More than a decade ago, cognitive scientists John Bransfgord and Daniel Schwartz, both then at Vanderbilt University, found that knowledge was not the ability to retain facts or apply previous knowledge to a new situation but a quality they called "preparation for future learning." The researches asked fifth graders and college students to create a recovery plan to protect bald eagles from extinction. Shockingly, the two groups came up with plans of similar quality (though the college students had better spelling skills). From the standpoint of a traditional educator, this outcome indicated that schooling had failed to help students think about ecosystems and extinction, major scientific ideas.

    The researches decided to go deeper, however. They asked both groups to generate questions about important issues needed to create recovery plans. On this task, they found large differences. College students focused on critical issues. The college students had cultivated the ability to ask questions, the foundation of critical thinking. They had learned how to learn.

    Museums and other institutions of informal learning may be more suitable to teach this skill than elementary and secondly schools. At the Exploratorium in San Francisco, we recently studied how learning to ask good questions can affect the quality of people's scientific inquiry. We found that when we taught participants to ask "What if?" and "How can?" questions that nobody present would know the answer to and that would spark exploration, they engaged in better inquiry at the next exhibit—asking more questions, performing more experiments and making better interpretations of their results. Specially, their questions became more comprehensive at the new exhibit.

    This type of learning is not limited to museums of institutional settings. Informal learning environment tolerate failure better than schools. Perhaps many teachers have too little time to allow students to form and pursue their own questions and too much ground to cover in the curriculum. But people must acquire this skill somewhere. Our society depend on them being able to make critical decisions about their own medical treatment, says, or what we must do about global energy needs and demands. For that, we have a robust informal system that gives no grades, takes all comers, and is available even on holidays and weekends.

    More student than ever before are taking a gap-year (间隔年)before going to university.It used to be called the “year off” between school and university.The gap-year phenomenon originated(起源) with the months left over to Oxbridge applicants between entrance exams in November and the start of the next academic year.

    This year, 25,310 students who have accepted places in higher education institutions have put off their entry until next year, according to statistics on university entrance provided by University and College Admissions Service (UCAS) .

    That is a record 14.7% increase in the number of students taking a gap year. Tony Higgins from UCAS said that the statistics are good news for everyone in higher education. “Students who take a well-planned year out are more likely to be satisfied with, and complete, their chosen course. Students who take a gap year are often more mature and responsible,” he said.

    But not everyone is happy. Owain James, the president of the National Union of Students(NUS), argued that the increase is evidence of student had ship – young people are being forced into earning money before finishing their education. “New students are now aware that they are likely to leave university up to ￡15,000 in debt. It is not surprising that more and More students are taking a gap year to earn money to support their study for the degree.NUS statistics show that over 40% of students are forced to work during term time and the figure increases to 90% during vacation periods,”he said.

    One second-grade student wanted to help erase school lunch debt for her fellow students, so she decided to create lemonade stands to raise funds（资金）.

    Amiah Van Hill was inspired to raise funds to help pay off her classmates' lunch debt back in May after reading about Jeffery Lew. The father of three crowd-funded to cover the cost of unpaid lunches in the Seattle School District, where his 8-year-old son took part. “She's a really strong reader, so she read the story and said, 'Wow, this is great! I wonder if there's any kids at my school that need help paying their lunches,'” said her mother, Rachel Van Hill.

    Amiah, 6, and Aria, 4, discovered that at Hayden Meadows Elementary School in Idaho, the unpaid lunch debt was $40.55. They set up a lemonade stand last month to raise the money, with a sign reading, “Lemonade 4 Lunch.” During their first set-up, the two met their goal within an hour.

    The school was very much appreciative. Principal Lisa Pica said “Our school believes in giving back to the community and we are excited that Amiah has got that value at such a young age and we are so proud that she has found a way to help those in need. She is a very special little lady.”

    After discovering it was “easy” to pay off one school's debt, they set up another lemonade stand a week later to raise money for two more local schools. The girls then decided to set their sights higher and raise funds for the entire Coeur d'Alene Public School district. In 22 days, they've raised more than $2,700. The school district is excited to recognize her for her good deed.

    A new family moved in next door and I got to meet the mother of the family, Lydia. Lydia is Korean, and her family moved to our city so her husband could go to graduate school. We started talking, and she was apologetic about how bad her English was, but I didn't care. I knew how hard it was to learn a second language. I enjoyed chatting with Lydia as we watched our kids play.

    It was what came next that challenged me: Lydia asked if I'd be willing to help her with her English. Now, I am not a teacher. I admire teachers, and I'm grateful for teachers, and it's because I admire what they do so much that I was very very sure that I couldn't do it myself.

    But Lydia was sure that she wanted my help. I was doubtful. I wasn't sure my "help" was even worth being called by that name. But because she asked me, I said "yes." And that was the beginning of a friendship. Lydia and I spent afternoons sitting together and reading the newspaper, and as we did, she asked me questions when she had them questions about language, yes, but also questions about the new culture she found herself in. In turn, I asked my own questions, growing curious about her home country and culture. We bonded over our shared faith and our struggles as mothers of kids with special needs, When I complimented（恭维） her cooking, she began to teach me about Korean food, eventually leading to a shared trip to explore the Korean grocery stores in our city. Because of Lydia, 1 learned more about my own hometown than I ever could have learned by myself. I'm still not sure that I'm any good as a teacher. But I'm grateful I said "yes" when my neighbor asked me to help her with her English. That meant spending extra time with my neighbor, and that extra time meant she didn't remain just my neighbor. She became my friend.

    A city child's summer is spent in the street in front of his home, and all through the long summer vacations I sat on the edge of the street and watched enviously（嫉妒地） the other boys on the block play baseball. I was never asked to take part even when one team had a member missing—not out of special cruelty, but because they took it for granted I would be no good at it. They were right, of course.

    I would never forget the wonderful evening when something changed. The baseball ended about eight or eight thirty when it grew dark. Then it was the custom of the boys to retire（撤退） to a little stoop(门廊) that stuck out from the candy store on the corner and that somehow had become theirs. No grownup ever sat there or attempted to. There the boys would sit, mostly talking about the games played during the day and of the game to be played tomorrow. Then long silences would fall and the boys would wander off one by one. It was just after one of those long silences that my life as an outsider changed. I can no longer remember which boy it was that summer evening who broke the silence with a question: but whoever he was, I nod to him gratefully now. "What's in those books you're always reading?" he asked casually. "Stories," I answered. "What kind?" asked somebody else without much interest.

    Nor do I know what drove me to behave as I did, for usually I just sat there in silence, glad enough to be allowed to remain among them; but instead of answering his question, I told them for two hours the story I was reading at the moment. The book was Sister Carrie. They listened bug-eyed（瞪大眼睛的） and breathless. I must have told it well, but I think there was another and deeper reason that made them to keep an audience. Listening to a tale being told in the dark is one of the most ancient of man's entertainments, but I was offering them as well, without being aware of doing it, a new and exciting experience.

    The books they themselves read were the Rover Boys or Tom Swift or G.A.Henty. I had read them too, but at thirteen I had long since left them behind. Since I was much alone I had become an enthusiastic （狂热的）reader and I had gone through the books-for-boys series. In those days there was no reading material between children's and grownups 'books or I could find none. I had gone right from Tom Swift and His Flying Machine to Theodore Dreiser and Sister Carrie. Dreiser had hit my young mind, and they listened to me tell the story with some of the wonder that I had had in reading it.

    The next night and many nights thereafter, a kind of unspoken ritual (仪式) took place. As it grew dark, I would take my place in the center of the stoop and begin the evening's tale. Some nights, in order to taste my victory more completely, I cheated. I would stop at the most exciting part of a story by Jack London or Bret Harte, and without warning tell them that that was as far as I had gone in the book and it would have to be continued the following evening. It was not true, of course; but I had to make certain of my new-found power and position. I enjoyed the long summer evenings until school began in the fall. Other words of mine have been listened to by larger and more fashionable audiences, but for that tough and athletic one that sat close on the stoop outside the candy store, I have an unreasoning love that will last forever.

    Throughout history scientists have risked their health and their lives in their search for the truth.

    Sir Isaac Newton, the seventeenth century scientist, was very smart, but that didn't stop him from doing some pretty stupid things. In his laboratory in Cambridge he often did the strangest experiments. Once, while testing how light passes through lenses (晶状体), he put a long needle into his eye, pushed it to the back, and then moved it around just to see what would happen. Luckily, nothing long-lasting did. On another occasion he stared at the sun for as long as he could bear, to discover what effect this would have on his sight. Again he escaped suffering permanent damage, though he had to spend some days in a darkened room before his eyes recovered.

    In the 1750s the Swedish chemist Karl Scheele was the first person to find a way to produce phosphorus (磷). He in fact discovered eight more chemical elements including chlorine (氯), though he didn't get any praise for them. He was a very clever scientist, but his one failing was a curious habit of tasting a little of every substance he worked with. This risky practice finally caught up with him, and in 1786 he was found dead in his laboratory surrounded by a large number of dangerous chemicals, any of which might have been responsible for his death.

    Eugene Shoemaker was a respected geologist. He spent a large part of his life studying craters (火山口) on the moon, and how they were formed, and later did research into the comets of the planet Jupiter. In 1997 he and his wife were in the Australian desert where they went every year to search for places where comets might have hit the earth. While driving in the Tanami desert, normally one of the emptiest places in the world, another vehicle crashed into them and Shoemaker was killed on the spot. Some of his ashes (骨灰) were sent to the moon aboard the Lunar Prospector spacecraft and left there — he is the only person who has had this honor.