This time of year is a harsh reminder that many diseases are communicable, from the seasonal flu to resurgent measles and whooping cough outbreaks that threaten children nationwide. In global public health, we often say that viruses don’t need passports to travel. They spread rapidly through communities, especially among children, until countermeasures (like vaccines!) can be developed to stop them.
Misinformation behaves the same way. It spreads like a virus, moving faster than facts and unhindered by evidence. And at a time when pediatric research programs are facing substantial cuts, when scientists are asked to do more with less, the countermeasures to misinformation remain inconsistent and underfunded. One powerful antidote we continue to underuse is communicating science beyond research facilities, academic journals, and clinical audiences.
Science is not a cloistered endeavor. It may begin in the lab, but its impact is realized only when it reaches the people it is meant to serve. Yet too often, we keep scientific knowledge locked within professional circles: conferences, peer-reviewed publications, and conversations held behind institutional walls.
We are now seeing the consequences of taking science for granted. Worse, we are seeing the consequences of taking scientists for granted. Childhood vaccines that once eliminated deadly diseases are now questioned with alarming hostility and disregard for evidence-based, peer-reviewed research. When the public experiences only the benefits of scientific progress but never hears the “how,” “why,” or “who” behind it, we leave a vacuum where skepticism, misinformation, and politicization can fester.
Just as a virus can leap from one child to a classroom to an entire community, scientific understanding must spread in the same way: approachable, relatable, and shareable. Not by compromising rigor, but by expanding reach. That means stepping outside the walls of research and into the places where people gather, schools, barbershops, ball fields, community centers, social media feeds, local radio, pediatric waiting rooms. It means translating research into relevance, especially for parents navigating decisions about their children’s health.
Science is not static. It is dynamic, collaborative, and profoundly human. And humans learn through stories, conversations, and connection. Effective science communication does more than inform; it empowers inquiry, strengthens health literacy, sparks curiosity, shapes public policy, encourages the next generation of scientists, and ultimately saves lives. But it only happens when communication becomes a core part of the research enterprise rather than an afterthought.
So, if you’re a researcher, clinician, or anyone devoted to improving children’s health, here is our plea: Don’t wait for someone else to tell your story. Be the messenger. Speak and write about your work, not in acronyms and jargon, but in language rooted in curiosity, compassion, and humanity Share what drives you and why it matters. Mentor the next generation not only in lab skills but also in the art of communicating science faithfully, boldly, and joyfully.
At a moment when pediatric research funding is shrinking and misinformation is expanding, communication is not optional. It is part of the cure.