How it all began

In 1935, a decade after the invention of quantum theory by Heisenberg (1925) and Schrödinger (1926), three papers appeared, setting the stage for a new concept, quantum entanglement. The previous decade had already seen momentous discussions on the meaning of the new theory, for example by Niels Bohr (see his contribution to Albert Einstein: Philosopher-Scientist in Further reading); but these new papers opened up the gates for a new, very deep philosophical debate about the nature of reality, about the role of knowledge, and about their relation. Since the 1970s, it has become possible for experimenters to observe entanglement directly in the laboratory and thus test the counter-intuitive predictions of quantum mechanics whose confirmation today is beyond reasonable doubt. Since the 1990s, the conceptual and experimental developments have led to new concepts in information technology, including such topics as quantum cryptography, quantum teleportation, and quantum computation, in which entanglement plays a key role.

In the first of the three papers, Einstein, Podolsky, and Rosen (EPR) realized that, if two particles had interacted in their past, their properties will remain connected in the future in a novel way, namely, observation on one determines the quantum state of the other, no matter how far away. Their conclusion was that quantum mechanics is incomplete and they expressed their belief that a more complete theory may be found. Niels Bohr replied that the two systems may never be considered independent of each other, and observation on one changes the possible predictions on the other. Finally, Erwin Schrödinger, in the paper which also proposed his famous cat paradox, coined the term “entanglement” (in German Verschränkung) for the new situation and he called it “not one, but the essential trait of the new theory, the one which forces a complete departure from all classical concepts.”

Introduction

The application of basic physics ideas to the study of biological molecules is one of the major growth areas of modern physics, and emphasizes well how physics principles ultimately underpin the whole of Nature. This chapter focuses on the collective properties of biological molecules showing examples of hierarchical structures, and, in some instances, how structure and dynamics enable biological function. In addition, supramolecular biophysics casts a wide web with contributions to a broad range of fields. Among them are, in medicine and genetics, the design of carriers of large pieces of DNA containing genes for gene therapy and for characterizing chromosome structure and function; in molecular neurosciences, elucidating the structure and dynamics of the nerve-cell cytoskeleton; and in molecular cell biology, characterizing the forces responsible for condensation of DNA in vivo, to name a few. Concepts and new materials emerging from research in the field continue to have a large impact in industries as diverse as cosmetics and optoelectronics. A separate branch of biophysics dealing with the properties of single molecules is not described here due to space limitations and the availability of excellent reviews published in the past few years.

If one looks at research in biophysics over the last few decades one finds that a large part has been dedicated to studies of the structure and phase behavior of biological membranes. Membranes of living organisms are astoundingly complex structures, with the lipid bilayer containing membrane-protein inclusions and carbohydrate-chain decorations as shown in a cartoon of a section of the plasma membrane of a eukaryotic cell, which separates the interior contents of the cell from the region outside of the cell (Figure 16.1). The common lipids in membranes are amphiphilic molecules, meaning that the molecules contain both hydrophilic (“water-liking”) polar head groups and hydrophobic (“water-avoiding”) double tail hydrocarbon chains. Plasma membranes contain a large number of distinct membrane-associated proteins, which may traverse the lipid bilayer, be partially inserted into the bilayer, or interact with the membrane but not penetrate the bilayer.

Introduction

Computation is an operation on symbols. We tend to perceive symbols as abstract entities, such as numbers or letters from a given alphabet. However, symbols are always represented by selected properties of physical objects. The binary string

1. 10011011010011010110101101

may represent an abstract concept, such as the number 40 711 597, but the binary symbols 0 and 1 have also a physical existence of their own. It could be ink on paper (this is most likely to be how you see them when you are reading these words), glowing pixels on a computer screen (this is how I see them now when I am writing these words), or different charges or voltages (this is how my word processor sees them). If symbols are physical objects and if computation is an operation on symbols then computation is a physical process. Thus any computation can be viewed in terms of physical experiments, which produce outputs that depend on initial preparations called inputs. This sentence may sound very innocuous but its consequences are anything but trivial!

On the atomic scale matter obeys the rules of quantum mechanics, which are quite different from the classical rules that determine the properties of conventional computers. Today’s advanced lithographic techniques can etch logic gates and wires less than a micrometer across onto the surfaces of silicon chips. Soon they will yield even smaller parts and inevitably reach a point at which logic gates are so small that they are made out of only a handful of atoms. So, if computers are to become smaller in the future, new, quantum technology must replace or supplement what we have now. The point is, however, that quantum technology can offer much more than cramming more and more bits onto silicon and multiplying the clock-speed of microprocessors. It can support an entirely new kind of computation, known as quantum computation, with qualitatively new algorithms based on quantum principles.

What is the future of astronomy education worldwide? How can astronomers and astronomy educators ensure that the future will be a positive one? A few years ago, one of us was invited to write an article on the topic of the first question (Percy, 1996). The article also addressed the second question, but it ended as follows:

Fortunately, many of the characteristics of this “alternate future” do not appear to be developing – yet. But there are negative developments. Belief in pseudosciences, such as astrology, creationism, and space aliens, is widespread, and is not decreasing, as both Jayant Narlikar, and John Percy and Jay Pasachoff, have explained. Astronomical misconceptions, of many kinds, continue to abound. Astronomy is poorly taught, if it is taught at all, in many schools. The scientific enterprise appears to be maintained by a small fraction of the population.

An overview of IAU Commission 46: “Astronomy Education and Development”

The International Astronomical Union (IAU) is a union of professional astronomers who produce a large number of new astronomical results and make the frontiers of astronomy expand. However, the union cannot stand by itself but needs much support from governments as well as from the public. Therefore, the IAU established Commission 46 through the vigorous efforts of E. Schatzman, and others. In 1967 it was originally called “Teaching of Astronomy” and was renamed in 2000 “Astronomy Education and Development,” with a much wider scope of activities, in order to cover from the level of beginners to that of doctoral and post-doctoral students. Table 21.1 gives a list of its presidents; they are well distributed internationally.

There are currently nine “program groups,” as shown in Table 21.2. Because of limited budgetary resources, it is difficult for the IAU to cover all the possible fields to promote our Commission's goals.

Introduction

Scientists occasionally lament the low public interest in science and the falling level of scientific literacy in the public. However, public surveys continually demonstrate that public interest is high, and although we might not be happy with the current level of scientific literacy, it is, if anything, on the rise (albeit marginally).

In the classical study by Durant and Evans (1989), more than 80 per cent of the respondents professed (a high or moderate) interest in science. A survey in Norway by Eide and Ottosen (1994) found that “as many as 37 per cent of the readers regularly read science articles presented in newspapers.” Other researchers using various indicators report significantly higher self-reported interest in science, although there is a strong subject dependency.

Recently, Eurobarometer (European Commission 2001), the survey carried out on behalf of the European Commission in the 15 member-states of the European Union (later augmented by a similar survey in those countries that since joined the Union), looked at attitudes towards and knowledge about science.

While the Dipper may rule the sky of spring and early summer, different stars and new opportunities await the sky's watchers in late summer and fall.

High in the western sky is the “Summer Triangle” of Vega, Deneb, and Altair, leading their respective constellations of Lyra the Harp, Cygnus the Swan, and Aquila the Eagle. To the east of the Triangle flies the square of Pegasus, the winged horse. I have never thought this asterism looks much like a horse, let alone the kind that flies, but its four bright stars do resemble a baseball diamond. You can easily spot home plate and the bases, while the Milky Way to the north represents the fans in the stadium. A little further to the east is Andromeda the Princess, and Perseus.

We now focus on Beta Persei. In 1603, Johann Bayer published a star atlas in which stars in the different constellations were given Greek letters in approximate order of brightness. Many stars are numbered instead, according to John Flamsteed's 1725 catalog, which used increasing numbers from west to east in each constellation.

Beta Persei, the demon star of mythology, is more commonly known as Algol, the star that winks! Every 2.9 days, or 69 hours, Algol drops in brightness by a full magnitude for about ten hours. It is one of the finest examples of a celestial event: a star that is not just there, but is visibly doing something for all to see.

Astronomy education research (AER) uses the systematic techniques honed in science education and physics education research to understand what and how students learn about astronomy, and determine how instructors can create more productive learning environments for their students. As the field of AER grows - and it is doing so vigorously - many readers may find it useful to have a concise summary of what has been published to date. The purpose of this paper is to summarize and categorize the various research projects in astronomy education in order to set the stage for subsequent efforts. In researching the field, a number of information sources were consulted. Three electronic resources served as the starting point for the review: the SABER (Searchable Annotated Bibliography of Education Research) database, the American Astronomical Society's education bibliography (http://www.aas.org/education/biblio list.html), and the Astronomical Society of the Pacific's education bibliography (Fraknoi, 1998). Further references were found in a variety of journals, often through a “snowballing” technique of looking through an article's references for new articles.

Through the magic of variable stars you now have traveled through a looking glass. You have discovered stars passing through the eruptions and inconsistencies of youth and you have visited and drawn comfort from the cosmic wisdom of the aged Mira stars. You have watched the dwarf novae perform and you have looked on as old novae sleep peacefully as the eons after their outbursts pass by.

You passed through the looking glass in a mood of curiosity and I hope you return unsatisfied, demanding more. Through the bibliography, I have suggested certain sources that may help, but the most important source of all is that of the glass of your telescope, coupled to the retina of your eye, and connected by optic nerve to an inquiring mind searching for answers. Every year, new variables are discovered and much more is learned about how these stars behave.

Quite possibly your own observations may add to this knowledge. Possibly also, you will want to pass this on to someone younger.

In the nature of variable stars lies a key to introducing children to astronomy. Stars are individual, they behave in definite ways. They are born, they grow up, they mature, they grow old, and they die. Stars also have moods – sometimes their light output changes. When a star is young, it might flicker with the intensity of a rebellious child, unable to decide on its future course.

This section on teacher education begins with Bruce Partridge and George Greenstein asking the question What should we teach? Goals for astronomy courses.

Each year, more than 250,000 North American university students study astronomy. Few of these continue in the field professionally; many will go on to be secondary schoolteachers. What sorts of learning should survey courses in astronomy encourage? Two national meetings were held in 2002 to develop a list of goals for introductory survey courses in astronomy. The list of goals presented below was arrived at by consensus involving both astronomers from leading research universities and well-known science educators. While they were intended for university astronomy courses, it may be that they would be of interest also to those teaching astronomy or related physical sciences at the secondary school level. Note their generality (they were not focused on specific content items like galaxies or Newton's Laws). Nor were they intended to be a prescribed curriculum for introductory astronomy courses. Instead the set of goals developed in these meetings emphasizes deep learning, development of general skills, and good understanding of a limited number of general scientific principles, rather than broad coverage.

This book is based on the proceeedings of a conference on “Effective Teaching and Learning of Astronomy” held on July 24–25, 2003, in Sydney, Australia, as part of the 25th General Assembly of the International Astronomical Union (IAU). It followed two previous IAU conferences on astronomy education, held in Williamstown, Massachusetts, USA, in 1988 and in London, UK, in 1996. The conference was organized within the framework of the work of IAU Commission 46 on Astronomy Education and Development. A major emphasis in the 1996 conference was the educational potential of the Internet, and robotic and remote telescopes, and it was heartening, in 2003, to see the growth and maturity of these technologies. But the basic challenges of astronomy education - especially at the school level - still remain.

The Organizing Committee for the conference consisted of: John Dunlop (New Zealand), Julieta Fierro (Mexico), Michèle Gerbaldi (France), Mary Kay Hemenway (USA), Syuzo Isobe (Japan), Barrie Jones (UK), Margarita Metaxa (Greece), Jayant Narlikar (India),Wayne Orchiston (Australia), Jay M. Pasachoff (USA), John R. Percy (Canada, Chair), Case Rijsdijk (South Africa), Rosa M. Ros (Spain), and Graeme White (Australia), with valuable help from the local organizing committees for the General Assembly, especially Nicholas Lomb, Sydney Observatory. Special thanks are due to Magda Stavinschi (Romania), whose proposal for an IAU Resolution with respect to astronomy education was a significant inspiration for this conference.

Over a hundred astronomers and educators from over two dozen countries attended or contributed to this conference. These included the presidents of the IAU, of the American Astronomical Society (USA), and the Royal Astronomical Society (UK), among others.

The place and nature of astronomy in the school curriculum vary greatly from one country to another, and even from place to place within a country. There are two main “systems” of education, which are usually called the “European” system and the “North American” system. These, and the place of astronomy in each, were eloquently described by Don Wentzel in his prologue to the proceedings of the 1988 IAU conference on astronomy education, held in Williams College, Williamstown, Massachusetts, USA.

In the European system, there is usually a national curriculum. An often cited example is that in France, at 10 a.m. on the second Thursday in April, every student in a certain grade is learning the same thing from the same page in the textbook. Students are streamed, at an early age, into university, technical school, or the workplace. Astronomy tends to be taught to science students, by teachers who are well trained in science and science teaching.

In the North American system, the curriculum may be determined locally; astronomy is taught in a variety of places in the curriculum; and the teachers may therefore not be well trained in astronomy content or pedagogy. A recent requirement in the US's No Child Left Behind Act (a controversial law that played a role in the presidential campaign), that every teacher be certified in every subject that he or she is teaching, does not meet, for example, the reality of small schools in rural states in which a single teacher may teach some biology, some chemistry, and some physics. This requirement is, therefore, being relaxed.

Probably: and particularly if by now you are an enthusiastic observer enthralled with the antics of the stars. So let's take advantage of the situation and perambulate amongst two of the most unusual objects in our galaxy, 041619 T Tauri, and 155037 RU Lupi, two stars that represent the carefree conduct of cosmic youth. Both stars are irregular variables and represent stars that are observed in clouds of gas called diffuse nebulae.

T Tauri

Let's begin with T Tauri, the easier of the two, a star that can be watched easily from northern latitudes in the frigid evenings of winter.

If you can find the Hyades, you can find T Tauri. Moving from Delta to 64 Tauri to 4th magnitude 68 Tauri, you proceed to the northeast until you reach Epsilon Tauri, a 3.6 magnitude star (Fig. 22.1). Slightly to the southwest of Epsilon is a group of four stars in the shape of a malformed kite. I use this group as a guide to T Tauri.

Notice the magnitude range of 9.3 to 13.5; I have observed T Tauri for several years and I have never once seen it go fainter than magnitude 10.6 nor brighter than the mid 9s. Most observers have reported it hovering just brighter than 10th magnitude.

But that's only part of the story. T Tauri occasionally can flicker.

A simple curriculum model is cyclic in nature. It begins with aims and objectives. These lead to a choice of content (knowledge, skills, applications, and attitudes). These choices are instilled in the students through effective teaching and learning methods. The teaching and learning are then evaluated and assessed, leading to feedback that is used to improve every part of the cycle.

In previous chapters, we have addressed many parts of this cycle: aims and objectives (implicitly), curriculum content, teacher education, and education research in general. We have not explicitly discussed how teachers should assess students' learning, but we assume that this is part of effective teacher education.

Classroom teaching uses many tools. Elsewhere in this book, we address some of the more innovative ones. There are others, of course, some old and some new. Probably the oldest is the lecture, which can still be effective if it is interactive in the sense of involving questioning - the Socratic approach. There is the blackboard (or white-board) - still a flexible tool. There are the students' notes and notebooks; students can often internalize material by writing it or drawing it. Textbooks have evolved with the times, and now often come with a whole constellation of ancillaries, including a website. Textbooks can be the main support mechanism for both student and teacher.

There are audio-visuals. Wall charts and posters are useful, since they often stay in place for years, and make a permanent imprint on the students' minds. There are overhead transparencies and, looking back a decade or a few, 35 mm slides, filmstrips, and lantern slides. Films, videos, and DVDs (to give an evolutionary sequence) are useful.

The integral role of planetariums in engaging the public on issues in astronomy is addressed in On the role of planetariums by Anthony P. Fairall from Cape Town, South Africa.

Probably in excess of 100 million persons, mainly youngsters, pass through the world's planetariums each year, by far the largest, and arguably the most influential, conveyance of astronomy to the general public. However, while some planetariums have close ties to the research world, and even to IAU Commission 46, they are by far the exception and not the rule. In general, the planetarium community operates independently of the stakeholders represented at this conference.

While much of planetarium activity shares a common mission with the IAU Commission on Astronomy Education and Development, there are significant deviations: since the main market driving the planetarium world is clearly throughput, some planetariums emphasize entertainment and novelty more than the teaching of astronomy. There is also an unfortunate tendency in smaller planetariums, where lecturers are weak on science, to overemphasize star lore and constellations. In the author's opinion, the gap between the teaching of astronomy, as seen from the research world of the IAU, and teaching of astronomy, as seen from the planetarium world, badly needs closing.