June 2010 Archives

It’s a few days since I came back from the Cheltenham Science Festival and I’m still buzzing. My live science show, “Science vs Magic”, went down a storm, and months and months of work seem to have paid off. I received an email from Dr Andrea Sella, a live science show veteran, telling me he thought it was a “fantastic talk - brilliant premise, brilliant execution, very solid story line, excellent comic timing, great examples, and your energy level was up there at the deranged level… loved every minute”. Tom Whyntie, who was one of the performers in what was the best show I saw at Cheltenham - The Tree of Physics - tweeted: “Science vs Magic my favourite at #CheltSciFest. Great demos, crucial message, but above all @alomshaha is a phenomenal showman”.

I’d be lying if I said this kind of praise didn’t leave me feeling ridiculously flattered, but praise from these guys really does mean a lot, not just because both of them are “real” scientists but because I’ve seen them perform their own live shows and it’s clear they know what they’re talking about.

Science vs Magic is the first time I’ve tried to do anything like this. The closest thing I’ve done previously is a school assembly for Science Week. I conceived of the show in an attempt to become the IOP Schools Lecturer for 2010. I was shortlisted, but the gig went to the lovely Dr Melanie Windridge. However, by that point I’d invested a whole lot of time and money into developing the show and I was determined to prove to myself (and the IOP) that I could make the show work.

A few months after being rejected by the IOP, I performed the show in front of a few school audiences as part of the Otley Science Festival. The children seemed to love it and I received hugely enthusiastic and positive feedback from teachers and other adults who saw the shows. But, to be brutally honest, I don’t think it’s that hard to impress a hall full of school children, especially if they’re missing their regular science lesson. And it’s not that hard to do a few demonstrations on stage that make people go “wow”. I suspect any “enthusiasm” for science that this kind of thing generates is short-lived.

I wasn’t happy with the show - I had had a particular goal in mind when writing it, a “point” I wanted to make, and I thought I could do it better. I knew some of my demonstrations were a bit lame and that I was making up for that with my on-stage banter. So, I sent out a message on the BIG CHAT mailing list and asked for help. Quite a few people responded, including demo legend Ben Craven and Olympia Brown, Senior Young People’s Programme Coordinator at the Royal Institution.

I gritted my teeth and sent Ben and Olympia copies of a video of an early performance of the show, cringing at the thought of these strangers watching something I knew was far, far from perfect. Ben Craven emailed me, praising the concept but gently pointing out some of the problems with the show. A short time later, I met with Olympia and her colleagues Dave Porter and Andy Marmery. Over cups of tea in an office recently vacated by Susan Greenfield, they told me that they really liked the idea of the show… but they thought they could come up with ways to make it better.

Over the next few months, Oly, Dave and Andy really helped me to improve the show’s structure and came up with a bunch of demos that were much, much better than my original ones. Armed with these new demos and a much stronger script, I tried the show out at a school in Hackney and finally felt like it was close to being the show it was meant to be. I know the show was good on that particular occasion, not because the kids clapped like crazy, but because the conversation I had with a teacher afterwards convinced me that I had done far more than entertain and amuse for an hour - the show had been genuinely thought provoking.

A successful performance at Cheltenham has been the highlight so far of my work on this project. But it’s far from complete. I’ll be performing Science vs Magic again at the BIG Event in July and I’ll be looking for feedback from the audience of my peers in science communication. I hope they’ll like the show, but I also hope they’ll be watching with a critical eye and offer up some suggestions for further improving it. I probably shouldn’t think of it as “my” show any more - it’s really been a collaborative effort and I owe a huge thank you to everyone who’s helped shape it so far, especially the brilliant team at the Royal Institution.

King of the Universe

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This is a piece I wrote for The Times Science Blog back in March 2010. The Times no longer allow free access to their website so I'm reproducing it here:

I want to be an astronaut. And now that we have a UK Space Agency, I might get to be one: I'm a teacher AND I'm from an ethnic minority community, which should mean that I'm way ahead of most people when the Minister for Outer Space draws up a shortlist for the first crew sent into space by UKSA (doesn't quite have the same ring as NASA, does it?)

The closest I've come to being an astronaut so far is to shake the hand of Neil Armstrong, the first man to step on the Moon. I have no doubt that Neil has no recollection of this momentous event in my life -- I was one dozens of people with whom he shook hands after a recent event at the Royal Society where five astronauts enthralled a small audience with recollections of their adventures in space. Amongst other delights, we heard the Apollo 13 story from Jim Lovell himself, and Eugene Cernan's description of being the last man to have stood on the Moon.

I was only at this event because I was a teacher, only allowed to go because I was accompanying five of my students to the talk. So you see, being a teacher does have its perks.

The astronauts were inspiring -- truly heroic men who have accomplished great things. All of them were clearly smart and capable men. They could do science, maths, play (American) football and fix a broken spaceship. The kind of guys you'd want on your side in a fight or if you were stuck on a desert island. My students were awestruck by them. After the talk, one of my students said to me "Sir, your generation's a bit rubbish, isn't it?".

Perhaps he had a point -- sure, my generation has invented the iPod and facebook, but Armstrong's generation dared to climb into tin cans strapped to explosives and fly into the unknown. Awesome.

Another student was left concerned by the talk: "Sir, I sometimes worry what would happen to the world if all the old people died at once. Who'd be left to do these amazing things? None of the people I know are as smart as those guys". This was from one of my smartest students; I question whether an equally able student from a private school would have asked such a question, but that's another discussion.

I was glad the talk had inspired my students. But I have a bone to pick with the astronauts. It's a problem with a lot of astronomers and people who talk to the public about space: their constant use of the term "insignificant" to describe the Earth and us humans. I am not insignificant. When you tell me that you can stand on the moon and see the Earth as a "pale blue dot" which you can blot out with your thumb, that does not make me think the Earth is insignificant. When you tell me that there are more stars in our galaxy than there are grains of sand on every beach in the world, that does not make me feel insignificant.

My dictionary defines "insignificant" as "not worthy of notice". Anyone who uses the word "insignificant" to describe The Earth or humans does not understand the meaning of the word. Because, as far as I can tell we are the most significant thing in this corner of the Universe. If you were an alien and you were to stand on the Moon and look around you, surely it is the little pale blue dot that would be most worthy of notice?

Surely it would be the only body in the galaxy where protons, neutrons and electrons have come together to make objects which think, love, write blog posts, that would be the most significant finding? All the other objects in the galaxy are pretty much the same aren't they? Sure, there are different types of star but compared to just one human being, stars are boring, uncomplicated things. If you were an alien standing on our moon, you would think it is the stars that are insignificant, not us. So Lord Mandelson, my beloved Minister for Outer Space, send me to the moon and I promise I will not come back to Earth and talk to people about the insignificance of us or our planet. Send me to the moon and I'll stand atop it and shout "I'm the King of the Universe".