Too many students leave high school never having been challenged to write one scholarly essay. This is terrible preparation for college.10 It is also poor preparation for life. Many jobs require nonfiction writing—from a job description, to instructions on how to use a product, to arguments for a new organizational policy. Furthermore, writing a nonfiction paper helps students be more discriminating in what they read. Once they understand how to compose a storyline, create the trappings of scholarship, and distinguish good writing from bad, they can critique others’ work with more authority.
Among my own list of 36 topics, “immigration and Americanization” seems particularly inviting as a term paper assignment. Each student can pick a different group. I would let two or even three students pick the same group if they wished. From some students I might require independent papers, while suggesting they talk with each other about what they are discovering. Others I might let work together, handing in a joint product with a specified division of labor so I knew who was doing what. Indeed, teachers may ask students to work in pairs or triads. They may group students who rarely speak in class or have been underachieving. Then at least one person in the group has to step up and perform, to avoid a fiasco. Alternatively, weaker students can be grouped with stronger ones. Then the former can see what excellent work looks like and experience success at least this once, while the latter can mentor the former. One way to ensure that every student works is to devise a different role for each member, such as hard copy researcher, web researcher, and writer, for a triad. Another is to share at the beginning a one-page form for students to evaluate their group’s work, their own contribution, and that of the other members.11
Textbooks handle some topics so badly that they leave them wide open to student efforts. Among the subjects that most textbooks treat poorly are the arrival of the people who became Native Americans, various possible pre-Columbian explorers, diverse American Indian societies, the Nadir of race relations, and labor unions. For example, A History of the United States, by Daniel Boorstin and Brooks Kelley, supplies just four pages on Native American societies before European contact. This is about the same as what they grant to two explorers, Magellan and Cartier, who never even reached what is now the U.S.12 Students might conclude that such skimpy coverage won’t do. They could then jointly construct a chapter on American Indians to supplement their textbook. This might be done as a wiki, a dedicated website where all students (and the teacher) participate. Wikis allow students to collaborate to create a better treatment of the topic while maintaining a log so the teacher can keep track of who contributed what. Near the end of the school year, the teacher might print out the result as a resource for next year’s students, especially for those who cannot access the web at home. The class might also send it to the publisher of their textbook, along with a letter explaining why they felt the need to construct it. Students might write coordinated local history papers that combine to show how a major topic played out at home. Each student might pick a labor union in the community, for example, learn about its history, and write it up, following a uniform structure. Bound together at a copy shop, the results form a “book” worth placing in the local history collection of the community library, as well as a resource for future students.
Many guides exist to help students write papers. These range from a one-page list of do’s on the web (“How to Write a History Paper,” history1900s.about.com/c/ht/00/07/How_Write_History_Paper0962934264.htm, 2/2008) to entire (small) books, including one, Jules Benjamin’s A Student’s Guide to History, that is available for free in a shorter version on the web.13 I won’t duplicate them here, except to note that students must understand that their paper needs to have a storyline, sometimes called a thesis or argument.14 The storyline is the paper’s reason for being, the message the student wants the reader to remember, the case s/he is trying to make.
Students may be unfamiliar with the notion that a history article might be trying to convince the reader of something. In a sense, most textbooks do not, after all.15 Thus, an immigration storyline like “Chinese people came to America; here is what you need to know about them” won’t do. “Brainstorming” can help show students the need for a storyline. Ask the student to put “Chinese come to America” at the top of a blank page and then write every question that comes quickly to mind about that topic. “How many came? Why did they come? Where did they go? What religion were they? What jobs did they do when they arrived? How did they change after they lived here?” and so on. Then help him/her see that the answer to almost any one of these questions—such as the last one—is a declarative sentence that can form the storyline of a good paper.
Another way to get students to understand the need for a storyline is to ask all of them to propose a paper on the same immigrant group—again, say, Chinese Americans—as an in-class exercise. Each must come up with his/her own storyline. Each student can do a few minutes of research on the group overnight, using the web, a few resources available within the classroom, or some help from the school librarian. The next day, they will bring in many different storylines. In class discussion, students can help each other see how some of these storylines are more usable or plausible than others.
Eliciting good papers requires a multistep process. Some people call this scaffolding. Early while students are working on their papers, teachers should ask for an opening paragraph and outline, complete with preliminary bibliography. Teachers as well as librarians can give bibliographic advice. They need not be experts on every topic and need not limit their suggestions to books and websites. Often a person is the best resource—maybe a member of the ethnic group who lives in the community, or a professor at a nearby university or community college.
Requiring an introductory paragraph and outline early can head off papers with no storylines, wrong storylines, or storylines so broad that they cannot possibly be handled in a term paper. Teachers must be clear about how to use and footnote sources, so students don’t veer toward plagiarism. They probably need to learn how to do footnotes. Teach them. Like any authors, most of the time students need to footnote the sources of the information that they are putting into their own words. Students need to realize that footnoting makes them look good, giving their work more authority.16
Students also need guidance on how and when to quote sources, how and when to summarize sources, and how and when to write with no sources at all. Most students quote far too much. Teachers may infer they are trying to avoid work, and some are. More often, students don’t understand that it’s OK to tell something in their own words. “What do I know about Chinese coming to America?” is their thinking, especially if they are not Chinese American. They need to understand that they are the creator of their storyline. The main reason to quote others is if they have said things so well that the student feels compelled to use their words. Also, they do not need to quote or footnote facts that are common knowledge, such as “Most Chinese entered the U.S. through Angel Island in San Francisco Bay.” Being clear at the beginning ensures that students don’t disappoint later on by amassing quotations by others (footnoted or not).
The National History Day competition demands that students understand the difference between primary and secondary material. So do some state history standards. Primary sources derive from the period under examination. They include not only private sources like diaries and letters, but also Supreme Court opinions, speeches, newspaper articles, census tables, photographs, illustrations done by someone who was there, and memoirs and oral history from participants. An example in this chapter is the quotation about Gone with the Wind by Olivia de Havilland. Secondary sources include standard histories like Eric Foner’s Reconstruction, mentioned earlier; biographies like Darden Pyron’s Southern Daughter, footnoted earlier; and illustrations like Theodore de Bry’s famous engravings of Native Americans on Haiti. De Bry never left Europe. He based his engravings on the writings of Spanish historians and published them almost a century after the events t
hey described, when no living witness remained alive who might validate or invalidate them. Secondary source material can play a critical role, especially for students, who usually do not know enough context to base their interpretations on primary sources alone.
The importance of primary materials can be overstated. Such sources are not intrinsically more reliable than secondary sources; indeed, often they are less reliable. After all, the actors in an event have vested interests to portray their own actions positively. Historians coming along ten or a hundred years later may be much less biased. Primary sources can also mystify students and put them off. Taking class time to figure out the references in a political cartoon or the abbreviations in a letter can make a primary source appear like an inviting puzzle rather than a baffling obstacle. Moreover, historical interpretations do build up, encrusted like barnacles upon a fragile bark of primary sources, so it’s a good idea to revisit the sources themselves. Students are well situated to generate primary sources by interviewing older residents in their community.
Midway through, require a first draft. Before students hand in their drafts, they should pair up, perhaps randomly, and swap papers for peer editing and suggestions. Students can be terrible editors, especially if they are reluctant to criticize their friend’s work and just say, “It’s fine.” What is needed is a “critiquing supportive environment.” Criticism without support is often too harsh to be heard, but support without criticism is useless. Teachers can help students learn to peer-edit by asking one or two students to do so in front of the class.17 After the editing suggestions, the class can critique the editing, adding further advice. After peer editing, some students may decide their draft needs more work before handing it in, even as a draft. With intermediate steps like these, the final deadline will not loom ominously, because students have been working with guidance, taking one step after another. Such a process also negates any chance of fraud, such as buying a paper off the web. The final deadline should come before the end of the school year, to allow time for revision by students who hand in inadequate work.
Bringing Families In
Teachers can invite parents of all social classes and ethnic groups into the process of doing history. All might be assets to their children. Ask them to come to a half-hour session in the evening, repeated on a weekend day, called “Parent Academy.”18 There they learn that their child is about to undertake a research project. That project might be critiquing their textbook’s treatment of a topic, assessing a historical marker or a movie, a group project, interviewing a family member (with a focus), writing a paper, setting up a website—whatever. More than one research project may be assigned during the year. Provide a one-page handout describing the task, listing and explaining the interior deadlines, telling why and how to cite sources, giving clear rules for working together, and suggesting sources of help.19
The more parents know about how to go about doing a research paper, the better. Then they become a resource and an ally for their child. Parents reinforce the idea that the task is important. Parents may appreciate knowing that during the days or weeks until this project is complete, their child always has homework in history. Parents can also help students understand the importance of the storyline, simply by asking their child, “What is your storyline?” This helps parents understand that history does not equal memorization, but involves organizing evidence, and so forth. Involving parents can also bring them on board in case their child’s topic involves controversial content.
At the Parent Academy, teachers can demystify web research by asking for a question from parents, then quickly searching for it. There will be missteps, of course, but that’s OK. Led along by the teacher, the group can then assess the websites found in this initial search. The point is not to do good research, but to introduce the research process and to show that it is doable. Although it is elementary and predates the web, the book Helping Your Child Learn History may be useful, especially for parents of younger students. It is in the public domain and is available online.20
Teachers can also set up a “research corner” available to parents or guardians as well as students. It might go in their classroom or in the library, shared with other teachers. In the research center, put:
a schedule of the steps in the overall research project, along with the guidelines for each step
a checklist complete with writing and organizational tips that students can apply to their semifinished drafts
a one-page list of useful websites
a list of places where students can go to learn more history. These include nearby historic sites, the community library, cooperating senior citizens centers, and the local college library if it will be receptive to pre-college students. If the school library can be open at least once a week after school hours, then every student has at least one option within reach
examples of good work by prior classes
materials students can use for displays, like foam board and construction paper
Teachers must not set up an assignment that depends upon family members, however, because some children simply cannot count on help from any relative. Making mentors available can help. Older students who did well in history the previous year can mentor. So can local college history majors, who might get internship credit for doing so. “Big brother” and “big sister” programs supply mentors. So do adult organizations; try Mentor, at mentoring.org/, a website that lists mentoring organizations within fifteen miles of one’s zip code. Senior citizens can be tapped, if they can write. Mentors need to understand their role. They do not write a single word of the project, but they critique and support it with suggestions from start to finish. They can make use of Parent Academy and the research corner and might even help set them up.
Doing local history helps level the playing field. Suddenly the student from Central America finds her background a help, not a hindrance. She can interview family members in Spanish, transcribe the result, and translate it into English. Already she has a terrific appendix to the paper she will write, and her own family’s experience helps provide a storyline.
Local History
A great way to get students doing history is to get them doing local history. Historians often consider local history to be the backwater of their profession. That’s due to interminable self-congratulatory coffee-table tomes that never say anything meaningful because they never say anything critical—like One Hundred Years of Progress: The Centennial History of Anna, Illinois.21 But local history does not have to be like that. All history is local. It happened here—in this town. The woman’s movement happened here. The Civil Rights Movement happened here—or if it did not, then the absence of African Americans or the absence of the movement is at least as important. People from this town supported (or perhaps opposed) the Korean War; people from this town went to Korea and may have been killed or wounded; today “the forgotten war,” as it is called, is forgotten (and also remembered) in this town. These and other national and international issues affected every community, and in turn the community played a role in our national response to these issues. Viewed this way, local history is neither local nor trivial.
For the last fifteen years, I’ve been studying local history nationally. My 1999 book Lies Across America examined 100 historic sites, at least one in every state, that presented the past poorly. These places treat such national matters as relations between American Indians and non-Indians, slavery, Reconstruction, the place of women in our society, and even our war against the Philippines—all in the context of local history. My more recent book, Sundown Towns, treated the roughly 10,000 communities, most in the North, that for decades were all-white on purpose (some still are). This phenomenon must be researched locally but matters nationally.
Another sort of local history can be equally significant. Consider a natural disaster—a flood, for example. Some disasters are so enormous as to be national events—Hurricane Katrina in 2005, for example, or perhaps the Great Chicago Fire of 1871.2
2 Smaller local disasters can be historically important, however, if the student historian makes them so by investigating important themes. A town’s response to a flood, for example, can reveal schisms in the community. After the great flood of 1927 inundated much of the Mississippi Delta, the alluvial floodplain between Vicksburg and Memphis, white leaders called in the National Guard to keep African American sharecroppers from fleeing and to force them to do relief work. This laid bare the state of peonage that many African Americans endured on plantations in those years.23 Alternatively, a community in disaster may pull together to mute and even moot its social divisions, at least temporarily. That, too, is interesting. An economic disaster, such as a plant closure, also provides a fine topic, because “micro” details like its impact on an individual family are as important as “macro” history like the globalization of the textile industry.
A field trip to the cemetery can provide an effective and structured way to begin doing local history. Jim Percoco, history teacher at West Springfield High School in Virginia, has his students visit Congressional Cemetery in Washington, D.C. Before they go, he supplies them with the names of famous people who are buried there, accompanied with an identifying phrase, such as “Pushmataha, Choctaw chief.” Each student signs up to learn about and prepare a short biography of one person who is buried in the cemetery. When the class tours the cemetery and reaches Pushmataha’s tombstone, the student who selected him makes him come alive for the class. Of course, Percoco has the advantage of living near our nation’s capital. But many schools are within field trip range of the state capital, or a major city, and not just New York or San Francisco. I searched the web for “famous” and “buried in Omaha,” for example, and came up with all kinds of interesting people in that Nebraska city. If the cemetery has no historical marker, students can propose one, complete with mention of a few of its most distinguished residents.
Teaching What Really Happened: How to Avoid the Tyranny of Textbooks and Get Students Excited About Doing History Page 14