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Neuroscience’s evil twin: The Neuromyth

“Effective teaching might be the hardest job there is”

– William Glasser

With the advent of neuroeducation, an offspring of neuroscience and psychology that informs educational policy, educators are being bombarded with various new findings- all promising magical results and startling discoveries. It is glorious to think of scientists in lab coats using brain activations to tell layman what happens when they learn or remember, but herein lays its very danger. Much like the game of Chinese Whispers, things begin resembling the truth lesser and lesser with each passing minute. And just like that, neuroeducation switches to its ugly alter ego of neuromyths.

A neuromyth is “a misconception generated by a misunderstanding, a misreading, or a misquoting of facts scientifically established (by brain research) to make a case for use of brain research in education and other contexts”. Neuromyths are becoming a hindrance to the education system worldwide, and the ways in which they arise are numerous (Pasquinelli, 2012).

Scientific facts, when distorted, turn into neuromyths. For example, a popular myth states that children learn better when they are taught by their preferred learning style (which can be visual, auditory or kinaesthetic); and this myth is based on the finding that these modalities are based in different parts of the brain. This however, ignores the fact that these regions are highly interconnected and that children do not actually process information better when they depend only on one modality. Therefore, scientific facts can be oversimplified and then misinterpreted.

Neuromyths can also be the result of actual scientific facts that have later been disproven. A prime example would be that of the Mozart Effect- that listening to classical music boosted one’s IQ points. This was quickly debunked, as studies failed to replicate it.

Finally, and most commonly, neuromyths can be because of the misinterpretation of scientific results. A good look at the idea of ‘critical periods’ of learning (that certain types of learning only occurs during certain times in life, especially childhood) exemplifies this. However, it is now seen that although there are prime ages for learning (eg. Acquisition of words, distinguishing between visual stimuli), this is hardly set in stone.

Teachers, or educators are more likely to fall susceptible to neuromyths possibly because of the sheer amount of information they encounter about the brain, both correct and incorrect. It could also be a backfiring effect, as teachers who are more eager to implement these neuroscientific findings out of sheer goodwill often come across neuromyths because they look for quicker solutions. What darkens the picture is the fact that neuroscience novices are no better than laypeople at distinguishing fact from reality, it is only the experts who are able to do so!

Resolving the issue of the perpetuation of neuromyths (and the horrors of products like the Brain Gym that still exist despite having no scientific backing) would be a two-way street involving increased communication from both parties: educators as well as neuroscientists. Neuroscientists need to make sure that translations of their work in the media are not miscontrued, and developers of educational products need to hire educational consultants who have credentials in the field of neuroscience. On the other hand, initial teacher training for educators should necessitate looking at findings with a critical eye, and not judging any article with brain images as more scientific (as people are found to!).  

It’s quite often that one hears of the common saying of half-baked knowledge being a dangerous thing. This, however, is much more frightening when put in regard to people who are expected to dispense knowledge- our teachers. Being consumers of knowledge, a critical appraisal of the product we consume is therefore essential.

Sneha Mani


APJ Abdul Kalam - Made in India: A Student Tribute

There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

Non est ad astra mollis e terris via.

- Seneca

 

One of my generation’s teachers just died. Or did he? He probably still lives a little in each of us. A little in every ISRO launch, in every Indian research paper, in every science textbook, on every blackboard. A little in every Indian nuclear missile too.

Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam is still alive. Our generation will pass on a little of APJ Abdul Kalam to the next, and they to the next, and it will go on. Don't worry Dr Kalam, if you’ve taught us right, you are close to immortal. Who said you can’t live forever? As long as a generation remembers your message, the idea of you is alive and smiling.

And what a message it was. Unlike many, his own life was his message. A message that valued inspiration with intellect, purpose with process, humility with hunger.

He was always from the future. When,as kids, most of us were living in the year 2000, he was already living in 2020. He was a regular Prometheus for many kids, travelling into the future and bringing back ideas, projects, goals and a coherent positive vision for the country and its citizens.

And he was a master at defining his target audience. He knew the right age to make an imprint into minds and plant the much needed values of  my generation. He knew it was no use motivating people closer to his age, he knew how people are set in their ways after a certain age. He therefore focused all his energy towards the seeds, and not the trees.

Like inception, I'd like to think he basically hacked our minds and implanted some very basic but powerful ideas that unfortunately no one else bothered to do. On his death, I now understand how much he has affected our value system, which was unknown to many of us while he was alive.

As an adult, I now know that he was an accomplished scientist and project manager who changed the geopolitical context of our country.

I now know that he led the project to develop India's first indigenous Satellite Launch Vehicle, an integral part of India's space program today that allows us to launch our own and third party communication and defence satellites into space.

That he led India's ballistic missile program, persuaded the Government to classify and not reveal to the public the true nature and funds allotted to these projects, for the sake of national security.

That he was instrumental in the development of the Agni and Prithvi missiles.

That he was the chief coordinator of the Pokhran II nuclear tests. That he wore army uniforms during these test days to maintain secrecy of the impending nuclear test yields and their geopolitical implications, even concealing the same from the Indian army until a public announcement from the Indian government.

That he was a passionate low cost inventor, codeveloping rural low cost laptops and coronary stents.

Even that many of his projects overran costs and time, and a few outright failed their goals. But that many of India's critical Prithvi and Agni nuclear missile projects owe their success to those early failures.

India's defence technology ambitions in the seventies and eighties owe him a great debt. Without him, we would simply not have had the confidence and audacity to simultaneously take strides in indigenous development of so many variants of defence programs hitherto unheard of in the country.

I knew none of that as a boy, and I still found much of what he said, made sense to my little mind. That was the beauty and simplicity of his communication. He was definitely a deeply structured thinker, probably a profound technical mind, probably an astute defence project manager, and yet his communication never betrayed the seriousness and utter criticality of his pursuits. He spoke to kids, like a kid. Like being an actual rocket scientist was not rocket science at all. Like it was simple, fun, like playing in a park. Like it was so easy, that anyone, even we, could do it.

Interestingly, after my school years, I felt I had outgrown Dr. Kalam and his message. Over the years, and after he completed his Presidential term, I kept less track of what he was upto, and what he was pursuing.

I now realise he probably wanted it that way. He had already moved on to inspiring the next generation of kids, knowing that what he had taught kids like me would emerge, and trigger in us responses, at the right times in our lives.

When I heard of his death, the memories of him as President and so many others were accompanied by many memories of my own childhood. I was reminded of the science exhibitions, the quiz competitions, even my board exams. I realised I used to study really hard partly because he had taught us kids that it was important, that it was a way for us to build our minds, careers and eventually our country.

Over the years, we forget why we did what we did as kids, why we chose the subjects we chose to study well or what motivated us to choose the life paths we chose. His death has reminded me that he was always somewhere in the background in those years, sometimes on TV, sometimes on the radio, sometimes in the news, egging on young directionless kids like me to be good, to be better.

They say in space, genius is not inventing and writing with a gravity-defying ink pen. Genius is writing with a pencil. He was that pencil. Simple, to the point and direct to the point of being disarming.

Indian kids who were born after 2000 are just 15 or younger today, and most will easily live to 2070 or more. In other words, this unassuming man with a distinctly funny hairstyle has knowingly embedded his values into the minds of millions of young Indians who will live well into the next 50 years. If there’s an example of future proofing your message, this is one of the best.

He taught us that power and peace can coexist, that weakness was not a matter of pride, but a status quo to be challenged and overcome.

That the Indian mind was no less than the American or Australian or European one, that dignity came not with destitution, but with a defence policy and with nuclear deterrence.

That to earn the right to build missiles that protect your country with nuclear warheads that can strike deep into enemy territory, you do not have to be rich or have influence in the right places or be born in Mumbai or Delhi or Bangalore. You can be born in a village in Tamil Nadu, sell newspapers as a kid to support your education, and still grow up to have your thumb on the country's nuclear button.

That all you need is hard work, determination, and the spirit to dream beyond your immediate reality. He was not a top down motivator who simply spoke about these things without having direct experience of them. At each stage of his life, he had to think beyond his immediate reality and have the audacity to overcome his immediate situation.

Since he was used to doing it so many times for himself, he eventually realised he could do that for his country's and citizens' ambitions too.

For Indian kids in a generation which had no real living role models in the sciences, in research, in innovation and definitely not in nuclear technology and defence, he filled a very important gap. He was arguably the most publicly known Indian scientist of my generation, nuclear or otherwise.

Ironically, we enjoy largely peaceful borders because we are a coherent nuclear power. He truly believed in the maxim that India should 'talk softly and carry a big stick'.

He was, and always will be, one of the most iconic products to be Made in India.

And everything made after him, owes a little to this tiny genius from Rameswaram, who taught us that Taking is good, but Making is better.

He looked up to Vikram Sarabhai, and now an entire generation looks up to him. Years later, when we narrate how we were the lucky generation to be kids when someone named Sachin Tendulkar batted for India, I am sure we will mention Dr Kalam in the same sentence. When we were kids, Dr Kalam built nuclear missiles for India. We will be proud to say that Dr Kalam was our President when we were in school and college. I am now as much the Kalam Generation as the Sachin one.

On behalf of many in my generation, if you're listening, I'd just like to say that, take a much needed break, sir. Your students will take it from here.

Good night.

Samridh Kapoor

Kalam Batch of 2000-2015

 

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Looking for the Good Samaritan

Meerkats. These adorable, furry animals are well known for their role in the BBC produced animated film, The Meerkats. What’s more, meerkats are also often used as model animals for their altruistic behavior.

These animals are famously known to stand guard while other members of their gang forage for food. If they detect any threats, the sentinels call out to the rest of the meerkats, which then run to nearby hiding places. It seems that they are risking their lives to protect their groups. However, a 1999 report showed that guards are the first to flee after sounding an alarm and that sentinels, in fact, are positioned such that they have the most time to reach safety. Therefore, what does altruism really mean and do meerkats have a hidden agenda?

Altruism is defined by Daniel Batson as “a motivational state with the ultimate goal of increasing another’s welfare.” This is differs from egoism, the ultimate goal of which is individual benefit. It seems that the meerkats who stand guard as sentinels might therefore be acting with egoistic rather than altruistic motivation. But what about humans? Can they ever be truly altruistic? Does the Good Samaritan, a person who helps others without an expectation of a reward, exist?

There are several theories that explain prosocial and altruistic behavior in humans. One such model is the Empathy-Altruism hypothesis developed by Daniel Batson. According to this theory, when a person sees another person in need, they might help the other person either to reduce their own distress or if they feel they might be rewarded for their service. There is a third possibility, however. They may feel empathetic towards the person in need, and in that state they are willing to help the other person regardless of what they might gain. Reducing the other person’s suffering becomes the most important goal, indicating that it is possible for humans to behave in a truly altruistic manner.

On the other hand, evolutionary theories on altruism suggest that humans do behave selfishly, even when helping another person. For example, according to the Kin Selection hypothesis, humans help others, especially their descendants. Although they may be reducing the chances of their own survival, they are increasing the probability of their genes being passed on to the next generation. Moreover, the degree of helping behavior increases if the concerned individuals are closely related. It is therefore also not surprising that people are more willing to help those whom they perceive to be more similar to rather than different from themselves.

However, humans have behaved altruistically and have helped complete strangers in the past. For example, Patrick Morgan risked his life by jumping down under a stationary train in Sydney, Australia to save an elderly woman who had fallen there. But he said that he was simply doing what he thought anyone else would do. Similarly, Vishnu Zende, the railway announcer at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus saved hundreds of lives by alerting commuters to leave the station during the 26/11 terrorist attacks in Mumbai.

I guess the Good Samaritan does exist. And in any case, helping others is always good, even if you do it to help yourself.

Kahini Shah