Nancy Rothwell

Explaining science to the public can be rewarding and valuable, but don't expect an easy ride - especially from the kids

Communication with the public about scientific issues was once largely a hobby undertaken by the dedicated few, but it's becoming a must for all scientists. Everyone from funding bodies to government officials are telling us that we have to get involved, and ever-increasing numbers of academics are visiting schools and participating in events such as last week's Cheltenham Science Festival. Public communication of science, once a "fringe activity", is becoming more mainstream - and for some good reasons.

There is growing concern that the British public is worried about science; this is highlighted by debate over issues such as genetically modified crops, stem cells, human cloning, the use of animals in research and the combined measle, mumps and rubella vaccination. In the face of these concerns, the scientific community has been largely reactive, but the pressure is now on to be proactive.

At face value, the requirement for scientists to communicate more isn't unreasonable - after all, most scientists are funded from the public purse.

But there is a caveat - many scientists might do more harm than good if let loose on an unsuspecting public. I've seen far too many "public" talks about science that I couldn't follow.

There are other pluses. As Peter Medawar, the Nobel prizewinning scientist, said, nine-year-olds are an acid test of presentation abilities. If you can hold the attention of a group of nine-year-olds, a presentation to a group of your peers should be a doddle.

Public communication is also very enjoyable. Earlier this year I visited a local secondary school as part of National Science Week to talk to 15-year-olds. There followed a long quizzing session during which the topics ranged from alcopops and mobile phones to gender bias in science.

It's hard to accept the suggestion that scientists aren't appreciated when the school brings in its governors and the local newspaper reporter, and the kids want to be photographed with you to show their mum (great for the ego).

At a primary school later in the week, a colourful group of nine-year-olds made a film of my visit. I was interviewed by a delightful little girl called Charlotte who had memorised all the questions; she could soon be a match for Jeremy Paxman. I asked the assembled group of kids if any of them had ever met a professor, and I was surprised when a mass of hands went up.

When I asked "Who?", they replied, "You". (First round to the nine-year-olds.) But it isn't all smiles and politics - the questions can be tough. The 15-year-olds wanted to know what ethical dilemmas I face in my work, while a nine-year-old wanted to know why I had become a neuroscientist rather than a neurosurgeon. Then they wanted to know if I had met any famous people. Lord Winston and Sir David Attenborough elicited only a vague interest, the Queen caused some "Oohs", but the real excitement was when I said Sir Alex Ferguson (the manager of Manchester United). That was swiftly followed by real disappointment that I hadn't met Becks.

Public engagement in science isn't just (or even mainly) a British thing.

Audiences in the UK tend to be heavily populated by scientists or those on the periphery of science and a relatively small group of interested, but often rather elderly, attendees. It's quite different in India, Hong Kong and Japan, where queues form outside venues, and events are often standing room only.

One of the most impressive events I participated in recently was SciFest in Grahamstown on the Eastern Cape in South Africa. The trip could have been a disaster for me, with more than 40 hours' travelling for a 24-hour visit, temperatures of 37C and a completely unknown audience. But SciFest is run by a dedicated and enthusiastic local team. It is heavily supported by Sasol, a South African company, and is greatly valued by the attendees.

More than 40,000 people, most of them children, attend the week of SciFest.

As far as I could see, the majority of the children were black, and they had travelled hundreds - or even thousands - of miles by bus so they could attend the exhibitions, demonstrations and talks.

Speakers are heavily vetted for their ability to present to children or to adults with no scientific training, and the colour, excitement and variety of the talks and presentations are impressive. SciFest manages to attract (and fund) speakers from across Africa, Europe and America. Of course, it's a wonderful place to visit - it was a bonus to spot a sprinting antelope, a buffalo and a wild ostrich. We have something to learn from SciFest about public events.

Nancy Rothwell is MRC research professor in the faculty of life sciences at Manchester University.