Pollen grains take on remarkable forms, fitting the theme of the NIBI education conference Wonders of Nature. Photo: Dartmouth Electron Microscope Facility
At the 39th NIBI education conference, biology teachers spent two days exploring surprising sources of wonder: from swarming collective behaviour to pollen under the microscope and water fleas that make evolution tangible.
Although it is the final workshop session of the 39th NIBI education conference and many a teacher is shuffling through the hotel with bleary eyes after an evening of pub quiz and disco bowling, Saturday morning, 15 November, is buzzing with energy. The reason: one hundred and fifty biology teachers are swarming silently through a hall of Hotel Zuiderduin in Egmond aan Zee, moving like a flock of starlings. They respond to one another’s movements, accelerating, turning, and sidestepping near-collisions as though a Eurasian sparrowhawk were circling overhead, stirring things up. In reality, it is workshop leader Saskia van den Muijsenberg – a biomimicry expert at the BiomimicryNL foundation – who, using a few simple rules, demonstrates just how powerful self-organisation can be. ‘You don’t need to manage everything; simple rules often do the work’, she says. It fits the conference theme Wonders of Nature: wonder through experience.
A single shift turns out to be enough to tip the entire pattern
That sense of wonder reaches its peak in the third exercise. Participants think of two people and find a spot where they are equidistant from person A and person B. Within two minutes the entire room has come to a standstill: a stable pattern of one hundred and fifty people that emerges without any discussion. Then comes the translation to ecology. When teacher Luc – having lost track of his own A and B – takes a few steps, nobody reacts. Redundancy, Van den Muijsenberg explains: systems need elements that can absorb disturbance. But when, shortly afterwards, a tall teacher starts walking, the group does move. A single shift turns out to be enough to tip the entire pattern: precisely the kind of dynamics that also plays out in predator–prey relationships, keystone species, or other forms of self-organisation. ‘This works in any classroom’, she emphasises. ‘With fifteen pupils you see the same patterns.’
In another wing of the hotel, everything revolves around microscopic still lifes during Fiddling with pollen, the workshop run by Teun Baarspul of the Natuurwerkwinkel. The room fills with the soft clinking of honey tubes being filled, shaken, and mixed with warm water. The home-made centrifuge – a simple hand-built contraption – forms the centrepiece of the room. ‘Three more tubes! Two more! Come on up!’ calls Baarspul, whereupon the device begins to spin to a chorus of encouragement.
After centrifugation, the pollen becomes visible as a small residue at the bottom of the tubes. In pairs, participants transfer a drop onto a microscope slide. Focusing can take some effort, but as soon as the first structures come into view, murmurs of appreciation ripple through the room: air sacs from pine pollen, finely granular grass pollen, and grains bearing small spines.
Valuable
At one of the tables stands biology teacher Mark Gorissen of the Hermann Wesselink College in Amstelveen. He emphasises above all the practical usefulness for the classroom: ‘You need honey where you know which pollen it contains, otherwise identification is almost impossible. If you choose that in advance, pupils can compare without getting lost.’ He also finds the practical side valuable: ‘The preparation itself – mixing, centrifuging, pipetting – is a real skill. I enjoy it and I can see this working well with younger year groups.’
Meanwhile, participants continue to brainstorm: can you also collect pollen from a windowsill, from a garden, or from flowering plants nearby? How does this fit within a fifty-minute lesson? The workshop runs over, but nobody seems to be in a hurry. The atmosphere is convivial; even failed preparations are remade with good humour. It is precisely that exploratory tinkering that proves to be a source of wonder.
Evolution
Less contemplative, but no less ambitious, is the workshop Rapid evolution in the classroom, led by evolutionary ecologists Thomas Blankers and Marjolein Bruijning of the University of Amsterdam. The premise: evolution need not be a slow process. Water fleas and nematodes can show measurable change within a short space of time. This is remarkable, because practicals in which pupils can demonstrate experimental evolution for themselves are rare in secondary education.
The water flea tables prove the most accessible. Participants compare populations reared under different conditions, tallying body size and egg counts. This sparks small discussions about variation, selection, and how to structure this in the classroom. Biology teacher Saskia Wiegman of the Cygnus Gymnasium in Amsterdam sees possibilities: having pairs count, pooling data, and drawing connections between temperature and growth. ‘Then you immediately have a dataset that pupils can really do something with.’
Complications
The nematode groups encounter more complications. The worms are small, and distinguishing males from females requires practice. Although the workshop leaders help wherever they can, finding and scoring the animals remains difficult. Several participants note that this setup will probably need some further refinement before it works well in the classroom. Even so, they are enthusiastic about the idea that pupils can measure evolution for themselves – something that barely features in textbooks.
After two full conference days, Saturday afternoon sees conversations continuing in the corridors about honey preparations, swarming rules, and water fleas. The hands-on approach proves particularly popular: many teachers see several of the components as teaching activities that can be applied directly with minimal materials. In this way, the conference aligns well with what many are looking for: practical ways to bring a sense of wonder into the classroom.