POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: "Science” Needs To Fall Out Of Its Ivory Tower

For some time now, I’ve read whining dissertations and essays about how “scientists” are disrespected today. For example, this article weeps about the casting of scientists in the role of bad guy (mostly, I might add, these are big, old, fat, white, guys) http://io9.com/why-are-scientists-always-the-bad-guys-in-movies-1643054457/all. As well, it several articles make it sound as if there is a general demise of the American way of Science,   http://www.alternet.org/education/results-are-america-dumb-and-road-getting-dumber, http://io9.com/npr-pulls-the-plug-on-krulwich-wonders-1640085459, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jeff-schweitzer/ignorance-kills_b_5851052.html, http://io9.com/meet-the-new-underclass-people-with-ph-d-s-in-science-1644006710?utm_campaign=socialflow_io9_facebook&utm_source=io9_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow. Usually this is attributed to George HW Bush, the No Child Left Behind Act, or Republicans in Congress who actively try and crush science in league with Christians everywhere who are wrong believers in Anthropogenic Global Warming and Evolution.

Often these diatribes miss the fact that Al Gore, the world representative of AGW (who, incidentally has no science degree, got a BA in Government, and avoided science and math at Harvard in favor of watching TV and playing pool), Bill Nye (who has a BA in mechanical engineering, and who began the Science Guy routine as comedic shtick on Seattle’s ALMOST LIVE! television show), the NCLB (which was, incidentally, a bipartisan bill whose most important supporter was Democrat Ted Kennedy), and Bush's refusal to support science education (“Bush signed into law H. R. 4664, far-reaching legislation to put the National Science Foundation (NSF) on a track to double its budget over five years and to create new mathematics and science education initiatives at both the pre-college and undergraduate level.”) are rarely, if ever, a complete expression of the aspects of the axe being ground.
Wild attacks of anyone who doesn’t toe some sort of ideological line exempts that bastion of the Liberal Left, National Public Radio -- which recently axed a long-running science program Krulwich Wonders. Is NPR "anti-science"? Nope. No rants. No imprecations. No threats. No claims that the Left is Once Again Disrespecting Science...just mute, weepy acceptance of the financial necessity of canceling a popular science program. The response might have been different had a Republican Congress cut funding to NPR.

The problem therefore, may not be the PUBLIC, but sometimes-myopic “real” scientists who seem to believe that their love of science popped out of nowhere and was never once nurtured by an elementary teach, a middle school teacher, or a high school teacher. Oh, that’s RIGHT, it must be that the scientists decrying the sad state of science in the US became a fan of science shortly after they got their BS, MS, or PhD…

More whining  comes from other sources, noted here: http://www.silive.com/opinion/letters/index.ssf/2013/07/dearth_of_planetariums_shows_s.html, http://experimentalmath.info/blog/2010/01/sad-state-of-math-and-science-education/, http://www.biotech-now.org/public-policy/2012/02/science-education-in-deep-trouble-report-shows-sad-state-of-affairs, http://theness.com/neurologicablog/index.php/surprise-science-education-stinks/

So the impression I’m left with is that the jobs that all elementary, middle school, and high school science teachers (as well as those in Community colleges and anyone who has less than a PhD) – have done are meaningless and all such teachers are inefficient buffoons. The only real “science fans” in America today are the white men (and token minorities like establishment-acceptable women and blacks) with BSs, MSs, or, (the REAL lovers of science) PhDs…

But there may in fact, be dissension in the ranks. In a fascinating, but (I have no doubt) rarely cited article, Dr. David Goldstein (professor of Physics and Applied Physics) has this to say:

“The great corporations have decided that central research laboratories were not such a good idea after all...The economy has gradually transformed from manufacturing to service, and service industries like banking and insurance don't support much scientific research...jobs are scarce for recent graduates...academic expansion is finished forever… since it takes scientists to identify prospective scientists [this] accounts for the very real problem that women and minorities are woefully underrepresented among the scientists, because it is hard for us, white, male scientists to perceive that once they are cleaned and cut and polished, they will not look like us…science education is for the most part a dreary business, a burden to student and teacher alike at all levels of American education...Above all, it resolves the paradox of Scientific Elites and Scientific Illiterates. It explains why we have the best scientists and the most poorly educated students in the world…we scientists must find a way to teach science to non-scientists...The frontiers of science have moved far from the experience of ordinary persons [and] we have never developed a way to bring people along as informed tourists...The long era of exponential expansion ended decades ago, but we have not yet reconciled ourselves to that fact...Today's scientific leaders...are mostly people who came of age during the golden era, 1950–1970...the era of scientific elites and scientific illiterates must learn to face reality, and admit that those days are gone forever.” (CalTech 2002)

References: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domestic_policy_of_the_George_W._Bush_administration, http://www.its.caltech.edu/~dg/crunch_art.html, http://www.its.caltech.edu/~dg/

Image: http://i.ytimg.com/vi/UDLI8yMxthU/0.jpg

A FABULOUS ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I (and my Agent, KAREN GRENCHIK) sold my novel!!!

VICTORY OF FISTS

A YA novel whose tagline might read: “Chuck Palahniuk’s FIGHT CLUB meets Ellen Hopkins’ CRANK…with humor.”

There are many, many things to be done until the unveiling, but you will get all the details RIGHT HERE! Also, if you’d like to read the first two chapters IN FIRST DRAFT FORM go here: http://theworkandworksheetsofguystewart.blogspot.com/search/label/Victory%20Of%20Fists%20--%20Chapter%201%20and%202

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 60: Aster of Opportunity

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story.

Aster Theilen, late the consort of the Mayor of one of the five largest Domes on Mars, was the one woman who stood the best chance to make changes. The first change would be to somehow inspire the rest of the planet to donate their hard-earned, hard-inherited credits to support children and young adults who had been an experiment in genetic engineering. The Martian Child Foundation worked tirelessly to provide for children who were supposed to be the future of Mars – who ended up being an embarrassment to all Humanity.

Because of that, they were hidden; ignored; scraping by on donations and the leavings from government trust funds – even that was regularly challenged during budget negotiations on every Council.

Etaraxis did what he could, but he was a political figure against whom some people would cast a vote to airlock their own mothers if he told them to vote to save her life. He stood little chance of doing anything more than convincing cats to crave catnip.

Their account was near empty. He needed an unexpected windfall. “He needs a miracle,” Aster muttered to herself as she watched Hanam vo’Maddux walk away. The woman could blow up her rocket on the launch pad if she chose to. But there was something about her. Something that seemed sad rather than frightening. Aster shook her head and turned to head in the opposite direction.

She needed an idea. Something that would capture the minds of Opportunity’s half million people – engaging them without repelling them. Poster children were out right away. There’d been enough of those attempted in the ten Martian years since the manipulations and births happened. People now only turned away. She found herself strolling to the Core. It was early afternoon so the sun poured down, magnified and reflected and augmented by Solar-spectrum lights until she had to squint. There were people wearing sunglasses as they strolled the vast spiral leading to the top levels, just under the greenhouses and Solar mirrors on the surface. Higher still, parked in an arestationary orbit, webs of solar cells connected to powersats beamed abundant power down to each of the largest Cities. From there, power was beamed or travelled through cables to outlying Stations and Outposts.

From Highest Olympus, the space station serving Mars’ connection with the rest of the Solar System, she had seen the pocks of green on the rusted surface of the Red Planet. The green spread a bit every year, and botanists had claimed this year that they had finally developed a tough, straw-like lichen that could live outside on the Martian equator and in the deepest parts of Valles Marineris.

It was stunning enough that she felt that, had she the voice or any musical talent whatsoever, she would have written a song and sung it then and there! As it was, she had tapped a pathetic poem, thinking it the most evocative thing ever written. Hidden in an encrypted file now, she shuddered...

Down the ramp from the surface came a class of children, their query marker guru smiling, laughing, and doing his darnedest to keep the passel of multi-toned kindergartners under control.

“Kenisha! Don’t go so close to the railing! Mohlee – keep your hands to yourself! Onorio, you and Keiko just have to share until we get back to the park!” He paused, scowled, then called, “All right, everyone, let’s sing ‘Belka v on korzinu’!” He glanced at Aster, started, and said, “Let’s ask the Mayor’s Consort to sing ‘Squirrel In The Cart’ with us!”

The children gathered around her, and Aster hummed along as they sang. Smiling, she knew exactly how to run the funding drive for The Martian Child Foundation.

Image: http://icecube.wisc.edu/~everhagen/tour/pics/greenhouse.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 177

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

SF Trope: Advanced Ancient Humans

Current Event: http://edge.org/conversation/why-did-human-history-unfold-differently-on-different-continents-for-the-last-13000-years, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pygmy_mammoth, “Just think what the course of world history might have been like if Africa's rhinos and hippos had lent themselves to domestication! If that had been possible, African cavalry mounted on rhinos or hippos would have made mincemeat of European cavalry mounted on horses. But it couldn't happen.” Jared

Doba Hrafn shaded her eyes from the sun. To her left – east – the Mississippi glittered like aluminum chaff in the light. Beneath her, her mammoth, Li trembled. She patted the hairy neck. She’d no reason to love the ride north. She’d have preferred to fly, but negotiating a treaty with the Iroquois Confederation required that she appear in traditional garb.

Overhead, a ‘thopter hovered. She tapped her headphones and said, “You’re ruining the effect.”

Maza Blaska Hunt, her aide and mixed blood interpreter, replied, “I’d love to let you ride into Minnesota Polis on your steed alone, but the terrorist alert is high today. You need tight cover.”

Doba sighed, “Who is it this time?”

Maza paused, then said, “Two groups: the Free Chinese negotiating team is threatening to scuttle the talks if the Japanese Emperor is allowed to land and the President of India wants to get going, but Pharaoh Elect Djau Nedjes is taking his own sweet time on the tarmac debarking from his Wright jet.”

Shaking her head, Doba prodded Li and the mammoth lumbered onward. At least she didn’t have to worry about the dumb trumpet wandering off the trail. The pavement was well-maintained and arrow straight. A faint shimmer in the air indicated that a force barrier of some sort would persuade her back on the ceremonial trail if she fell asleep while walking. It would take at least four hours for her to reach the Conference city. Sighing, she said, “Are we doing anything fun when we get there?”

She heard the shrug in Maza’s voice, “Only if your idea of a good time is endless meetings.”

Doba sighed. “I thought I saw somewhere that the Iroquois Space Council was supposed to be meeting.”

There was a longer pause, then Maza said, “You saw correctly.”

Doba stood up in the saddle, waking Li who muttered and slowed down. Dob settled down, patted her mount and when the hairy fool was back up to speed, said in to her headphone, “And when were you planning on telling me?”

“Never.”

Doba sighed, “That’s ridiculous! I would easily qualify for the program! I graduated from Cambridge in New York! I got a Bronze Medal in the Marathon in Athens! I’m Anasazi for heaven’s sake! I’m a minority! Why would they possibly reject me?”

“You’re the only daughter of the hereditary Ruling Council and as far as I can tell, you’re not planning to settle down any time soon and make some heirs.” She fired a rude, derogatory, racist, sexist, and entirely un-ladylike string of invective at Maza. When she finally ran down, he said, “Finished yet?”

“I’m done for now, but as soon as I think of something else, I’ll add it.”

“Good. Now, back to reality, when we arrive in four hours…”

She answered in monosyllables as he droned on about meetings, parties, conferences, and the other details she’d retained him to handle. But her mind wasn’t in the details. All she could think of was the red planet Heng and the colony rumored to be in the planning stages. There were already orbitals, and she’d heard the Aztec and the Zulu had habitats on the moon. Her burning desire was to be the first woman to set foot on the planet named for war…

Resource: http://books.google.com/books?id=zibNDBchPkMC&lpg=PP1&dq=encyclopedia+haudenosaunee&pg=PA135&hl=en#v=onepage&q&f=false, http://glitternight.com/2013/01/28/the-top-fifteen-deities-in-iroquois-mythology/

Names: ♀ Navajo, Old Norse; ♂ Dakotah, European

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3xaD7uTsaMD3MKEbAgTaipJFfILQayFP360vW9aLtNnYc0nQD1eVEe0hKE6vwH22AGVXz8uGue8JVuPTHF89BxTZX-XVgvD0-2iFn75At-aCxP0VzN0YVs8TK4c_dBAF2EbJdOp7q_TP2/s1600/George+Catlin+(American+artist,+1796-1872)+A+Choctaw+Woman.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: What Went Right With My First Book – SIMPLE SCIENCE SERMONS FOR BIG AND LITTLE KIDS (CSS Publishing 1998) Guy Stewart #7

 

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, Lin Oliver speak at a convention hosted by the Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. Since then, I have shared (with their permission) and applied the writing wisdom of Lin Oliver, Jack McDevitt, Nathan Bransford, Mike Duran, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, SL Veihl, Bruce Bethke, and Julie Czerneda. Together they write in genres broad and deep, and have acted as agents, editors, publishers, columnists, and teachers.

While I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it...neither do all of the professional writers above...someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. When I started this blog, that was NOT true, so I may have reached a point where my own advice is reasonably good. We shall see! Hemingway’s quote to the left will now remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales! As always, your comments are welcome!

SIMPLE SCIENCE SERMONS FOR BIG AND LITTLE KIDS (still in print after sixteen years – https://store.csspub.com/prod-0788012940.htm) grew out of my passion for science, my work with young people, my faith in Christ, and my belief that science can be used to illustrate ideas of faith.

The sermons themselves were well-tested, both in the lab and on the platform. It seemed natural to write them up and try and sell them.

The thing was, was that people would come up to me after my sermons and say, “How do you DO that? I’d never know what to say!” There are twenty science demonstrations, matched with twenty scripts matched with twenty bible verses or passages.

My biggest problem was creating a natural-sounding script for someone to read! I did the things all the time and also, being a classroom teacher, I’d not only do the lab, but banter as well – sort of like how a magician does his shtick in order to distract his audience from the sleight of hand she’s working on the stage. I’d done it for years but how could I condense my endless prattle into something someone who was UNFAMILIAR with science and its funny aspects could use when presenting things like “The Electric Pickle”? How could I POSSIBLY connect the day of Pentecost – when tongues of fire came down on the heads of the disciples of Jesus and their tongues were loosened to speak languages they’d never learned to people who could understand what they were saying – and the lightning flashes you see inside a large deli pickle when you use an old electrical cord, split the ends and wrap bare wires around two nails, then shove them into opposite ends of the pickle and plug it into the wall?

I pointed out that “our God is a god of surprises”...certainly none of the disciples expected tongues of fire on their heads, a wind rushing through their room, or being able to speak unlearned languages.

Certainly no one who sees a pickle with nails stuck in either end would expect the pickle to become a veritable night light!

All of the children’s sermons in the book are like that.

What did I do right with SIMPLE SCIENCE SERMONS FOR BIG AND LITTLE KIDS?

First, I wrote what I knew. I know that’s not always possible, but in non-fiction, I am convinced that you have to intimately know what you’re talking about. Secondly, I made what I was doing easily transferrable – I gave a basic script that covered all the salient points. Third, I provided an equipment list of easily obtainable materials (except for one, in which I advised the presenter to get the acid-base indicator phenolphthalein from a chemistry or science teacher they knew), the Bible verse on which the sermon was based, and a very brief explanation of the science of the demonstration.

Last of all, I wrote it with a light hand. This wasn’t a science textbook. It wasn’t an attempt to convert outsiders to Christianity nor make fun of science.

I wanted kids to see something that outsiders and Christians could agree on: SCIENCE IS COOL!

I am passionate about science. I am passionate about young people. I am passionate about Jesus Christ. A book melding all three was a natural for me.

[One caveat: CSS Publishing is not particularly author friendly. Sixteen years ago, the contract they offered me was an offer of $100 (for all rights), book promotional materials, and twelve copies of the finished book with a promise to return the rights of the book to me when they were done with it. I asked for more money and was told I was lucky that they were doing it for me as books like this have no market. It was “a ministry”. I believed them and signed the contract. Never got the promotional material and a phone call a year later elicited a response that they would send them as soon as they could, but it probably was too late...Sixteen years later, by my calculations, they have made (conservatively: initial investment of $3000 to produce the book and print 100 copies. Selling at $6.95. Sell 100 a year then reprint (why ELSE would they keep it if no one bought it?) 100 x 6.95 = $695 x 5 years = $3475 + $1000 reprint costs. They increased the price to the current $8.50 over the years, so let’s average it: $7.30. 2004 to 2014, 10 more years = $7300 + $3475 - $4000 = $6775...Hmmm...not bad for “books like this have no market”… I suspect they made a bit more than that because when I approached them to return the copyright, they ignored me. I would suggest seeking a different publisher for your manuscript...)]

Image: http://static4.quoteswave.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/We-are-all-apprentices.jpg, http://a248.e.akamai.net/7/4/243149/v1/

226618ns.download.akamai.com/226618/cklg/940/0788012940.jpg

SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH #63: July 26, 1946 And NOW the New Title: THE PORTRAIT MYSTERY JOURNEY (Or something like this…)

This series is a little bit biographical and a little bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and fascinated by the tale. So, I added some speculation about things I've always wondered about and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH clips, click on the label to the right, scroll down to and click OLDER ENTRIES seven or eight times. The FIRST entry is on the bottom of the last page.

Arne Volz sighed then said, “We only got twenty-something miles ‘til we pull into Duluth.” He scowled at them. “Then I’m gonna have to ask you boys to get out and back on your own. No matter what Ed says, it ain’t safe for me – and I’m thinking it’s not safe for you.”

Tommy Hastings started to breathe again, but his heart was still pounding in his chest.

Freddie Merrill said, “What do you mean, it’s not safe for you? They aren’t trying to kill you! They’re trying to kill Tommy!”

Arne shrugged, “True, but they seen my license plates now and they know you boys is with me. So they’ll go through town, looking for my truck. When they find it, you won’t be here and they won’t have no idea where you gone.”

Freddie sagged back in the seat, sighing; but Tommy said, “What if they kill you?”

“No chance of that,” he said, laughing. “Ed would smack every one of ‘em upside the head before they could get close enough to aim a gun at me. It’s what she did in the Pacific.”

“She did?” Freddie asked.

“Sure. She never told you about…”

Tommy laid back while Arne spun tall tales and Freddie swallowed them, hook, line, and sinker. Him? He was still worried – and worried more about the Finnish Socialists and the Mobsters finding Mom and Dad. Why’d he ever leave home? He couldn’t even remember. Maybe it was because Dad was so mean to him? They didn’t seem to care? How could they care, he thought miserably, when they had people after them because they had a secret picture? A picture that could get them both killed. The bigger question was why they kept it – why didn’t mom throw it away?

Staring out the window of the truck as they rumbled through the night, he found he’d fallen asleep when he banged his head on the window as the truck ground to a stop. “This is where I gotta leave you boys off.”

“It’s dark out still!” said Freddie, yawning a moment later.

“Probably better that way,” said Arne.

“How’s that?”

“The Socialists and the Mobsters aren’t gonna see you get out,” he paused, “If you hurry up before they get here.” Both boys looked through the back window.

Tommy popped the door open and slithered to the ground. “Hey, the Land-O-Lakes is at the top of this hill!”

“Your buddy told me it would be a good idea to stop here. See you, boys. Good luck to ya.”

Freddie slammed the door and Tommy hissed at him, “You want to wake up the whole city?”

He looked ashamed and said, “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Tommy jerked his chin up toward the creamery and said, “Let’s go before they catch up to us.” They started up the hill just as a truck came roaring down the street. The boys scrambled into the shadows and knelt down on the concrete sideway in the dark. The truck slowed down…

Image: http://media.iwm.org.uk/iwm/mediaLib/50/media-50753/large.jpg?action=d