Speaking at a national education conference in 2014, neuroscientist Paul-Howard Jones highlighted how many misconceptions people promote about the brain. In most cases, he stressed, this isn’t done intentionally. Instead, it is down to a “sincere but deluded fixation on some eccentric theory that the holder is absolutely sure will revolutionise science and society”.

This is a pattern that I see happening time and time again in education, where an overreliance on certain evidence can be a recipe for disaster. There are countless teacher blogs lamenting how “sticky” some “myths” are and criticising the people who initially promoted them.

Take the idea of “learning styles”, for example. This proposes that pupils prefer to receive information either visually, auditorily or kinaesthetically - and that teachers can maximise teaching by tailoring their delivery to those preferences. It’s a theory that many would argue has now been thoroughly debunked.

And yet, it isn’t quite that straightforward. Many myths are not black and white, and a slight change in terminology can make the whole picture look different.

To explain that using our example: we know from research that teaching to “learning styles” is not useful. At the same time, though, “learning preferences” do exist.

Some might deem this “semantics”, but it’s an important point; just because we have written off the idea of “learning styles”, this doesn’t mean we can disregard the fact that there are differences in how people learn.

And sometimes, being too eager to “debunk” an education “myth” can even reinforce misconceptions.

A good example of this was documented by professor Ole Bjørn Rekdal. He describes how several scientists set out to disprove the mistaken belief that spinach is particularly high in iron. The reality is that spinach is not a great source of iron - at least, not more so than other leafy green vegetables.

One of the explanations that had previously been given as to why the iron myth took hold was that someone had misplaced a decimal comma when testing the properties of spinach, leading to a tenfold exaggeration of the iron content. Rekdal’s article shows that this decimal story was itself a myth - originating from a Reader’s Digest article - and yet it was promoted by the scientists who were trying to debunk the initial myth. In other words, in trying to disprove one myth, they helped entrench another.

There’s another factor worth considering here, which a recent preprint by researcher Diego Reinero and colleagues highlights: it matters who is doing the debunking. The correction of misinformation - through “fact checks”, for example - can, on occasion, lead people to become more entrenched in that misinformation, depending on how they feel about the source of the fact check.

The researchers conclude that “corrections are effective on average, but have small effects compared to partisan identity congruence, and sometimes backfire - especially if they come from a political outgroup member”.

In other words, we are less likely to listen to a correction coming from someone who is not part of our “group”.

The lesson in all this is that we must consider whether our efforts to “debunk” an idea could be misguided - and question how our inclination to believe information about education “myths” may be influenced by our feelings about the source.

Rather than trying so hard to disprove the thinking of those outside of our “tribe”, our efforts might be better spent in continuing to share ideas, while thinking about the best arguments in favour of those theories you completely disagree with.

The moment you feel at ease with your views, it might be time to challenge them.

Christian Bokhove is associate professor in mathematics education at the University of Southampton and a specialist in research methodologies