To make the world their own

Civic learning is a situated endeavor embedded within settings with particular political, historical, economic, and social dimensions. All settings are not created equal, but neither are they one-dimensional in terms of their impact on civic learning. Settings of congruence have the benefit of resources, order, and trust but may seem to lack passion and significance. Settings of disjuncture are troubled by institutional failure, chaos, and mistrust, but civic learning in such contexts has the urgency and meaning that comes from standing directly in the crucible of society’s most pressing civic problems.

  

-Hayes, B; Rubin, B. “No Backpacks” versus “Drugs and Murder”: The Promise and Complexity of Youth Civic Action Research (Fall 2010 Harvard Education Review)

p. 374

Rubin and Hayes make clear the need to have culturally relevant and responsive curriculum that speaks to the social reality in which students find themselves. By examining the differences in civic attitudes and community aspirations, the researchers show that a one size fits all approach to citizenship education will not work. Because some students do not have confidence that the world is structured to serve their needs, they will feel a stronger dissatisfaction with society than their peers. These students are also unlikely to feel that the political structure will yield to their demands; teaching them about the structure of government and transmitting civic knowledge is not enough to inspire or empower these students. These students need to learn both that some civic and political institutions are more approachable than they may seem at first glance and that meaningful change can be made by opposing the status quo. That students in one school identified a mildly restrictive school policy as the element of their environment that most needed change while students in the other school identified major crimes, such as drugs and murder, as their communities most pressing challenge shows that students form their civic identities contextually and that the instructional approach to this development needs to be sensitive to those differences. Not surprisingly, the youth in the class that addressed drugs and murder did not succeed, but they did gain valuable insights into citizenship and also improved their sense of efficacy and attachment by producing a public document.

Though there is no one approach that will work for all students, action civics offers a framework that is flexible enough to be applied in diverse circumstances. In their article, Hayes and Rubin document students taking an action civics approach, but they do not provide specifics that would allow teachers to make use of this idea. At Close Up, we always advocate community mapping, where students identify assets and weaknesses of their community, as a good starting point for a community action initiative. Students are asked to survey their neighborhood, identifying the types of businesses, services (non-profit or government) and residences in a neighborhood. Additionally, they may develop a questionnaire to gather the ideas and beliefs of other community members. Ultimately, this leads to identifying one issue (or a few closely related issues) that student groups will work to address. (Note: Each class could be asked to work as one whole group or students could break into smaller groups around issues of interest.) After issues are identified, some educators, such as Jean Anyon, suggest the use of a technique called power mapping. Power mapping involves identifying where the social, government and economic power lies in a community. Power mapping can begin with some simple questions: “Who are the stakeholders on this issue?” “Who has the power (or authority) to address this concern?” “Are there any stakeholders who would oppose our position?” Depending on the time allotted for this activity, students may end up with a comprehensive flow chart that shows not only which government positions exist and what authority they have (which is typically where civic education ends) but also who has influence over which political official or party. Once students have identified an issue to address and have determined who has power or authority to address this issue, students are then asked to work towards addressing this issue, usually through raising awareness, attending public meetings or meeting with decision-makers.

To learn more about organizations working with an action civics model, check out Generation Citizen (http://www.generationcitizen.org), the University Community Collaborative of Philadelphia (http://www.temple.edu/collaborative/) or the Center for Action Civics (http://www.centerforactioncivics.org), responsible for the very cool Mikva Challenge. Additionally, Meira Levinson’s No Citizen Left Behind (http://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674065789) is an excellent resource for anyone considering adopting an action civics model.

The standardized citizen

Yet, Macedo et al. argue that schools “often teach about citizenship and government without teaching students the skills that are necessary to become active citizens themselves” (2005, 33). Even in civics and government courses, which Kahne, Chi, and Middaugh describe as “the part of the formal high school curriculum that is most explicitly linked to the democratic purposes of education” (2006, 391), conversations about citizenship rarely extend beyond one’s right to vote. Recent movements to standardize public education in the United States have only exacerbated this notion by mandating content taught to students. (p. 351)

--AND--

Perhaps the most salient conclusion drawn from this study is that standards, like textbooks and other educational materials, are created to perpetuate a certain ideological position (Apple 1979). Over a decade later, the SOLs [Virginia's Standards of Learning] still maintain a largely conservative approach to citizenship that harkens back to the political climate surrounding the creation of the standards (Fore 1998). Although liberal civic elements can be found in both the civics and government curricula, they do little to alter the civic republican perspective found throughout each of the standards. (p. 356)




Journell, W. (2010). Standardizing citizenship: the potential influence of state curriculum standards on the civic development of adolescents.

In his article, Wayne Journell explains different, at times conflicting, views on the role of citizens and citizen education. He then goes on to argue that state standards, because they are set through a political process and those with political power have specific shared concerns (particularly maintenance of the status quo), tend to favor conservative conceptions of the "good" citizen. In these passages, Journell explains both the focus of his work and his findings. Journell found, by defining different ideas of citizenship and citizenship education (civic republicanism; civic education; deliberative; social justice; participatory; transnational; cosmopolitan) and by dividing Virginia's Standards of Learning (in civics, economics and government) into those categories, that civic republicanism is the most frequently expressed citizenship stance. This stance is a conservative stance defined by duty, patriotism, obeying laws, volunteering and serving the country (most frequently exemplified as military service). In essence, this stance is not defined by questioning authority, addressing inequities, or actively stirring protest. It is the opposite of Frederick Douglass’s advice to active citizens: “Agitate, agitate, agitate.”

Journell goes on to argue that it is the responsibility of teachers to ensure that the other aspects of citizenship, particularly those described in the participatory stance, are represented in the curriculum and in the instructional practice of classrooms. Teachers can do this by approaching “mandated content” through discussion, deliberation and debate, and also by problematizing citizenship and government.

Fostering meaningful democratic citizenship is, to me, the most important goal of social studies education. Without my concern for citizenship education, I would probably study to be an English teacher as my interest in literature is at least equal to my interest in the content of social studies (predominantly history and geography). This article spoke to my concerns that citizenship education, when defined and directed by those who have already gained influence in American politics, generally does not fulfill the needs of a vital, justice seeking democracy. If students are bored by government and civics classes, they will likely do little more than the bare minimum, which is voting. As Journell remarks in the beginning of this article, voting is often described as the primary way of influencing politics. In fact, it is one of the least influential acts an individual can engage in and, particularly given the structure of American democracy, replaces religion as the opiate of the masses.

Journell’s concern that schools may not do a good job, at least during class time, preparing students to be part of a democratic community, is widely shared. One antidote often offered is service learning which, in the Guardian of Democracy is advocated as one of the six proven effective practices of citizenship education. Service learning is valuable in that it fosters civic attachment and civic virtues (unless it is poorly implemented, in which case it may destroy both of those things). However, it too is fundamentally conservative. It invites students to engage in direct voluntary service to address problems that many people would argue should be government responsibilities, including cleaning a public park or beach or painting a public school. Additionally, while service learning can foster citizenship, there is nothing particularly democratic about it. Democratic skills are those which empower citizens to influence decision-makers and public opinion; service learning addresses neither of these. This only increases the urgency of Journell’s call to teachers to make meaningful instructional decisions that put a focus on democratic skills and dispositions.

Exhibition and cognitive dominance

"Those who have information to display typically control the form and content of its presentation, and they may have the power and resources to impose their conception of "needed information" on others. This dominance is a particular problem within the exhibition stance because it is less obvious: Analysis, identification and moral response are recognized as social constructions, but information that is simply displayed can take on the appearance of a natural, inevitable, or objective representation of the world."

Teaching History for the Common Good, pg. 121

Barton and Levstik

This passage from Teaching History for the Common Good’s chapter on the exhibition stance explains both the power and the danger inherent in the exhibition stance of history. Historical displays and exhibitions, when created to help others understand “what happened,” can be very powerful and can leave lasting impressions on consumers of those displays. This is, of course, the intention of the creators of these displays; museum curators, monument and memorial designers, and those responsible for education centers at major historical sites, do not go through all the trouble of creating thoughtful displays in order to not leave an impact on visitors. That said, there is significant danger posed when visitors accept these displays, and the information and narratives the displays contain, in an uncritical way. As Barton and Levstik explain, the other historical stances are obviously social constructions, and are also clearly value laden. When history is displayed as product, however, students and others often believe that what is displayed is ‘what happened.’ In many ways, this overlaps with Bruce Lesh’s observation that students often believe that bias is something to be eliminated, that there is an irreducible truth to be found in examinations of the past. Again, this is not limited to young people. Adults frequently complain that the media is full of bias and that they just want newspapers and other outlets to “report the facts.” This fails to recognize that even something as cut and dry as an AP bulletin has a point of view and is the product of authorial and editorial choices.

It is both difficult and important to identify ways to help students (and others) critically engage with the products of museums and other organizations. James Loewen, in Lies Across America, offers ten questions to ask at a historical site. (http://sundown.afro.illinois.edu/content.php?file=liesacrossamerica-tenquestions.html These help students interact in a more meaningful way with sites and museums. I have used modified versions of these questions when accompanying students to Jamestown, Williamsburg, Gettysburg and other historical sites. They definitely help students to peel back the gloss of these sites and consider what narratives are presented, whose views are valued and what intentions the site’s creators may have had. With middle school students, more simple and open-ended questions and thinking routines are appropriate. In our (Close Up’s) approach to the three memorials at the western end of the National Mall, we use a slightly modified version of the see, think, wonder routine to help students consider what message(s) is (are) sent to visitors by these memorials. While it is easy to approach memorials, and particularly war memorials, with a level of reverence that (while not necessarily inappropriate) makes it difficult to think clearly, it is useful to consider the German word for memorials: denk mal (which roughly translates into thought object).

That said, there is reason to fear that historical displays are getting ever more sleek and seductive. In Washington, DC, there are two great museums that exemplify this concern: the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and the Newseum. While the Holocaust Museum affords visitors an intense experience, and opportunities to reflect on the Holocaust in varied and meaningful ways, it is so well put together that it is very difficult to “pull back the curtains” and think about the choices made by creators and curators. The Newseum affords almost no opportunity to think critically about the role of the press in a democracy; instead, it celebrates the press and offers hagiography. While there is much to admire in the American media landscape, there are also serious deficiencies (reporting on drones, civilian casualties in Iraq and Afghanistan and the rationale for being in Iraq in the first place, just to name a few). That I like the Holocaust Museum and am disappointed by the Newseum speaks only to my bias; there are countless other sleek historical products available for students to consume all across the country, from the innocuous (the Experience Music Project) to the potentially harmful (the U.S. Constitution Center [where visitors literally drown in the progress and freedom narratives] and the aforementioned Newseum). It is becoming increasingly difficult for the field of critical pedagogy, underfunded and inward looking as it is, to keep up.

Seductive narratives

Ultimately, this reliance on narrative simplification diminishes the potential of history as preparation for democratic citizenship within each of the four stances: It can lead students to narrow their conception of what counts as a "true" American, to dismiss the suffering of victims of progress, to omit important information from historical displays, and to misconstrue the causes and consequences of historical events.

Keith Barton and Linda Levstik

Teaching History for the Common Good

pg. 146

In this passage, Barton and Levstik succinctly lay out their concerns about the overuse of narrative in history and social studies instruction. Specifically, they argue that the overuse of narrative diminishes the ability of students to think critically about counter-narratives, meaningful relationships between structures and characters outside the articulated narrative and those within it, and about the efforts necessary to achieve a result that the narrative may construe as inevitable. Additionally, narratives, because of their tidiness and their tendency to highlight progress, leave little room to examine the lives of those who may have been harmed or left out by the ‘progress’.

The sense of inevitability that narrative can create obscures the work of citizens in the struggle to create meaningful change. It also hides the work of those who may have actively sought to oppose those changes. For example, the efforts of those who opposed the civil rights movement, such as newspapers, business owners, state officials and the FBI, are little mentioned during most narratives about the work of Martin Luther King, John Lewis, Roy Wilkins and others. While it is not a fundamental demand of democratic education that students spend massive amounts of time studying the misdeeds of businesses and institutions (although to the extent that those institutions continue to exert influence in U.S. democracy, this would not be a waste of time), it is important that students evaluate the interests and tactics of those who shape government decision making. Narratives obstruct this effort.

Although I have spent a bit of time thinking about the danger of oversimplified narratives, of dominant narratives and of the ‘wrong’ narratives, I had never previously stopped to consider that narratives themselves, if overused, could pose a risk. That the narratives commonly used in history courses tend to damage students ability to think critically is hardly surprising; that the use of narratives generally causes us to think in a certain way, to react a certain way to a set of data and events, is troubling.

However, the focus on ‘thinking like a historian’ may not be sufficient to correct this problem. In many ways, thinking like a historian is about constructing narratives. That Lesh does not tell his students the stories of history is assuredly a step in the right direction. However, most of the examples offered in his book, Why Won’t You Just Tell Us the Answers shift the burden of narrative making from teacher or text to students. This does not mean that students are likely to become less focused on narratives. While understanding that there can be multiple narratives that explain the same event(s) is a positive step, the ability to stand back, to examine the state of affairs in a given situation, is not likely to be enhanced by Lesh’s approach.

Perhaps instead of thinking like a historian, students should be aided in thinking like citizens. Citizens, in order to be effective, should engage in thinking about structures of power, of finance, of politics and of social order. Power mapping a community (or an era) would be a meaningful way to engage in the type of teaching common in Northern Ireland (where narrative is less central) while still keeping an eye on concerns of politics, power and democracy. Questions that drive historical thought are useful to guide the thought processes of citizens; however, an important question from law is often overlooked: cui bono?

The struggle for meaning and the utility of knowledge

Excerpt from Why Won't You Just Tell Us the Answer, by Bruce Lesh (p. 14)

The proposition that history is about questions often generates the refrain, "How can students think critically until they know something to think about?" If this were the case, then no one could ever think critically until they reached the upper levels of graduate school. The refrain is an excuse. "The notion that students must be given facts and then at some distant time in the future they will 'think about them,'" argued University of California at Berkeley historian Charles Sellers, "is both a cover-up and a perversion of pedagogy...One does not collect facts he does not need, hang onto them, and the[n] stumble across some propitious moment to use them. One is first perplexed by a problem and then makes use of the facts to achieve a solution."

This excerpt lays bare one of the fundamental problems with the way that we think about history. The link between studying history and being a successful contestant on Jeopardy! seems to be stronger than the link between studying history and being a critically, meaningfully engaged participant in American democracy. This passage also clearly shows what animates Bruce Lesh’s work. Lesh is concerned with identifying questions that will foster student curiosity and engagement, and also questions that will help students see that history is more a way of thinking (and reasoning and arguing) than it is a body of knowledge.

It is precisely this common misconception that Bruce Lesh seeks to address in his teaching and in his work.  Lesh begins from the position that history is an argument and a quest to find the best answers for some of our most difficult questions. Therefore, he writes, it is the responsibility of the teacher to identify and develop questions that will help students to become better historical thinkers. Lesh provides meaningful criteria to use in developing and evaluating good questions; these criteria address importance, debatability, amount of content covered, ability to generate and hold student interest, appropriate match to materials, challenge and historical concept addressed. These criteria leave room for many different types of investigations, discussions and debates in any history course.

If you want to build a ship, do not gather your people to give them orders, to explain every detail, to tell them where to find everything ... If you want to build a ship, inspire in the hearts of your people a desire for the sea.

-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The first people had questions, and they were free. The second people had answers, and they became enslaved.

-The Earth Wisdom Teachings

In some respects, Lesh’s work is hardly groundbreaking. It aligns nicely with much of what is in the NCSS Handbook and also with older works such as Teaching Democracy by Being Democratic. In fact, it has significant overlap with Dianna Hess’s Controversies in the Classroom that was published several years earlier. Read a different way, however, this book is quite refreshing. It is the story of a teacher actually doing the work that many researchers have spent time talking about. It is nice to see how this approach to history can and should look in the classroom and I suspect that many teachers will be glad to have a set of issues and questions from which to borrow.

In many ways, Lesh’s work aligns with my pedagogical commitments and my beliefs about the purposes of education, particularly social studies education. Lesh focuses intently on helping students develop critical thinking skills and on teaching students that ‘history’ is not a settled matter. However, there are two other concerns that I do not know are sufficiently dealt with by Lesh. One is the same problem that confronts teachers of all disciplines: given that a very small amount of your students will grow up to be scientists/mathematicians/historians/writers how do you determine what will be useful in the long-term? For social studies, the focus on the long-term inevitably brings us back to the goal of creating thoughtful, engaged citizens. While this is a likely byproduct of Lesh’s work, it is not a central aim. I would suggest that “likelihood to advance citizenship” be included as an eighth criterion for determining questions for use.

Secondly, I am concerned that Lesh overlooks the importance of helping students to see that they live in a historical era. We recently discussed the question of America being an ‘ahistorical’ society in class. There seemed to be broad agreement that America is not ahistorical in that it is not a nation that ignores its own history. Americans study their genealogy and are fascinated by local histories and by events like the Civil War. However, we may be ahistorical in another, far more disconcerting sense. Too many Americans believe that where we are in the arc of human development today is somehow an arrival point. Fukuyama wrote an essay on the end of history and, at the time he wrote it, was quite serious about the idea that history had happened and now we had arrived. Clearly, it was a silly premise, and now Fukuyama pretends that that isn’t what he meant the first time; however, that idea that we are in a period that is not capable of being shaped by historical forces (human action) exists and is quite pernicious. I don’t believe that Lesh’s work gives sufficient weight to this concern.