Critical Thinking in Social Studies: King Arthur
By
Dayna Hart, M.Ed, B.A.
Chapter Two: Literature Review
Chapter Four: Instuctional Unit
Chapter Five: Overview, Evaluation and Future Considerations
Chapter Two: Literature Review of History and Historical Narrative
History of History
Through the course of time, the discipline of history has changed drastically. Originally, history was passed from generation to generation through storytelling. In oral cultures, these stories were highly valued because it was recognized that they contained precious information such as cultural knowledge and values. Silko (1981) writes: “As with any generation, the oral tradition depends upon each person listening and remembering a portion, and it is together – all of us remembering what we have heard together – that creates the whole story, the long story of the people” (as cited in Norum, 2000, pp. 6-7). Collectively, the multiple perspectives were distilled into some description of events and possible causes; however, these knowledge claims always contained some degree of uncertainty. Incomplete collections and poor interpretations of the stories collected lead to inaccurate knowledge claims – myths and legends.
Questions of the historical validity of myths and legends arise in response to their containing elements of the supernatural. In myths, this element is often the inclusion of anything from Gods to tricksters. For example, in many First Nations stories, coyote, the trickster, plays an important role. “Without his meddling interference, life would be much easier and pleasanter – yet he is credited with the introduction of fire, agriculture and snow” (McCaughrean, 1999, p. 222). Over time, the stories may have changed slightly, to suit the teller and fit the audience.
The stories sometimes changed from telling to telling, for they were recorded only in the memory of the poet. As a story became more familiar and beloved by a group, and so became a part of the cultural heritage they wished to pass on to their children and grandchildren, many young people would be given the task of committing a whole poem…to memory (Bennett & Kerr, 1966, p. 4).
However, despite the variations on the stories, the central theme of the narrative persists.
In many cultures, oral history contained a sense of gossip-like intrigue that carried over to the early writings of history. According to the accounts of war between the Greeks and the Persians, for example, one woman caused the wars: Helen of Troy. Herodotus, who is considered the father of History, attempted to write a factual account of the relations between Greece and Persia to counter Homer’s Iliad. In his book,
The Histories, Herodotus contends that Helen was, in fact, not kidnapped;
abducting young women, in [the Greeks] opinion, is not, indeed, a lawful act; but it is stupid after the event to make a fuss about it. The only sensible thing is to take no notice; for it is obvious that no young woman allows herself to be abducted if she does not wish to be (Trans. 1954, p. 2).
Herodotus (Trans. 1954) supports his belief through oral history: “I questioned the priests about the story of Helen” (p. 114) and lines from Homer: “Homer makes it quite clear in these passages that he knew about Paris going out of his way to Egypt” (p. 118). Yet, as Arnold (2000) points out, “much of the history he tells concerns tales we would find unbelievable…These stories, and others are mixed up with what we would recognize as a more ‘factual’ political history (pp. 16-17). History during the classical age was not a defined discipline; instead, it was seen as a lesser writing form. Interestingly, in The Histories, Herodotus’ voice is clearly present through his use of the first person narrative. In addition, he acknowledges that there are different versions of the same history: “this, according to the Persian account (the Greeks have a different story)” (Trans. 1954, p. 1). What is intriguing about this historic example of Persian and Greek relations however, is that Homer’s account, the more romantic and intriguing version, is what has survived. Helen of Troy has become part of our popular culture version of history.
By the Middle Ages, however, the tone of historical accounts had changed for God prevailed. Christian historians saw events in man’s history as mere stages toward the inevitable: the Apocalypse (Arnold, 2000). “Owing to Medieval man’s concentration upon the ‘vertical’ link between the individual and God. …Medieval man lacked an adequate conceptual instrument for understanding the social world he was living in” (Ankersmit, 1994, p. 78). The histories from this period often carry a slightly mystical tone to them, as if the invisible hand of God is at play in their creation. In The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, for example, there is an account of Eustace and his reign as monarch;
he believed that he would obtain Normandy thereby, but he prospered little, and quite justly, for he was an evil man; wherever he came he did more evil than good…Christ would not have it that he should reign long, and both he and his mother died (p. 272).
Entries in historical documents such as this entry reveal peoples’ belief in God’s omnipresence.
Out of the devout beliefs in God during Middle Ages rise the accounts of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. The Arthurian legends have a religious sub-text to them as well, for Arthur’s main quest is to find the Holy Grail of Christ. Arthur himself has Christ-like qualities; he is the peoples’ king and is often called the once and future king. It is believed Arthur can, and will, return in England’s hour of need.
With the dawn of the Enlightenment, historiography moved away from having religious overtones to having scientific overtones. Science was now supreme. Yet, historians treaded carefully, not having God to please, but monarchs instead. However, the scientific Renaissance that was occurring meant that historians had to base their chronologies on facts, and attempt to discover the truth. It is from this era that science became the champion of all disciplines; science could unlock the secrets of the universe. History began its struggle to be recognized as either a part of the sciences, or at least its equal, because science had become what society looked toward to gauge itself. The desire to uncover the truth was still much alive at the end of the 19th century. Ranke, a pillar in history writing, believed historians should be objective in reconfiguring the facts. He demanded “that historians could and should produce a ‘scientific’ and objective history if they returned to the documentary archives. His philosophy of history is encapsulated in a much quoted phrase: “only to say, how it really was” (Arnold, 2000, p. 36).
The 20th century found historians grappling once again with the shape of their discipline. As Roberts (1995) points out, historians had always been questioning their practice; however, this time the criticism was not fleeting. Rather it would force the discipline to change. Carr’s (1961) What is History? led the debate that pinnacled with H. White’s (1973) landmark Metahistory. Suddenly, as the role of the historian came under attack and the lack of philosophy was questioned, the discipline of history was forced to stop examining the world and look at itself. Thus, the new history, or as Ankersmit (1994) refers to it “narrativism”, was created, forcing historians to examine their own language. Narrativism reveals that story had in fact never disappeared from the study of history, rather it had manifested itself in the narrative of the historian.
Narrativism
Often, when reading a historical text, the voice of the historian is invisible, and the account reads more like a factual, almost scientific, text rather than an interpretation of events. “Historical writers need to find a way of making themselves visible in their narrative, not out of self-indulgence but as a warning to the reader that they are not omniscient or impartial – that other interpretations besides theirs are possible” (Burke, 1991, p. 239). This is especially true in social studies textbooks where information is often presented in a matter of fact, one-sided, perspective. For example, in the grade eight social studies textbook, Joan of Arc receives a page; a third of which contains a primary source (a letter she dictated), just less than a third a picture, and the remainder, text constructed by a historian. Cranny (1997) writes:
In 1429, seven years after the death of Henry V, a seventeen-year-old peasant girl named Joan of Arc appeared at the French court claiming that angelic voices had commanded her to drive the English out of France. The dauphin was skeptical at first…Young Joan, brimming with confidence and flying her white banner, was an inspirational leader.
(emphasis original, pg. 148)
The third person writing style gives the reader no reason to question the entry, and Cranny does not suggest that there is any other way to interpret the history of Joan of Arc. Other than the statements “claiming that angelic voices had commanded her” and “the dauphin was skeptical at first” there is nothing to question Joan’s sanity or the political forces at work behind the scenes. Historians would probably argue that an entry in a grade eight social studies textbook is not the definitive biography of Joan of Arc. However, textbooks are the main source from which students are learning about history, history writing and historical events. The omniscient narration means that students’ first and, perhaps, only encounter with the topic of Joan of Arc does not critically engage them in piecing together Joan’s personality for themselves.
H. White (1973) proposes that even though historical accounts appear not to have a distinct narrator, historians actually use four different narrative styles, or “modes of emplotment” (p. 7). Historians use either the genre of romance, tragedy, comedy, or satire, but, they are not restricted to using only one form; in fact, “a given historical account is likely to contain stories cast in one mode as aspects or phases of the whole set of stories emplotted in another mode” (H. White, 1973, p. 7). Indeed this is true, even of Social Studies textbooks. The genres of romance and satire are polar opposites, as the romantic emplotment traces the hero in his victorious quest, while the satirical genre documents the individual’s inability to conquer the world around him. As with romance and satire, comedy and tragedy can be viewed as opposites of each other. Tragedy tends to focus on a person with potential greatness who has befallen a series of unfortunate events while comedy uses a series of conflicts to illustrate change and transformation. While historians are not limited to one genre, the Social Studies textbook entry concerning Joan of Arc is written in one mode of emplotment.
A reexamination of the entry for Joan of Arc reveals that the romantic mode is used, because the writer uses the term “angelic” and the phrase “brimming with confidence.” The chosen words and the style of the piece suggest that Cranny views Joan of Arc as a positive, heroic figure who represents light in a time of darkness. This may seem obvious to the informed, critical reader who is well briefed in the area of Joan of Arc, or is looking specifically at the historians’ narrative; however, for others, this is less apparent.
Historians not only write history in a certain style, but also transport history from one time period to another, the present. “What the historian essentially does is translate the text of the past into the narrative text of the historian” (Ankersmit, 1994, p. 64). Thus, history texts not only tell readers about the period studied, but also about the period in which the text was written. An example of this is John Jewitt’s description of the time he spent imprisoned by Chief Maquinna of the Nuu-chah-nulth people: a piece annotated and illustrated by Stewart (1987). The Jewitt document is important because it is a written account about life inside a First Nation community at the outset of the 19th century. The Stewart edition is also interesting to the historian because it dates from the 1980s and thus, it too is a historical document. From comparing the two, readers see that some of Stewart’s annotations and illustrations are dated and in fact, sometimes inaccurate.
The journal is insightful, because Jewitt’s retelling shows his bias and racism, and the large gap between the two cultures. Historians never create an accurate or exact recreation of historical events. Instead, they produce a version of the events, usually from an outsider’s perspective, typically published years, if not decades or centuries, after the events occurred. As Ankersmit (1994) explains:
The historian’s narrative is an attempt or a proposal to define the relation between language and reality. When a historian constructs his narrative, he selects those statements he thinks to be the best guide for understanding the past: he believes his selection to be the best proposal as to how the past should be looked at (emphasis original, p. 88).
Thus, the selection of data, interpretation of these evidence and choice of language are critical in analyzing history. Naturally, many historians have seen the study of language and the questioning of the narrative as undermining the discipline; suddenly the sole focus is no longer the historical event. Yet, the questioning of the narrative is crucial to better understanding history, for “debates on the nature of history are clearly as important as those concerned with history’s actual content” (Southgate, emphasis original, 1996, p. 209).
The Power of Narrative
H. White’s (1973) Metahistory, and the debate that followed its publication, sent reverberations through the history field – effects of which are still being felt today. The revelation that the historian’s narrative could be questioned made historians feel that their discipline was, not only under attack, but also under scrutiny as to its relevance. If the belief that historians can be scientific and objective in their discussion of past events is questionable and historians only interpret events from their own historical biased point of view, then what is the point of history?
Historians have scrambled in recent years to defend their discipline, exemplified by the titles of recent publications. Lerner’s (1997) Why History Matters, Roberts’ (1995) Nothing But History, and Evan’s (1999) In Defense of History are three very different publications in which each author comes to the defense of the discipline. Lerner revisits women’s history by intermingling philosophy with personal history, prefacing the work with the words:
we can no longer take for granted that what we are doing and professing has general validity. I hope that the essays in this volume will make a contribution toward documenting and elucidating the work of the historian and its significance…History matters to me…and I feel the need to find a proper form for expressing why it does” (p. xvii).
Roberts and Evans take a less overtly personal approach than Lerner by reverting to the traditional voice of the historian. They outline the crisis in history and explore it philosophically as historians. Indeed, the feeling that comes from each of these books is an appreciation of history’s importance; we live only a moment in the present, while everything else is the past. Yet, historians should not be afraid of questioning the historian’s narrative, but embrace it instead. Narrative is an ancient and integral part of passing down history and knowledge. Historians should not overlook the power of narrative or the critical differences between historical narratives and fiction literature. Historical narratives about a person, place or event may differ, but each must stand ready to be evaluated. Multiple interpretations are a reality of history, but this does not mean all interpretations are equally valid and justifiable.
Because narrative is usually associated with literature studies, it is rarely incorporated into other curricula. However, many disciplines, including history, are revisiting narrative and incorporating it into their philosophies. For example, narrative is being used in psychology to help individuals deal with traumatic experiences (Kohler Riessman, 1993). In Narrative Analysis, Kohler Riessman outlines how narrative can be used as a research method, a technique Munro (1999) used in Subject to Fiction when documenting four women’s stories about their experiences as educators. Traditionally, however, story has not been valued as a form of research, because scientific data are preferred. However, as Kohler Riessman points out “it is perhaps a sign of our times that investigators are questioning how we represent life in scientific work” (p. 8). If science itself is moving toward incorporating narrative as Kohler Riessman suggests, why should history shy away from it, especially as it was once history’s sole medium?
As a society, we love to tell stories and hear stories. Stories exist everywhere in our culture, from books and film to religion. Indeed, both Hollywood and Jerusalem are the cities they are today due to the power of story. We naturally reconfigure our lives into narrative when conversing with others. “A primary way individuals make sense of experience is by casting it in narrative form…Narrators create plots from disordered experience” (Kohler Riessman, 1993, p. 4). We even dream in story. But why is story so powerful?
Entertainment may be one reason why story is so alluring. Although entertaining, readers demand that stories have a purpose and not just pass the time. “Every good narrator tries to defend against the implicit accusation of a pointless story warding off the question ‘So what?’” (Kohler Riessman, 1993, p. 20). We desire to be entertained by stories and historical stories, ranging from historical documentary to history-based fiction, challenge us both intellectually and emotionally. The critical audience needs to differentiate the form and basis of these stories. “We of course want [history] to offer a subtle and original reading of primary sources. It should surprise us with new perspectives and interpretations. We would prefer that it be lucid, engaging, a good read” (Cronon, 1992, p. 1371).
The story of Robin Hood, for example, effectively engages its audience. The reader desperately wants Robin Hood to carry on his mission to help the poor and oppressed, remain uncaught, and, at the same time, win Maid Marion’s hand. The Robin Hood story contains conflict, action, and romance - all of which work together to entertain. The reader is actively involved and senses real emotion for the cause and the characters. However, narrative is not only used to entertain, but also to educate a dual functionality which is further complicated by the differences in educating about literature and educating about history. As a result, there is a clearly defined conflict for the reader to ponder.
Cronon (1992), in defending the use of stories in teaching history, says: “I do so because narratives remain our chief moral compass in the world. Because we use them to motivate and explain our actions, the stories we tell change the way we act in the world” (p. 1375). Thus, a good story not only entertains, but also forces self-reflection. Returning to the story of Robin Hood, we learn that the disparity between the rich and the poor was striking during the Middle Ages, a disparity that continues today, over a thousand years later. The Robin Hood story shows that we, as a society, need to move to lessen the gap between the two socioeconomic groups in order to improve the plight of humankind. Although, that said, robbing the rich to feed the poor might not be an acceptable solution to the problem. Readers expect literature to reflect life and help make sense of the world around them. “Fiction confirms what we already know, or contradicts it meaningfully, or calls it into question. Emotion and knowledge begin to merge” (Heffernan, Jonston & Hodgins, 1987, p. 4).
Historical Narrative
Most historical stories can not be condensed into a fairytale-like fashion (as was done with the aforementioned Robin Hood tale) without losing their intricacies. Historical narrative is not a simple genre; it is not a lesser form of writing. In fact, history-based stories require great interpretation on the part of the reader. For example, the rise of Adolf Hitler to Reich Chancellor is a long and involved story, but an important one. We learn about how the Allies revengeful determination to cripple Germany through the Treaty of Versailles created the ideal atmosphere for a man like Hitler to come to power. Suddenly, Newton’s third law of physics that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, seems to apply to the actions of people.
Historical stories remind us of where we have come from, what we have endured and what we have subjected others to. Narrative strikes an emotional chord within the reader. Through word choice and presentation, the reader is held, enthralled and secretly cheering for the protagonist. People want ‘Anastasia’ to be the real Princess Anastasia, for they desperately wish someone to have survived such a horrific ordeal. After reading her diary and coming to know her on such an intimate level, people want Anne Frank to survive the Nazi regime and see adulthood. Through story, the reader is transported to another time, place, and, sometimes, another perspective. In Remarque’s (1976) All Quiet of the Western Front, a German soldier from World War One reveals the horrors of war. At one point the soldier, Paul Baumer, talks to a French soldier he has just killed:
If you jumped in here again, I would not [kill you], if you would be sensible too. But you were only an idea to me before, an abstraction that lived in my mind…Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony – Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy? (p. 223).
Suddenly, through the use of story, good and evil are no longer distinctly defined along lines of nationality. All the war created was “a generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war” (Remarque, 1976, forward). Some say that story brings history alive. I believe story brings people in history to life. Stories engage us, forcing us to look at ourselves and reflect on the Biblical question: “Lord, What is man” (Psalm 144:3). Historical stories allow us to be critical of our own actions and ponder alternate endings, in fact, demand a critical analysis and evaluation of the claims, data and evidence sources.
Perhaps the most alluring feature of narrative is hope. Even in the most tragic of stories we search for hope to reassure ourselves that we, as humans, are not all bad. Bateson, a philosopher, offers an explanation of the dualism of good and evil:
There seems to be something like a Gresham’s law of cultural evolution according to which the oversimplified ideas will always displace the sophisticated and the vulgar and the hateful will always displace the beautiful. And yet the beautiful persists” (emphasis mine, p. 5).
To see an example of Bateson’s idea of the beautiful persisting, readers may look at the Middle Ages. The Middle Ages are often referred to as the Dark Ages because it was a time when fighting persisted while learning dwindled. Historians often consider the era to be a dark chapter in the history of Western Civilization. Yet, from this black hole in history we find beauty in a story that arose from those troubled times, the story of King Arthur. And the most incredible thing about this is that we do not have to search for this beauty, rather it persists in today’s world. The King Arthur legend continuously reinvents itself to be part of our cultural psyche.
Teaching History
The study of history has to be meaningful to students and relate to their lives. “One of my basic beliefs about teaching is that you have to hook students into the study of history, to show them it relates to them” (Cruse, 1994, p. 1072). Story is that hook. Stories are a powerful pedagogical tool for the social studies educator because they engage, educate and offer hope. Historians who believe that history should be represented in a scientific format exclusively are overlooking students’ initial interaction with historical narrative. It is paramount for students to enjoy and engage in history, if these students are to carry forth knowledge to the next generation, or better yet, become historians themselves. The creation of student interest is of utmost importance. Through story, students can enter any world, and live vicariously thorough the characters they read about. Through story, historical people come alive and their stories entertain. Story can spur students to investigate a time period further than they would examine it in class.
Historians are madly debating over whether or not to include narrative as part of the discipline. For the social studies teacher, however, admitting the historians’ narrative is an important construct of history is less of a concern. In fact, acknowledging the historian’s narrative aids the educator in developing instructional strategies and learning activities that reflect a justifiable view of the nature of history. If the narrative is filtered through both the bias of the individual historian and the time period the historian is writing in, then the narrative itself becomes a useful historical text to analyze. Educators can then use the narrative to not only explain about the time period under study but also analyze the change in society’s attitudes as seen by the historian’s description of the events.
H. White (1973) explains the narrative style, or modes of emplotment that historians use in telling the story of history. Drawing on the work of Frye, he outlines the four modes that a historian may use in his writing as romance, tragedy, comedy and satire. While learning more about the author’s biases and sources of data are important, it is also critical to identify the mode used by the writer; it reveals how the author treats the subject and it also reveals a little about the writer. In his novel, The Book of Secrets, Vassanji captures the importance of exploring the narrative: “There are many paths to choose from. And no one path is quite like any other, none of them will return to quite where it began…And so I know, am forewarned. Ultimately the story is the teller’s, it’s mine” (1994, p. 92). Readers of these stories need to be ready to evaluate the claims and detect weaknesses and strengths in the argument.
Once students are shown the modes of historical narrative, they can then begin to explore and analyze the writing for themselves. “Then the teacher can bring them to other levels of discussion and analysis. However I have rarely been able to engage students – to get them excited or angry – simply by talking to them. They have to carry on an activity that gets them thinking and feeling” (Cruse, 1994, p. 1072). Hopefully, through such an activity as analyzing the historian’s narrative, students will learn the importance of perspective, just as Luke Skywalker did in his conversation with Obi One:
Obi One: What I told you was true. From a certain point of view.
Luke: A certain point of view?
Obi One: Luke, you are going to find many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.
(Return of the Jedi, 1983)
Perspective is a feature of historical narrative that critical readers need in order to analyze and evaluate history texts.
Teaching through Historical Narrative
Stories not only inform our learning, but also comprise our knowledge. Indeed, traditionally, the majority of historical knowledge is passed on through stories. This still holds true today. At least, today, history is still passed on through the narrative form. It is rare to find individuals who research history by actually perusing primary sources. Certainly, students in the average Social Studies class have not engaged in much, if any, historical research. Yet, they come into class with historical information. In class, students often refer to movies they have seen, such as Titanic and Saving Private Ryan, as sources for accurate history. The trend of students gathering information from films mirrors that of society as the majority of us gather our history through a patchwork collection of stories from popular media.
Students come to Social Studies class with self-created paradigms (Levstik & Pappas, 1992, Seixas, 1997).
Students confront their history classes with their own frameworks of historical understanding, gleaned from family stories, historical film, television fiction, commemorations, and, last, and probably not least, their earlier school history experience. (Seixas, 1997, p. 2)
This idea that students come into class with their own frames of reference is not new, in fact, it is part of schema theory.
In schema theory, each individual has schemata or cognitive structures that are used in every day situations. “Schemata receive, sort, classify, and hold information” (Ruddell, 1997, p. 21). Thus, by teaching students through historical narrative, educators provide students with a form, story, which they are familiar with to help them understand that which they are not, the history. Usually, however, students already have a schema in place regarding history and come to class with their own background information.
In a traditional ‘chalk and talk’ history class, educators are unaware of the students’ frames of references, because in learning how to teach, educators learn little or nothing about the potential of students’ prior knowledge. Teachers do not know how to access and activate this background knowledge because they do not have the background knowledge themselves. However, presenting the information is not enough to change students’ perspectives, because students often hold onto their original schema long after the instruction has been taught.
Tenacity of belief occurs because students “filter and sift and remember and forget, adding to, modifying, and reconstructing their frameworks of understanding, through their won often unarticulated values, ideas and dispositions” (Seixas, 1997, p. 2). Students need to be presented with multiple perspectives on a topic and then challenged to think critically. The opportunity for students to actively engage in their own learning and construction of their knowledge will help them make changes to their own preconceived notions.
This key to effective teaching can only be achieved if educators work their material around the existing knowledge of the students. Teachers cannot ignore the students’ prior knowledge. Instead, educators must develop an idea of what students know about a topic, and use this information in how they teach. Educators have to gauge background knowledge and either correct any errors of learning, or build on correct ideas. For example, if in acquiring the background knowledge about King Arthur one student suggest that it was Indiana Jones who was searching for the Holy Grail, the educator would stop and explain what the Holy Grail is and why people want to find it. The student is then presented with different options and it is up to that student to choose what version to accept.
This idea of which version students accept is a complicated issue. Angell (1998) studied Social Studies student teachers to better understand how teachers in training changed their views during their final year of education on how to teach the curriculum. Angell found that “when overlapping messages were introduced into the individual’s field of experience, the learner’s receptivity or level of willingness to consider change appeared to be a key variable in the extent to which belief restructuring occurred” (p. 510). If Angell’s findings are universal, then it must be understood that not all students will be willing to move away from their preconceived ideas on a historical topic. Nevertheless, incorporating multiple perspectives on the same event into the Social Studies class is crucial in getting students to restructure their frames of reference. The King Arthur lesson plans will allow students to develop the skills necessary for looking at each source. Educators should not just tell students one perspective, but teach the pupils how to make up their own mind as to which elements are truthful
People enjoy stories, whether they read, listen or hear them. In fact, the narrative form is usually a more pleasurable read than the expository or procedural form. Why? Norum (2000) explains that it is because “we like to tell stories. It is a very human thing to do and we all have stories” (p. 3). In addition, the narrative form is one individuals are introduced to at a very early age through literature and film. Then, through the educational system, the narrative form is reinforced. Students are not taught how to read and write manuals, for instance; rather, they are encouraged to read, write and tell stories.
VanSledright and Brophy (1992) studied how students create meaning from history and found that students tell stories in recounting history. In fact, when telling their historical stories, students bridge gaps in knowledge by creating their own stories. For example when one grade four student was asked why Pilgrims set out for the New World, she replied: “I think their own world was getting wrecked by something. Someone was trashing it” (p. 847). The authors point out this student’s historical reconstruction contains many elements of story; first, she creates drama, then adds fairytale-like qualities and summarizes with compelling detail (VanSledright & Brophy, 1992). Story, then, seems to be a preferred method of communicating information.
If H. White (1973) and other narrativistic historians are correct, that history is filtered through the biases of the historian, it is extremely important that educators provide students with alternate perspectives. Without alternatives, students do not receive the full education they deserve. The single story approach does not encourage questioning of the source, or a wider view of the world. An extreme example is the Russian history books from the Stalin period, which tell a much doctored history. In The History of the Civil War in the U.S.S.R., Trotsky’s involvement in the Bolshevik party is not mentioned; however, Stalin’s role is greatly emphasized. As a result, Russian history dating back to 1917 is rewritten to highlight Stalin’s close ties with Lenin and his involvement in masterminding, along with Lenin, the rise of the Bolshevik party. Both his close relationship with Lenin and his intellectual scheming before the Revolution did not exist. Stories provide students with those alternate perspectives often not achieved in textbooks.
Authors approach topics differently and are biased by their background and views; thus, students are able to see a multitude of ideas on a topic just by examining different versions of the story. Levstik (1990) notes: “the conflict at the heart of most narratives implies that at least two versions of the story are possible, even as it enlists the reader’s identification with the protagonist’s cause” (p. 850). Providing students with different versions is extremely valuable, especially in today’s cultural climate, where a classroom contains students from a variety of ethnic backgrounds, and as a result, a wide range of beliefs and interpretations of historical events.
Narratives are also a way of raising sensitive issues to explore, without appearing cold and uncaring. An example of this is incorporating novels such as The Diary of Anne Frank or Daniel’s Story into a discussion of the Holocaust. Both novels raise many sensitive issues for students and are effective because they are told from an adolescent’s point of view. Students can read about more than just dates, facts, and important figures of a certain historical event; they can vicariously experience life during a historical period. “If history is just chronology, there is little reason to ‘understand’ it. If, on the other hand, it involves the interpretation of vital moral and ethical issues, it not only requires understanding, but it is also relevant to the way we come to understand ourselves and the world around us” (Levstik, 1990, p. 850).
Critical Thinking
Most of the Social Studies textbooks do not encourage critical thinking. Textbooks stress breadth and not depth, usually covering a large time span that cannot be examined in depth. Traditionally, textbooks report on the events by providing students with important dates and influential figures. Yet, this strategy is not he most productive, because as Seixas (1997) points out, “students are most typically taught ‘the history’ and left to make sense of it themselves” (p. 27) – something most students do not know how to do. Because critical thinking does not happen naturally, several things must occur for critical thinking to take place.
First educators must understand what is meant by the term critical thinking. Ennis (1996), a leader in critical thinking theory, describes critical thinking as being “a process, the goal of which is to make reasonable decisions about what to believe and what to do” (p. xvii). With such a definition in mind, critical thinking becomes the most exciting aspect about incorporating historical fiction into the social studies classroom. Educators want students to be able to make connections and challenge the text. Levstik (1989) recounts a story about a girl who has read many historical novels about the American Revolution and is frustrated with the prescribed textbook. The girl comments: “‘[The textbook] just says that Americans were right but it doesn’t tell you exactly why they were right, or why the British fought’” (as cited in Levstik, 1990, p. 850). For students to question and challenge the history textbook and the fictional narrative should be the goal of social studies teachers.
Second, sufficient time must be spent on a topic, exploring multiple perspectives. Yet, if too many perspectives are introduced and not explored “there is a tension…between helping children see multiple perspectives and leaving them unable to take any kind of stand, because all perspectives are perceived as equally good” (Levstik, 1995, p. 115). However, finding sufficient time in a content-laden curriculum is difficult. Thus, this step in teaching critical thinking involves finding a balance between valuable time and depth of coverage. Third, teachers must provide students with the necessary skills, such as questioning the sources, identifying bias and mode of emplotment and realizing multiple perspectives, to engage effectively in critical thinking.
Educators must adopt a new approach to the purpose of teaching history. In a grades driven curriculum, where high marks are valued, students have been taught, not to criticize, but to memorize information. The benefit of using stories in addition to the social studies textbooks is that students will be able to more readily identify the narrative in the story. It is hoped that they would then, with coaching from the educator, uncover the narrative in the textbook. As Hynd (1999) explains: “history texts traditionally narrative style obscures the work of the author and other historians in constructing historical knowledge” (p. 428).
Finally, to get students to the level of questioning history textbooks, educators must find a story that interests students. Drawing on material familiar to students is one way to invite them into the subject of social studies. Only when such a story is found and interest is shown, can students become immersed in their readings. This immersion will hopefully progress to the level of critically analyzing that which they are studying.
Each of these steps is important in effectively engaging students in critical thinking activities. Educators must be clear as to what critical thinking entails and how long it takes, then teach their students the critical thinking skills so that they can practice this form of thinking which they are not used to. If all this is achieved students will have a more enriching social studies experience because they will begin to understand how retelling of historical events all depends on the historian’s point of view.