A few years ago, I taught a first-year university level World History course.  It was scheduled for 8:30 on a Monday morning and, as might be expected, the lecture attendance was low. There were, however, a few very committed students.  They would show up to lecture, take notes, and ask great questions.  It was those students who kept me going.  As I recall, only a minority of them were history majors.  The rest were students majoring in Public Affairs, Economics, Journalism, and the other areas of study that they believed were ‘useful’ and would help them ‘get jobs.’

At the end of the academic year, a number of these very keen students were to be awarded Certificates of Excellence at the annual undergraduate colloquium organized by the Department of History.  They all showed up and also attended the reception that made it possible for them to informally mingle with faculty members.  As I would find out, for the students, it was an opportunity to ask questions that they did not feel comfortable asking a professor in a classroom setting.

It was an important turning point in how I would approach my work in the classroom.  It was the moment when I began to think about teaching history radically.

One of those students – let’s call him ‘The Very Bright Student from Public Affairs with a Knack for History” – came up to me and said, very respectfully, something along the lines of “Professor – I really liked your course, but I need to ask you a question… What was the point of learning everything you taught us in that class?”  As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded.  I don’t recall my answer at this point, but I do know that I have often reflected on that moment.  Unknowingly, that student had alerted me to the fact that I had committed a major pedagogical “fail”. Over several months, I taught some very keen students and, at the end of their time with me, they left wondering about the relevance of what they had learnt.

That student was essentially saying, “I liked your course but you didn’t teach me how to use the historical knowledge I now have.” He was letting me know that I didn’t show him how, as a student majoring in Public Affairs, his historical knowledge was to be applied. As you might imagine, it was an important turning point in how I would approach my work in the classroom.  It was the moment when I began to think about teaching history radically.

Just so there is no confusion, I want to be clear about what I mean by ‘teaching history radically.’  I am talking about employing a pedagogical approach that exposes students to the ways in which historical knowledge and methodologies can be used for social transformation.  This means teaching history in a way so that students understand how it is applied beyond the boundaries of history as a discipline.  So what does that look like?

Below are 4 elements that need to be included in a radical teaching agenda:

1.  Never neglect the non-history majors.

In some ways, our responsibility as educators to non-majors is even more burdensome than the responsibility we have to history majors.  Students who major in history will take many history courses and will perhaps go on to graduate school.  The non-history majors from economics, political science, and journalism (for example) may only ever take the one course you are teaching them.  And heaven knows, if there is anything the world needs right now, it is more non-historians who understand the value of history.  Even better, if those people are economists, politicians, and journalists.  Never forget the non-majors.  We need them to understand how history works.

2.  Teach students what history is not.

Students enroll in history courses with all sorts of pre-conceived (flawed) ideas about the discipline.  Dedicate class time to confronting those ideas and disabuse your students of them.  Show them what history is not, so that you can educate them about what history actually is … I’ve created a list called What History is Not that you might find useful for your students.  Please feel free to use it in the classroom and to share it with your students.  You can download it below.

3.  Show the (mis)applications of history

I recognize this particular item might be controversial – but I’ll take the flack and include it because evidently the world is going to hell in a handbasket: people across the globe are proudly using the Swastika as a symbol of their personal politics; apologists for colonialism are making themselves known; and, the defenders of all acts racist, sexist, and xenophobic have left the underworld to hold political office.  Planet earth has been here before and to have to battle all this again is, quite frankly, tiresome.  Personally, I would rather put these issues to bed and start battling other challenges.  But to repeat an oft-used saying: “If you keep doing what you’ve always done, you’ll keep getting what you’ve always got.”  Clearly, historians need to ask themselves why we are going down this road again and why we have not been effective in arresting it. The answer to that question – I believe – can be found by engaging with the conversations that are taking place beyond the parameters of our disciplinary practice.  More to the point, we also need to take these engagements to our classrooms.  Students need to be shown how politicians, policymakers, journalists (among others) have used and abused narratives of the past in support of a point of view or to advance a particular agenda.  Never again should a student leave a history course asking “What was the point of learning all this?”

4. Teach less content and more discernment.

Let’s be absolutely clear about one thing:  The ground has shifted beneath us.  It is a case of “adapt or die”.  Forgive my tendency for hyperbole, but it’s warranted in this case.  We are not our students. Their professors still read the printed book.  They read our syllabi on their cell phone. You can thank or blame Google for that difference but the problem remains the same.  University students access information differently and many of them digest information indiscriminately. Much class time is used sharing content and helping students develop the skills to construct historical narratives.  Less time is spent teaching students how to deconstruct narratives of the past.  There is an urgent need to prioritize teaching our students how to see the flaws in the historical interpretations that they find on random websites, embedded in journalism, informing political debates, and woven into policy discourses.  How this is done needs to be addressed directly in the classroom and standing at the podium as we pontificate interpretations of the past does little to remedy the situation.  We need strategies to teach students how to discern which historical assumptions and narratives are worthy of their consideration and reflection.

Interested in more articles like this?  Don’t forget to subscribe!

Audra A. Diptée.

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