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Mercury, May/June 1997 Table of Contents

(c) 1997 Astronomical Society of the Pacific

Astronomers should visit K-12 classrooms more often. Astronomers should spend more time explaining their profession to the public. Astronomers in academia should put more thought into the courses they teach. First, though, maybe astronomers should slow Earth's rotation to make enough hours in the day for all the demands on their time.

Such astroengineering is probably just a matter of time, and lunar tides are already helping out; the night of June 30-July 1 will be longer by a leap second. In the meantime, something is going to have to give. But what?

In its new plan to push astronomers into the nation's schools, NASA has at least recognized the time pressure on researchers. Over the next three years, the agency's Office of Space Science intends to shift 2 percent of its grant money into education -- but not just any education. Researchers will have to spend that money in a way that NASA thinks will make best use of their limited time -- that is, creating products and curricula for the mass market, as opposed to going to a classroom and interacting directly with kids [see "That Personal Touch," p. 19].

Despite its enthusiasm for "leveraging" researchers' time, NASA still hasn't resolved the basic riddle: Where does that time come from to begin with? Indeed, most researchers do not need to be "pushed" into the schools. They already want to help. But there isn't the time, and the agency itself is partly responsible.

In a survey two years ago by the Division for Planetary Sciences, the main professional organization for astronomers who study the solar system, a full 97 percent of the respondents said they wanted to do something for kids: slide shows, hands-on activities, teacher training. But 70 percent of them said they weren't pursuing those activities, and the main reason was lack of time.

"Basic science researchers are squeezed from every direction these days," said Debra Fischer, who should know: She participates in umpteen educational programs, raises three kids, and, oh, is wrapping up her dissertation at the University of California in Santa Cruz. "Asking scientists to get involved with K-12 education can be like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip," she added. "Not much left to give."

Research, teaching, service, and outreach simply don't get done in a normal work week. Investment bankers and web designers may also put in 80-hour weeks, but at least they get paid to do it. To a large extent, the overcommitment is a personal decision. Science is not just a career; it is, for most scientists, a calling. Their urge is to take on new tasks and spend whatever time it takes to get them done. In few other professions is the line between professional and personal life so blurred.

Unfortunately, colleges and funding agencies have come to expect superhuman dedication and, in effect, to build this into their employment and funding decisions. Even by the standards of downsized corporations, academic departments (at least those outside the top research universities) are woefully understaffed. And it is only getting worse. The job shortage has allowed deans to demand -- and get -- ungodly teaching loads, and more papers to boot. Meanwhile, the pace of discovery in modern astronomy is accelerating. The bottom line is that the time for education and public outreach isn't likely to come out of research.

"I doubt if a PI would be able to go to most administrators and say that they are doing education and so they would not be able to do all of the other things that they are required to do," said Larry Lebofsky of the University of Arizona. "If they have to do education, it would have to be in addition to everything else."

Nor are funding agencies letting up on their research expectations. NASA's carefully crafted education plan may well reduce to an accounting trick: Spend a chunk of your grant on education, but still do 100 percent of the research. Just make everything priority one.

"This really has to change," Lebofsky said, "but who knows when or if it will ever happen. This is the problem with 'leveraging' on the part of NASA. 'Give us something for nothing.' At some level this finally fails -- you get what you pay for!"

Graduate students, the foot soldiers of outreach in many astronomy departments, are under the same pressures. The median time to get an astronomy Ph.D. is six years -- and has been increasing steadily over the past two decades. It is a pretty exceptional faculty advisor -- or, indeed, prospective employer -- who would allow a grad student to write one less dissertation chapter in order to visit some first-graders. (In fact, if you know of a single case where this has happened, please write us a letter.)

More typically, outreach comes out of personal time. "I just received an interview survey from a K-12 student asking about what I do in my leisure time," Fischer said. "What leisure time, I laughed."

Is this the lesson we should be giving kids: that education is really just something you squeeze into your off hours?