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The Construction and Analysis of a Science Story:
A Proposed Methodology
STEPHEN KLASSEN
Department of Physics, University of Winnipeg, Winnipeg, Manitoba, R3B 2E9, Canada.
E-mail: s.klassen@uwinnipeg.ca
Abstract Science educators are beginning to establish a theoretical and methodological foundation for constructing
and using stories in science teaching. At the same time, it is not clear to what degree science stories that have
recently been written adhere to the guidelines that are being proposed. The author has written a story about Louis
Slotin, which deals with the beginnings of radiation protection, to serve as a case study.
In this paper, the story is dissected and evaluated with the view to begin to establish a method of literary
criticism for science stories. In addition, student responses to the story are investigated and interpreted.
1. Introduction
More than two decades ago, Bruner wrote that “in contrast to our vast knowledge of how science and
logical reasoning proceeds, we know precious little in any formal sense about how to make good stories.”
(1986, p. 14). “Making good stories” is always a challenging process, especially for science educators
who have not, for the most part, had training in the humanities and who have usually not had the
opportunity to develop creative writing skills. Although people naturally use their imaginations and are
attracted to good stories and historical accounts, these essential qualities of thought are the very ones that
tend to be absent in the study of science and also in science education. Moreover, expository writing,
especially the textbook variety, tends to be devoid of human interest and lacks natural humanistic
engagement. To change this situation, Bruner recommended that we “convert our efforts at scientific
understanding into the form of narratives” (1996, p. 125). Bruner reflected a shift in emphasis in cognitive
psychology, which was mirrored, in the 1980’s and 1990’s, by science educators who were becoming
interested in contextual teaching and the use of narrative forms (Kenealy, 1989; Martin & Brouwer, 1991;
Stinner, 1995; Wandersee, 1990). Despite the growing advocacy of the story approach, there have not
been many experimental studies making use of science stories in the classroom. Those that have been
undertaken support the continued development of the science story as a teaching tool (e.g., Carey, Evans,
Honda, Jay, and Ungar, 1990; Hellstrand and Ott, 1995; Kubli, 1999; Klassen, 2007; Lin, 1998; Solomon,
Duveen, Scot, and McCarthy, 1992).
Using stories in teaching is not new in the sense that it has likely always been apparent to good
teachers that stories make learning experiences memorable. However, there is no established tradition of
theoretical approaches and frameworks based on narrative theory and learning theory for the use of story.
It is possible that the dearth of classroom studies may, in large measure, be due to the lack of a well–
established theoretical backing. Recently, the need for such a tradition has been addressed by several
scholarly articles which go beyond simply advocating a story approach and begin to provide a theoretical
background for science stories (Klassen, 2006a; Kubli, 2001; Metz, Klassen, McMillan, Clough, &
Olson, 2007; Norris, Guilbert, Smith, Hakimelahi, & Philips, 2005).
The objective of this paper is to add to the basis for writing effective science stories by showing how
a science story can be researched, written, and analyzed and how student responses to the story can be
investigated and interpreted.
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 2
2. What Makes a Good Science Story?
Although there is advocacy for using science stories and even some evidence that they are effective in
improving teaching and learning of science, there is no established basis for evaluating stories other than
observing their effect on learning when they are used in the classroom. Such studies, while valuable in
their own right, provide little information on how to construct good stories. Nevertheless, basic criteria for
evaluating science stories have been advanced in the study by Norris, et. al. (2005), who rate science
“stories” to see whether they qualify as narratives, at all. Other work in this area has been done by Kubli
(2001) who uses narrative theory to suggest how certain literary elements may improve the effectiveness
of science stories and by Klassen (2006b) who links the structure of science stories to learning. Norris, et.
al. (2005) describe eight essential elements of narratives, namely, (a) event-tokens, (b) the narrator, (c)
narrative appetite, (d) past time, (d) the structure, (e) agency, (f) the purpose, and (g) the role of the reader
or listener (Norris, et. al., 2005). The work of Klassen and Kubli amplifies various aspects of the eight
elements that Norris, et. al. proposed. Kubli raises two additional elements—the effect of the untold and
irony. Science stories can be analyzed using these ten elements of narrative and a case study with such an
analysis is provided in this paper. Although such analyses can be performed, they can only identify
deficiencies in stories, not serve as a formula for writing stories. Writing a science story is, in the final
analysis, a creative act which cannot be reduced to a method. Still, as in the study of literature per se, it
should be possible to subject science stories as a genre to ‘literary’ criticism.
Science stories differ from stories in the humanities in at least two critical aspects, namely, the
purpose of the story and the role of the reader or listener. The central purpose of the science story is, after
all, to improve the teaching and learning of science, not to just entertain or to communicate a message as
is the case for a story in the humanities. Yet, this aspect is problematic in that, as Norris, et. al. (2005)
have pointed out, it is not at all easy to accomplish the explanatory purpose in narratives. Secondly, the
desired response of the reader or listener, in this case the science student, is not only affective
engagement, as may be the case for stories in the humanities. At this point, it is not quite clear as to the
immediate reader or listener response that is being sought if it is not necessarily just engagement or
understanding.
To achieve more clarity on these issues, it is first necessary to select the kind of science story that one
wishes to study. Several ways of using science stories have been identified in the literature (Metz,
Klassen, McMillan, Clough, and Olson, 2007; Stinner, McMillan, Metz, Jilek, and Klassen, 2003), but in
this study, the story will be used as a ‘door opener’ to instruction (Kubli, 2005; Metz, et.al., 2007).
Furthermore, I have chosen the term “literary” to describe this type of story, which denotes a brief story,
longer and more detailed than an anecdote (Shrigley & Koballa, 1989) or vignette (Wandersee, 1990).
The literary story is designed to stand on its literary merit and not only on its historical and scientific
merits. To lend further authenticity to such a story, the basis will be history of science (Klassen, 2006a).
2.1 SCIENCE STORIES THAT RAISE QUESTIONS
Stories to be used as door openers do not have as their primary purpose the explanatory function, but they
are intended to make the concept being taught more memorable, to help reduce the distance between
teacher and students, and to assist in illuminating a particular point being made (Kubli, 2005; Metz, et. al.,
2007). Door opening science stories provide “reasons for needing to know”. Another, perhaps more
significant purpose behind such stories is to raise questions or leave the student with unresolved problems
or issues which form a significant part of the science material being taught. These questions arise not only
from the story itself, but from the scientific issues and science concepts that the story contains. According
to Gil-Pérez, et. al. (2002), questions play a central role in constructivist pedagogy. In their words, ‘[f]rom
a scientific point of view it is essential to associate knowledge construction with problems: as Bachelard
(1938) stresses, “all knowledge is the answer to a question” ’ (p. 566). One would, then, expect that well-
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 3
told stories would provide an incentive for students to raise a number of questions that they consider both
interesting and important.
According to Kubli (2001), stories rely on the effect of the untold to heighten curiosity. The questions
that we expect students to ask as a result of a well-told science story should be motivated by curiosity
about the events of the story and the scientific issues raised. Schwitzgebel (1999) maintains “that there is
a kind of curiosity human beings have that is satisfied [only] when an explanation is presented and
understood” (p. 472). According to Schwitzgebel’s account of theory-formation in children, explanation-
seeking curiosity is the result of a contradiction between what children see happening and their
“expectations”, which Schwitzgebel interprets as theories. For instance, explanation-seeking curiosity
“might be characterized as something like a ‘why did that happen?’ or ‘how is that possible?’ reaction”
(Schwitzgebel, 1999, p. 481). It is easy to see how stories might produce this type of curiosity in the
listener. The effect of the untold or a violation of expectation might, indeed, result in a need to explain.
An example of a violation of expectation in a story is in the use of situational irony, where the entire
situation of the story is opposite to what the reader or hearer expects. Schwitzgebel suggests that it may
be possible to test for “patterns of affect and arousal associated with the emergence and resolution of
explanation-seeking curiosity” (1999, p. 481). Another way in which the presence of explanation-seeking
curiosity could be tested is by having students write down the questions that are brought to mind
immediately upon hearing a science story. The potential efficacy of this approach is supported by research
on told stories that shows that learning is improved when students generate their own questions and,
subsequently, also their own answers (Cox and Ram, 1999). The method of having students record their
own questions has been chosen for the present study and the results of using this method in the classroom
are presented in this paper.
2.2 MAKING A POINT WITH A SCIENCE STORY
It is an important characteristic of stories that they make a point. Not only is it a characteristic, but
listeners to stories try to make sense of the story being told by attempting to determine the point of the
story (Vipond and Hunt, 1984). A “point-driven” response to a story is one of a number of ways of
responding to a story that are not mutually exclusive. Student attempts at coming to a “point-driven
understanding” of a science story could be tested by having them write down what they perceive as the
point being made after hearing the story.
3. Critiquing a Science Story
A method for critiquing science stories can now be outlined. Even before the story is written, the
appropriate historical basis must be outlined. The historical case must conform to sound historiographical
principles and utilize reliable historical sources. It goes without saying that the history used must relate to
the science material for which the story is being prepared. Next in the process is the writing of the story in
the form in which it is to be used with students. Here the creative process dominates and ways must be
found to relate to the interests of students. At this point an analysis of the story based on the eight
characteristics of Norris, et. al. (2005) and the additional two characteristics of Kubli (2001) may take
place.
For the last stage of the story analysis, student responses to the story will need to be analyzed. To be
as unobtrusive as possible, written student responses may be incorporated into the assignments for the
unit to be taught. Immediately after the story is told, students could be asked to record three questions that
came to mind as they listen to the story and to write what they consider to be the main point being made
by the story (see Appendix II for an example). These student responses may be treated as formative
assessment for the purpose of determining how instruction would need to be adjusted as a result of the
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 4
inclusion of the story. The design of the assignment and the analysis of the students’ responses need not
necessarily be envisioned as a research study but, also, as a technique to improve instruction by providing
a type of formative assessment of student responses to the story.
4. A Case Study: The Story of Louis Slotin
The motivation for researching and writing stories for inclusion with instruction sometimes arises out of
dissatisfaction with existing teaching units that have been handed down from instructor to instructor, in
perpetuity. Such a situation arose for this author in the context of teaching the properties of radioactivity
in a second-year university physics laboratory class. The focus of the exercise had been to measure the
absorption of radiation by dense materials, with the ultimate objective being to determine the absorption
coefficient of lead. As it stood, the exercise lacked context and any sense of importance for making the
measurements. An obvious context for such measurements is the field of radiation protection and the need
for appropriate and safe shielding when using radioactive materials. Not only is the context appropriate,
but it necessitates the introduction of important new concepts along with the former somewhat sterile
exercise. However, how to integrate these concepts with a story from the history of science is not obvious,
at first glance. Fortunately, this author happened to come across the documentary movie Tickling the
Dragon’s Tail: The Story of Louis Slotin (Henning & Phillips, 1998) during the time that a revision of the
radiation absorption lab became necessary. The story of the movie deals with the scientist, Louis Slotin,
who worked in the Manhattan Project and distinguished himself by assembling the first atomic bomb ever
to be exploded. The story holds additional attraction for many of this author’s students, as they identify
with Slotin having been born, raised, and educated in Winnipeg.
4.1 HISTORIOGRAPHICAL CONSIDERATIONS
The writing of a story that is meant to utilize history of science cannot proceed without considering what
interpretation of history is to guide the selection and adaptation of historical materials. In the first place,
history of science is subject to a broad spectrum of possible interpretations. One end of the spectrum is
what Herbert Butterfield (1931/1959) called the whig approach to history in which history of science is
viewed in light of current knowledge. Implicit in this approach is the assumption that current knowledge
is superior to the knowledge of past scientists. Critics of the whig approach object to applying current
days’ standards to history because historical figures operated in a different environment with different
assumptions and standards than they do today. The other end of the spectrum of approaches is the
localized view in which history is interpreted only in light of the knowledge and context of the time and
place in question. This approach, referred to as horizontal history by Mayr and diachronical history by
Kragh, has been criticized on the grounds that history cannot be interpreted when comparisons to the
larger context cannot be made (Mayr, 1990; Kragh, 1987). Furthermore, it has been claimed that purely
diachronical history is uninteresting to the non-specialist in that it is a chronology of events restricted to
the local context (Mayr, 1990; Kragh, 1987). Then there are also internal histories of science written
primarily by scientists, some of who participated in the events about which they wrote many years later.
The purposes of such histories are to provide legitimization for the science, to aid in the socialization of
novices, and to pass on exemplars that will be used as models for problem-solving (Kragh, 1987). Internal
history often provides an official version of the roots of the discipline that tends to romanticize the events
and portray science as an inevitable consequence of the force of progress. Exposing students only to this
version of history encourages a distorted view of the nature of science, not to mention of the history,
itself.
For the purposes of writing a story to serve as an introduction to, or framework for, the teaching of a
topic in science, aspects of all of the historical interpretations mentioned may be present to a certain
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 5
degree. Certainly, the overriding consideration will be to portray the history accurately, especially in
using the best original and secondary sources. Any account must also be sensitive to the practices, beliefs,
and social mores of the time. However, usually there will be areas of these historical practices, beliefs,
and social mores that do not resonate with current-day students. Any story arising from the history must
be sensitive to such possible areas of misunderstanding, all the while not implying current superiority. Of
course, the history of an event in the discipline that has been written for students of the discipline cannot
help but provide some degree of legitimization and socialization. The goal is to portray scientists as
human beings, “warts and all” (Winchester, 1990), in order to give students the opportunity to become
affectively involved in the story of science. Usually, the listeners to such stories will have a substantial
degree of empathy for the protagonists of the stories.
4.2 HISTORICAL DETAILS
Unless otherwise stated, the following historical sketch is based on Hayes (1956), Moon (1961),
Malenfont (1996), and Zeilig (1995).
Louis Slotin was born in Winnipeg on December 1, 1912 to devout Russian-Jewish parents. The
family was fairly well to do and Louis’ father, who ran a local livestock agency, purchased a fine river
property as their residence. The property stands today, although no longer owned by the family, but,
essentially, the same as it was then. After high school, the young Louis enrolled at the University of
Manitoba. His younger brother recalls Louis studying with extreme intensity. The hard work paid off as
Louis received the University Gold Medal in both Chemistry and Physics upon graduating with a
Batchelor’s degree. Louis continued his studies at the University of Manitoba, and in 1933 obtained his
Master of Science degree in chemistry. That same year Louis moved to London, England to continue his
studies under Professor A. J. Allmand at King’s College London. In July of 1936, Louis successfully
defended his doctorate in chemistry, winning the prize for best thesis. The following year, Louis tried to
get a position with Canada’s National Research Council, but was turned down. Instead, he went to the
University of Chicago as a research associate, working on the cyclotron. The work was difficult and Louis
received no pay whatsoever for two years. During that time his father regularly sent him money for food
and rent.
In 1941, Louis began work at the famous “Met” lab of the Manhattan project and was, subsequently,
moved to Oak Ridge Tennessee, where he worked with Eugene Wigner on the problem of plutonium
production. Louis distinguished himself as competent and hard-working on each project, ensuring his
ultimate recruitment into the A-bomb program. He arrived at Los Alamos, New Mexico in December of
1944 where he threw himself into his work with the usual energy. Soon he had developed an unrivalled
reputation at assembling the components of the as-yet-unexploded prototype bombs in order to achieve
near criticality. Criticality is that point in an intensifying set of nuclear reactions at which it becomes self-
sustaining and could, if not allowed to expand due to the heating, result in an atomic explosion. Even if
the point of explosion is not reached, the criticality threshold, when crossed, results in the release of
massive amounts of radiation. When the plan for creating near criticality was first devised, it was
described by one of the participants as “tickling the tail of a sleeping dragon” (Frisch, 1979, p. 159).
Thereafter, the criticality experiments were known as “tickling the dragon’s tail”. On account of his
expertise, Slotin was trusted with the task of assembling the first atomic bomb, code-named “Trinity”, and
handing it over to army personnel for transportation to the detonation site on July 16, 1945. One of his
most prized possessions was a scribbled receipt for the bomb. At this time, Louis had not yet received his
American citizenship and was not allowed to travel to the launching site of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki
bombs.
After Japan surrendered in August of 1945, Loius was finally able to tell his family about his wartime
occupation. Louis’ father learned, to his shock, of his son’s role in working on the atom bomb. The son’s
response to his father was that “we had to get it before the Germans” (Zeilig, 1995, p. 24). Louis’ family
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 6
recalled that despite his seeming zeal for the project, Louis was nevertheless troubled by what he was
doing. Slotin’s close friend, Philip Morrison, remembered that the two of them frequently spoke about
war and peace. After the war, Slotin was assigned to Navy nuclear tests, “much to [his] disgust” (Zeilig,
1995, p. 24). Louis would much rather have returned to Chicago to resume his peacetime research.
Moreover, the post-war experiments in which Slotin was involved were not without their perils. While
Louis was away from the laboratory on August 21, 1945, his friend, Harry Dalglian, had a horrendous
criticality experiment accident, exposing himself to a lethal dose of radiation. Slotin spent many hours at
the bedside of his dying friend. After Harry’s death, the criticality tests were moved to the Palajito
laboratory from the Omega Site laboratory where they had been working before (Loaiza & Gehman,
2006). Enrico Fermi, who was also in Los Alamos at the time, warned Slotin that he would be dead in a
year if he kept on doing the criticality experiment. Although there was some work being done on
designing a remote control for the test, “such devices had not been fully developed to the point where
they were considered reliable to perform the task of critical assembly studies” (Hayes, 1956, p. 8), and so,
the manual tests continued. By this time, Slotin had taken over the leadership of the critical assembly
group from Otto Frisch (Frisch, 1969).
Slotin began to make plans to return to Chicago. Having received his American citizenship, he was
scheduled to travel to the Marshall Islands to attend the Operation Crossroads test at Bikini Atoll on
July 1. After that, he planned to move back to Chicago. By May 21, 1946, Alvin Graves had already been
assigned to take Louis’ place on the project. On that day, Slotin was to orient Graves in the experimental
procedures so that he could leave. Five other scientists were working on other projects in the laboratory at
the time, and a security guard was stationed there, as always. Graves asked Slotin to demonstrate a critical
assembly. At first, Slotin didn’t think he had the materials on hand, then remembered that they had a
number of bomb cores there and announced that he could put together a demonstration “in about two
minutes” (Froman & Schreiber, 1946, p. 1). Some light-hearted banter ensued, with Darol Froman, also a
Canadian, remarking that if Slotin “were going to do it in two minutes [he] was going to leave, but would
stick around if he took a half-hour for it” (Froman & Schreiber, 1946, p. 2). Froman notes that this was
not meant seriously, as everyone in the room had complete confidence in Louis’ ability and judgment. At
the time the criticality experiments were being done manually by placing the core of the bomb into a pair
of hemispherical beryllium shells hollowed out in the center where the core fit, exactly. The plutonium
core had a nickel covering which prevented both contamination and the escaping of the alpha radiation.
The cores were strangely warm but, by themselves, harmless to the touch. Gloves were not necessarily
used to handle them. The shells, called tampers, were placed one on top of the other to make a sphere, and
served as neutron reflectors so that the neutron density in the core would reach the level to initiate a
nuclear chain reaction. Of course, the upper shell was never allowed to touch the lower one, as criticality
would be achieved, instantly. To prevent that from happening, spacers had been machined to place
between the two halves. However, in order to approach criticality, Slotin would have to remove the
spacers and use a screwdriver as a wedge and hand-manipulate the spheres into a state of near-criticality.
Slotin soon had the demonstration ready to go, and when it no longer interfered with other work going on
in the room, he lowered the upper hemisphere with his hands and kept the hemispheres separate with a
screwdriver blade, which also served to gradually decrease the gap between the spheres. The onset of
criticality was detected by the increased emission of gamma-radiation, which was detected by Geiger
counters. The experiment began and what happened next was recorded by Froman shortly thereafter.
Froman wrote that
[i]t could not have been more than two or three minutes after the start that I turned because of some noise or
sudden movement. I saw a blue flash around the Be tamper and felt a heat wave simultaneously. At the same
instant, Slotin flipped the outer top tamper shell off. … This stopped the reaction.
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 7
… Slotin’s left hand, which was holding the top hemisphere, was definitely in the glowing region. The total
duration of the flash could not have been more than a few tenths of a second. Slotin reacted very quickly in
flipping the tamper piece off. …
A few seconds after the accident, only Slotin, Graves, and myself [sic] were left in the room. … The rest of
us left immediately, going up the corridor.
Slotin called for an ambulance and then prepared a sketch showing our positions at the time of the accident.
(Froman & Schreiber, 1946, p. 3)
Raemer Schreiber, who was also present in the room, described the accident this way, almost 50 years
later:
What [Slotin] did was to lower one of the hemispheres of beryllium over the core sitting in the bottom half and
hold it open with a screwdriver. The idea was to lower it down to where there was just a small gap and, if it gets
critical, then you could stop it at that point. You could waggle the screwdriver and make it multiply or quit. …
But the screwdriver slipped. The thing dropped completely closed and that made it super critical, prompt
critical. It was stopped by the expansion of the core and the beryllium but it was enough to put out a lethal shot
of radioactivity. (quoted in Calloway, 1995, p. 2)
According to Schreiber’s recollection, Slotin said at the instant after the accident: “Well, that does it”,
meaning that he probably knew in an instant that he was a dead man (quoted in Calloway, 1995, p. 2).
Louis became very ill and died an excruciating death nine days later, on May 30th. Slotin’s close friend,
Philip Morrison, was constantly at his beside during that time. Ironically, both Harry Dalglian and Louis
Slotin’s accidents happened on Tuesday the 21st of the month, using the same bomb core, and they both
died in the same hospital room. The funeral for Louis Slotin was held on June 2nd outside the family home
with almost 3,000 people in attendance. Some time later, a memorial park was established nearby on
Luxton Avenue overlooking the Red River. The inscription on the bronze plaque reads:
This park is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Louis Slotin who willingly and heroically laid down his life to
save seven fellow scientists during an experiment May 21, 1946 at the Los Alamos atomic research project in
New Mexico, U.S.A.
As the laboratory was being swept with deadly radiation, Dr. Slotin spontaneously leaped forward covering
the experiment with his body. Dr. Slotin was taken to hospital where he died nine days later. His seven co-
workers survived.
Dr. Slotin and his family had resided at 125 Scotia Street, just a short walk north of this park. Descendents
and family members of the late Dr. Slotin still reside in Winnipeg.
There was a fairly general consensus that Slotin was not culpable in the accident and that his quick
reaction, not to mention the shielding effect of his body, had literally saved the lives of the others in the
room. What scientists of the time did not know is that it was the self-limiting nature of the nuclear chain
reaction that had terminated the burst of radiation and not Slotin’s quick reaction. The US government
issued a citation of bravery and the editor of the local newspaper wrote a poem in Slotin’s honor.
However, a report issued at the time blamed project management for being “negligent in failing to
recognize the need for effective safety controls, requirements to ensure reproducibility, and the
development and implementation of suitable procedures” (Malenfont, 1996, p. 2). Many of the
experiments done at that time presented serious dangers. Hacker (1987) writes that
[t]he reasons were largely psychological. Proper care precluded any danger at all; nothing could happen unless
an assembly exceeded the critical amount. A long series of trouble-free tests could foster a degree of
overconfidence. “Those of us who were old hands felt impervious to the invisible danger,” a member of the
critical assemblies group recalled. “I am afraid that familiarity indeed breeds contempt of danger.” (Hacker,
1987, p. 73)
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 8
Although much work had been done on radiation safety before the war, standards and procedures were
developed hazard by hazard and project by project. As new situations and hazards presented themselves,
there were, literally, no generally set standards, procedures, or even an adequate realization of the degree
of danger presented (Malenfont, 1996, Hacker, 1987). In retrospect, the experimental procedures of
scientists at the time may seem reckless now, but considering the context of the time, it is not clear
whether scientists like Slotin should, indeed, have known better.
4.3 WRITING A LITERARY STORY ABOUT LOUIS SLOTIN
The historical sketch or case, engaging as it may be, is too lengthy and detailed to be used in a typical
science class during the course of instruction. The focus of instruction must remain on the science and not
on the history. Moreover, normal instructional time pressures preclude the use of lengthy narrative
passages. If it is to be introduced at all, the historical-scientific context is better conveyed by means of a
brief literary story (Metz, Klassen, McMillan, Clough, & Olson, 2007).
In writing a story, an attempt was made to make connections with the student’s personal experience at
the beginning. For the Louis Slotin story, such a connection is created for university students in Winnipeg
by pointing out that Louis grew up in Winnipeg and studied at university, there. The guidelines in writing
this particular story were to portray the actual circumstances of Slotin’s death and the response of the
community at the time, and, at the same time, to include some scientific issues pointing to the importance
of radiation protection as a field of study. The title this author chose, “The Dragon’s Revenge”, is an
ironic reference to the nickname that the scientists gave to the experimental procedure which, ultimately,
resulted in Slotin’s death. The story, with line numbers for reference, is given in Appendix I.
Historical Accuracy
Several creative details not directly from the historical record are included in the story. These are the
description of Slotin’s coming to work (l. 1 – 2); thoughts attributed to Slotin, consistent with the
historical record, (ll. 2 – 10; 29); the location where Fermi might have warned Slotin of the dangers (l. 8);
the screwdriver falling to the floor; and the words “I’m dead” (l. 28), which Slotin might have thought,
according to Schreiber (Calloway, 1995). Otherwise, the story is faithful to the available historical
records.
4.4 AN ANALYSIS OF THE STORY
The historical background and the historiographical approach are used to produce the setting of the story.
Writing a historical case such as the one here is well-established and relatively uncontroversial. Beyond
that, the story’s literary features must draw on narrative theory as was outlined in a previous section. The
ten essential features to be assessed are (1) event-tokens, (2) the narrator, (3) narrative appetite, (4) past
time, (5) the structure, (6) agency, (7) the purpose, and (8) the role of the reader or listener, (9) the effect
of the untold, and (10) irony. The Slotin story will be examined in the light of each of these important
elements of stories.
Event-tokens
Narratives consist of events that involve characters and the settings in which the events take place. The
story’s events are related by an underlying chronological sequence which may be explicit or implied.
Successive events are made more significant in the light of preceding events. Events lead to changes of
state. In “The Dragon’s Revenge” there is one main character, Louis Slotin, along with the minor
characters Enrico Fermi, Alvin Graves, Philip Morrison, Thomas P. Ashlock, and six unnamed observers.
The setting of the story is the Manhattan Project research of Louis Slotin taking place in Los Alamos on
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 9
May 21, 1946. The events of the story unfold according to the following sequence: Slotin arrives at work
has doubts about the project remembers Fermi’s warning demonstrates bomb criticality to
Graves and the six other observers lets the screwdriver slip is subjected to a massive dose of
radiation reacts quickly to separate the hemispheres realizes that he has been mortally injured is
attended by Morrison as he dies is eulogized by Ashlock. The sequence of events constitutes a
chronology and, by itself, does not raise interest unless the motives and choices of the characters create
causative links between events (Coffin, 2004, Klassen, 2006b). These aspects will be discussed under the
headings “structure” and “agency”.
The Narrator
The narrator, either a participant in the story or an observer, determines the point and purpose of the story
and selects the events and their sequence. In “The Dragon’s Revenge”, the narrator is an observer. From
ll. 1 – 29 the narrator functions as subjective story-teller and from ll. 30 – 44 takes on the role of
commentator. From ll. 1 – 29, the tone is personal, revealing the innermost thoughts of “Lou”. In l. 30,
the tone becomes impersonal, for instance, referring to Louis as “Dr. Louis Slotin”. The point of the story
is raised in the last two lines: “If the science of radiation protection had been sufficiently developed by
1946, then this story would likely never have taken place”. Simply put, the point of the story is to
illustrate the importance of applying the principles radiation protection.
Narrative Appetite
A skillfully-told story will raise curiosity in the listener on account of a desire or need to know what will
happen next. The use of suspense and foreshadowing in the story will produce narrative appetite. In “The
Dragon’s Revenge”, foreshadowing is achieved by the pronouncement of Fermi that “You won’t last a
year if you keep doing that experiment” (l. 10). Similarly, suspense is produced through a foreboding tone
as the highly-dangerous procedure is undertaken: “As he rotated the screwdriver slightly this way and
that, the shell moved up and down. From across the room the familiar crunching sound of the Geiger
counters swelled and ebbed. Then it happened.” (ll. 21 – 23). In this passage, time seems to slow down as
increasingly more detail is provided, giving the listener the impression of heightened import.
Past Time
A story takes place in the past—that is, the narrator recounts events that have already taken place. Even
though the events underlying the story are historically sequential, the telling of the events may move back
and forth through time by means of flashbacks. The important aspect of the events is that they are
portrayed as unique and unrepeatable. This is evident in “The Dragon’s Revenge”—the events and details
leading up to Slotin’s death comprise a set of circumstances that are both unprecedented and
unrepeatable, and this is readily apparent to the listener. The uniqueness of the story adds to its appeal.
The listener may say to herself or himself, “This has never happened before and will never happen again”.
The Structure
A sense of structure in the story is already implied by its string of event-tokens. According to Toolan
(1988), “[a]n event bringing a change of state, is the most fundamental requirement of narrative” (p. 90).
The overarching structure of the story has an opening situation, complications that produce rising action,
and a resolution in the end; which may be either a success or failure. In “The Dragon’s Revenge”, Louis
Slotin, by virtue of his position and expertise, is called upon to demonstrate the criticality experiment to
Alvin Graves. However, the dangerous nature of the experiment complicates the situation. When the
screwdriver slips, the action rises to the point where the radiation is released and Slotin realizes that he
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 10
has, so to speak, killed himself. The resolution comes when Slotin dies, apparently a hero to those around
him.
The structure can also be viewed in terms of change-of-state and event sequences that produce the
sense of flow in the story (Coffin, 2004; Klassen, 2006b). A way of representing such sequences is by a
number of “minimal stories” that can be represented as “initial state event (as a result) final state”
(Klassen, 2006b). A major portion of “The Dragon’s Revenge” can be represented by a complex set of
minimal stories as follows.
Lou was working on the A-bomb and then, as a result, had to demonstrate the criticality experiment to Alvin
Graves and then, as a result, the screwdriver slipped and then, as a result, a torrent of neutrons and gamma rays
were released and then, as a result, Lou received a lethal dose of radiation and then, as a result, Lou flipped the
bomb-shell off the table and then, as a result, the others in the room were saved and then, as a result, Lou was
considered a hero.
The entire story cannot be represented in such a simple fashion, as some sequences are of a compound
nature; for example, the sequence, “Lou was working on the A-bomb and then, as a result, had to perform
criticality experiments and then, as a result, was warned by Fermi; and then had to demonstrate the
criticality experiments to Alvin Graves …” is an example of the intersection of two minimal story
sequences.
Agency
Stories involve characters who are moral agents—that is to say, the characters must make choices and live
by the consequences of those choices. In “The Dragon’s Revenge”, Louis Slotin chooses to perform the
highly-risky criticality procedure instead of declaring a moratorium until a mechanical method can be
worked out. During the war, the sense of urgency precluded stopping the experiments. At the conclusion
of the war, it is probable that the psychological sense of familiarity masked the normal sense of danger.
Such factors make the narrative characteristic of agency into a highly-complex issue.
The Purpose
Stories generally help listeners better understand their world and people’s place in it. They do so while
raising a sense of empathy in the listener or reader. Stories often have a “moral” or point to them. In the
case of “The Dragon’s Revenge”, the point being made is that the application of knowledge of radiation
protection is essential for the safe performance of experiments in nuclear physics. At the same time, the
listeners are expected to be highly sympathetic to the plight of Louis Slotin. The point of the story is also
analyzed below from the viewpoint of student responses.
The Role of the Reader or Listener
The story assumes a certain type of listener who will respond in a certain way; for example, the listener
must recognize the genre of story and interpret what is being told in that context. The listener must want
to know what will happen next, engage in the story, and develop empathy. But, more importantly, the
listener should be forming questions in response to the story. According to Schwitzgebel (1999), these
will likely be “why” and “how” types of questions. Written questions given by students in response to the
Slotin story are analyzed, below.
The Effect of the Untold
A brief story like “The Dragon’s Revenge” cannot include very many details of the events that took place.
According to narrative theorists, the sparse nature contributes to listener engagement, since the listener
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 11
must either “fill in the blanks” between provided pieces of information (Kubli, 2001; Shrigley and
Koballa, 1989) or form questions which could be answered, later.
Irony
Often stories turn out differently than the listener is led to believe in the beginning. Sometimes
expectations that the listener has are contradicted by the story. For instance, listeners may be led to
believe that Slotin is headed for fame and recognition as a result of his important role in bomb assembly.
However, the fame and recognition is only achieved in his tragic death—a supreme irony. Although irony
is an important element of narratives, it is not essential in the same sense as the previous features. There
is, after all, no reason why a story cannot turn out as expected.
Summary of Analysis
As Norris, et. al. (2005) show, prose passages that purport to be stories do not necessarily adhere to all of
the key elements of narrative. However, if science educators wish to become proficient at writing good
stories, they should adhere to all of the elements, with the possible exception of the last. If narratives are
being used to attempt to produce some degree of “narrative effect” (Norris, et. al., 2005), then it would
stand to reason not to omit any of the key narrative elements.
As the analysis above has demonstrated, “The Dragon’s Revenge” illustrates, at least to some degree,
all ten of the narrative elements. Establishing this type of comparison should be a basic requirement for
science stories. However, whether the story has any elements of greatness is not for the author to
determine, but rather for the hearers, readers, and critics.
4.5 RESEARCH STUDY DESIGN
The Slotin story has been used by the author over a period of two years with four different second-year
physics laboratory classes. Appendix I contains the story, as it was told to students. The telling of the
story was accompanied by PowerPoint images of relevant photographs without any associated captions
(see www.sci-ed.org under “Resources” for a copy). Immediately upon hearing the story, students were
asked to complete the assignment questions listed in Appendix II. A total of 40 student responses were
gathered. Each student could provide up to three questions and one point of the story. The story-telling
session together with the associated assignment took around 15 minutes and was administered to four
different second-year physics laboratory classes over a period of two years. After course marks were
submitted, all identification was removed and the responses were transcribed into a database. Three
responses were discarded—two which were considered inadequate and another which was considered
incoherent. The 37 remaining responses contained a total of 104 questions.
4.6 ANALYSIS OF STUDENT RESPONSE DATA
Several assumptions were made in advance of analyzing the responses. First, the questions would need to
be categorized by type. It was assumed that the explanation-seeking question types (‘Why did that
happen?’ or ‘How is that possible?’) as proposed by Schwitzgebel (1999), would be present. Since the
story is based in history and science, it was realized that other question types might also be present.
Second, the questions would need to be categorized by domain. Since the story, based in history and
science, was designed to raise student interest and had a somewhat controversial background, it was
postulated that questions would relate to (a) history, (b) science, (c) egocentric, personal interest in the
story, and (d) concern about ethical issues. Last, the point of the story, as given by students, would need
to be categorized. Since the author’s purpose was to point out the importance of knowing about and
adhering to radiation safety, it was postulated that students would see the point as relating to radiation
safety or the dangers or potential dangers of radiation.
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 12
The data were analyzed by both the author and a graduate student with expertise in physics and
philosophy. Any categories that were identified beyond those already proposed were adopted by
consensus. Where the interpretation of any data was in doubt or differed between readers, the issues were
discussed and a consensus was reached.
Categories of Question Type
Upon analysis, the following types of questions emerged:
(a) Why did something happen or why did something not happen?
(b) How is something possible or how does it work or how could it be done?
(c) What happened, what would have happened, what would happen, what could happen, what is happening, or
what will happen?
(d) What is or was such and such? (Define)
(e) When did something happen?
(f) Who did it or who was involved?
(g) Where did it happen?
In order to interpret all of the questions, some of them were re-cast into a somewhat clearer form.
Several questions appeared, on the surface, to be yes or no questions, but a more careful reading revealed
an underlying question; for example “Although the others in the room did not die due to the radiation,
were they affected?” was recast as “How were the others in the room affected by the radiation?”. The
question type results are given in Table 1.
Table 1: Question Type Responses
Question type Why How What Define When Who Where
Other
Frequency
(%)
29
(28%)
9
(8.5%)
33
(31.5%)
16
(15.5%)
15
(14.5%)
2
(2%)
Examples of Question Type
The ‘why’ questions related mostly to the actions of Louis Slotin and reflect a degree of incredulity, for
example, “Why wasn’t a more stable mechanism used to hold such a dangerous device?” or “Why were
they handling such a dangerous bomb with only a screwdriver?”. Other ‘why’ questions related to
scientific issues, as in “Why was Beryllium used as a shell for Plutonium?” or “Why didn’t the others
die?”.
The ‘how’ questions were mostly of a scientific nature, for example, “How, exactly did the
radioactive particles interact with Louis’ organs to make them shut down?” or “How did they know the
radiations were made of neutrons?”.
The ‘what’ questions reflected the students’ curiosity about the events of the story, for example,
“What actually happened when the two hemispheres came together?” or “What happened to other people
in the room?”.
The ‘define” questions, like the ‘how’ questions were mostly of a scientific nature, for example,
“What are gamma rays?” or “What was the blue light?”.
The ‘when’, ‘who’, and ‘where’ questions were of a straightforward historical nature, for example,
“When was the science of radiation protection developed?” or “Who else was involved in creating the
atom bomb?” or “Where did he go to school?”.
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 13
Only two questions could not be categorized and this was on account of their incoherence.
Categories of Question Domain
Upon analysis, the question domains (a) scientific, (b) historical, (c) ethical, and (d) personal emerged (as
had been postulated). There were few ambiguities in fitting the question data into the various domain
categories and only one question had to be placed in the ‘other’ category. The question domain results are
given in Table 2.
Table 2: Question Domain Responses
Question domain Historical Scientific Ethical Personal Other
Frequency
(%)
69
(66%)
29
(28%)
3
(3%)
2
(2%)
1
(1%)
Examples of Question Domain
The historical domain questions generally embodied curiosity about the events of the story and the
surrounding circumstances, for example, “How did Slotin come to this opportunity to build the A-bomb?”
or “What little did the scientists know about dealing with radioactive materials?”.
The scientific domain questions embodied curiosity about scientific knowledge unfamiliar to the
students, for example, “What does radiation do to the cells in your body?” or “Why didn’t the others
die?”.
There were few questions that could be categorized in the ethical domain. An example of such a
question is “How is this story viewed in comparison to the number of lives lost due to the atom bomb?”.
Also, few questions could be categorized in the personal domain, exclusively. For most, the historical or
scientific issues seemed to dominate the personal aspect. An example of a question in the personal
domain is “Will I be exposed to radiation like Dr. Slotin?”. Only one question could not be placed into
any of the domain categories.
Categories of Point of the Story
Upon analysis, the categories for the point of the story were found to be (a) the danger of radioactivity,
(b) the importance of radiation protection, and (c) other. Unlike the other aspects of the data, many
responses were found that did not fit into the postulated categories. Since each student gave up to three
questions, there is a smaller amount of data for the point attributed to the story. The ‘point of the story’
results are given in Table 3.
Table 3: Point of the Story Responses
Point of the story Dangers of radiation Importance of
radiation protection Other
Frequency
(%)
10
(27%)
8
(22%)
19
(51%)
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 14
Examples of Point of the Story
About half the students (49%) were able to express what could be considered a point for the story.
Examples of the ‘Dangers of Radiation’ category are “Radiation is deadly when not handled properly” or
“Radiation is extraordinarily deadly in large doses”. Examples of the ‘Importance of radiation protection’
category are “Radiation protection is very important” or “Had there been research done on radiation
protection, a great scientist’s life could have been saved”.
4.7 DISCUSSION OF STUDENT RESPONSES
Explanation-Seeking Curiosity
As has been specified at the beginning, one of the major purposes for using door-opening science stories
is to raise questions in students’ minds. Not only is the raising of good questions important from a
constructivist pedagogical point of view, but there is reason to believe that questions are implicitly
involved in theory formation. Therefore, evidence for the generation of good questions as a result of
listening to the story would serve as a major indicator that stories may serve to enhance learning. The data
presented in the current study support the conclusion that good questions were, indeed, generated as a
response to the story. The largest number of questions were of a type that suggested higher-level
thinking—that is to say, thinking which operates beyond the simple factual level as would be the case for
the ‘when’, ‘where’ and ‘who’ type questions. There was, however, evidence that the students were
inexperienced with generating well-framed questions, as indicated by a number of questions which
appeared, on the surface, to be yes or no type questions. This suggests that students might well benefit
from instruction on the nature of good questions and practice in formulating questions.
The Balance between the Scientific and Historical Domains
An analysis of the question domain revealed that most of the questions fell either into the historical or
scientific domains. The questions falling into these domain categories did so in a ratio of 3 to 7 (scientific
to historical). The ratio of scientific to historical questions seems to indicate a particular “character” for
the story. The S-H ratio may serve as a major indicator of the characteristics of a story.
The Lack of Egocentric and Ethical Questions
The initial expectation was that some questions would be of a personal, egocentric, nature. Surprisingly,
very few questions fell clearly into that category. A few questions, while not egocentric in nature, did
indicate personal interest in Slotin. For example, the question “Where did he go to school?” indictes a
degree of personal interest in the story, even though it is historical in nature.
Because the background for the story was the Manhattan Project, it was assumed that some issues of
ethical concern over the atom bomb would be raised. This was not the case, for the most part. The only
explanation that can be offered, beyond an obvious lack of concern for the issue, is that student thinking
tends to be highly constrained by the classroom context, i.e., physics, in which they are operating.
Determining the Point
Normally, when one thinks about the point of a story, one is actually determining the thesis of the
author’s story—the underlying message or the idea behind the story. Such an idea has to have certain
qualities: it should be expressed in a complete statement, have universal application, avoid the use of the
character’s name, and express a point of view. Formulating such a thesis statement is not altogether
simple as a simple reflection on the possible pitfalls seems to indicate. A thesis statement may be
confused with a theme or a moral, sometimes even simply a topic. A theme, like the thesis statement,
expresses a point of view, but it is not expressed in a complete statement. A topic may simply be a
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 15
statement of fact. Another response might be an identification of the moral of the story, which might be
expressed as a slogan. The moral is the lesson to be learned and is expressed in terms of actions to be
taken or avoided. Alternatively, simple observations that are mere commentary on the subject might be
mistaken for the point.
In examining the student responses to the point of the Slotin story, one can see the level of
sophistication of the response by determining to which of the above categories each belongs. Since
students were instructed to formulate the point of the story and likely assumed that it would have to be
expressed in a complete statement, none of the student responses merely identified the topic—radiation
protection—or the theme—the dangers of radiation or the necessity of radiation protection—as the point
of the story. Morals and slogans appeared quite frequently, as in “Don’t play around with bombs.”
Several students expressed the point in a thesis statement, such as “[R]adiation can be extremely
dangerous if you are not protected from it”, and “[I]n breaking new scientific ground there are risks that
are taken and sacrifices made”. Some of the thesis statements were vague, for example, “Advances in
science do have a price.” Many of the responses were merely commentary. They ranged from statements
such as “Radiation protection was not very advanced in 1946” to “The main points are to highlight
Slotin’s participation on the Manhattan Project and to bring a tragic example to light in the wake of doing
an experiment on Radiation protection”.
Answering the Questions
Although students may ask good questions, they also need to be provided with answers, or, at least, with
the opportunity and resources to obtain the answers for themselves. The answers for most of the historical
questions that students asked are provided in the historical details provided in an earlier section in this
paper. It is recommended that the “Historical Details” section be provided to students at the end of the
class in which the story is used. The scientific questions need to be answered either in the laboratory
exercise which follows the story or in other course lectures.
5. Conclusion
The case study reported in this paper has outlined a methodology for the researching, writing, using, and
testing of door-opening, literary science stories. It has been demonstrated that an analysis of the historical
and narrative features of the story can be carried out in a systematic fashion. In practice, the analysis and
writing of the story would comprise a cycle of writing a draft, analyzing, and then revising the story. The
case study has also detailed a method of testing for student responses to the story, which can be achieved
in an unobtrusive and time-efficient fashion. It has been found that the telling of the story and the
collection of student responses can be accomplished in about 15 minutes. An analysis of student
responses to the story reveals features of the story in the balance between the scientific and historical
domains and aspects of student thinking in their ability to ask questions of an analytical nature. However,
the ability of students to determine and express the point of the story was found to be somewhat limited.
The current study has the limitation of not being able to test for a “narrative effect” (Norris, et. al.,
2005). Such a phenomenon could, for instance, be tested by analyzing the effect of an expository prose
passage with similar content in parallel with the story. Unfortunately, in the author’s department, not large
enough student populations are available to attempt such a study.
Science stories, such as the one utilized in the accompanying case study, must be placed into an
overall instructional model for their utilization, such as the story-driven contextual approach (Klassen,
2006a; 2007). It is hoped that other science-story enthusiasts will further develop and test the
methodology and model as outlined in this paper.
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 16
Acknowledgements
This research was supported by a five-year grant from NSERC’s CRYSTAL program at the University of
Manitoba and funding from the Maurice Price Foundation. Thanks are due to Sarah Dietrich for
transcribing the data and to Vince Bagnulo for participating in the data analysis.
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THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 18
Appendix I: Story “The Dragon’s Revenge”
01
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03
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05
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It was a typically sunny spring morning in 1946 as Louis Slotin hurried towards the
institutionally-drab laboratory building. Lou chuckled wryly to himself. Life had turned
out rather differently for him, having grown up in Winnipeg, graduating from the University
of Manitoba as a chemist, and now known as a physicist working in Los Alamos on the A–
bomb! A sobering thought crossed his mind, like it did frequently. Was he right in his belief
that the restoration of world peace had depended on Manhattan project research? But his
thoughts were interrupted as he strode up to the top–secret Pajarito lab housing the bomb
criticality tests. He recalled crossing paths with Nobel Laureate Enrico Fermi here a while
back. What Professor Fermi said to him then kept coming back to his mind like a
recording—“You won't last a year if you keep doing that experiment.” “That Experiment”
was testing the assembly of the plutonium bomb core with its beryllium shell. The
procedure had been dubbed, ominously, as “tickling the dragon's tail”.
The day passed quickly for Lou as it will for someone obsessed with his work. It was
now past 3:00 in the afternoon and Lou was ready to demonstrate the testing of the bomb
core to Alvin Graves, who was to take his place on the project. Six observers were looking
on from a distance. Grabbing the hemispherical beryllium shell by the thumb–hole on the
top, Lou carefully lowered the top half onto the bottom half covering the plutonium core,
holding them apart with a screwdriver. Lou had mastered the technique of making the shell
come as close to the core as possible without becoming super critical and emitting a lethal
dose of radiation. It was necessary to test the bomb cores in this way to insure that they
functioned correctly. As he rotated the screwdriver slightly this way and that, the shell moved
up and down. From across the room the familiar crunching sound of the Geiger counters
swelled and ebbed. Then it happened. No one knows what broke Lou's concentration, but
something did. The screwdriver slipped and clattered to the floor and a blue flash filled the
room as the top shell touched the bottom, releasing an unimaginable torrent of neutrons and
gamma-rays. Time seemed to come to a screeching halt. Almost instinctively, Lou, using
his hands, grabbed the lethal assembly and flipped the bomb–shell off the table and onto the
floor with what seemed a deafening crash. “Well, that does it—I'm dead!” Lou heard himself
say. “Tell me this is a nightmare,” he thought. But it wasn’t.
Dr. Louis Slotin had been exposed to 21 Sieverts of radiation in an instant as the bomb
became supercritical when the top half came completely in contact with the bottom. His
quick reaction may have saved the lives of everyone else in the room that day, May 21,
1946. However, Dr. Slotin died an excruciating death from extreme radiation exposure
on May 30. Slotin's close friend, Dr. Philip Morrison, sat with him night and day as his
organs shut down one by one and gangrene set in. Everyone considered Dr. Slotin a
hero. The local newspaper in Los Alamos published a tribute written by associate
editor Thomas P. Ashlock, which began,
May God receive you, great–souled scientist!
While you were with us, even strangers knew
The breadth and lofty stature of your mind
‘Twas only in the crucible of death
We saw at last your noble heart revealed.
What a tragedy! If the science of radiation protection had been sufficiently developed by
1946, then this story would likely never have taken place.
THE CONSTRUCTION AND ANALYSIS OF A SCIENCE STORY 19
Appendix II: Student Assignment
Did you read the laboratory outline for this lab before coming?
No Yes, I skimmed it Yes, I read it completely
Do you already know about the Louis Slotin story?
No Yes, but few details Yes, I’m familiar with it
Listen to the story of Louis Slotin: The Dragon’s Revenge
Observations
Write down three questions that have come to your mind by the time the story ends.
1.
2.
3.
What would you say is the main point being made in the story “The Dragon’s Revenge”?