caise

I’d just begun to write up a short summary of this morning’s talks, and even before I’d gotten to the end of the first sentence, four acronyms escaped onto the page as if in an alphabet train wreck.

“During Wendy Pollock’s welcome this morning she explained that CAISE began three years ago with the intent to act a technical resource for NSF ISE PIs.”

The writer in me automatically hit the backspace key to spell out the first reference before the larger point hit me. Just spelling it out isn’t enough. Often it’s the equivalent of just talking louder to someone who does not speak your language instead of really attempting to connect.

Those of us who work with scientists are forever encouraging them to drop the jargon, ever vigilant on behalf of our audiences. Writers spend hours trolling through copy to make it accessible. Producers listen for just the right sound bite with which the audience can identify  (sometimes, as Neil DeGrasse Tyson recounted in the story of his transformative moment, finding a waggle of the hips to be the only usable piece). We test our own work to make sure that the audience doesn’t trip over concepts or terminology that have become familiar to us.

But here, now, at this summit, we are the audience. We are a group that is attempting to build a field, and most of us would agree that a common language is important. The scientific acronyms that can alienate our audiences are an essential element of the precision that necessarily characterizes the all-together different discussions that scientists have with each other.

But are we ready for acronyms yet? We may have a common passion, all 450 of us, but I don’t think that we yet have a common understanding, much less a specialized field. For instance, someone wondered where all of the media people were, the journalists. As one of our speakers noted, journalists don’t typically see themselves as educators. So while we might see journalism as a form of informal science education, just calling it education is alienating a large portion of potential colleagues.

And what of our colleagues who are in the room today? I have engaged in some of the richest interactions and conversations in just a few short hours. The enthusiasm and depth of knowledge here is inspiring, but we’re bringing jargon and acronyms together faster than you can say PUS, NSTA, COPUST, NARST, NISE, AAAS, PCST, or even PI.

Did you hear an acronym that you didn’t know today? Were you engaged enough to ask what it meant or did you let it pass on the wave of conversation? Despite hesitation to appear woefully uninformed, I asked about an acronym today, and it opened a conversation that was immediately deeper and more engaging.

I challenge you to think about how common our language really is and avoid the inadvertent use of jargon before we are even a field. Before you use an acronym, think about a richer way around it. If you hear one you don’t know, think of it as your duty to each other to ask.

We build our practice on knowing our audiences. By the same token, we can build our field on knowing each other. At this stage, in honor of the diversity of backgrounds and venues that surrounds us, let’s be as vigilant in avoiding jargon when speaking with one another as we are on behalf of our audiences. And here’s to the continuing conversation.