The Last Time I was awestruck

The Last Time I Was Awestruck by a Teacher

 

 

It was only last Thursday. I was in a class for writing a paper in social sciences, individually. Our teacher, Mr. Kim, was supposed to guide us the appropriate way to write a scholarly paper. As introduction, he told us about the various ways to write a paper. The easiest and the most common way, he said, was to take an existing theory and to apply that theory to explain a real-life phenomenon. For example, let’s say one discovers that women bump into surroundings more frequently than men do. To explain that phenomenon, he applies a theory that says ‘women have less spatial perception than men’ and tries to prove the correlation by surveying, experimenting, etc. Then he went on and on, explaining more about other ways of writing a paper.

As I was listening to the lecture, however, I couldn’t help but feel a bit doubtful. No theory is perfect. What if the theory I selected is wrong? What if it does not match the results? And even if it does, there is no way to precisely prove a cause-and-effect relationship. It’s not like we can completely manipulate all the variables, such act is not even possible in studying natural sciences, let alone in studying humans! There might be a correlation, but there are so many variables in social sciences that we can never be quite sure. If that is so, what meaning does science hold? Such thoughts followed one after another, and I was completely lost. I strived to make sense of my surge of thoughts and organize them into a question. But despite all my efforts, my mouth came up with a feeble, uncertain remark:

“Should we premise that the theory is absolutely true…?”

Surprisingly, just by that, Mr. Kim instantly grasped the maelstrom of confusion I was stuck in. He answered:

“Well, we start the paper because we believe that the theory is true. However, it can still not match the results of our research. Then we should form a new theory or find an alternative matching on the data, and conduct another research based on the new theory.”

But still… such process does not prove… I tried to say, but he went on:

“Of course, the new theory can still be wrong. Theories are not perfect; scholars can never be absolutely certain. But we should try the best we can, struggling to come out with the best theory possible for the time being. And what if it turns out wrong in the future? Good! Then at least we would learn it is wrong. We suggest something, it turns out wrong, and we find another. That is the way to the development of science.”

Through all my high school years, I have attended Mr. Kim’s classes. And at that exact moment, I felt that those words, the attitude of scholars, were what he wanted to teach us all along. So many times I heard him saying similar things, and only then I finally understood what he meant. The individual achievement, acknowledgement, and fame do not matter. In order to become a proper scholar, we should almost sacrifice ourselves to the greater good, the ultimate truth. At the same time, I could feel that Mr. Kim went through such process- studying, trying to reach perfection, falling into despair, yet believing in his efforts… I was simply awestruck.

At that moment, my memory flashed back to a part of ‘Science as a Vocation’ by Max Weber, a book Mr. Kim once recommended:

“Every scientific 'fulfillment' raises new 'questions'; it asks to be 'surpassed' and outdated. Whoever wishes to serve science has to resign himself to this fact.”

And oh, I am determined to have ‘science as my vocation.’