I used to work at a museum with an active living-history education program. When students came to the museum for a program, their parents would come along as chaperones, as well. Many parents said to me, "I was never interested in history as a student. This gives me a whole different perspective on history." It's a shame that our school system seems to discourage interest in history, as a whole. I suspect this has something to do with the way we teach the subject.
"Students have no inkling about the work of historians," writes Jeffery Nokes. "Their experience in history classrooms doesn't look anything like an hour in the life of a historian." In many classrooms, history lessons are confined to lectures and textbook readings. Students are rarely challenged to think like a historian, analyzing various texts or artifacts to form their own conclusions about what happened.
I recently stumbled upon the Stanford History Education Group. Among the resources on their website is a curriculum series titled "Reading like a Historian." The first part of this series, "Introduction to Historical Thinking," is a fantastic jumping-off point to encourage students to start taking in a wide variety of perspectives and evaluating their reliability. This introductory curriculum takes real-world situations that students may be familiar with, puts them in a position to hear multiple versions of the story, and asks them to figure out what really happened.
This "thinking like a historian" approach reminds me of the inquiry-based science education model. In Inquiry Science, students pose a problem or question, such as "Why does the moon appear to be different shapes at different times?" They then design experiments and conduct research to answer their question or solve the problem. To do this, students must use critical-thinking skills to design the most reliable experiment, weigh the credibility of research materials, and engage with the topic on a more holistic level. In the same way, thinking like a historian allows students to pose questions, such as "what were the causes of the Civil War?" They then conduct research, using primary documents, to determine the answer to their question. Like Inquiry Science, this model encourages students to use critical-thinking skills to determine the most reliable sources, weigh the credibility of different sources, and engage with the topic on a more holistic level.
Inquiry Science has been shown to help students be more engaged in science learning, and has been successful with students from a diverse range of socioeconomic backgrounds. The similarities between these science and history models lead me to believe the same might be true of "thinking like a historian," as well. Perhaps this could the new wave of history teaching, engaging all students and creating a new generation of excited historians.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Friday, January 24, 2014
The Need for Heroes
This past Monday was Martin Luther King, Jr., Day. Around this time, elementary schools across the country incorporate lessons about Martin Luther King, Jr., as well as about racism and other famous Black Americans. For teachers, it's tempting to check the box and say, "okay, we talked about MLK. Multicultural education, done." I know I've seen some of my friends do this. But multicultural education, talking about diversity, can't be limited to just Heroes and Holidays. It's not enough to use Martin Luther King, Jr., as the one example of Black culture, Cinco de Mayo as the one example of Latino culture, etc. This needs to be a conversation that continues throughout the year.
At the same time, once you understand that we have to talk about more than Heroes and Holidays, it can be tempting to overlook those heroes. "We talk about diversity all the time," teachers might say, "so I don't need to spend extra class time on MLK when my students are already behind in math." This is at least as much a fallacy as only focusing on the heroes. Students need heroes. We all need heroes.
Throughout history, we've always been drawn to epic tales. The Greeks listened for hours to the adventures of Odysseus; the English look to Arthur, the Once and Future King; in the modern day, we flock to movie theaters to take in the latest installment in The Hobbit or the story of Iron-Man. As humans, we look to the epic hero in an attempt to connect with the part of ourselves that is capable of great, story-worthy deeds. Without the inspiration of a hero standing up to a monster, persevering against all odds, we may not find the strength inside ourselves to persevere through hard times or stand up against oppression. The hero shows us that anything is possible.
In order to have this power of inspiration, the hero must look something like us. A hero from a different culture may still inspire us, but not as strongly. From what I have seen, this is especially true for people who have been historically disempowered. A male hero might inspire men, but a woman could look at that same hero and think, "if I tried to do those same things, I would be stopped because I'm female." Students need to see heroes that look like them: their gender, their ethnicity, their culture, their religion, their sexual orientation . . . the list goes on. The story of any hero is inspiring to all of us, but is especially inspiring to someone who sees the hero do something they never thought possible: stand up to racism, for example.
Martin Luther King, Jr., was one of the heroes of modern America. His story is worth telling, and re-telling, in the most honest way possible. The heroes of the Civil Rights movement can inspire us, and our students, today in the same way that Gandhi inspired King. We must tell those stories. We must keep alive the faith that, as our heroes have shown us, anything is possible.
At the same time, once you understand that we have to talk about more than Heroes and Holidays, it can be tempting to overlook those heroes. "We talk about diversity all the time," teachers might say, "so I don't need to spend extra class time on MLK when my students are already behind in math." This is at least as much a fallacy as only focusing on the heroes. Students need heroes. We all need heroes.
Throughout history, we've always been drawn to epic tales. The Greeks listened for hours to the adventures of Odysseus; the English look to Arthur, the Once and Future King; in the modern day, we flock to movie theaters to take in the latest installment in The Hobbit or the story of Iron-Man. As humans, we look to the epic hero in an attempt to connect with the part of ourselves that is capable of great, story-worthy deeds. Without the inspiration of a hero standing up to a monster, persevering against all odds, we may not find the strength inside ourselves to persevere through hard times or stand up against oppression. The hero shows us that anything is possible.
In order to have this power of inspiration, the hero must look something like us. A hero from a different culture may still inspire us, but not as strongly. From what I have seen, this is especially true for people who have been historically disempowered. A male hero might inspire men, but a woman could look at that same hero and think, "if I tried to do those same things, I would be stopped because I'm female." Students need to see heroes that look like them: their gender, their ethnicity, their culture, their religion, their sexual orientation . . . the list goes on. The story of any hero is inspiring to all of us, but is especially inspiring to someone who sees the hero do something they never thought possible: stand up to racism, for example.
Martin Luther King, Jr., was one of the heroes of modern America. His story is worth telling, and re-telling, in the most honest way possible. The heroes of the Civil Rights movement can inspire us, and our students, today in the same way that Gandhi inspired King. We must tell those stories. We must keep alive the faith that, as our heroes have shown us, anything is possible.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
The Power of Perspective
It's the time for New Year's resolutions again. A friend of mine (John Russell Stanger, over at pluckypresby.com) has challenged his own reading habits in 2014. His goal is to read only books written by people of color this year. In his essay on the decision, John says, "White-dominated thought -- with all its power and privilege -- has shaped the world enough. I read to feel, to be reminded of what it means to be human, and to be re-shaped, so I have no doubt that spending a year being shaped only by writers of color will leave me transformed for the better."
The stories we hear have power. The perspectives we hear in those stories might be quieter, but they hold just as much power: the power to normalize, to "other," to establish the "right" way of thinking or doing. Unfortunately, most history teaching is done from one perspective. As Sir Winston Churchill said, "history is written by the victors," and that's quite obvious from an overview of modern textbooks. Sure, there are mentions of non-white cultures, but mostly in relation to those of European descent.
Take the slave experience as an example. We talk about slavery and acknowledge its wrongness. But where does the slave story begin in our history canon? It begins when the slaves arrived on American soil, when they first made contact with white plantation owners. We leave out the horrors those men and women had already endured, stolen from their homes, imprisoned. We tell the story, not so much of the slaves, but of the white-driven institution of slavery. The voices in this story are almost all white: white slaveholders, white abolitionists, a white president who signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Where are the voices of those who lived under the weight of this institution? Surely we would have something to learn from their point of view.
I am a white person. The black perspective is not my story to tell. Fortunately, I don't have to. There are good sources out there, voices that have been silenced or overlooked, that tell this story far better than I ever could. It's simply my job to let them speak. So this year, I will teach from the other perspectives. My students and I will listen to the old slave spirituals. We will read Native accounts of European arrival, passed down through generations. We will look at sections of the AIDS Memorial Quilt. Like my friend John, I will immerse myself in other perspectives, giving a louder voice to the quiet one and, hopefully, shifting my and my students' view of the world.
The stories we hear have power. The perspectives we hear in those stories might be quieter, but they hold just as much power: the power to normalize, to "other," to establish the "right" way of thinking or doing. Unfortunately, most history teaching is done from one perspective. As Sir Winston Churchill said, "history is written by the victors," and that's quite obvious from an overview of modern textbooks. Sure, there are mentions of non-white cultures, but mostly in relation to those of European descent.
Take the slave experience as an example. We talk about slavery and acknowledge its wrongness. But where does the slave story begin in our history canon? It begins when the slaves arrived on American soil, when they first made contact with white plantation owners. We leave out the horrors those men and women had already endured, stolen from their homes, imprisoned. We tell the story, not so much of the slaves, but of the white-driven institution of slavery. The voices in this story are almost all white: white slaveholders, white abolitionists, a white president who signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Where are the voices of those who lived under the weight of this institution? Surely we would have something to learn from their point of view.
I am a white person. The black perspective is not my story to tell. Fortunately, I don't have to. There are good sources out there, voices that have been silenced or overlooked, that tell this story far better than I ever could. It's simply my job to let them speak. So this year, I will teach from the other perspectives. My students and I will listen to the old slave spirituals. We will read Native accounts of European arrival, passed down through generations. We will look at sections of the AIDS Memorial Quilt. Like my friend John, I will immerse myself in other perspectives, giving a louder voice to the quiet one and, hopefully, shifting my and my students' view of the world.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Origins
Everyone has an origin story: where they began, how they came to realize their identity . . . Mine started when I was about five years old. My family lived in the Seattle, Washington, area, which also happens to be the home of an amazing storyteller by the name of Debbie Dimitre. She's well-known for her first-person portrayals of famous women in American history, women like Annie Oakley and Eleanor Roosevelt. Just by chance, we went to one of her presentations at the local library. As a pre-schooler, I might have been a little younger than her target audience, but no matter. I was held captive by the story nonetheless. Looking back, I can see that was the first time I realized the magic that can happen when history is told well. I was hooked.
Over the next six years, until we moved away, I dragged my parents across town to every Debbie Dimitre performance possible. I must have seen her tell each story in her repertoire at least three or four times. (Much credit goes to my parents for putting up with this enthusiasm and repetition.) But it didn't end there. I was so enraptured by her stories that I wanted to know more about the people she portrayed. I checked out every book from the local library about these women. I read a book on Deborah Sampson over and over, until it literally fell apart. My interest in each woman's story broadened to an interest in her historical context, and I branched out to reading books about entire time periods in addition to single-person biographies. Soon I was spouting random facts about the American Revolution at the dinner table and turning our backyard into a colonial farm.
At that age, I wasn't really thinking, "this is what I want to do when I grow up." But I did know that a passion was growing inside me for history's good stories, told well. It started with one story, sparking an interest. If that can happen with me, it can certainly happen with today's students. All it takes for a spark, I believe, is one good story.
Over the next six years, until we moved away, I dragged my parents across town to every Debbie Dimitre performance possible. I must have seen her tell each story in her repertoire at least three or four times. (Much credit goes to my parents for putting up with this enthusiasm and repetition.) But it didn't end there. I was so enraptured by her stories that I wanted to know more about the people she portrayed. I checked out every book from the local library about these women. I read a book on Deborah Sampson over and over, until it literally fell apart. My interest in each woman's story broadened to an interest in her historical context, and I branched out to reading books about entire time periods in addition to single-person biographies. Soon I was spouting random facts about the American Revolution at the dinner table and turning our backyard into a colonial farm.
At that age, I wasn't really thinking, "this is what I want to do when I grow up." But I did know that a passion was growing inside me for history's good stories, told well. It started with one story, sparking an interest. If that can happen with me, it can certainly happen with today's students. All it takes for a spark, I believe, is one good story.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Our Stories
In our modern life, with all the distractions of technology, the latest app, the "next best thing" . . . it can be easy to dismiss history as irrelevant. Uncool. Students are more likely to see the necessity for a computer class than a history course. If the New York Times' bestseller list is any indication, adults pay more attention to current events (Nelson Mandela's memoirs, or Orange is the New Black) than to historical happenings. But this is a mistake.
History is our story. History is part of the very fabric of our beings. It has shaped us, who we are, and where we are going -- both collectively and individually.
Try this exercise, just for a moment. I give this to students who are particularly stubborn about learning history. Answer the question "who am I?" without any reference to anything that happened before today. No mention of your previous schooling, your parents or family, any event from your childhood or young adulthood. Describe yourself as though you just came into existence this morning.
Now try that again. Answer the same question: "who am I?" But this time, put in as much as you can of your own personal and family history. Where did you come from? What past experiences have shaped your identity?
Which of the two answers gives a more complete picture of who you are? Most people say, the second one. This answer allows them to tell their whole story, where they are coming from, how it's shaped their present identity, where they want to go. It's the same way with history on a broader scale. National politics today are shaped by our national history. International trends hearken back to the history of the world. In order to better understand the world around us, we have to know its history. We have to be able to tell the stories of the past, in order to write the story of the future.
History is our story. History is part of the very fabric of our beings. It has shaped us, who we are, and where we are going -- both collectively and individually.
Try this exercise, just for a moment. I give this to students who are particularly stubborn about learning history. Answer the question "who am I?" without any reference to anything that happened before today. No mention of your previous schooling, your parents or family, any event from your childhood or young adulthood. Describe yourself as though you just came into existence this morning.
Now try that again. Answer the same question: "who am I?" But this time, put in as much as you can of your own personal and family history. Where did you come from? What past experiences have shaped your identity?
Which of the two answers gives a more complete picture of who you are? Most people say, the second one. This answer allows them to tell their whole story, where they are coming from, how it's shaped their present identity, where they want to go. It's the same way with history on a broader scale. National politics today are shaped by our national history. International trends hearken back to the history of the world. In order to better understand the world around us, we have to know its history. We have to be able to tell the stories of the past, in order to write the story of the future.
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