There are numerous excellent books making science accessible to the general public. They follow a tradition of public education that goes back at least to T.H. Huxley, famous for his public lectures on evolution, physiology and other scientific topics, in the 19th century. As science became increasingly specialised and arcane, such books become ever more desirable. However, the emphasis is now away from specialism in undergraduate education, and towards a general education.

This should be welcomed. It is not good to have educated men and women ignorant of basic science in a world so utterly dependent on technology. However, it means that university teachers in the sciences, like Huxley before them, cannot assume that all their students are familiar with the basics of science.

In the social sciences, this problem has always been present. For example, the NUS intake of students in the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences has always drawn heavily from Arts and Commerce ‘A’ level streams. In Psychology, the student intake has been from Science:Arts:Commerce in roughly the proportion 1:2:1. Therefore, it has always been necessary to enlighten (or disillusion) students as to the nature of scientific Psychology, even before it was university policy to require breadth across faculties. Moreover, even students from a science background are not always clear about the nature of scientific enquiry.

First (or early) impressions are important. A ploy used successfully on me when I was an undergraduate was to present and discuss a problem in human behaviour that ought to be answerable. In my case, I think it was something to do with how one would decide between the rival merits of different chocolate bars—a mundane topic but not as easy to solve as it might superficially appear. My colleagues and I have sometimes adopted a similar approach, in which we indicate the range of research topics ongoing in the department/programme, and what these involve in practical terms. The principle is to create some enthusiasm by helping students to see the wood as a whole, in its diverse glory, before they plunge into the trees.

In employing such methods, the teacher’s enthusiasm is vital. Student feedback very often mentions enthusiasm with appreciation. But how does one inspire enthusiasm about dry stuff like the pedantries of methodology, the niceties of questionnaire construction, or the details of statistical analysis of data?

In a context of critical thinking, this is quite possible. One has only to open The Straits Times, and examples of claims, counterclaims and reports of findings or issues are there for the taking. Once students realise that there are flaws to be detected, they become quite motivated. For instance, it has recently been discovered that long distance travel may create a liability to deep vein thrombosis¹ . Blood clots, forming in the veins of the legs of sedentary passengers, may later circulate and block smaller vessels, resulting in coronary thrombosis or stroke. On 23 January 2001, nicely in time for the first few lectures of the semester, The Straits Times reported British research with student volunteers in the use of tight socks “similar to compression stockings worn by patients in danger of developing potentially fatal blood clots after operations”.

Unfortunately, the researchers had apparently combined the tight socks with aspirin, which thins the blood. Consequently, it was impossible to know whether the reduced levels of calf swelling found in the treatment group were the result of the socks, the aspirin, or a combination of both. It is possible that the newspaper report did not do justice to the researchers. Nevertheless, getting students to spot and discuss the problem as reported provided an excellent real-life illustration of what on the face of it was a breach of a fundamental requirement of good experimental design—do not confound your variables. The example was one of several that provoked considerable student discussion in the forum provided for the purpose. Not only did it serve to clarify the necessity of only altering one variable at a time, it helped illustrate the need to be critical when reading reports.

Stimulating interest by showing the relevance of methodology and clear thinking is perhaps easier in Psychology than in some disciplines, since everyone has personal experience of people. However, it is a technique that I believe serves well generally the earlier in the course the better. It can be extended to more numerate skills, for example inviting students to determine by a suitable test whether reported numerical trends (e.g. in crime or birth rates) are significant. The technique is much better if the students can be got to find the flaws for themselves, rather than having them spelled out didactically, so that the lecturer/tutor acts as an enthusiastic facilitator rather than as a demonstrator.

¹ I am grateful to my colleague, Dr Lynne Tan, for agreeing to the use of this example, which comes from our joint teaching.