3. Science in Education

I mean what I say: science in education, not education in science.

It is the last of these that all the scientific men of England have so
long been fighting for. And a very good thing it is in its way, and I
hope they may get as much as they want of it. But compared to the
importance of science in education, education in science is a matter of
very small national moment.

The difference between the two is by no means a case of tweedledum and
tweedledee. Education in science means the systematic teaching of
science so as to train up boys to be scientific men. Now scientific men
are exceedingly useful members of a community; and so are engineers, and
bakers, and blacksmiths, and artists, and chimney-sweeps. But we can't
all be bakers, and we can't all be painters in water-colours. There is a
dim West Country legend to the effect that the inhabitants of the Scilly
Isles eke out a precarious livelihood by taking in one another's
washing. As a matter of practical political economy, such a source of
income is worse than precarious--it's frankly impossible. "It takes all
sorts to make a world." A community entirely composed of scientific men
would fail to feed itself, clothe itself, house itself, and keep itself
supplied with amusing light literature. In one word, education in
science produces specialists; and specialists, though most useful and
valuable persons in their proper place, are no more the staple of a
civilised community than engine-drivers or ballet-dancers.

What the world at large really needs, and will one day get, is not this,
but due recognition of the true value of science in education. We don't
all want to be made into first-class anatomists like Owen, still less
into first-class practical surgeons, like Sir Henry Thompson. But what
we do all want is a competent general knowledge (amongst other things)
of anatomy at large, and especially of human anatomy; of physiology at
large, and especially of human physiology. We don't all want to be
analytical chemists: but what we do all want is to know as much about
oxygen and carbon as will enable us to understand the commonest
phenomena of combustion, of chemical combination, of animal or vegetable
life. We don't all want to be zoologists, and botanists of the type who
put their names after "critical species:" but what we do all want to
know is as much about plants and animals as will enable us to walk
through life intelligently, and to understand the meaning of the things
that surround us. We want, in one word, a general acquaintance with the
_results_ rather than with the _methods_ of science.

"In short," says the specialist, with his familiar sneer, "you want a
smattering."

Well, yes, dear