Those deadly chemistry sets.

Months ago, I wrote about the Department of Homeland Security’s concerns about chemistry sets. (You know, for kids.) Well, it seems the push to make the world child-safe (or perhaps not legally actionable?) continues.
Reader Donn Young points me to this story from Wired about government crackdowns on companies catering to garage chemistry enthusiasts. Donn also shares a story of his own:

Growing up, two friends and I had a chemistry ‘club’ centered around our chemistry sets and ‘labs’ in our basements. My friend’s mother, who was a chemist at Battelle Memorial Institute, would give us short monthly talks about famous chemists, have us do an experiment based on some important principle, and as the grand finale [which kept the interest of 11-year olds] gave a demo of some greatly exothermic reaction – the loud noises, colored fire, billowing smoke, and smell were impressive – in a time of no smoke detectors! It resulted in two of us getting degrees in chemistry [her own son became an investment banker – go figure]. We all held her in awe because she could get us chemicals that were really strong oxidizers, powerful acids, or toxic [and we all survived because she taught us lab safety as well – goggles, gloves & a plexiglas shield saved my eyesight when my hydrogen generator blew up – I was curious to see what color a pure hydrogen flame would burn].
The current movement to squelch a kid’s curiosity in a basement lab with a chemistry set doesn’t seem to bode well for the future of the field

Given my present position as ScienceBlogs resident chemist, I ought to weigh in on this.

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Editorial cartoons that will ignite your Bunsen burners (not overturned cars).

There’s a lot going on in our world that might make you want to gnash your teeth. Some of that stuff, which you’ve heard about here before, involves the government trying to exert an influence over science — either in what research gets supported (and who makes that decision) or in how the results of research are reported (or not) — that maybe the government ought not to exert.
Sometimes detailed analyses of these skirmishes are what is called for. Other times, satire is the best delivery method for a stinging condemnation. Cartoonists, the Union of Concerned Scientists is tagging you in.

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Friday Sprog Blogging: the proper care and watering of plants.

A conversation while walking home from school with the elder Free-Ride offspring:
Elder offspring: (Veering off the sidewalk toward a bougainvillea) Hello! How are you today?
Dr. Free-Ride: Hey, what are you doing?
Elder offspring: I’m just talking to the plants.
Dr. Free-Ride: Why are you doing that?
Elder offspring: Some people think talking to plants is good for the plants.
Dr. Free-Ride: Child, you’d be amazed at what some people think.

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Experience, common sense, and a guy who probably shouldn’t be answering the phone.

I must report the following, although the protagonist wants to be left out of it. (I will allow as how the protagonist has a credit card, lives in my house, and isn’t me, but I won’t divulge any further identifying details.)
Anyway, it starts out as one of those FedEx horror stories — far too common to merit a blog post — but then turns into some sort of parable about common sense. I may, however, need your help in teasing out just what the moral of the story is.

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What do scientists owe their (public) funders?

It’s time for this week’s installment of “Ask a ScienceBlogger”. The question of the day is:
Since they’re funded by taxpayer dollars (through the NIH, NSF, and so on), should scientists have to justify their research agendas to the public, rather than just grant-making bodies?
Although in earlier posts I’ve taken up the question of what the public might get out of (taxpayer funded) basic research, I haven’t yet dealt with the question as it’s being framed here. So let’s give it a shot.

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Regalia retrofit.

I have a soft spot for commencements. And, as I get on in years, that spot gets even softer.

Part of it, undoubtedly, is because recognizing the hard work and accomplishments of the new graduates is so much more fun than the grading that immediately precedes it. But for me, part of what grabs me is the feeling that what I’m doing — the notion of education and its larger value that I’m trying to impart — connects me to a tradition that is hundreds of years old. One visible sign of that connection is the academic regalia that graduates and faculty alike wear to commencement ceremonies. In the medieval universities, when education was recognized as a calling (and was generally undertaken to serve the church), the students and the teachers wore clerical-looking gowns all the time. While some of us get away with wearing blue jeans and smark-alecky T-shirts in our teaching, the academic gowns we wear at graduations and convocations connect us to this tradition.

But I’ve had issues with the academic regalia I purchased on the occasion of the conferral of my Chemistry Ph.D. **cough** 12 years ago:

  1. The gown wouldn’t stay closed.
  2. The hood wouldn’t stay anywhere near where it was supposed to (translationally or rotationally).

My pet theory on this is that the makers of academic regalia for purchase hate professors and want them all to look like fools. (Rented regalia tends to come equipped with zippers and other such conveniences.) But no longer will I be using binder clips to keep my regalia in formation. In preparation for this year’s commencement ceremonies, I have undertaken a regalia retrofit. Details (and photos) after the jump.

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Friday Sprog Blogging: lepidoptery.

Dr. Free-Ride: (sidling up to the younger offspring this morning with tape-recorder in hand) Hey, can I ask you about —
Younger offspring: I don’t remember them.
Dr. Free-Ride: Huh?
Younger offspring: I don’t remember the words to the brontosaurus song, and David won’t sing it for me anymore because we’re done studying dinosaurs. You’ll have to blog about something else.
Dr. Free-Ride: Have you been reading the notes on my computer?
Younger offspring: (innocently) I don’t know how to read.
Dr. Free-Ride: So you keep telling me.

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