Accessing the DALN for STEM Students at an Hispanic Serving Institution

STACEY STANFIELD ANDERSON

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ABSTRACT

This chapter focuses on efforts to draw upon the DALN to increase scientific literacy among students at an Hispanic Serving Institution. The study centers on a learning module developed to enhance the retention and success of first-generation college freshmen majoring in STEM disciplines (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) at an HSI. Incorporating model narratives from the DALN as well as student samples from courses that completed the learning module, the chapter emphasizes civic scientific literacy as a crucial skill for students in becoming engaged citizens and critical thinkers, and advocates for greater attention to scientific literacy in first-year composition courses. The study reveals the potential of the DALN and composition studies to examine the role of narrative in strengthening individual and collective action on issues of scientific urgency.

Appendix

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Introduction: The Scientific Literacy Narrative in First-Year Composition

The sheer breadth and volume of material captured in the Digital Archive of Literacy Narratives (DALN) makes it an invaluable resource for exploring multiple literacies. My own foray into the DALN began while designing a first-year composition course centered on scientific literacy. This course was part of an interdisciplinary Learning Community aimed at increasing the retention and success of underserved minority students in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) disciplines. As a compositionist who has long been passionate about the value of scientific literacy for all students and citizens, I took this opportunity to focus on the significance of writing in helping students navigate the various discourses within and around scientific issues. The DALN was instrumental in shaping the signature assignment that emerged from these efforts: a scientific literacy narrative.

As the editors of the DALN (n.d.) explain to potential contributors, “[a] literacy narrative is simply a collection of items that describe how you learned to read, write, and compose.” DALN collaborators Kathryn B. Comer and Michael Harker (2015) observe that “the rise of the DALN reflects the popularity of the literacy narrative genre in contemporary composition studies,” especially as emphasis in composition pedagogy has shifted away from “published, polished exemplar narratives” that reify polarizing notions of professional versus student writing and towards using the written work of students as texts (p. 66). Comer and Harker’s study surveys “promising practices” for integrating the DALN into composition pedagogy—a purpose that the authors also acknowledge the archive was not initially intended to serve (2015, p. 67-68).

Krista Bryson (2012) also notes that the DALN was not created with the expectation of functioning as a tool for research and further argues that the framing of the archive has “privileged a traditional definition of literacy that may unintentionally limit the intended audience’s conceptions of what literacy is and thus what a literacy narrative can be about” (p. 255, 258). Even Bryson’s more critical reading of the DALN nevertheless focuses on its utility in the teaching and study of traditional literacy narratives. While such an application may now seem intuitive even among potential detractors, the notion of a scientific literacy narrative is far from ubiquitous. Nevertheless, one of the most liberating aspects of working with the DALN is its adaptability in this regard, inviting a “Choose Your Own Adventure” approach for users of all stripes—even teacher-scholars.

What is Scientific Literacy?

As is the case with all forms of literacy, “scientific literacy” is subject to several definitions. These definitions exist outside of composition studies and are not typically at odds with one another, but rather are shaped by distinct lenses and contexts. As a non-scientist whose expertise lies in the teaching and study of writing and critical thinking, I have sought out expansive definitions of scientific literacy as an inexorable component of being an engaged citizen of the country as well as the planet. Science education expert Wendy R. Johnson (2016) articulates an understanding of scientific literacy that speaks to this perspective:

Scientific Literacy includes the ability to participate in scientific discourse to some degree, even if only as a critical consumer of scientific information. While not all students will become scientists, all citizens of our society need the skills to continue to learn about science outside of school and the ability to apply their understanding to make personal decisions and engage in public discussion of socioscientific issues. (p. 371)

What Johnson outlines mirrors research scientist Jon D. Miller’s (2013) description of civic scientific literacy, which he views as  “critical to the preservation of our democratic principles.” Miller, who has dedicated the bulk of his career to advocating for this cause, uses the term “civic scientific literacy” to denote the “level and kinds of information that a citizen needs to know in order to follow current and emerging public policy issues.” At bare minimum, American citizens should attain a level of literacy that is “needed to read the science section of the Tuesday New York Times or to watch an episode of Nova on public television.” Miller underscores “that this is the minimal level necessary to allow citizens to engage with science-related public policy issues and that we ought to seek to elevate this level of understanding in the decades ahead.”

The definitions offered by Johnson (2016) and Miller (2013) suggest the potential for close consideration of scientific literacy within composition studies. Composition is uniquely situated to cultivate a reflective, interdisciplinary mindset in students as they prepare to navigate the ever shifting political, economic, and media landscapes that shape the directions of public discourse on scientific issues ranging from vaccinations to the regulation of carbon emissions.

The urgency of scientific literacy has long been touted in the popular press by notable figures such as Neil deGrasse Tyson (White, 2014) and Alan Alda (Morrison, 2016). More recently, we have entered an age in which the President of the United States has described climate change as a myth generated by China in order to preserve its economic edge (Jacobson, 2016). Perhaps less jarring but still notable, a 2016 Pew Research Center survey found that 39% of Americans believe that Genetically Modified foods are more unhealthy than non-GM foods, with a majority of those surveyed believing that scientists are actively debating the health effects of GM foods, when in fact a 2016 report from the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine affirmed the consensus among scientific experts that GM foods are indeed safe from a consumer perspective (Funk & Kennedy, 2016).

Now more than ever, students must hone the critical skills to distinguish fact from fiction, to develop reasoned perspectives based on evidence rather than gut instinct or popular opinion, and to ultimately take a seat at the table when decisions are being made that will determine the fate of our planet and its populace.

Institutional Context

While cultivating scientific literacy among all students is crucial, it is absolutely imperative in increasing the diversity of students who become scientists themselves. This is a national issue but also an institutional one at my campus, California State University Channel Islands (CI). Founded in 2002, CI is the newest addition to the country’s largest state university system, the CSU. Many of our students are second-generation Americans whose parents work the rich agricultural fields of the Oxnard Plain that surround our campus. We serve a large population of low-income, non-traditional, first-generation college students and are a designated Hispanic Serving Institution (HSI). Although 40% of incoming first-year CI students are deemed not proficient in English according to California State University’s English Placement Test (CSU, 2016a), we have designed an innovative, inclusive composition program that enables 92% of students to successfully complete their college writing requirement in their first year at CI without remediation (Anderson, 2015).

FIgure 1. Satellite Image of CSUCI-Oxnard Plain.
Figure 1. Google Earth satellite image of CSUCI-Oxnard Plain

As an HSI, our campus has received several grants that endeavor “to build a university going culture in the region and strengthen university infrastructure and programs that further promote CSU Channel Islands’ commitment to fostering diversity, facilitating access and promoting educational attainment” (CSUCI, 2016b). Our composition courses have been a natural fit for such efforts, helping underserved students develop confidence as writers, readers, and members of the University community. Literacy narratives play a significant role in these composition courses, encouraging students to reflect on the experiences that have shaped them as readers, writers, and thinkers and helping them recognize that their stories are far from over. Thus, when I was asked to develop a composition course as part of an HSI grant focused on underrepresented students in STEM disciplines, it made sense to create a learning module centered more specifically on scientific literacy.

The need to support underserved minority students in STEM is clear. At our campus, 25% of incoming first-year students who initially declare a STEM major leave STEM within their first three years. This percentage of “STEM leavers” rises to 29% for first-year students who are both Hispanic and low income (e.g. eligible for Pell Grants). We see lower course pass rates for STEM students who are Latino (69.8%) and Latina (69.1%) compared to other STEM students (80.5%) (Sanchez et al., 2016). Through a project launched by the CSU Chancellor’s Office STEM Collaboratives Initiative, and funded by the Helmsley Charitable Trust, CI created a project called Retaining, Inspiring, Supporting, and Engaging Students in STEM (CSUCI, 2016c). The program incorporated the High Impact Practices of Learning Communities and First Year Experience Programs to place students in cohorts that shared a chemistry course, a critical thinking course, and a first-year composition course (CSUCI, 2014).

Why Work with the DALN?

As an open educational resource that is continuously evolving and expanding, the DALN aligns both pedagogically and practically with the broader mission of our composition program in general and this learning community specifically. The DALN is an accessible, dynamic, and certainly affordable alternative to the overpriced, static textbooks that are increasingly impeding student access to higher education. Such material economic constraints cannot be overlooked in an era when 60% of college students do not buy textbooks due to the cost (Lalonde, 2015). Understanding that the students we serve already face enough hurdles, financial and otherwise, our composition program at CI has long steered away from pricey rhetorics, readers, and handbooks, instead gravitating towards open source texts as well as writing samples from previous students.

While we could perhaps justify requiring expensive textbooks if they would make a measurable difference in learning, we have found that students become more empowered and capable as writers when they are able to read and discuss examples from other students who have struggled with the same issues they face. The DALN has expanded the walls of the classroom much further, exposing students to an even broader diversity of authentic voices that open up possibilities for their own writing in a way that oft-anthologized, professional essays cannot.

When I began to explore the DALN as a resource for developing a learning module on scientific literacy, I was delighted to discover the wealth of material in virtually every mode of delivery that would provide inspiration for my students. In designing the writing task for this module, I was mindful of Deborah Brandt’s (1998) powerful theory of literacy sponsorship and how it could be applied within the context of scientific literacy. Our campus’s HSI initiatives have certainly been a response to the “persistent stratification of opportunity and escalating standards for literacy achievement” that Brandt identified in “Sponsors of Literacy” (1998, p. 167). The students we serve at CI typically “have less consistent, less politically secured access to literacy sponsors-especially to the ones that can grease their way to academic and economic success” (p. 170). Brandt uses the term sponsor to capture the “range of human relationships and ideological pressures that turn up at the scenes of literacy learning” (p. 168), frequently in the form of  “older relatives, teachers, priests, supervisors, military officers, editors, influential authors (p. 167). The concept of literacy sponsorship teases out the connection “between literacy learning and systems of opportunity and access” (p. 169) as well as the “unequal conditions of literacy sponsorship that lie behind differential outcomes in academic performance” (Brandt, 1998, p. 170) that are as operational in scientific literacy as they are in the reading and writing practices at the center of Brandt’s study. I developed my assignment to give first-year students an opportunity to identify and examine the conditions that have influenced their access to scientific literacy thus far and shaped their identities as potential members of the STEM community or at least scientifically literate citizens.

The writing assignment I designed asked students to reflect on key moments in their own personal histories that have shaped their scientific literacy, including moments in and out of school and any relevant texts that may have played a role. As with more typical literacy narratives, students were advised to focus on moments that they could flesh out in vivid detail and reflect on within the larger arc of their own journeys. Students were asked to draw upon various sources that explored the topic of scientific literacy, including studies from the Pew Research Center, in composing their essays. Although this learning module and the others I created for the course were inspired by my participation in the RISE Students in STEM Learning Community, it made sense both logistically and philosophically to implement the same assignment sequence in my other composition courses as well. This provided two iterations of the scientific literacy narrative and ample material for the purposes of this study.

First Iteration: Fall 2015

The most notable lesson that came from teaching this learning module the first time was that most students would not instinctively make use of the DALN for models or possible research sources without more explicit directions or requirements to do so. This was in spite of the fact that the prompt specifically made mention of the DALN as a resource. As students were instructed in the writing task, “In this essay, you will reflect upon the evolution of your own scientific literacy. Your paper will draw upon the reading tasks from this module, your results from the Pew Science and Technology Quiz, and texts from your own personal literacy story that reflect significant stages in your journey. You will also draw upon the Digital Archive of Literacy Narratives (DALN) in composing your paper.” (See Learning Module 1 in Appendix.)

I devoted class time to showing students how to search the DALN and provided examples of relevant narratives I had located in my own searches. In practice, however, students focused primarily on incorporating the studies from the Pew Research Center on the public’s knowledge and attitudes regarding scientific issues, as well as other sources I had provided to show how the results of the these studies were discussed in news media. Students who were in the RISE program also brought in materials they had learned in their critical thinking course that was linked with our composition class. In the midst of writing their own narratives and incorporating research and analysis into their essays (a programmatic requirement for all composition classes that fulfill the first-year writing requirement), most students overlooked the DALN as a resource.

How the DALN Proved Useful

The DALN was most useful in my fall courses to help legitimize the value of personal narratives as material worthy of a college writing course. First-year students typically arrive at our campus with a firmly entrenched notion that the word “I” has no place in academic writing. This belief has been so ingrained that they have a difficult time taking my word for it, even when they are asked to write first-person narratives. The examples from the DALN I provided in class helped students understand that personal, first-person student writing was not only acceptable but publishable. Similarly, the examples from the DALN helped students understand the small, seemingly commonplace moments our assignment was designed to elicit. In the words of Comer and Harker (2015), the collection “aspires to make visible the everyday literacy practices of ordinary people” (p. 65), making it particularly useful for first-year, first-generation college students who are still establishing their own identities within the academy. The DALN helps students understand that they have stories that are worth sharing.

Moreover, the variety of “little” narratives available in the archives provide alternatives or at least more nuanced variations of what Kara Poe Alexander (2011) terms the “literacy-equals-success motif” (p. 628). Alexander challenges compositionists to adjust their literacy narrative assignments so that students do not feel obligated to replicate “simplistic master narratives like the success narrative” in their essays; she also suggests the students be encouraged to  concentrate on “one formative literacy experience” rather than a catalogue of moments from birth through college in order to help students generate a “‘true’ little narrative” (p. 628). Even a “success” narrative a student might produce in this framework would be “contextualized and individualized” rather than abstract and over-generalized (2011, p. 626). Alexander focuses on literacy narratives centered on reading and writing, but her findings have implications for the scientific literacy narratives my students were asked to write.

The DALN is rich with “contextualized and individualized” little or local scientific narratives. Constraints of time and space during which the narrative is captured, particularly if it is an audio or video narrative, necessarily limit the scope of many pieces in the collection. These factors have also helped proliferate narratives that frequently steer away from the overly optimistic, “happily every after” conclusions that students often feel compelled to tack onto their own literacy narrative essays. In her study, Alexander (2011) found that students were most likely to rely on a “one-dimensional” spin towards success in the conclusions of their essays. The majority of her subjects “relied on success narratives to ‘sum up’ their experiences, even when their concluding point did not logically follow from earlier stories in their literacy narrative” (p. 623).

The literacy narrative genre may seem to almost demand the invocation of the “literacy myth” that “attaches literacy to success,” as Krista Bryson argues (2012, p. 282). Bryson implicates the DALN in this myth, particularly with regard to some of the suggested prompts for eliciting contributors’ stories, while acknowledging that the “archive provides contributors both subversive and traditional frameworks for understanding literacy and literacy narratives” (p. 257). The open, accessible, digital nature of the archive allows for such a broad array of contributions that it “provides a potential space for subversion of the grand narrative of the literacy myth through little narratives from people across a wide spectrum of literacy and cultural backgrounds, experiences, and ideologies” (Bryson, 2012, p. 257).

This array becomes even more apparent when focusing in on scientific literacy narratives, which are not commonplace enough to be as culturally loaded as narratives focused on reading and writing. Scientific literacy is also less likely to be perceived as a journey towards a single, triumphant summit. The nature of science and the scientific method lend themselves to a more fluid, evolving identify at both the individual and cultural level. The diversity of scientific fields and various contexts in which scientific literacy can grow and/or be exercised allow for more of a “snapshot” approach to these narratives that is less like likely to be imbued with expectations for a tidy, satisfying conclusion. Moreover, failure is widely perceived as an integral aspect of the scientific process, as exemplified in social media by the #fieldworkfail phenomenon in which scientists share their often humorous mistakes and mishaps in the field via Twitter (Meyer, 2015). Examining scientific literacy narratives within the DALN reveals possibilities for alternative narratives that do not succumb to the pat archetypes or clichés that concern Poe (2011) and Bryson (2012).

DALN Model: Cindy Phan’s “Lab Write-ups”

Because most of my Fall 2015 students were not inclined to search the DALN of their own accord, the primary exposure they had to the archives were from the samples I provided in class, such as the audio narrative entitled “Lab Write-ups” submitted by Cindy Phan, dated April 19, 2009. As is often the case with pieces in the DALN, the title of the submission only represents one aspect of a story that covers several facets and a broad swath of time. While brief, Phan’s narrative provides an authentic, first-person close-up on the evolution of scientific literacy my own essay prompt was intended to elicit from students.

Audio 1. Cindy Phan, “Lab Write-ups” [Transcript]

Phan’s audio narrative begins with an early memory of her exposure to science in grade school making volcanoes by mixing vinegar and baking soda. “I was so amused by that simple reaction,” she remarks. “My interest and love for the subject has grown with me, and now in college, I plan to make it part of my career.” Phan then turns to the subject of writing, indicating that she did not realize when she was a child and first developing her love for science that it would involve “so much writing.” She notes how the lab reports she wrote in high school were simple enough that she could compose them just before class, but in college she finds herself “working on lab reports all the time,” and expectations are much higher. “Each lab report is so extensive,” notes Phan, “I feel as though I am writing a novel.”

Phan’s further reflections indicate that she has mastered the rhetorical situation of the lab report and how it is situated with the practices and conventions of the scientific community. She notes quite perceptively that the “actual experiment takes a backseat” to the report itself. She clearly understands that failure is an expected outcome of the scientific process, and that whether an experiment turns out as hypothesized is of comparatively minimal consequence “as long as it’s all documented and thoroughly explained in the lab report.” Phan goes on to observe that the lab report is the first thing that comes to mind whenever she thinks about science, indicating the important role that writing (especially data analysis, “the most important section that makes up the bulk of the report”) plays in her discipline.

Although this is an audio submission, Phan clearly prepared her words in advance. This leads to a narrative that is fairly detailed and coherent for its length (just under two minutes). Though Phan’s prepared remarks lack the spontaneity of narratives that are delivered more extemporaneously, the level of reflection and self-awareness she brings to the piece provided a useful model for my students, especially as the products they were expected to produce would also be written.

Following her prepared narrative, Phan answers questions from her unnamed interviewer that seem intended to elicit further reflection from the subject. The interviewer seems particularly focused on having Phan identify the sponsors of her literacy, asking, “Did your parents kinda reward you for doing this sort of thing?” Phan responds “Not really,” and laughs, to which the interviewer replies, “Really? You just did it?” Phan affirms that this was the case. The interviewer seems incredulous that Phan’s internal motivation, work ethic, and passion for science were not sparked by parental intervention. The interviewer then asks if Phan’s parents ever rewarded her for reading, again seeking evidence of literacy sponsorship. “Um. My sisters would,” Phan replies. “My mom didn’t really pay attention because she was really busy with work. But if I read, my sisters would let me play video games or they would bake me cookies or something.”

The questions posed by Phan’s interviewer suggest that he was attempting to evoke more reflection about her literacy in terms of reading and writing, especially with regard to literacy sponsorship. While Phan’s narrative indicates that she has a clear sense of herself as a member of the scientific community and the expectations placed upon her as a student in that community, she seems less concerned with her own development as a reader and writer in general. For her, reading and writing seem to be tools that she harnesses in the service of her discipline to demonstrate her abilities to master content and analyze data. Her narrative gives little indication of the figures in her life that helped spark her passion, though one might infer the role of the teachers going as far back as elementary school and those classroom experiments with vinegar and baking soda. Nonetheless, Phan’s narrative provides an instructive example for students in how to construct a coherent narrative based on selected moments from one’s own life.

Student Samples: Nick VanKeersbilck and Ryan Sandefur

Only two of my 51 first-year composition students incorporated pieces from the DALN into their own essays. One was from the RISE cohort and the other was from a regular composition course that was not linked to a Learning Community. In both cases, these were diligent students who were consistently meticulous about incorporating every required resource into their papers. One RISE student, Nick VanKeersbilck (2015), cited the 2014 video narrative of composition instructor Dwedor Ford, “Integrating Technology into the Classroom.

Video 1. Dwedor Ford, “Integrating Technology into the Classroom” [Transcript | Caption file]

The backdrop of the video indicates that Ford’s narrative was captured at the station the DALN team sets up at the annual Conference on Composition and Communication Convention (information that is confirmed in the metadata associated with the listing). In the narrative, Ford describes herself as “one of those early adopters” who learned to use computers in the early 1980s when her husband returned to school to earn advanced degrees in  computer science and then slowly began incorporating email and word processing into her composition classes. At a time when students were still able to submit handwritten work, Ford felt it was important for students to learn these skills but also noted that it made it much easier to decipher and thus grade student writing (a material concern for someone teaching sections of 30 students each). Ford’s expanding computer literacy ultimately inspired her to pursue a Ph.D., publishing a dissertation on the integration of technology in the classroom. Ford concludes her narrative by noting that her husband also went on to earn a Ph.D., and their shared interest in computers gave the couple common ground for conversation and connection even though they were in seemingly disparate fields.

Figure 2. Screenshot of Dwedor Ford.
Figure 2. Screenshot of Dwedor Ford

In his brief analysis of Ford’s narrative, Nick looks to her story as an example of how “teachers and professors play a pivotal role in helping shape the future of science in America… The change starts with them.” Although Nick misidentifies Ford’s profession as that of an elementary school teacher, this could be attributed to the compromised audio quality of the video, since one must strain to hear Ford’s words while another speaker is talking at the same volume close by. First-year students like Nick are also not ensconced in the discourse community of composition to understand that a “composition class” typically refers to a college level course. Nick also seems to be viewing Ford’s story through his own subject position as a first-year college student, connecting to his own memories of a sixth-grade teacher who inspired Nick to become more curious about science:

My first real experience with science was in the sixth grade when I had Mr. Borchard as my teacher. He taught us about life sciences, earth sciences and biology. He always had a fun way to link his lesson to the real world and explain why it is relevant today. Young students are always asking why they are learning something or how it is going to relate to them in their daily lives, teachers need to always make a conscious effort to try to give real life examples and start to fill in the whole picture for the students. This makes it fun and interesting for the students and makes them want to learn the material. Kids need to be interested in a subject to fully learn and understand the material. (VanKeersbilck, 2015)

Mr. Borchard was clearly a formative figure in inspiring Nick to pursue a degree in biology. Engaging with the DALN helped Nick reflect on such influences and how they had shaped his thinking as a student, aspiring scientist, and engaged citizen.

Earlier in his essay, Nick advocates for an open source, collaborative approach to science that unwittingly echoes the mission of the DALN:

Science, like many things, should be open source. As someone who enjoys computer programming, open source projects are a cool way to use someone else’s work and then improve on it. When many people improve on this same piece of software, it benefits the entire community as a whole. Science is very similar, one scientist performs an experiment and then records his observations, then another picks up where they last left off, and another, and another. Collaboration is a very important aspect of good science. It helps progress research and development much faster. Moving is improving, and one person can not complete the entire project by themselves, they need a team around them. (VanKeersbilck, 2015)

Nick’s essay is both thoughtful and optimistic in its characterization of the communal nature of scientific inquiry. Composed before the rise of “fake news” and “alternative facts,” Nick’s words are a balm against the anti-intellectualism that has pervaded American culture since the 2016 election. Frankly, the perspective offered in this essay provides a ray of hope that I fear I took for granted in the fall of 2015.

Art major Ryan Sandefur, the other Fall 2015 student to incorporate the DALN into his scientific literacy narrative, embraces a similarly optimistic attitude towards scientific discovery and progress in his essay. (It is worth noting here that students were given three essays to write in the fall 2015 semester, two of which were to be further revised and edited for inclusion in the final portfolio to be assessed by our composition team. Unlike Nick, Ryan did not choose to include this essay in his final portfolio, so his scientific literacy narrative did not go through as many rounds of revision and editing). Ryan writes, “I… look forward to what new advances science will contribute to society and how people’s lives will change because of it. I am also excited to see what technology will develop as science improves and see how this technology will improve our lives. It will be interesting to see how people become inspired to contribute to science.” Ryan then refers to the 2013 DALN narrative provided by The Ohio State Professor Emeritus Bill Rich, “A Bookish Aerospace Engineer.”

Video 2: Bill Rich, “A Bookish Aerospace Engineer” [Transcript | Caption file]

Rich’s literacy narrative, captured in video as well as via transcript, describes the role of libraries in his early reading experiences. In the course of telling his story, Rich (2013) points to science fiction, most of which he borrowed from libraries, as shaping him both as a reader and as a scientist:

[O]h science fiction became hugely popular when I was in high school in the early 50s, and this is sort of the glory days of science fiction. Isaac Asimov had just begun to publish and Heinlein and people like that, I would always read Astounding Science Fiction magazine, and became interested in space travel and rocketry from reading science fiction. Sorta helped me decide that I wanted to learn more about rocketry, actually. But a lot of this, again, a lot of the books, I didn’t buy many books at that time, they were almost all library books from both public libraries and the school libraries.

Ryan points to Rich’s anecdote as an example of the different ways people become inspired to pursue and advance science: “People become inspired in many different ways and make contributions in their own way to further scientific research, Bill is an example of this. People learn different skills such as building rockets and other people learn about it and they become inspired themselves and want to try something similar” (Sandefur, 2015). Had Ryan gone on to further revise this essay for the portfolio, we could have conferenced about community literacy and the role of public education and libraries in cultivating opportunities for access and equity, including in STEM disciplines. Again, the assumption that these institutions will persist in this capacity was something I took for granted in the fall of 2015; Rich’s narrative is a compelling reminder of why they must endure. 

Figure 3. Screenshot of Bill Rich.
Figure 3. Screenshot of Bill Rich

While Ryan is not pursuing a STEM degree himself, he is an aspiring digital artist and game designer who finds scientific literacy valuable not just for his own curiosity and awareness as a citizen but also as a means of helping him create authentic digital spaces:

Digital media helps these worlds become real on computers and influences the setting in video games. I hope one day to use various avenues of science to explain why things are the way that they are in this particular world, such as a suit that lets people fly. I don’t want to just throw this piece of technology into a game with no scientific evidence of how it was created or how it could possibly work. It would break the immersion in the game and people would want to know why this it is here, not just ‘there we go, this magical new technology now exists.’ Having some amount of science to explain things in games makes them more believable. (Sandefur, 2015)

Ryan also articulates how a class, when taught in an engaging and experiential manner, can serve as “the gateway into becoming interested in other scientific subjects.” He likens this experience to a photography class: “Photography, like science causes people to view the world through a lens [that] makes you start to notice instances, such as time of day or lighting on a flower that you realize would make a great photograph. When you think about it, Photography really involved a various amount of science.” Ryan goes on to detail the process of developing photos, the way cameras flip images as part of the photographic process, and the various ways in which this kind of science makes people critical thinkers because they start to want to know more about how things work or why they work in the way that they do.”

Ryan concludes his essay by advocating for the role of science education in cultivating an engaged citizenry:

Classes should expand on the subject of science to help inspire students to want to study in science and improve people’s knowledge about it. It has affected my life in numerous ways and through my scientific journey, I realize how important it is. Technology will change science and help people to communicate with scientists to learn more and it will help people make more informed decisions about how it will affect the population. As more people become interested in science, new advances will be made and new subjects will be discovered. (Sandefur, 2015)

In retrospect, I see how I could have worked more closely with both Nick and Ryan to engage more thoroughly with and integrate the DALN into their essays. Nonetheless, the work they produced demonstrated to me the value of this tool in helping students contemplate and articulate the value of scientific literacy. I resolved to provide more direction to students in my second iteration of this learning module to help them more effectively incorporate the material from the archives into their own essays.

Second Iteration: Spring 2016

I used what I learned in Fall 2015 to tweak the assignment in Spring 2016. For pedagogical reasons, I also opted to make the scientific literacy narrative the final assignment of the semester, so that students would be more immersed in the theme of the course and have more experience with integrating sources into their writing. Although these spring courses were not part of the RISE program, demographically the students still represented the population targeted by the grant. The spring courses also contained a high percentage of students in our pre-nursing program. While these students are not considered to be part of STEM as articulated on our campus or in the grant, it would be difficult to argue that STEM is not integral to their coursework.

This time around, I required students to read and summarize at least five selections from the DALN as part of their reading tasks for the assignment. Moreover, students were told that they should integrate at least two of the narratives into their own essays. Other readings were updated for the assignment, and we spent more time and energy discussing the nature of scientific literacy and why it was important. As students were instructed in the writing task for this revised version of the learning module, “In this essay, you will reflect upon the evolution of your own scientific literacy. Your paper will draw upon the reading tasks from this module and texts from your own personal literacy story that reflect significant stages in your journey. Use the sources provided to define what scientific literacy is (and what it means to you) and why it matters. (See Appendix.) The number of students enrolled in these sections was significantly lower than in the fall (31 in the spring, versus 51 in the previous fall). This allowed me to spend more individual time with students encouraging them to dig into the narratives and helping them with any challenges they faced.

I also devoted much more time in the spring to having students conduct searches within the DALN during our class meetings. Each student created a Google Doc in a shared class folder where they could copy and paste links to narratives that they might be able to incorporate into their papers and better allow me (and their fellow students) to monitor and provide feedback on the relevance of their selections. Students were then invited to share with the rest of their classmates notable narratives they had found and indicate why these pieces caught their attention.

DALN Model: Rachael Sullivan’s “Reading and Writing Pictures”

I again provided examples to students from the DALN to introduce the learning module to them and get them started conducting their own searches in the archives. One such example was Rachael Sullivan’s audio narrative, “Reading and Writing Pictures,” dated June 4, 2009. Sullivan’s story seems to be set in the early to mid-1990s, given the reference to the Dave Matthews Band poster that the narrator pulls off her wall in order to use the reverse side to help study for an evolutionary biology final.

Audio 2: Rachael Sullivan, “Reading and Writing Pictures” [Transcript]

Sullivan describes how literacy for her “has been always connected with looking at pictures and drawing pictures.” She identifies math and science as two classes that were always hard for her because they didn’t have “a lot of visuals.” Struggling to make sense of the material in the lecture-oriented evolutionary biology class, Sullivan vividly describes taking one of her Dave Matthews Band posters off the wall of her dorm room and drawing the history of the major concepts of evolutionary biology: “It was very intricate and I ended up coloring it to help me learn it. And it was the only way I could think to study.” Despite her creative efforts, Sullivan failed the exam, her GPA plummeted, and she never took another science course again. In an effort to compensate for her failing grade, Sullivan applied herself in all of her other classes and never received anything lower than an A after that.

The outcome of Sullivan’s story is not the obvious triumphant one students have come to expect from popular culture, or that Alexander would identify as the default conclusion of most students’ literacy narratives. Ultimately, however, the story underscores the value of failure in ultimately achieving success down the road. Unlike Cindy Phan, Sullivan tells her story extemporaneously and provides two subsequent moments of reflection. Sullivan remarks that the story shows how visual literacy came naturally to her in a time when that concept hardly existed in higher education let alone composition studies. She also reflect that “learners need to learn… in different modes” and tested in different ways as well other than straight written exams. Being left with “oral lectures and written notes,” and without any of the audio-visual resources available to students today, cast her adrift. For students in 2016, hearing Sullivan’s “old school” college experience provides a counterpoint to the more interactive and visually oriented teaching and learning tools that are ubiquitous today.

Sullivan’s story, which I compared to Phan’s when presenting this assignment to my spring 2016 classes, invites speculation as to what happens to students that either draws them to science or repels them away from it. Phan’s wonderment at the volcano experiment in her elementary years sparked an interest that carried her through to college and conceivably into adulthood and her chosen career. Other factors are no doubt at work, as Phan did not seem to struggle with learning scientific concepts the way Sullivan did. Phan also appears to be in college at least 10 years after Sullivan is, and she seems to still be in school in 2009 when her narrative is captured. It’s possible that Phan experienced a more visually oriented science education than Sullivan. At the very least, one cannot help but wonder if Sullivan would have continued down a scientific path had visual literacy been incorporated into her courses. There seems to be a serendipity at work in these narratives that propels the tellers in one direction or another, and the situated nature of scientific literacy becomes palpable when comparing these two stories.

There is also a spontaneity to Sullivan’s delivery that is engaging and instructive. She is not reading from a written text and seems more inclined towards reflection than Phan. Sullivan’s discussion of visual literacy and references to the field of composition suggest that she is a composition instructor herself, which gives her a more expert frame of reference than Phan has. The fact that Sullivan is willing to share and reflect upon a story of failure is also indicative of the perspective she’s gained in her studies. While her narrative is ostensibly in the category of “scientific literacy,” it is more broadly a reflection of the lack of a visual framework that might divert a student away from science and towards the study of writing.

Student Sample: Mikaela Dinulos

Several Spring 2016 students integrated Sullivan’s story into their papers, including aspiring nurse Mikaela Dinulos. Mikaela’s essay tells her own story of being a second language learner and how this helped shape her evolution in scientific literacy:

Although I realized at a young age that I wanted to be involved in a career that incorporated science, it didn’t come all at once. Before being scientifically literate, one must first be literate by learning how to read and write. It is not easy for students to learn the material they are given to them when they do not know the language first hand. Growing up, the language I primarily understood and spoke was ‘Ilonggo,’ a dialect commonly spoken in Iloilo located in the central region of the Philippines. When I started school, I had a difficult time communicating with my peers because I was so used to my family speaking Ilonggo rather than English. Because of the language barrier in the early years of my life, it was hard for me to understand what my teachers were trying to teach me throughout elementary school. Through hard work, perseverance, and time, English came more naturally to me. I was able to perform better at school and understand concepts that were once foreign to me.

One of the subjects that intrigued me the most was Science. Science is a broad subject because of the many different areas that it encompasses. For example, to be considered into the nursing program, one must take an anatomy class which requires large amounts of reading so the students are able to comprehend the information that are discussed during lecture. In order to tackle that  challenge, I had to first understand the best way I could grasp the information being taught. Was I a visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner? Rachel [sic] Sullivan, a woman who shared her literacy journey, asked herself the same thing before she studied for her biology exam. Similar to Rachel Sullivan, I discovered that I was mostly a visual learner, meaning that it is easier for me to learn using charts, graphs, pictures, and videos. After knowing what type of learner I was, I started studying using pictures and labeling the human anatomy on worksheets. Because of these methods, I was able to view topics and subjects through a more scientific perspective. Rachel’s literacy story further demonstrates that being aware of what type of learner you are really helps you to do better in your studies and in comprehending information (Sullivan). Like math and literature, science is a part of our everyday lives and affects us in every way, making it an important subject to learn and become aware of. However, scientific literacy is not quite understood and made of importance. (Dinulos, 2016)

Delving into the DALN provided Mikaela a vehicle for reflecting on and articulating her own literacy journey and perspective on scientific literacy. The assignment created a safe space for her to explore her vulnerability as writer, speaker, thinker, and learner. Mikaela is exactly the kind of first-generation college student that this assignment and our university as a whole seeks to serve. As an educator, it was rewarding to watch Mikaela develop in her thinking and writing as she committed herself to the drafting and revision process. Looking back at the various drafts of her essay on Google Docs, I am reminded that it took Mikaela two weeks and several revisions to integrate the notes she had taken based on her research into the DALN and on her personal story into the essay. I recall conferencing with Mikaela to help her merge these various elements into a coherent narrative and reflection. I was particularly delighted to learn about Mikaela’s first language and inspired by her ability to connect it to the assignment in a way I had not anticipated.

As Mikaela’s essay demonstrates, selections from the DALN such as those presented earlier proved invaluable in helping students reflect on their own scientific literacy journeys within the context of their own lives as well as the lives of the contributors whose pieces they consulted and/or incorporated into their own papers. Moreover, students were much more diligent about integrating selections from the DALN into their own essays once I was cognizant of the challenges they might face and able to devote time to keeping students on task. Exploring a greater range of examples in the DALN worked in tandem with our multiple drafts and conferences to help students generate essays with deeper levels of reflection that would have been difficult to achieve without accessing the collection.

Lessons Learned and Future Directions

The two iterations of the scientific literacy learning module explored above reinforce the importance of clearly articulated and scaffolded goals and expectations in helping students successfully complete an assignment. I learned to become much more specific in the ways I asked students to engage with the DALN in their research process and incorporate relevant selections into their own essays. I became very deliberate and directed in conveying these expectations and communicated that such moves were not only required but would also enhance their thinking and writing and increase their chances of a successful portfolio score. It was illuminating to see all students push themselves to work with the DALN and connect it to their own experiences. This was a significant contrast from the fall, when only a couple of outliers chose to follow through with this aspect of the assignment.

It is also revealing how frequently students indicated both in writing and class discussion that they had never given thought before to scientific literacy or why it mattered. They were not even familiar with the term and often did not intuitively understand how to define it without further discussion and exploration of examples from the DALN. While the definitions provided by our various readings were instructive, working with the DALN helped students find their own way into the topic and begin to define scientific literacy for themselves. This act of meaning making was an important cognitive and critical thinking activity. Wrestling with this concept in thinking and writing made for more engaging and thoughtful papers and also empowered students as citizen scientists.

Challenges and Successes

While some students struggled initially to locate relevant narratives within the DALN, we were able to work together to practice with various search terms and techniques and discover how results varied depending on the terms used (e.g., “science,” “scientific,” “biology,” “chemistry”). Peer collaboration became key, as students were as likely to get guidance from their classmates who had successfully identified relevant sources in the DALN as they were from me. In this manner, I made sure students understood that I was no particular expert on navigating the DALN or any archival collection. Rather, if students were willing to engage in sustained moments of persistent curiosity, they would no doubt discover sources that would inspire or speak to them in some way.

When students felt discouraged in their efforts to find relevant selections, I made a point of validating their concerns and letting them know that I too faced such challenges. I also underscored that this challenge was part and parcel of what I wanted them to experience as part of our research and writing process. Comer and Harker (2015) insightfully unpack the unwieldy aspects of the DALN in this regard, which are inextricably entwined with its appeal as a resource for educators. While many faculty in their study expressed a desire for a more “systematic” method of organizing contributions under consistent search terms, etc., the authors acknowledge that this would not only be prohibitive in terms of labor and funding but would also “effectively remove the power of self representation from participants” (p. 79).

Comer and Harker suggest mindfully incorporating elements of discord and uncertainty related to searching the DALN into one’s pedagogy “to engage students in the difficult negotiations at the heart of digital media and user-generated content” (2015, p. 79). From my perspective, the fact that the DALN resists tidy compartmentalization makes it all the richer for first-year students, mirroring our efforts as compositionists to move them out of other formulaic approaches to writing and thinking they have been raised on, like the five paragraph essay or the chunk paragraph.

Significantly, navigating the DALN through trial and error also provides a low-stakes way of involving students in the messiness of real world research they are likely to encounter throughout their adult lives, whether they pursue STEM majors or not. “With persistence and patience,” surmise Comer and Harker, “teachers and students find ways to make it work” (2015, p. 79). Persistence, patience, and making it work are exactly the qualities that will determine whether the underserved, first-generation college students at my campus will be able to move forward into their second year and beyond. Without overselling it, the DALN provides an accessible platform for helping students develop the habits of mind that will enable them to go the distance.

In my experience, the DALN aligns with the very goals at the heart of CI’s HSI initiatives, including but not limited to RISE Students in STEM, as well as our composition program’s broader commitment to High Impact Practices. Vincent Tinto (2009), noted expert on student retention and Learning Communities, argues passionately for the importance of “pedagogies of engagement” in actively involving first-generation college students as learners and members of the classroom and university community. “Research in this regard is clear,” Tinto (2009) articulates: “Active involvement of students in learning activities in and around the classroom, especially with other students, is critical to student retention and graduation.” It is this process, this involvement, that is ultimately a much stronger determiner of student success than any single essay a student might write in my class.

The Importance of Scientific Literacy in Composition

Having pursued this line of inquiry, I see much potential for further study into the role of narrative in building scientific literacy in the classroom and increasing civic scientific engagement. Scientists already understand the significance of narrative and narrative analysis in understanding public perceptions, discourses, and everyday actions regarding “wicked problems” such as climate change. Scientists Raul P. Lejano, Joana Tavares-Reager, and Fikret Berkes (2013) suggest that “one reason climate change is not as salient as it should be is that it does not find a place in people’s personal narratives” (p. 64). They posit that it may be through the “integrating process of narration, that people begin to make connections so that acting on climate is something that goes hand in hand with things like recycling, reducing one’s daily costs, saving on gasoline, and other things we do without any compunction” (Lejano, Tavares-Reager, & Berkes, 2013, p. 68). Compositionists and critical literacy theorists have much to contribute to the study of narrative in its capacity to raise both individual and collective awareness and action on issues of scientific urgency.

Moreover, the inherent interdisciplinarity and recursiveness of foundational composition courses provide an ideal platform for launching first-year students into an understanding of scientific literacy and its significance. The most thorough argument to this effect can be found in compositionist Michael Zerbe’s (2007) Composition and the Rhetoric of Science: Engaging in the Dominant Discourse. Zerbe invokes a compelling anecdote about how an otherwise intellectually sophisticated and rhetorically savvy group of people, literary reviewers with backgrounds in the humanities, pleaded scientific ignorance and went soft on a specious, offensive, and racist publication, 1994’s The Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life by Richard J. Herrnstein and Charles Murray. Zerbe observes that “many of the reviewers who wrote critiques of the book don’t know how to approach scientific discourse. The bewildering terminology, the hopelessly complex and mind-numbing statistics, the seemingly authoritarian, objective, and neutral tone—the whole package is just simply too overwhelming for many nonscientists” (2007, p. 2). Zerbe goes on to cite renowned scientist Stephen J. Gould’s (1995) scathing contemporaneous critique of The Bell Curve and the reaction the controversial book stirred in reviewers, whom Gould observes are daunted by the bloated and complex-looking text and thus “shy away with a knee–jerk claim that, while they suspect fallacies of argument, they really cannot judge” (p. 15).

If literary critics from highbrow publications like The New York Times and The New Republic felt unqualified “to critique scientific discourse,” argues Zerbe, that is a grim indicator of the potential for the general public to be informed of and make sense of scientific discourse themselves and thus “participate actively in our science- and technology-dependent democracy” (2007, p. 2). Zerbe characterizes scientific rhetoric as one of our dominant discourses, and he argues that compositionists should be at the forefront of critiquing it. Zerbe contends that rhetoricians have paid increasing attention to scientific literacy but that this is not carrying over to their teaching. “In composition studies,” writes Zerbe, “pedagogy and literacy issues are always at the forefront of disciplinary discussions, but scientific discourse is not a rhetoric of concern in the vast majority of first-year or even advanced composition courses” (p. 5). Zerbe finds it “dismaying that scientific discourse is largely ignored by compositionists” and argues that rhetoric and composition studies is thus skirting its mission:

It is a vexing paradox that scientific rhetorics are so powerful and yet form such a small part of our discipline. Rhetoric and composition instructors, as experts in language, owe it to their students, to the public at large, and to themselves to identify and interrogate the discourses that influence society most keenly…. Students enrolled in rhetoric and composition courses should gain a sophisticated appreciation for understanding and using these discourses. Absent this understanding, the vast majority of our students face a lifetime of stakeholder status relative to scientific rhetoric that deprives them of any meaningful chance of participating in making decisions that are based on this dominant discourse. (2007, p. 5)

As Zerbe’s passionate argument indicates, the disciplinary lense and pedagogical framework of composition, along with the ubiquity of first-year composition in the college experience, offers a uniquely fitting context for fostering scientific literacy in undergraduates. Indeed, such a focus has the potential to extend and deepen the mission and influence of composition within the university and the world at large. Our first-year composition program at CSU Channel Islands is not alone in serving as a site for interdisciplinary exploration and collaboration, and the learning module described here is certainly not the only one of its kind. If scientific literacy could gain more traction within composition and rhetoric, this could well prove to be yet another instance in which composition studies leads the way in student-centered innovations in higher education.

Postscript on Vulnerability

During the course of this study, one of my favorite selections from the DALN was Jassmine Zorrilla’s submission dated March 24, 2014: “I Am a (Scientific) Writer.” Her title is written exactly in the manner quoted here, complete with the period at the end, making it both title and an affirmative identity and literacy statement.

Zorrilla writes that she was born in Spain so English is not her “mother tongue.” Zorilla notes that the same is true for her intended readers, indicating that she is producing this literacy narrative for the purpose of an ESL course in which she is enrolled. “I consider myself a shy person,” writes Zorilla, “although I have had to fight against this due to my profession.” The narrator holds her doctorate in Plant Biology, which requires that she “continuously communicate with others, give talks and participate in meetings and conferences.” Her work has also entailed a vast amount of writing, including a 333-page dissertation that later became three peer reviewed journal articles, as well as grant proposals to fund her research.

Zorrilla’s very honest account about the challenges she finds communicating in her field provides an opportunity to show students that even those who hold Ph.D.s often struggle when it comes to writing, and the stakes can be high. “Because the success of your research depends very much on how you present results and the words that you choose,” writes Zorilla, “it is always hard for me to start writing on a blank page, even scary.” The daunting image of the blank page is something nearly all students can identify with, especially first-generation college students in their first year. Understanding that this is a perfectly normal reaction even for someone who is an expert in her field can be transformative for students.

Zorilla also aptly captures the satisfaction of “having written” that is familiar to any academic who has felt the pressure to publish. She writes that it “is so comforting when you arrive to the final version of your manuscript and you feel really satisfied with everything is written on it!” She also notes that science has helped improve her ability to write in English. Nonetheless, Zorrilla concludes, “I still have so much to learn… And that’s why I am now enrolled here, sharing this experience with all of you!”

The vulnerability that Zorilla reveals in her narrative is illuminating for students at an HSI, especially those who are pursuing STEM disciplines and attempting to surpass the hurdles that may impede their success. As an academic myself, I found Zorilla’s narrative to be incredibly refreshing. Her willingness to share her own challenges and apprehensions in a profession where that can be quite risky was inspiring. It helped me assume the classroom presence of a lifelong learner and fellow discoverer with my students as we navigated the DALN together, in all its un-compartmentalized complexity. As Comer and Harker note, “The experimental nature of the DALN spills into classrooms, inviting teachers and students to play with the possibilities” (2013, p. 81). This is as true for the interface of the DALN as it is for the contributions that comprise the collection.

I chose the term “vulnerability” above in reference to the work of Brené Brown, a self-described “research-storyteller” and professor in social work who writes and speaks charismatically on topics of vulnerability, imperfection, shame, and authenticity. Brown’s (2010) TED Talk, “The Power of Vulnerability,” has garnered over 30 million views and is transcribed in 52 languages, so it clearly speaks to a vast audience. Brown’s talk is in itself an emotional and scientific literacy narrative about coming to terms with, rather than fighting against, vulnerability.

My own exposure to Brown’s work came from my colleague Michelle Pacansky-Brock while I was teaching the scientific literacy narrative in the spring of 2016. Pacansky-Brock (2016) insightfully picks up on Brown’s themes in a blog post entitled “The Vulnerable Professor.” In the world at large, writes Pacansky-Brock, “Closing ourselves off to vulnerable situations prevents us from trying new things and contributing to change.” She wondered whether vulnerability could impede faculty from innovating or taking risks. In her pilot study, Pacansky-Brock found that faculty avoided new teaching methods in order to avoid appearing weak or unprepared. She argues that institutions of higher learning must accept vulnerability as necessary to innovation. “And this,” writes Pacansky-Brock (2016), “requires professors to see themselves as learners, as opposed to vessels of knowledge. For many professors, making this shift is a very vulnerable experience.”

Teaching with the DALN for the first time was certainly an exercise in embracing vulnerability for me. Instead of hiding that vulnerability, or letting it deter me from working with this powerful resource, I let it become part of my teaching persona and my scholarly agenda. That meant sharing frustrations and challenges with students as well as the rewards, much in the way that Jassmine Zorrilla does in her scientific literacy narrative. It meant asking questions as well as answering them, being honest when the answers would not come easily, and cultivating an environment where students would feel comfortable turning to one another for help. It meant modeling for my students that worthwhile endeavors require engaging in sustained moments of persistent curiosity.

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