A Blog about Teaching History and Trying to Understand the World.

A Blog About Teaching History and Trying to Understand the World

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Critiquing America or Celebrating America: What is the Goal of History?

Some people decry the fact that history professors do not sufficiently praise America.  Instead, the argument goes, college history professors spend their time trying to drag America down by focusing on the dark spots of American history--slavery, the conquest of Native Americans, the ill-treatment of minority groups--rather than celebrating the great stuff, like the gradual expansion of liberty, equality, and democracy in the modern world's first great republic.

There was a huge outrage from conservative culture warriors in 1994 when a former professor of mine at UCLA, Gary Nash, Director of the National Center for History in the Schools, introduced national "standards" for what K-12 students should learn about American history.  The standards were part of a collaborative effort among teachers and scholars across the country, but conservative commentators like Lynn Cheney, former director of the National Endowment of the Humanities and wife of Dick Cheney, suggested that American history was being hijacked by a liberal, politically correct professoriate who painted a "grim and gloomy" portrait of US history.  By giving disproportionate attention to slaves, women, Native Americans, and Civil Rights activists, Cheney argued that the new standards slighted great historical figures like George Washington and Robert E. Lee.  She complained that the standards did not provide American children with heroes: "I think our kids need heroes. I think that they need models of greatness to help them aspire. I think they need heroes so that they can become heroes themselves."

The controversy over what to teach our children about US history continues, with conservatives consistently making the claim that most history texts and teachers like to bash America rather than build it up.  In 2010, the same year the Texas school board became embroiled in an ideological struggle over which founders and which "facts" to emphasize--conservative evangelicals wanted less Thomas Jefferson and more John Calvin--Glenn Beck endorsed a conservative-leaning US history textbook called "A Patriot's History of the United States," which billed itself as an antidote to the apologetic critical histories of America: "For at least thirty years, high school and college students have been taught to be embarrassed by American history. Required readings have become skewed toward a relentless focus on our country’s darkest moments, from slavery to McCarthyism. As a result, many history books devote more space to Harriet Tubman than to Abraham Lincoln; more to My Lai than to the American Revolution; more to the internment of Japanese Americans than to the liberation of Europe in World War II."

All of this begs the question: What is the goal of teaching (or writing) history?  Is history about "celebrating" or "critiquing"? 

Without a doubt, the goal of history, as it developed in the nineteenth century, was clearly about celebrating national values and advancing a narrative of national greatness and exceptionalism.

History, as taught in schools and written in textbooks, was an outgrowth of nationalism and nation-state building.  School curriculum, national holidays, national monuments and memorials all aligned around an explicitly nationalist message.    

The goal of history was not scientific--to objectively analyze causes, consequences, and facts--but rather moralistic: it was intended to teach and celebrate national values and to create a sense of national unity.  Students in the US learned history from their McGuffy readers, which contained, among the speeches by great men and poems about great men, Parson Weems' story of George Washington and the Cherry Tree:  "George," said his father, "do you know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden? " This was a tough question; and George staggered under it for a moment; but quickly recovered himself: and looking at his father, with the sweet face of youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely cried out, "I can't tell a lie, Pa; you know I can't tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet." "Run to my arms, you dearest boy," cried his father in transports, "run to my arms; glad am I, George, that you killed my tree; for you have paid me for it a thousand fold. Such an act of heroism in my son is more worth than a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, and their fruits of purest gold."

It's great stuff, but it's not really history per se.  For one, modern historians, trained in the scientific method, claim that it likely never happened.  But the story of the cherry tree was not included in the McGuffy reader because it was scientific history (or even verifiable, as far as we know), but because it conveyed a moral lesson that reflected well on our national character.  The message:  our Founding Fathers, like our nation, were moral exemplars who were beyond criticism.

I grapple with these issues every single quarter--every single week.  I encourage students to be "critical."  In doing so, I am often pushing against their inclinations, their politics, their values.  Moreover, I have a great love of my own country--of its values, political system, and culture.  I'm certainly not out to bash a country that I love, simply for the sake of bashing.

Why should we be critical? Why can't we simply praise our civilization? 

I offer a couple answers.  The first is that we ARE celebrating our culture--especially our freedom of speech and thought--when we look at the past clearly, openly, and critically.  In this country, when we criticize our leaders and our past, we ARE being patriotic.  As Americans, it's our right, and I would argue our duty, to engage in good faith criticism of ourselves and our country.  It's something that does not happen in countries like China, without grave consequences. 

The other argument is an explicitly moral one: how can we improve ourselves unless we subject ourselves to criticism.  This is an argument that students understand implicitly when applied to their own lives--that subjecting oneself to criticism and interrogation is the first step towards moral uplift.  Humility, and a willingness to recognize one's flaws (one's "sins" depending on your particular worldview) are seen in most religious systems as a prerequisite to spiritual enlightenment, or at least the first step towards moral self-improvement.

So it only makes sense to apply the same principle to the nation.  If we seek to improve as a nation, we must be honest about our flaws.  We must be willing to subject ourselves to good faith criticism in the interests of making ourselves better.

In rereading a section of WEB DuBois's "Souls of Black Folk" for a class last week, I came across a wonderful passage that launched me into this train of thought (along with the fact that on the same day I was grading a document analysis assignment where too many students were uncritically praising the Truman Doctrine without also subjecting it to more "critical" analysis).  In the passage, DuBois admonishes "black men to judge the South discriminatingly."  "The present generation of Southerners," says DuBois, "are not responsible for the past, and they should not be blindly hated or blamed for it." 

He then urges his nineteenth-century readers to jettison their stereotypes and preconceptions and see the South in all its complexity, the good and the bad: "The South is not 'solid'; it is a land in the ferment of social change, wherein forces of all kinds are fighting for supremacy; and to praise the ill the South is to-day perpetrating is just as wrong as to condemn the good."

Then comes the line that really made an impression--the one that provides a positive rationale for why even patriots must engage in good-faith criticism of their country: "Discriminating and broad-minded criticism is what the South needs,--needs it for the sake of her own white sons and daughters, and for the insurance of robust, healthy mental and moral development."

WEB DuBois was fair minded and "discriminating."   As a black man in the late nineteenth-century, he could have easily indicted all whites as racist.  But he didn't.  The South was not "solid" or monolithic.  It was complex.  His analysis encourages us to throw away our biases and use our minds.

As I finish this--on Saturday night, January 21--Newt Gingrich has just won the South Carolina Republican primary.  He is giving a speech to his supporters who are chanting "USA, USA, USA, USA!"

I'm guessing they wouldn't like my message: that Americans should take a "critical perspective" on their own past.  I’m guessing I would be accused of being one of those liberal history professors who don't love America.

He has just said something along the lines of "We look to our Founding Fathers" for inspiration, while Obama looks to left-wing critics of America.  Gingrinch makes Obama sound like one of those history professors, mentioned above, who are accused of wanting to drag America down.

So here we go again: to be "critical" is to be unpatriotic; to chant "USA, USA, USA" is to be patriotic.

My goal: for all of us to be more fair-minded and more discriminating; for us to look, and think hard, before we leap to conclusions.  If I am partisan I hope I am a partisan on the side of critical thinking. (Personal note: I happen to be a real critic of political parties, which were not, by the way, mentioned in the Constitution….but that's another story.)

Monday, January 16, 2012

Tyranny; And what I learned in 2011

Ok, so it's only mid-January and I've already broken my New Year's Resolution to post "one blog entry a week." But it wasn't my fault.  Not at all.  There were numerous culprits, including technology itself, which, although touted by its apostles as liberation from the shackles of our limited, material reality, is nothing more than a vast conspiracy to make us worship at the alter of technocratic efficiency while we become dependent slaves to tyrannical machines!  Fight the power!

[Translation: On Friday, I wasted an entire three hours of my life-never to be retrieved!--when this brutish computer robbed me of an entire class of grades and comments.  Ok, so maybe there was some element of human error--a botched key stroke that made my grades inexplicably disappear from the (unsaved) web page where I was recording them prior to "uploading" them to Angel .  But that's not the point!  The point is that three hours of MY LIFE disappeared and I want them back!  All three of them!  The very three hours that I would have used to post my blog and maintain my New Year's Resolution!   Truly.  You must believe me!]

Well, actually, I must admit that this system of grading and making comments of which I speak is truly an efficient and time-saving procedure that I've used flawlessly dozens of times, probably saving me dozens of hours and the earth dozens of trees.  I can't really complain.  But computers--and ANGEL, our "elearning course platform," is such a convenient scapegoat.  [The reader--and yes, Mom, that is singular, as in you--must now inevitably conclude that I am the tyrant, at least of this blog, employing the classic "create a scapegoat to divert them from your own flaws" strategy.  To this I would only say, "No duh."]

So, the quarter has begun and there is much to discuss.  But first what I learned from 2011 (teaching-wise)?

1. Don't try to be cute: I know what you are saying.  "But Dave, how can you possibly keep yourself from being cute?"  Here's one example of what I mean: sometimes I give titles to lectures, so as to frame a particular argument that I'm making.  For instance, I might call a presentation of the Clinton years, "Clinton Conservatism," to underscore the point that Clinton took the Democratic Party to the center of the political spectrum and even co-opted a number of conservative issues and approaches (remember the "Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Act," Clinton's welfare reform law?), or I might discuss the Bush 43 years under the heading "The Rise of Big Government Conservatism" to showcase how conservatives like Bush often speak rhetorically of "limited government" while dramatically expanding the size and scope of the federal government.  Here’s the problem: while many students get it, there are invariably those who will explain in their final exam how Clinton was "a conservative" and how George W. Bush was a "liberal" who expanded the size the government.  Subtlety does not work.  Satire never works.  And cute counterintuitives are not cute or counterintuitive if your audience has no background knowledge to begin with.  This, unfortunately, is the case with most of my students.

2. Students like biography:  My graduate school professors must have hated history as biography.  I don't recall ever being assigned to read a biography for a class while in graduate school (although I read a few on my own), and I remember a lot of abstract seminars about "colonialism" and "classical liberalism" and "classical republicanism" and "liberal capitalism" and "nationalism" and "imperialism" and "industrial capitalism" and on and on.   An alien eavesdropping on those seminars would have been  hard-pressed to gather that history is fundamentally about people.  I'm not even sure that I learned about any people in graduate school!  Alas, I exaggerate.  But truth be told, I'm kind of a sucker for abstractions.  I  can talk nationalism and industrial capitalism and Social Darwinism until the cows come home.  But my students, weirdly enough, actually enjoy learning about people--their dreams and deeds and dalliances.  The latter is, of course, a reference to Clinton again.  I might talk for an hour about welfare reform, financial deregulation, and trade liberalization in the 1990s, and my students may vaguely remember some of it, but if I talk about Clinton's upbringing, his education, his marriage to Hilary Rodham, his stunning political intelligence and, yes, his marital infidelities, it seems as if students lock in and soak it up with near perfect recall.  I'll get well-written bluebook exams that go on for pages about the gossipy, personal, human-interest bio material, and mention nary a word about politics and policies.  Of course, this just kills me.  I think the important stuff is in the politics and policies.  But that's because I've been brainwashed.  My students are tapping into what makes history compelling for most of us--and what has been drawing us in for centuries.  Stories.  About people.  What a concept.  I'm going to do more of that.

3. Students can write blogs: Some of my students gamed the assignment and did the bare minimum to receive extra credit, but many students created outstanding blogs.  What more can I say.  I was impressed.

4. I have a chip on my shoulder: As I was reminded recently by a fellow colleague with whom I am teaching a history/literature "learning community," I have a chip on my shoulder about how fashionable it has become for pedagogy experts to attack lecture as self-indulgent (the "sage on the stage") and ineffective, while advocating "student centered" or "active learning," which essentially boils down to various forms of group-work.  I plead guilty.  I really do have a chip on my shoulder about this.  Which really means that I feel defensive.  Which really means that I suspect that I lecture too much and need to do more "student-centered" learning activities, which truly makes me want to barf because I do not enjoy running my classes that way, at least that's my line and I'm sticking to it, for now…… Ok, so you can see that I have a chip on my shoulder.  This means more fruitful blog entries about my inner struggles to grow and challenge myself as a teacher while still trying "to thine own self be true."

Well, this isn't all I learned last quarter, but it's late and I'm running out of steam.  I think the real tyranny is this New Year's resolution that has kept me up past my bed time posting this blog!

Saturday, January 7, 2012

New Year's Resolutions 2012

Ok, Mom, winter quarter has begun so I'm beginning my blog about teaching again.  Now you can quit bugging me about it! :)

First what I'm thankful for (teaching-wise) and then my New Year's resolutions for teaching:

Thankful for:

1.   Gainful employment in my profession of choice: I hardly need to expand on this (but you know I will anyway).  In this age of austerity, I wake up every day counting myself  abundantly fortunate to be living out my dream.  Indeed, in the mid-1980s, while most of my peers in college were dreaming of starting businesses or chasing their fortunes on Wall Street, I was dreaming of some day being a history professor.  Ever since taking Leroy Ashby's US history survey course at WSU in 1985, I figured there could be nothing more fun or rewarding than spending one's life trying to excite undergraduates about history.  Professor Ashby sure had a lot of fun: back in the days before the internet or Powerpoint, he dashed back and forth between an overhead projector, a cassette player, a slide projector, and an actual film projector (yes, complete with a reel of film, just like in the old days), striving to give his students a multimedia experience.  I was transfixed.  During the swashbuckling nineties, while more rational twenty-somethings were making millions in the dot.com revolution, I was busily scribbling notes in some dusty archive (this was before the archives were online) and happily accepting student loans as I worked my way through my masters and doctorate degrees.  It all paid off in spades.  In 1998, I hit pay-dirt: a tenure-track job at Columbia Basin College with a starting base salary of$ 34,500.  I never looked back.  Fourteen years later, I'm still living the dream (and still paying off my student loans, if you can believe it….).  In all sincerity, I can't imagine a more rewarding career--one that allows me the opportunity to try to make sense of the world and the freedom to use my own voice.  You can't ask for more than that.

2. My students:  Ok, it's obvious that without students I wouldn't have a job, but that's not exactly what I mean here.  I mean that I really appreciate those people, young and old and in-between,  sitting in front of me, who are so much in the midst of "the struggle."  Their struggles are not all equivalent, to be sure --some are simply struggling to stay awake after an ill-advised evening of revelry while others are literally struggling to survive: holding down jobs, tending to families and sick relatives, overcoming their own health problems, battling with financial and emotional stress, and on and on.  But there they are, sitting at their desks, trying to focus, trying to make sense of this curious material that I think is so important, but which runs so contrary to the tide of our popular culture, with its sound bites and 24X7 sensationalism.  It's a tough business being a student in twenty-first century America, and I'm grateful for all those people who, in spite of all the conflicting pressures and distractions, make such a good faith effort to apply themselves to the complicated task of self-improvement.  Isn't that what life is all about?  It is for me.

"Good God, man, get a hold of yourself!"  Ok, ok, enough on that front--if I continue I'll just get more syrupy and teary-eyed.    Let's stiffen that upper lip and move on to resolutions, a much more Churchillian task:

Resolutions:

1.  Post one blog entry a week while the quarter is in session.  [One more thing to be thankful for: a quarter system that allows you a fresh start every 12 or so weeks along with some time in between to decompress.]

2. Experiment.  Why not?  My classes should be pedagogical laboratories, no?  For example, in one class this quarter I am giving no quizzes and no exams--just papers.  Why can't I do that?  I CAN DO THAT!  If only I liberate myself from the shackles of my self-imposed bondage!  [One more thing to be thankful for: a job that gives me the autonomy to experiment and innovate.]

In coming weeks: What I learned in 2011 (about teaching, that is); why primary documents are so important; putting the "community" back into the community college classroom.

Yes, brothers and sisters,  you got it:  strap yourself in, because 2012 is going to be a wild ride for this particular blog.  Amen.