If there is a cardinal sin committed by the formal institutions of learning, it is that they do little or nothing to help students see the value of mistakes. Mistakes are something to be avoided at all costs. Students graduate with the conviction that they succeeded because the number of mistakes they made was below the acceptable threshold, and thus they are certified to join the ranks of the “educated”. I am not saying that mistakes should not be corrected or such like, but our educational philosophy does not seem to formally teach students how to respond to mistakes and, most of all, how not to fear them.
How many people do you know who have some ambition to do something but are afraid to because they might make a mistake?
My spouse Denise is a passionate amateur scientist with a particular interest in dragonflies. We have a favorite pond in Cranston, RI where in summer months we have spent many enjoyable hours studying the organisms that live there. Denise’s main tool is the camera, which she uses to record images of pond life, especially dragonflies. She is a very good nature photographer.
This past July we were preparing for one of our trips to the pond. I had just started the car and noticed a dragonfly perched on a downed branch near the end of the driveway. I snapped a few photos with my digital camera. Minutes later as we drove out, I pointed out the dragonfly (it had not left its perch) to Denise. She had put her camera in the trunk, but mine was still hanging around my neck, so I let her borrow it and take some photos of her own. Later that day, I compared the sets of photos we had taken. Nearly all of mine were respectable. But hers were nearly all badly blurred, except for two or three shots that were simply stunning. Spectacular. That bug just seemed to leap off the screen. This is due to the way Denise takes pictures of insects. She insists on getting very close to her subjects, learning how to close the distance without spooking her quarry. The result is a lot of blurry shots and some muttered cursing when the subject flies off before the moment is right, but where photography is concerned, Denise knows how to make the right kinds of mistakes.
 Nanothemis bella. Photo by Denise Greaves. |
About that same time, Denise took this beautiful photo (left) of a female elfin skimmer (Nannothemis bella). This little gem of a dragonfly is about 3/4 of an inch long, but as you can see from the picture, it’s a beautiful beast. What you need to appreciate about this picture, however, is that she shot about 150 frames before she nailed this one. In other words, this excellent photo was the outcome of 149 mistakes. Denise calls her style of photography the “crapshoot school” in that if you shoot enough crappy photos, you will still end up with some real gems. Even as one’s skill increases, it’s still a numbers game.
In school I was not formally taught how to evaluate my mistakes for useful content. But I would have done much better to learn earlier not to fear mistakes. Genius, in my opinion, is not about being error-free in one’s thinking, but in being fearless.
In his wonderful little volume Advice to a Young Scientist, P. B. Medawar notes that great scientists who make greater and more numerous discoveries also make more mistakes. In other words, they have more ideas generally, most of which are wrong. But they are not deterred by this. They ruthlessly winnow away the chaff from a steady, lavish stream of ideas to find the ones that are worth saving.
Genius, it seems, is also a numbers game–at least in part.
I found your post very interesting. You make a very good point in it, but I am really intested in a couple of other minor points about your post. I grew up practically on the shores of Randall Pond and have very fond memories of it. When I was a boy I swam in it daily during summers. In winter it was our skating and ice hockey rink. And we fished the pond all year, including ice fishing in winter.
Recently, I have been doing some freelance writing and was thinking that a piece on my boyhood pond experiences and a piece on Randall Pond and how it has fared and changed over the years might make a good essay. If you could give me, or lead me to, any update on the conditions of the Pond, e.g., its pollution levels, is it swimable, fishable, etc. I would greatly appreciate it.
The other thing of interest in your comment is that your wife is a photographer of insects and dragon flies. I have a friend who specializes in the phogtography of insects and dragon flies. His name is Fred Siskind. Some of his work has been published. Maybe your wife has heard of him.
It would be nice to hear from you about conditions at Randall Pond.
The other reason for
Joe,
I don’t know where Randall Pond is; can you say which state it’s in or near which city? The pond I mentioned in the blog has no name that we are aware of; there is neither signage nor a notation on any map. We call it the “L-Pond” because it is shaped like a capital letter L.
Actually, I think that the biography of a pond would be a fascinating study. There are quite a few hobbyists who participate in monitoring streams, lakes, ponds, etc. for water quality, but an in-depth life history of a pond could be very valuable for the natural history of that general locale. Most people are surprised to learn this, but such studies tend to be fairly uncommon and when they are done, they seldom see the light of print.
The name Fred Siskind does ring a bell; I will check with Denise and see if she knows of him and his work.
Thanks for writing.
The pond I am referring to is named Randalls Pond and is in Cranston, RI. I remember very clearly the dragon flies on the Pond when I was a boy. However, the L shape that you mention does not fit this Pond. But there are several nearby Ponds in Cranston, including Dyers Pond, Spectacle Pond, Blackmore Pond, Cranston Print Works Pond, and I am sure a few I am forgetting to mention. If you do a search on Cranston and Pond and especially if you include some of these names you will be able to find some good maps that allow you to zoom in right on the location of these ponds. I have done it and have saved some of these sites in my computer files.
Your reply has encouraged me to explore doing my piece on Randalls Pond, but it will take some time and effort to do it right. At the moment I no longer live near the Pond but am in Northern Virginia. So I will need some time to revisit the Pond. I also am planning on learning as much from my mother and her sisters (brothers are all gone now) about what they remember about the pond and their experiences with it before I was even born. I do know that before the era of the refrigerator ice was cut from the pond for delivery to household ice boxes. My grandfather actually delivered ice from the pond to local residences.
Joe,
Not only would I further encourage you to pursue this project, I am on the editorial staff of an online newsletter dedicated to publishing the work of ordinary people who are doing science-related activities. Please keep me posted on your progress, and as your project continues, I will put you in touch with Forrest Mims, the Editor in Chief of The Citizen Scientist (http://www.sas.org/tcs/). I think he would be delighted to consider publishing your work.
I will also see if I can identify some of the ponds you mentioned and determine whether or not any of them might correspond to “our” pond in Cranston.
Thanks again for commenting on this piece.
Sheldon,
Thanks for the encouragement. I do intend to follow through and do a piece on Randalls Pond and maybe include some of the other nearby ponds as well, if I find out that they interact, as I think at least two of them are connected by a narrow channel – Randalls and Dyers Ponds. But it will take some time, as I have many writing projects on my agenda. In the meantime I ran into Denise’s piece on the baby black bird at her pond http://www.sas.org/tcstest/weeklyIssues_2005/2005-07-15/gallery/index.html. Enjoyed it and the accompanying video.
Her description of the her pond sounds to me like a small pond called Meshanticut Lake in Cranston. In spite of its name, it is really a pond and not a lake. It is “L” shaped and one can walk around this pond in about three minutes as Denise says in her article. Randalls Pond is nearby, maybe three miles or so away and is much larger. One could never walk around it in three minutes. I used to jog around Randalls Pond for exercise and that could take more like an hour to accomplish, though I never timed it. Meshnticut Lake is in a small park called Meshanticut Park which helps prserve it. No such luck for Randalls Pond.
The pond Denise and I frequented is located in a right-of-way for the power company. It sits almost directly beneath some large, high-tension lines. There isn’t any sign (literally or figuratively) referring to Meshanticut Park, but the pond you describe none the less sounds enchanting. Would love to visit it sometime.
Guess we just can’t get our ponds straight. But truly there are quite a number of ponds in Cranston and the surrounding cities and towns. After living in Northern Virginia for so many years, I almost forgot how many natural ponds there are in RI. In Virginia it seems most of the ponds are man made, used to drain lands to make them suitable for housing sites. I have two right near where I live now. They are not quite as nice as naturally occuring ponds, but still interesting none the less. In fact, one has a thiving beaver community, dams and all.