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.

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.

When I started karate (空手道) class a few years ago, I didn’t know a single person. I felt ashamed of having no idea how to do any of the moves. Even though I liked the learning part, I did not like the feeling-worse-than-everyone part!

But one day after class while I was putting my shoes on, a girl named Abigail said, “That last kick we practiced is so hard for me, and you’re so good at it.”

“You must have confused me with someone else,” I replied. “I’m not good at any of it.”

“In that case, I’m in trouble,” she joked, “because you’re the one I stand behind and copy in class.”

I laughed, “Seriously?”

“Seriously!” she laughed, too. After that, we became great friends. However, a few months later when Abigail’s mom got a job in a different state and she had to move away, I was rather sad. I had a tough time dragging myself to karate for a while after that I missed Abigail so much.

Then, a girl named Ava joined my class. She was always quiet. Until one day we finally had a conversation.

“It must be weird (怪异的) being the new one in class.” I said.

“So weird!” said Ava. “You do things really differently than we did at my old dojo (柔道馆).”

I suddenly realized she’d been silent only because she was new. We started talking more, and we got along so well that we started hanging out after class. Then, almost a year later, guess who showed up at karate.

“This is so cool.” I said, giving Abigail a huge hug. “What are you doing here?”

“My mom’s job in New York didn’t work out,” she explained. “So we got to move back.”

“That’s the best news ever!” I said. “You have to meet my dear friend Ava. And Ava, meet my dear friend Abigail.”

I put my arms around their shoulders. Feeling very excited, I told them I hoped we could get along well and be close friends, while Abigail and Ava stared at each other with some hesitation and an uncertain smile.

Things seemed all right at first.

One day, I simply could not take it anymore.

I had a problem. Talent Night was coming up, but I had no talents.

Kate can make anything using origami (折纸). Tommy creates breath-taking beats on overturned plastic buckets. Olivia trains her petty dog to do tricks. And those are just my friends. My grade also boasts four dancers, a gymnast, two bakers, a yoga expert, six singers, and five artists, among others.

Every day my teacher asked if I’d decided what to do. And every day I reminded her that I had no talents.

“Nonsense, Benjamin,” she said. “You’ll think of something.”

“I’ll just have to be sick the day of the show,” I announced to my friends one afternoon. “If you get a cold, be sure to cough on me.”

“You must have a talent,” said Kate. “Let’s make a list. What are you good at?”

“Eating,” I answered. “Watching TV.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Benjamin, be serious.”

“Tormenting (捉弄) my little brother.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kate looked at our friends. “Come on, guys. What are Benjamin’s talents?”

“He’s good with dogs,” said Olivia. “My dog adores him.”

“Oh, great,” I said. “I can sit on the stage while he licks my face. Benjamin Belinski, Human Dog Toy.”

“Benjamin’s funny and humorous,” said Tommy. He turned to me. “You could do a comedy routine.”

“Yeah. Every joke could be about how I have no talents,” I said.

“Benjamin,” said Kate, “maybe you don’t know how to juggle (变戏法), but your birthday parties are the best.”

“Yeah,” agreed Olivia, “and you always get us together to do stuff. Like having game nights or riding bikes after school—or when we held that yard sale. The week you had the flu we didn’t do anything fun.”

“You’re like the glue that holds us together,” added Tommy.

“Oh, great,” I said. “Benjamin Belinski, Human Glue Gun.”

But their comments got me thinking. Lying in bed that night, I came up with a plan so exciting that it took me two hours to fall asleep.

In the morning, I couldn’t wait to tell my teacher.

On the night of the big event, I felt so nervous that I had to force myself to eat dinner.