The Second Shelf and Beyond
In elementary school, Kathryn Hill itched to move beyond the first shelf of the library books. When she finally reached the second shelf, a new world awaited her: biographies of historical figures. The lives of women such as Harriet Beecher Stowe, Harriet Tubman, and Dorothea Dix led her to understand that history was all about stories. She realized that her own life “needed to be about something”—and that it could be.
Biographies of historical figures such as Harriet Tubman and Dorothea Dix
Kathryn Hill, President, The Levine Museum of the New South
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The Emancipation Act of 1834 and our Shared Freedom Story
“To be honest, I’m glad my family didn’t go to America. We ended slavery 30 years earlier. What were YOU guys thinking?”
Our Bajan tour guide of St. Nicholas Abbey told us this as we walked through the sugarcane plantation house. She chuckled, and we along with her, albeit awkwardly. She was right, too; the day before, our research group got to actually leaf through the Emancipation Act of 1834, the physical document that started the process of freedom in Barbados. THE original document! We all casually crowded around the pages and touched them with are bare hands. Compare that with the Declaration of Independence, which literally had a whole movie made about how impossible it would be to steal that document.
The concepts of freedom and liberation are remarkable, almost overwhelming to think about. As such I, along with many others, anchor these to our own experiences. I interact with freedom and liberation in an uniquely American way; I talk about the First Amendment with my US History students, and we discuss the Emancipation Proclamation as a seminal moment in the American story. However, sometimes this lens leads me to think that freedom itself is uniquely American. When I hear the word freedom, and mind immediately jumps to the Stars and Stripes. This, of course, is ridiculous. We didn’t invent freedom; in fact, we were pretty late to the party.
The communities we grew up in shape our worldview. Often, they give us a nearsightedness with regards to monumental events and processes. There are freedom stories from all over the world; it is our job, as global citizens, to learn and grow from them. Therefore, we can better understand and appreciate how each of our communities’ narratives fits within a far greater, and far richer, story.
The Emancipation Act of 1834
June 2018
Chris Cantone, 24, US History and World History I teacher at Albemarle High School in Albemarle County, Virginia
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Perspectives on Commemorating the Vietnam War
“There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies.” - Martin Luther King, Jr.
The idea of “contested territories”, which we have wrestled with this week, can apply to how the war is remembered and commemorated too. My humanities moment came in a group discussion this week with Quynh, a Vietnamese professor. We were discussing the idea of the Vietnam War Memorial as a teaching tool and I asked her if there was a similar monument in Vietnam. She immediately said yes, there is: Sơn Mỹ. She showed me a picture of a monument that I assumed had the names of Vietnamese soldiers until she handed me a piece of paper with the words “Mỹ Lai Massacre”. I realized this monument contained the names of more than 500 civilians killed by U.S. soldiers in the Sơn Mỹ district in 1968. At first, in my mind, I rejected the idea that this monument could be like the Vietnam War Memorial displaying the names of all the Americans killed in the war. I didn’t want to equate a Vietnamese monument to Mỹ Lai, one of the worst events in the war, with the Wall. But I came to understand that in some ways the monuments are similar. The war made victims of both sides.
July 24, 2018
Laura Wakefield, History Educator
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Statues and the Shapeshifting of History
As a young girl visiting Vicksburg, Mississippi, Julia Nguyen encountered a Civil War statue. It altered not only the way she understands history, but the way she thinks about that very concept.
Civil War statue in Vicksburg, Mississippi
Julia Nguyen, historian and grant-maker
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Nola
My Humanities Moment occurred in 2005, the year that hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast. I lived in New Orleans pre-and-post Katrina and lost my house to the “Great Deluge.” I helplessly watched 85% of New Orleans proper fill up with water due to the 28 levee breaches throughout the city. The widespread flooding in New Orleans and other Gulf Coast communities in 2005 caused nearly 1,400 deaths and forced several hundred thousand people from their homes. Americans watching television were shocked by the plight of residents stranded by the flooding: the squalid conditions in the evacuation centers, the lawlessness in the streets of New Orleans, and above all the unsatisfactory response of emergency management officials. Frankly, I didn’t fully appreciate New Orleans until I almost lost her.
Prior to Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans residents typically evacuated in a haphazard manner, sometimes packing important documents, gassing up the car, or simply seeking refuge in a neighborhood bar to ride out the storm with other strangers. Dealing with hurricanes was a way of life in New Orleans, a rite of passage for a transplant like me. In fact, I didn’t take Hurricane Katrina seriously and only chose to evacuate last minute after a friend cautioned me to “not just walk to the Superdome as a backup plan.” I eventually evacuated to Delaware to be with family and to attend the University of Delaware because Tulane University experienced extensive flooding. While I experienced incredible demonstrations of generosity, I equally encountered numerous insensitive and ignorant people, whom upon hearing I was from New Orleans, rudely questioned why I lived in a “fish bowl.” I distinctly recall one moment in which a stranger suggested that New Orleans be completely bull dozed and its residents be forced to migrate to higher ground. In the eyes of this naysayer, New Orleans didn’t matter. It was in this moment that I finally appreciated New Orleans for all its flaws and that it was a city worth fighting for.
2005
Melissa Tracy, 34, Social Studies Teacher
nola
Visiting the Mashantucket Pequot Museum and Research Center, Connecticut
My humanities moment occurred while visiting the Mashantucket Pequot Museum and Research Center in Connecticut.
This was my second to visit to this amazing museum and research center. I had stumbled upon it about 10 years ago when studying at Brown University in Rhode Island. A National Park tour guide at another site had seen my interest in Native American studies and had asked me if I had ever visited the Pequot Museum. I told him this was my first visit up to New England and had not heard of the museum. I had an extra empty day in my schedule, so headed out towards Connecticut to visit the museum. I remember being struck by the point of view of the events displayed in the museum and realized quickly that I would need to return for a much longer visit.
This summer, I decided to take my family to visit this museum. My family consists of 3 young boys (ages 10 years to 2 years). I wanted them to see the point of view of the Native Americans from a young age. My boys were very engrossed in the exhibits! It is always eye opening to see historical events from a young child's eyes. The museum is organized by historical time period where you take a self-guided tour starting with the Ice Age and going through modern times. My boys were fascinated by the hunter and gatherer exhibits and then by the Pequot Wars. They asked tons of questions and we spent a lot more time in the exhibits than I thought they would. Even my 2 year old stayed engaged throughout our entire visit. One thing my family and I loved about the museum is that their cafe serves food from that culture. By eating a delicious lunch, we learned about the native foods and plants of the area.
Personally, what really struck me about my first visit was the Pequot War. The movie is extraordinary and a 'must see.' So for my second visit, even though the sign said not to take small children in to the theater because of the content, I did take my children in and they were awestruck by the events. My second son is autistic and I worried about him watching the video with his sensory issues, but he is the one that probably took away the most from the video and asked me many in-depth questions afterwards.
What struck me the most about my second visit was a short video about the Wampum beads that were used as currency and as jewelry. The display after the video really showed the usage of these beads and I was struck that they worked with this delicate material by hand. It truly shows the focus and skills of the Pequot culture.
Mashantucket Pequot Museum and Research Center, Connecticut
Summer 2019
Cheryl Gannaway, 39, High School Teacher
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The Power of a Perspective Change
In my first semester as a history grad student, I remember reading an assigned book that changed my perspective on history forever. Prior to grad school, I had a very basic and foundation building education at that point. Looking back to my undergraduate years in a history program, I realized now how traditional the views and sources were. It wasn't until I entered my grad school program that I realized how much more open the field of history has been in recent history with its intersectionality and fresh perspectives in modern scholarship. <br /><br />I had a moment that completely deconstructed my idea of U.S. History when I was participating in our class discussion on Daniel K. Richter's <em>Facing East from Indian Country</em>. In the book's introduction, Richter shares a narrative of a moment he had in a St. Louis hotel room overlooking the famous Arch structure and thought to himself what if we viewed U.S. history facing east instead of facing west? That simple perspective shift upended my grade school education and historical upbringing as a young student. No longer was the story driven and told simply from the powerful and oppressive sources. The victims of the powerful were now being told that there was value to their stories and provide a fuller understanding of history. <br /><br />Richter shares the historical problem of the lack of primary sources from American Indians but still attempts to share a narrative with their perspectives at the center. He uses an unconventional method of sourcing to achieve his goals and provides an alternative history that highlights the pain and brokenness that European colonization has caused in North America. As an educator and historian, I am inspired by Richter's work and methodology and I hope to create learning experiences for my students that will not only inform them of the traditionally missing voices in history but also share with them the new ways that the field of history has been trying to create a fuller, more accurate and balanced history that will hopefully inspire them to do the same in their futures.
Daniel K. Richter
<em>Facing East from Indian Country</em>
Fall 2017
Michelle Lukacs, 30, Social Studies Secondary Teacher
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The Day I Knew I Was Going to Teach History
In what has become a defining moment of my entire life, my first true humanities moment provided clarity and direction for my future in the midst of all things awkward about being a middle school student.
Doing well in school was a safety net for me. The excitement of learning new things and the validation that came with "good grades" and being a teacher's pet type person were anchors in a time of social and hormonal upheaval and a family move the summer before 8th grade. If I was going to be at a new school, at least I knew I would do well in my classes, (failing math for a grading period, not withstanding, I mean, this isn't my "math moment," it's my humanities moment). My 8th grade US History and language arts teacher, Mrs. Batsford, was young and energetic, and seemed to genuinely like us and think we were fun humans. Now, after teaching 9th graders for 20 years, I know just how special that was. But it was the creativity with which Mrs. Batsford presented content that really created my humanities moment.
One day while studying the Civil War, Mrs. Batsford had us spend an entire class period constructing a "city" out of empty milk cartons. She gave us no context or explanation for this craft project, just set us to work. The next day, our city was complete and laid out on a large table. She came out from behind her desk and I watched in shock as she climbed up on top of the table wearing big laced-up boots with her early 90's long floral dress. Without a word, she began stomping all over our milk carton city with her big giant boots, flattening every single little crafted square while we watching with our mouths hanging open. Her destruction complete, she daintily got back down from the table and said, "that's what happened during Sherman's march to the sea."
I was floored. I couldn't believe a teacher would behave in such a demonstrative manner and do something that seemed so brash, just for the purpose of helping us understand something. In that instant I knew that was what I wanted to do. I wanted to help students learn history with a little drama and a lot of storytelling. I began on a path that day, that has guided my steps from 8th grade to now, a 21 year veteran of teaching history. Later I learned that Mrs. Batsford's dramatized version of razing cities to the ground was not quite the real story of what happened during that episode of the Civil War. That never diminished the importance of this moment and what it showed me about how people can connect with history. She made me want to learn more. And that is certainly a legacy worth striving for.
8th grade US History class
1991
Kim Karayannis, FCPS Social Studies teacher
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