Teaching History on January 6th, 2021

On Wednesday, January 6, as news of the terrible violence in the U.S. Capitol broke, I was teaching my tenth grade history course titled “The Many Histories of the United States.” At that moment, students were working on a Mod-long paper project in which they lodge historical arguments about United States history topics of their design. Their varied research projects ranged from the near extermination of the bison in the nineteenth century, to American coffee shop culture as a nexus of political expression and independent folk music, to the ways in which colonial-era pirates connected American colonies. The richness and diversity of their work is by design; the course is titled “The Many Histories of the United States” for a reason. 

That afternoon, in my classroom with my students, I felt a moment of real pedagogical self-doubt — in this moment of true history, as we witness the first breach of our capitol building since 1814...what are my responsibilities?  What context must I provide?  What must I do in order to serve my students? 

And then I remember why I teach at Stone to begin with.

As a history educator, I believe that history matters.  But more specifically, I believe that historical inquiry as an exercise develops in students the critical thinking skills necessary to question what they have always been told, even when the teller is a respected authority on the topic.  Historical inquiry gives students regular practice in the construction of effective arguments bolstered by the sound interpretation of factual evidence. Moreover, historical inquiry, when done well, deepens a student’s agency.  In that way, students are not only molded by their teachers -- they are molded by their work, by themselves.

The Stone model as expressed in the history classroom empowers students to practice historical thinking within the classroom and without.  In this sense, the content I have covered up to this point matters less than the skills my students are developing in order to understand and navigate the world around them -- my classes serve as laboratories in which students test and develop those skills, and if I have done my job well then my students will have the tools to form their own understanding of this moment in ways that far too many people of all ages cannot. 

To be more concrete, in the history classroom, words matter. 

This was the theme of a rapid response webinar hosted last week by the National Council for History Education taught by Yale’s Dr. Joanne Freeman, the foremost historian on congressional violence during the period surrounding the Civil War. It was similarly at the heart of senate chaplain Barry C. Black’s prayer last week: 

“These tragedies have reminded us that words matter, and that the power of life and death is in the tongue.”

The close reading of primary documents, the dissection of competing historical arguments, and the critical conversations held in the classroom all force students to interpret and interrogate the meaning of words while carefully choosing their own.

And in this moment, it is crystal clear that these skills are essential to any citizen of our current world.

As I write this, the week after the attack on the Capitol, we are already seeing a new war of words. Those who unleashed this terrible violence against our democracy did so while incomprehensibly claiming the mantle of “patriotism.” Others have called them “terrorists.” Writers of headlines are still settling on an array of labels — “Insurrectionists.” “Rioters.” “Violent protestors.” I myself must admit to repeatedly typing and then deleting my own chosen terms as I write this, and I am confident that I will not be satisfied with the language and articulation of my condemnation even when this is published.

But then again, can we truly expect to perfectly understand and describe what we are witnessing a mere seven days later? 

Those in my profession often say that journalism is the first draft of history. But I also believe that there is no final draft. Our arguments continue to evolve as historians (whether professional or not) seek out new evidence and new interpretations. Words matter. In fact, they matter so much that we are constantly revisiting them, editing them, and reinterpreting them. We do not, and in fact cannot, choose the right words in the days after something so momentous. Today is but another draft. My hope is that my students are not passive consumers of this kind of content. Instead, I want them to be editors with their red pens at the ready. I hope they are prepared and eager to mark up this draft in the pursuit of a better one. 

They are not learning history. They are learning to be historians.