Teaching Scientific Thinking With a Good Old-Fashioned Notebook

As long as I have taught science, I have had my students keep some kind of notebook. When I first started teaching science, it was a “scientific portfolio,” where students would document things like current event articles, completed projects, labs, case studies, etc.

When I began teaching full-year classes, the portfolio got kicked to the curb in favor of the “interactive notebook.” There was a lot I liked about it. It gave students one place to organize all of their learning, it provided structure (which I love), and, like the portfolio, it created a record of what we had studied. Students were able to add vocabulary, diagrams, foldables, notes, and activities, and the finished notebook often became something they could use throughout a unit.

Then I began to ask myself: Does this resemble a book that a scientist uses? The answer was that it was more of an arts and crafts project than a record of thinking.

That was when I changed to the “scientific notebook.” The switch was more than just a change in terminology—it also represented an instructional shift, away from requiring every notebook to look the same and instead toward a focus on students showing their thinking.

This is what scientists do. They think, ask questions, research, form investigations, collect data (in the form of drawings, charts, graphs, etc.). The notebook has to be organized. I can’t compromise on that, because organization supports scientific thought. It needs to show thinking that can be understood by someone other than the student who made it.

What goes into a scientific notebook

Successful scientific notebooks are built on scientific skills. For an investigation on the potency of bath bombs in water, for example, one student might create a data table with minute-by-minute time stamps of how long the bubbles fizzed in the water. Another might do a sketch of how each cup looked after a certain period of time, prompting questions of what happened to make them each look that way. This is all evidence of real scientific thought and reflection, mirroring real-world experiences through real-world applications. Not just making a pretty book.

When assessing the students’ notebooks, I started looking for signs of observation. I especially focused on the “notice and wonder” table charts, because observation is one of the first skills I want my students to develop. I want to be able to place an object or image in front of them, do a demonstration, and have them start noticing. I want to cultivate that skill, and the scientific notebook should be a natural place for them to document their thinking, starting with basic observations like “It bubbled” or “It changed color” and becoming more advanced.

That is why it has been so valuable to provide time at the beginning of the period for students to communicate their own thinking and hear the thinking of their classmates. At this point, I can push and ask deeper questions: Can you be more precise with your observation? What makes you say that? What evidence do you have to support that? Knowing where they are and how to challenge them appropriately allows me to support their growth.

A scientist notebook should always contain questions. Making room for questions (“the wonder”) is huge in my class. I want my students to feel comfortable asking questions. It is even part of our scientist norms: “I ask questions to understand.” I have told my students that the mere act of asking questions shows signs of understanding.

If an observation sparks a question during an investigation, students should document it. Why did the temperature decrease? If we changed the independent variable, what would happen? Why does my data look so different from my classmate’s?

Not every question needs to be answered

I don’t necessarily expect students to answer every question they record. Some questions may lead to future investigations. Others may be answered as their content knowledge grows. I want them to look at their scientific notebook not just as a place they record things they know but as a place to track things they are figuring out. Questions lead to their predictions and claims. They don’t always have to be right. The scientific notebook can be the place where they can revise and make mistakes and grow.

When students eventually write a claim, they won’t have to wonder where their evidence is—they’ve already recorded it. As they provide evidence to either support or refute their claim, I ask them deeper thinking questions: What does your data suggest? Do you see any patterns? Is there anything that doesn’t fit in the pattern? What evidence would you use to support your explanation?

The notebooks aren’t Pinterest-worthy. My students organize things differently than I would, and the notebooks do require me to be more comfortable with messiness. But thinking is messy. (Of course, there is a limit: The notebook should be organized enough for someone to be able to look at it and follow the thinking and potentially replicate the investigations.)

Now when I look through student notebooks, I am less interested in whether every page is identical and more interested in what each page is telling me: Is there evidence of careful observation? Did they ask questions? Did they make a prediction and explain their thinking? Did they record data accurately? Did they identify patterns? Can they distinguish evidence from inference? Did their explanation change after an investigation or discussion? Is there evidence of where their thinking began and where it ended?

Those questions are way more important than whether something was glued onto page 17 correctly. Ultimately, the notebooks help answer the most important question about my students: Are they learning how to do science?