Technical Content & Storytelling

As a grad­u­ate stu­dent, I rarely lack enthu­si­asm about the amaz­ingly pow­er­ful and pro­foundly cool ways of com­puter sci­ence. But I’m still learn­ing about how to com­mu­ni­cate that enthu­si­asm in a way that’s enter­tain­ing and infor­ma­tive. I often feel a dis­con­nect between what we can fea­si­bly expose K12 stu­dents to through instruc­tive activ­i­ties, and the com­plex­ity of the tech­nol­ogy that increas­ingly sur­rounds us. As researchers and/or engi­neers, surely, we ought to be able to bridge this — by being bet­ter storytellers.

Every­one loves his­tory. Behind every thing that exists as an unap­proach­able black box has a his­tory that explains how it came together from smaller parts. His­tory can be a great way of mak­ing more tan­gi­ble the oblique ways in which tech­nol­ogy emerges into exis­tence. Espe­cially with a field as young as com­puter sci­ence, surely, there is a wealth of enter­tain­ing and relat­able sto­ries of how the dig­i­tal world came to be as it is. Why do we drag a disk to the trash bin to eject it on a mac? Why is the mouse called a mouse? What was Y2K, any­way? The delight­ful idio­syn­crasies of our field are still fresh in wikipedia pages, and we really ought to take advan­tage of that.

Quick poll / show of hands. Last year, I took a class on com­mu­ni­cat­ing sci­ence to the pub­lic, and audi­ence engage­ment was a recur­ring topic; although we all agreed it was gen­er­ally a good idea, the ques­tion of how is more dif­fi­cult to answer gen­er­ally. For exam­ple, I like to open the topic of machine trans­la­tion by ask­ing, “when do you think was the first time a com­puter was able to auto­mat­i­cally trans­late from one lan­guage into another?” For a small group, it’s a good ques­tion for short, sim­ple answers that can be shouted out. For a larger group, this kind of ques­tion can be made into a show-of-hands: “Raise your hands if you think this hap­pened before 1980. Keep them up if you think it was before 1970… 1960… 1950…” The answer is 1954, which is often lower than most expect, and helps build inter­est in the topic.

Make declar­a­tive state­ments into ques­tions. But how do you fig­ure out when to ask these ques­tions, and which ques­tions to ask? I like to fol­low one sim­ple rule: when in doubt, replace declar­a­tive state­ments with ques­tions. Have an extra few min­utes? about to say some­thing along the lines of, “___ works using ___?” Con­sider instead, “how do you think ___ works?” or “raise your hand if you think ___ requires ___? how about ___, would it need that?”

We’ve met as a class twice, and as we dis­cuss com­puter sci­ence edu­ca­tion, we increas­ingly speak of abstract def­i­n­i­tions of com­puter sci­ence is, what com­pu­ta­tional think­ing entails, and so on. The topic runs away into def­i­n­i­tional vagaries of prob­lem solv­ing, miles away from the tan­gi­ble — and really quite approach­able — top­ics of just how the black-box gad­gets in our lives work, and how they could work bet­ter. Because that’s the one of the ben­e­fits of com­pu­ta­tional think­ing — not only to under­stand and decon­struct the tools of our lives, but to cre­ate bet­ter ones.