Teaching students how to get comfortable with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing

Robin Dunkin

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INTRODUCTION

Most students arriving in our introductory science classrooms have spent considerable time memorizing critical biological structures such as amino acids or predicting which way a chemical reaction will go, given a set of starting conditions. They have also almost certainly learned about the scientific process in one form or another; and some (but certainly not most) have engaged in some kind of inquiry-based curriculum that emphasizes the process of science asking and answering questions within a logical framework. As our students have engaged in these activities, they have been rewarded through testing and grades for memorizing these important foundational concepts upon which their college courses and perhaps later careers will continue to build. This content and these skills are the fabric of a general science education: a fabric that stretches into college introductory science courses – courses like mine that are largely the experience of most university life science students for the first two years of their college science training. As research on the science of learning has been more widely adopted into high school and college teaching, we have seen a movement toward offering students a more authentic science curriculum that teaches science content and skills by encouraging students to explore their own questions, collect real data, and analyze and present this learning in ways we would see practicing scientists do in their everyday work. Yet even in the most research-based curriculum, I propose there is a key piece of core content either entirely missing from or, at best, not made transparent in our science education: explicitly teaching students how to get comfortable with and move through the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing.

Recently, I had the rare chance to engage in a novel thought project that was well outside my area of study. In the wee hours of the night, with knots in my stomach, desperately combing the literature to get a toehold into the right framing for my ideas and the right theories to support them, I was struck (and dismayed) by what a novice I felt like in this moment. Despite leaving graduate school a decade earlier, here I was struggling to figure out my argument, completely uncertain how to even begin approaching this project and stumbling through the jargon, just as I had done in grad school. Underlying all of this was of course the deep-seated fear of failure. I did, however, have the benefit of more intellectual maturity and considerably more background and training as a teacher than I had in graduate school; and thus it occurred to me that this process, this very uncomfortable feeling of not knowing, was in fact normal. And my next thought was: how come no one ever talks about this? Somewhere in those wee hours I had a breakthrough. I found my argument and theoretical framing, and was reminded of how good it felt to make my way through not knowing to emerge into the space of new knowledge and understanding. And again, I was struck by the fact that as a professional teacher, I don’t teach my students about this process. Indeed, it may be among the most hidden of the so-called hidden curriculum.

NOT KNOWING AND STEM IDENTITY

When it comes to the prior knowledge about “not knowing” that students bring with them to our courses, in my experience it is largely in the form of: to be a good scientist is to “know the right answer.” Put another way, being a science student involves significant avoidance of “not knowing.” In my informal discussions with my own students about this, they may express the idea that there are unknowns in science and that it is normal to not understand everything. A little deeper digging though, often reveals a very deep fear of being wrong and the (incorrect) assumption that the “great” scientists have it all figured out; the discussion of not knowing is almost never seen as normal, good, or a necessary part of the scientific process. This is not surprising given that our students have spent all or nearly all of their science training so far being rewarded for knowing: knowing the right answer, knowing how to do well in exams, knowing that there IS a right answer. When they take a test they get a good grade for correctly reproducing facts, figures, or processes, or demonstrating key skills. Even when they go beyond foundational knowledge and engage in more critical thinking to answer complex questions, it is still done with a safety net – the certainty that there is a right answer and at least some training on how to find the right answer. While this content and these skills are certainly critical, the way students learn this information can result in a number of problematic misconceptions about science. The idea that being a “good scientist” includes having perfect recall of the foundational curriculum is at best an incomplete view and more realistically wholly incorrect. The presentation of science as a series of questions whose answers are now the basis for entire courses can leave students with the misconception that there is nothing left to learn and no place for them to contribute to the field. It can exacerbate inequities in our science curriculum by privileging students who have had explicit training in avoiding this (uncomfortable) type of “not knowing.” So fundamental is this idea, that “being good at science” means always knowing the right answer, that when students struggle with not knowing it can easily shake their developing identities as scientists. Consider this statement from a student in my introductory biology course when asked how it made them feel when they didn’t know the answer to a question.

When I don’t understand something in [the] context of school or science it makes me feel stupid or that I am not in the right place because I can’t understand many of the main concepts.

There is a robust literature on the importance of developing science, technology, engineering and math (STEM) identity for retention of students in STEM careers and the barriers to developing STEM identity, which are particularly high for minoritized students (e.g., less representation of diverse scientists in courses, textbooks, media, and faculty). Much of my own work in faculty training and curriculum development has been about helping educators build in opportunities and support for students to gain the confidence and the skills to develop a sense of belonging in science, to identify themselves as scientists, because it’s easy to see the logic (and there is extensive evidence to support that logic) – if you feel like you don’t belong in a place, why would you want to stay there? Which brings me back to teaching students about not knowing and how to normalize and even celebrate this uncomfortable state. Are we undermining our efforts to diversify our STEM community and support all of our students to become creative, productive scientists by leaving not knowing out of our curriculum? If we don’t explicitly teach students that not knowing is a normal, necessary, and often productive state to occupy, then we may be subverting our work to help them develop strong STEM identity because the mental narrative of, “if I don’t know the answer then I must not be cut out for science” is strong, pervasive – and in my experience as a teacher – nearly universal. If you layer on top that our students from minoritized backgrounds have fewer role models of successful scientists that look like them or that share similar background stories, this incorrect mental narrative may be all the more harmful, undermining the extensive efforts to support these students to successful careers in STEM fields.

Types of Not Knowing

It is here that I think it is important to draw a clear distinction between two kinds of not knowing I have touched on. First there is the not knowing that tends to flow from students’ ideas that “good scientist” equals “knowing the answer.” This type of not knowing, which I think of as content-based not knowing, is most apparent in driving both the pedagogy we use in our courses and student (and often faculty) anxiety around not knowing the right answer to questions in assignments and exams, or in class. Frequently this is about the core content or skills of a course, and it is likely what most students and faculty will think of first when prompted to consider not knowing. In my mind, this is related to but distinctly different from the kind of not knowing I described in my story above. The kind of not knowing that caused the knots in my stomach was really about a mental state of feeling lost within a goal of creating new knowledge but without a clear idea on how to get there. In my own experience and in anecdotal conversations with academic colleagues from both STEM and non-STEM disciplines, this is the place where we are actively trying to use pre-existing knowledge and our own creativity to make new connections, introduce new ideas, understand unexpected experimental results, solve problems in novel ways, or propose new intellectual directions for us and others to explore. This is a state of productive not knowing that academics will recognize as an essential ingredient in the creation of scholarship; it is the fuzzy space between existing knowledge and new knowledge, where we must actively get to and then figure out how to emerge from, to create new knowledge and new understanding. This space is often uncomfortable, unstructured, and surprising; and the length of your stay there may be undefined. It is also the place where the unique background, experiences, and creative insights of an individual have an opportunity to shine. If you can get to this special place of productive not knowing and learn to be comfortable there, it is likely to be fruitful and gratifying. Taking this one step further, the sense of accomplishment and often, recognition, from an advisor or mentor that comes with successful emergence from productive not knowing can be a powerful catalyst for developing identity and sense of belonging in STEM.

How are these two types of not knowing related? In my view, when students struggle with content-based not knowing it will likely impede their ability to recognize the value of and progression to productive not knowing. If the only experience a student has had with not knowing is that they did not understand key content or skills from a course they are taking, how can they be expected to purposely seek out and learn to move through productive not knowing? If we never talk about the specific strategies that experienced experts use to find their way out of productive not knowing, then we leave in place a barrier that is likely to privilege students that fit the stereotypical idea of a scientist. It is also worth noting that education research has emphasized the importance of inquiry-based or experiential learning experiences for students as being an important tool for improving retention in STEM fields, especially for minoritized groups. Indeed, many of the projects described in this volume highlight such opportunities for students to engage with various disciplines in authentic, hands-on ways. Many reasons for why these types of experiences are successful have been investigated (though the mechanisms for the success of these interventions is a key area of continued research); however, normalizing and successfully working through productive not knowing is, from my perspective, likely an important underlying aspect of the success that these experiences have.

Not Knowing as Pedagogy

My first fully solo teaching position as the instructor of record for a large lecture biology course came immediately after completing my Ph.D. I was responsible for a 300-person introductory biology class filled with mostly sophomores. The classroom was in the ancient theater arts classroom, literally featuring a stage and theater-style seating. Before each class I was sick to my stomach with nerves. To combat these nerves, I meticulously prepared my lectures so they were packed full of information. In the moment, I told myself I had to make sure the students learned this piece of content and also that idea; oh, and what about that cool example? Partly this was driven by my own excitement and passion for the subject, to be sure; but also a small part of me didn’t want to make space for questions. What if I couldn’t answer them? What if I looked stupid in front of a class of 300 students? They would think I was not qualified to be their teacher or that I wasn’t a real scientist even though I had a Ph.D. after my name. My course evaluations were good for a large lecture introductory course but, once I had worked up the nerve to deeply read them, there were many comments that this class moved too fast or the instructor didn’t make time for questions. A few even regarded my speed as hostile.

Some of this is the anxiety of inexperience. As I became more comfortable teaching and less worried about being stumped by students, I became less worried about scripting every moment of the class time. As I developed a sense for whether students were understanding my lecture, I became more comfortable with pushing them on the fly to confront their misconceptions or venture off into unknown territory in response to a student’s question. Yet it has only been recently that I have really considered what it would look like to really teach students to feel comfortable with not knowing (in both the forms I described above) and even encourage them to seek out this feeling. What would a course built around not knowing look like? How would it differ from a traditional lecture?

In contrast with traditional lectures, research-based approaches to teaching – including active learning, inquiry-based learning, or project-based learning – all offer much greater opportunity to incorporate not knowing into the curriculum of a course. Yet explicitly teaching students to be comfortable with not knowing is virtually never named as a learning goal in a course. If considered at all, it might be to offer students the context that active learning, for example, can feel a little uncomfortable because we purposely are making space to practice ideas or skills that we don’t know rather than simply passively taking in information. In an inquiry-based course design, instructors may prompt students to consider ways to get “unstuck” if they are unsure how to continue. To actually teach students to be comfortable with not knowing, though, we need to be explicit and transparent about not knowing as a learning objective for the course. We need to discuss it with our students, offer students an opportunity to practice it, and assess it with feedback – just as we do with our other course learning objectives. What can this look like in a course? Here are a few ideas.

Example Learning Objectives to Teach Not Knowing

  • Students will be able to explain the idea of not knowing beyond a lack of content knowledge and to explain that a period of not knowing can be a normal part of the scientific process.
  • Students will be able to offer multiple ideas for how a scientist can productively move through a period of not knowing.
  • Students will experience not knowing and have opportunities to practice strategies for productively getting past this period.

Discussing Not Knowing

  • Incorporating a discussion of not knowing and its role in science could take the form of sharing a personal narrative from the instructor OR from another practicing scientist.
  • A think–pair–share prompt could ask students to consider what their own experiences with not knowing have been and how these have shaped their view of science.
  • The uncomfortable silence that often follows asking a question to a room of students can be used as an opportunity to intentionally bring up what it means to not know the answer and normalize this feeling for students.
  • Incorporation of a case study based on the real experiences of scientists confronting a period of not knowing can form the foundation for a larger class discussion of the topic.

Practicing Not Knowing

  • Offering students many opportunities to grapple and struggle with authentic real-world problems and being transparent about the period of not knowing embedded within these exercises can give students experience with working through not knowing.
  • Doing a class brainstorm about specific techniques that a scientist can use to move through a period of not knowing (e.g., re-reading primary literature sources; trying to build a mental model of the problem; making a concept map and trying to build connections between ideas; reading outside the discipline to see how related problems may have been approached by other fields, returning to first principles to try to identify gaps in our logic). Pairing such an activity with interaction or interviews with practicing scientists could be especially powerful.
  • Asking students to reflect on their experiences with not knowing with peers can help normalize the experience and generate ideas for how to move through periods of not knowing.

Assessing Not Knowing

  • Asking students to reflection on their experience with not knowing periodically throughout the course can be used to assess both comfort level with the experience of not knowing and whether they have gained working knowledge of strategies to get past periods of not knowing.
  • In project-based learning or inquiry activities, asking students to make a plan for how they will get past periods of not knowing can be used to assess the types of strategies they are familiar with and actively utilize.
  • Case studies can be used to prompt students to consider a scenario in which a scientist is confronted with a challenging problem and then strategize how the scientist can move through not knowing. This type of activity can be used to both practice and assess the number and types of strategies students have developed over the course.

CONCLUSION

As our students move on in their scientific training and eventually emerge from college or graduate school and into careers as scientists, they will necessarily and undoubtedly face problems – scientific or otherwise – in which they must grapple with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing. We work hard to equip them with foundational knowledge; practical scientific skills to collect, understand, and present data, and critical thinking skills to apply and understand their knowledge. Yet we rarely if ever discuss a part of the scientific process that for many practicing scientists can be a source of great excitement but also sometimes great discomfort: occupation of the space between existing knowledge and new knowledge. Some might describe this as the process of discovery which many an instructor, including myself, has touted as a reason they love science. Yet for many of our students, there can be great anxiety tied up with not knowing along with prior misconceptions about what it means to “be a good scientist,” which can impede their development of STEM identity. As instructors we can begin to help students alleviate this anxiety and lower barriers to their development as scientists by being explicit and transparent about this aspect of the scientific process.

As we consider the field of environmental justice in particular, the case for teaching students to be comfortable with not knowing, is strong. Students that go on to work in the field of environmental justice will grapple with and be asked to solve highly complex problems, often with very high stakes and frequently with no clear solution. Having the experience and tools to navigate through productive not knowing not only is important for the work – to find the important solutions to some of the most intractable problems facing society – but could also offer some degree of mental health protection for those engaging with this work. As Allison points out in Chapter 10 of this volume, workers in environmental justice fields, such as climate change, are especially prone to burnout and subject to multiple levels of feeling threatened by the substance of their work. Arming students with concrete strategies to navigate out of not knowing and to help them understand that not knowing is normal may offer some measure of resilience against the challenging nature of environmental justice work. As we reflect on training our next generation of environmental justice and other STEM students, we ought to be thinking about not knowing and the strategies to move through not knowing as part of the hidden curriculum of science and working to bring not only transparency but also appreciation and maybe a little more comfort to the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing.

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