I just finished teaching a unit about World War II to fourth graders.
It made me really happy. Happier than anything academic (or work-related) had made me in a long time.
I spent most of college taking history classes.
I took the core classes I needed, I took my education classes, and anytime I needed extra credits, I took history classes. So many, in fact, that I built up a Minor. I just never finished it because I had to do some project or something to finalize it and student-teaching-is-really-hard-work-and-I-had-other-things-to-worry-about-in-May-of-2008. So I ended up with a "concentration" in History and I'm certified to teach Social Studies.
Me in front of Paul Revere's house, Boston 2011 |
I pride myself on teaching history to my students. If I never have another teaching job again, I'll be satisfied and proud to know that I taught them the real story behind Columbus Day, and I taught them about the Holocaust and what a nut job Hitler was and how Germany let him come to power. These students called Anne Frank both "pretty" and "awesome" and now they want to read her diary. I'll be happy that I read them Farmer Boy and that I explained what Japanese internment camps were and why they existed. I'll be pleased that they now know who Paul Revere is. I'll be thrilled when they can tell others that "people" originated in the Middle East and migrated to North America via a land bridge that connected Russia to Alaska.
Who's showed the kids primary and secondary sources about the sinking of the Titanic?? That's right. This girl.
Me on the Mayflower replica, Plymouth 2011 |
Their reaction to the protests and violence that accompanied the Civil Rights Movement? Priceless. I got to explain what segregation was and why it started to a group of kids who had no knowledge of such things. They never dreamed something like that was in their country's history. They were pretty appalled! (Which is actually a testament to how far we've come since the 1960s..)
When I see the kids reading I Survived: The Sinking of the Titanic (the "most-read" book from the bookshelf), I Survived: The Bombing of Pearl Harbor, or anything Dear America or American Girl, I get giddy inside. I always start a conversation with them about whatever historical fiction book they're reading. I want to answer their questions. I want to help them understand. The more they can make sense of it, the more the dots will connect. The more the dots connect, the more likely they are to want.to.keep.learning.
Granary Burial Ground, Boston, 2010 |
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In front of Laura Ingalls Wilder's house, Mansfield, MO, 2009 |
I'm so glad that I got to teach them just a little bit of world history before fourth grade was over. Just yesterday a student told me how she downloaded the Diary of Anne Frank onto her mom's Kindle and watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas over the weekend. Be still my heart. My purpose has been served.
So what about you? Do you know your history? I'll try not to judge you if you don't. After all, I can't do math.