Manual or YouTube

I recently taught myself how to use some python-based computational software as part of a new research project. This involves a combination of reading online text tutorials and the software manual, while also perusing python standard references. I did not watch a single video – it simply didn’t occur to me to do so.

Perhaps that’s because when I first learned to code, or to use software, there were no videos available. I read manuals and other people’s code, putzed around by trial-and-error, and asked someone more knowledgeable if I was still stuck. Maybe these are simply old habits carried over from yesteryear’s technology. However, if I need to fix an appliance or cook something unfamiliar, today I turn to YouTube. In yesteryear, I would read text-based manuals or cookbooks or D.I.Y.-guides. But no longer. What’s going on here?

One reason might be how I (unconsciously) separate the type of work involved. Coding and learning software are perhaps some sort of intellectual activity, not requiring manual dexterity; while fixing an appliance requires my mimicking a procedure I would otherwise be hopeless at figuring out – there’s a reason I’m a computational chemist and not an experimentalist who works in lab. There might be evolutionary reasons for how we learn or pick up biologically primary versus secondary skill sets.

Or maybe I’m biased in how I think disparately about the two types of activity. When I’m fixing an appliance, it’s always at a rudimentary novice level because I don’t do it often, have low self-confidence, avoid doing the work if possible (my wife is both more competent and patient), and would never dream of wanting handyman-D.I.Y. as a hobby or career. Learning how to use computational software, on the other hand, is part of my job-career, and I see it as a long-term investment. In contrast, D.I.Y.-fix to me is a one-time get-it-out-of-the-way activity.

This made me think about how students approach learning chemistry. A textbook, the equivalent of a text manual, is available – and I only select a textbook if I think it does a decent job. But many students use the text sparingly, and as a last resort. The first resort is YouTube. Students have shown me videos they find helpful, and often, these either resemble a repeat of something I’ve done in class, or something covered (clearly in my opinion) in the textbook. Maybe today’s generation is wired differently (I doubt it!) but maybe they think about learning chemistry the same way I think about learning D.I.Y.

If I just mimic what I see in the video, I can do what the person in the video can do – maybe that’s how the thinking goes. When I’m learning D.I.Y., I’m hoping to only do the activity once. If I have to do it a second time a few months later, I will likely have to watch the video again. The skill isn’t retained in long-term memory. To actually be good at it, I would need to practice, practice, practice. But it’s not a priority in my life to be good at D.I.Y. On the other hand, I care much more about my teaching-research activities, and so I spend time practicing and learning through more comprehensive reading materials.

Is learning chemistry an important priority for students in my classes? If I were to answer this question honestly, I would say yes for a small number, but no for most. Getting a ‘decent’ grade is the high priority, but that’s a short-term goal. Perhaps it’s not surprising that students opt for YouTube over the textbook. One might argue that the wired generation has shorter attention span; that might be true – but when my students wax about an interest or hobby, I find they can pay remarkable attention.

I brought up cooking in paragraph two and neglected to mention it subsequently. That’s because I think it might offer a bridge (at least in my life) between the two poles. I enjoy cooking, but as a fun activity – I’d never want to do it as my job. I wouldn’t even classify it as a hobby, because I don’t devote as much time and attention to it as I have in prior hobbies. The YouTube cooking video serves two purposes. It teaches me a relatively simple technique I can mimic, and what the result should look like. But it also serves as a motivational reason for me to try this new thing (yes, I have a weakness for food-porn). If I try something and like it, and I don’t think it’s too much work (yes, I’m lazy), I will repeat cooking it again shortly after the first time to solidify my learning. My repertoire has now increased.

But I’m not like the creative chefs I’ve seen on Chef’s Table. I don’t have the desire to research the intricacies of tastes, textures and aromas. I do browse cookbooks, but mainly for motivation if a photo catches my eye and the recipe doesn’t look super-complicated. And that’s okay. But perhaps I can learn a lesson by reflecting on all this. If I can help move some students to think about chemistry less as D.I.Y. to be suffered through, and more like cooking, at least in the way I experience these activities, maybe I should make a few videos where I solve a chemistry problem but highlight in some way the conceptual joy behind it. This is something I will be seriously pondering.