2 . “Assume you are wrong.” The advice came from Brian Nosek, a psychology professor, who was offering a strategy for pursuing better science.

To understand the context for Nosek’s advice, we need to take a step back to the nature of science itself. You see despite what many of us learned in elementary school, there is no single scientific method. Just as scientific theories become elaborated and change, so do scientific methods.

But methodological reform hasn’t come without some fretting and friction. Nasty things have been said by and about methodological reformers. Few people like having the value of their life’s work called into question. On the other side, few people are good at voicing criticisms in kind and constructive ways. So, part of the challenge is figuring out how to bake critical self-reflection into the culture of science itself, so it unfolds as a welcome and integrated part of the process, and not an embarrassing sideshow.

What Nosek recommended was a strategy for changing the way we offer and respond to critique. Assuming you are right might be a motivating force, sustaining the enormous effort that conducting scientific work requires. But it also makes it easy to interpret criticisms as personal attacks. Beginning, instead, from the assumption you are wrong, a criticism is easier to interpret as a constructive suggestion for how to be less wrong — a goal that your critic presumably shares.

One worry about this approach is that it could be demoralizing for scientists. Striving to be less wrong might be a less effective motivation than the promise of being right. Another concern is that a strategy that works well within science could backfire when it comes to communicating science with the public. Without an appreciation for how science works, it’s easy to take uncertainty or disagreements as marks against science, when in fact they reflect some of the very features of science that make it our best approach to reaching reliable conclusions about the world. Science is reliable because it responds to evidence: as the quantity and quality of our evidence improves, our theories can and should change, too.

Despite these worries, I like Nosek’s suggestion because it builds in cognitive humility along with a sense that we can do better. It also builds in a sense of community — we’re all in the same boat when it comes to falling short of getting things right.

Unfortunately, this still leaves us with an untested hypothesis (假说): that assuming one is wrong can change community norms for the better, and ultimately support better science and even, perhaps, better decisions in life. I don’t know if that’s true. In fact, I should probably assume that it’s wrong. But with the benefit of the scientific community and our best methodological tools, I hope we can get it less wrong, together.

In DeAnza Community College, 15 minutes’ drive from the university Trevor Wallace studied in, his beloved grandmother had worked there. When she was alive, she was a respected learning disabilities specialist and instructor. In recognition of her work, her co-workers dedicated a large, cement angel fountain with a plaque (匾) saying Heart’s Garden: In Memory of Marilyn Rosenthal. That was in 1999.

Trevor knew well that the fountain meant a lot to his mom, Sarene. She was only 36 when her mom died. At the sight of anything to do with her mother, she would tell stories or anecdotes related, especially the fountain. Though she cherished it, living six hours away, she didn’t have the opportunity to visit it regularly.

As time went on, the fountain was hidden under trees, falling into disrepair----the statue’s bowl at its base broken; cement benches nearby damaged; the water pump blocked with leaves and the surrounding area littered with dead leaves and trash, etc.

Finally, in 2013, it was once repaired by one of the school gatekeepers, who thought she was popular with colleagues and students when she was alive. After knowing the repair, Sarene and Trevor took the 300-mile trip to visit it. On a quiet afternoon, they posed for a photo together. Sarene recalled, “We sat watching the fountain for a while. The water welled over then it went into the bowls. It was so peaceful.”

Flash forward to 2015. When deciding what to give his mom for Mother’s Day, the fountain came to mind. Trevor called Sarene that Sunday to wish her a happy Mother’s Day and told her to expect a surprise. Then he drove to DeAnza with his camera, tripod, and two sponges.

When he arrived, the fountain was covered with leaves and piled with dirt, in worse shape than he had expected. Motivated by memories of his late grandmother, whom he called “Bubby”, he set up his camera on the tripod, checked the lighting and took a before shot. Then his hand-scrubbing (手工擦洗) work began.

There was one problem—the fountain’s water was turned off.

When she opened the photos attached in the three emails, she burst into tears.

I wanted to go to a party. Especially it was a beach party. It had been almost the only thing my friends had been talking about for the last couple of weeks. But My mom had said no. The more desperately I pleaded her case, the more forcefully my mother said no. “I don’t care who’s going,” said coldly my mother, “you are not going.” I was heartbroken. This was my best friend’s party.

Sunday dinner came around and my grandmother joined the family for the meal. Gran noticed my depression but didn’t say a word. It was my turn to wash up and Gran said, “Let me help you.” “What’s up?” asked Gran as I dumped the dishes into the foaming water. Gran wiped a plate with a tea towel. “Mom won’t let me go to my best friend’s party.” I said sadly. “Has mom explained why she doesn’t want you to go?” asked Gran. “No.” I replied. “Then for a moment, put yourself in her position.” said Gran. “If you were mom, what would your objections be?”

I hadn’t stopped to think about my mom’s side. “Well,” I answered, “it’s a beach party. Maybe she doesn’t trust us or thinks we’ll get into trouble.”

“Are there going to be any adults there?” asked Gran. “No,” I said, “who wants their parents hanging around when you’re trying to have fun?” “Might it just be,” said Gran, “your mother doesn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to you.”“Nothing will happen.” I objected. “Maybe you’re right,” said Gran, “but maybe mom’s worried in case it could.”

Gran looked at me gently, seeming to expect my agreement. For a minute or so, I kept silent, pondering for a while about my eagerness for the party. “Maybe, you are right, however, is there no hope?” I inquired. “Not necessarily.” answered Gran, lost in thought.

Paragraph 1: “Then maybe think of a compromise.” suggested Gran.

Paragraph 2: The long-awaited beach party finally came.