My earliest memories of science come from elementary units about ecosystems. We did quite a bit of work with terrariums, including building and testing a suitable environment to raise chameleons. I also remember studying clouds and having the opportunity to sit or lay on a grassy field, stare up into the sky, and identify cloud types with a partner.
In middle school, my wonderful experiences continued with Mrs. Hill and Mr. Kauffman. In sixth grade, Mrs. Hill taught us all about whales using the video series "The Voyage of the Mimi." Sixth grade was also the first year during which we did experiments and used scientific equipment. Honestly, I don't recall much specific content from that year; what strikes me upon reflection was Mrs. Hill's obvious passion for science and her excitement in instruction. I remember having fun in her class, no matter what was going on, because she gave us the energy to enjoy class. In seventh grade, Mr. Kauffman was much the same as Mrs. Hill. He obviously loved science and wanted desperately for us to see why. His greatest quality was his former profession, a high school teacher. As a result, he strayed from our textbook and taught us basic content from very difficult concepts; he treated us like adults and asked us to rise to his challenges. We used microscopes that year to identify cellular structures; we built cells, discussed atomic structures and bonding, and used Punnett squares to determine our own genetic makeups and those of our future children (given the ideal spouse). That was the year I bought my own microscope and chemistry set and decided that I wanted to be a chemist when I grew up.
In high school, my tradition of wonderful instruction only continued, and my desires to be a chemist were further reinforced. My biology teacher would dance, sing, and do stand-up comedy -- anything to hold our attention. I loved science. Chemistry and Physics both came very naturally to me, so I was free to enjoy my teachers and eventually take their classes again through Physics Assistance and AP Chemistry.
When I started at Furman, I still wanted to be a Chemistry major, but soon found that in the absence of wonderful instruction, science was not so interesting to me after all. Biology 16 and EES 11 ended my scientific career and taught me that instruction can make all the difference between the love and loathing of a subject. Thus, I turned to education.
From chameleons to AP Chemistry, I loved science and looked forward to my science classes. I invested in my learning both inside and outside the classroom by making connections, asking questions, and researching my personal scientific inquiries. My experiences most definitely molded my attitude; my teachers were, for the most part, interesting and energetic. They encouraged us to keep a sense of wonder, and they provided opportunities for discovery within the confines of school curriculum. I believed, from elementary to high school, that science was where I wanted to spend the rest of my life.
Both my experiences and my beliefs changed upon taking science at Furman, but I don't deny that I remained good at science. My grades did not falter, though my enjoyment level plummeted. In the absence of encouraged wondering and experimentation, my interest waned. I learned first-hand that my aptitude for science is internal, but my love for science is heavily dependent of those facilitating my learning experiences.
As a student, I experienced mostly constructivist classrooms, but in my time as a Furman Intern, I have seen my share of objectivist instruction as well. As a teacher, I hope to apply what I've experienced to my own form of facilitation. My hope would be to provide authentic learning experiences for my students, based in acceptable curriculum but guided by their unique inquiries. I want any instruction I offer, science or otherwise, to be meaningful and to reinforce wondering. Hands-on, minds-on, I want my students to take part in the subject-matter. And, above all else, I would want for my students an appreciation for this type of instruction, an internal commitment to questioning, asking, experiencing, testing, discussing, and construction.
