many but when he does he'll kill for them, and you've gained his respect'."

"Mmhm," I murmur, "he respects people, not offices or roles..."

"Yeah, that's right, so much so that he said if I'm teaching Year Nine next year he's requested that he has me again, which'll kill me," she laughs. "But he's not like a lot of other kids, because he will stand up and say 'excuse me, these are my rights', and this has got him into deep... water, before he came along to me."

"Yeah, I'm just intrigued, though, about whether it's Simon specifically or whether some of the other people who have problems in other classes would respond similarly if they came into yours."

"I think they would, because seeing the difference in ... another bunch of Year Sevens here,

she's talking about Robyn's class since Colin, who replaced Robyn when she left, took over, but being discreet

when they changed over to a new teacher... It's unbelievable - I go in and teach literacy there, and it's a different bunch of kids. But kids have to learn, same as we all have to learn, that we've gotta get on with every type of individual and we're not all the same. So it wouldn't do for them to have seven Candace James' or seven David Geelans, because I don't think that would help them to go out into the real world. I think to have a Candace James then a David Geelan, then a Fred Bloggs, then a Jamie Jemima, whatever - I think that gives them a balanced view."

"That's not what Mr Geelan says science is about", she murmurs, without bothering to raise her hand. Carolyn has just come out with the statement that "science is true facts about the world", and Therese remembers that a few weeks ago, in one of my fairly frequent digressions into the nature of science, I claimed that science is a way of understanding the world that doesn't necessarily yield truth.

Now Carolyn's looking at me too, and I try to explain again my understanding of the nature of science. My perspective owes something to Paul Feyerabend's 'anything goes' approach, something to postmodernism and constructivism and something to the sociology of science. It's eclectic and rather complex, and I'm trying to describe it as clearly and simply as I can, without using any of those academic terms.

But even as I'm explaining, I'm thinking "Do the students really need this? Is it appropriate for their age and stage of development to try to grapple with epistemological and ontological questions that I came to much later? Or would it be more comfortable and productive for them to believe in the sacredness of scientific knowledge for a little longer?" I can't decide what is most appropriate, and the situation has arisen in the classroom right now, so I try to make the best of it.

"Well, I think about it this way," I begin.

How do I do this without openly disagreeing with Carolyn?

"Science is a word that's used to talk about two things, and they're both important. Science is a body of knowledge - ideas and theories. These are really ways that people have found to think about what they see in the world. But science is also an activity - it's something people do, as well as something they know. In our school science lessons, we try to introduce you to some of those scientific ways of thinking about the world, and we also try to let you do what scientists do - explore the world in thoughtful, careful ways."

"I don't want you to think that science is just all about memorising a heap of facts - that, number one, isn't very useful, and number two, doesn't make you a scientist, or even scientifically literate. Science is about learning a special set of ways of working and thinking. They're related to ways we work and think in other learning areas, but also a bit different. For example, in English, we look at a novel or a poem or a story and try to understand what it's about, and how it makes us feel."

Carolyn breaks in, "But in English there's really no one right answer, where in science there is...isn't there?" I don't want to deal with that right now, so I turn from the class to her and say "I'm getting to that, but I want to do this a particular way", then continue.

"What Ms Young was talking about was the first of those two things about science - scientific knowledge..."

I continue with my explanation, in a lecturing mode that's unusual for me, and I'm very aware that, fascinating and important as this stuff is to me, and although I think I'm explaining it pretty clearly, most of the students' eyes have glazed over. Some are staring out the window at the gentle grey drizzle, one or two have their heads down on their desks, and Tony is flicking bent staples at Jules when neither teacher is looking. I've been seeing the staples appear, but I want to try to catch Tony in the act - perhaps then the inevitable visit from his mother will be at least marginally less unpleasant. Unless I have some pretty direct evidence, it'll just be "You're picking on him" again. I'm not, but Carolyn is, and that makes my position morally difficult when I'm talking to Tony's Mum.

Carolyn says, "So, you're saying scientific facts aren't really true?" While I'm trying to get my thoughts together, Therese blessedly breaks in. "No, Ms Young, it's more like they're true at one place and time, but not always. They're sort of like fashion..." Carolyn completely ignores her and keeps looking toward me, and I try to explain the ideas Therese has just put together so cogently. I also try to acknowledge Therese and her contribution, by alluding back to them in my comments, and earn a grudging smile before she drops her head forward and hides behind her long dark fringe - a frequent refuge.

Carolyn says, "Oh, OK, I think I understand", but her expression makes it clear that she doesn't, and doesn't really believe me anyway. Therese has a better understanding of this stuff than Carolyn ever will - but she still thinks science is a waste of time.

I think the main thing, though, is that Carolyn just doesn't like me very much. Part of it is that she hates science - an attitude with which she tends to infect the students. Part of it is that she thinks I don't prepare enough worksheets, and that she doesn't like my teaching style. Surprisingly for a teacher of senior English, she has a very black and white view of life: if my teaching is different from hers, then mine is wrong.

She hasn't really forgiven me for breaking my leg. My doctor held his surgery on Wednesday mornings, which meant my appointments with him cut into my time with her class. This meant she had to take over, and she resented that. Thank goodness the cast is coming off this month, so I won't have to miss any more classes.

The feeling is pretty much mutual - I don't like her much either. I came into the class determined to like her, and to keep an open heart, but the way she tends to sarcastically put down the students who are already struggling for their classmates' acceptance really grates on me.

The atmosphere in the classroom when I'm there is oppressive - I'm sure the kids pick up on it - and having to be there for five hours a week is getting beyond tiresome and into painful. I have to be here for the rest of the year, so I've tried to change my approach and what I'm doing, and I've tried to support and encourage Carolyn to take over more of the science teaching as she gains more confidence with the content, but she seems to have made up her mind that we're to be reluctant and rather hostile partners, and the things I try don't seem to really change that.

"You remember how, a couple of months ago, I was trying to figure out what I was doing wrong with Shannon?" Alyx asks. "Well, now I know what the problem was, and it wasn't me. Why the hell didn't I think of it before?"

"Today was the day I decided to do that 'Protective Behaviours' package from the District Office. You know, the one to help kids know what to do if someone tries to molest them or anything? Anyway, while we were talking about the statistics that show it's usually not a stranger but a family member or friend, Shannon just started wailing. It wasn't just a quiet sniffle like kids sometimes have in class, she was really sobbing and hyperventilating. I gave the kids something to do and took her outside."

"She didn't want to talk for ages, so I just hugged her. Then she told me there's a step-brother at home who's about eighteen, and he's been forcing her to have sex with him for the past three years. She's never told anyone before, her father and step-mother don't know and they keep telling her how wonderful her brother is, so good at school, it's like 'why can't you concentrate and be more like him?'"

"I just can't believe I didn't see it sooner - I mean, you hear about this stuff all the time, but it just didn't come into my head as a reason why she wasn't doing her work. Here I was hassling her to concentrate, and..." Alyx is quietly weeping herself by now, and I'm sitting there in a state of shock. Not because I'm not familiar with the pain caused by incest - I'm way too familiar - but because it's happened again, and because this explanation had entered my mind when Alyx spoke to me the first time, and I'd dismissed it as paranoid. Why hadn't I at least raised the possibility with her?