Why would we spend an entire year on the War for Independence (or what many call the “American Revolution”)? Wouldn’t that simply be overkill?

Good question.

I suspect the line of thought implied in this question results from habit — a certain kind of academic habit in which we are used to thinking that the goal of a history (or, more commonly today, “social science”) class is coverage. A very quick look at any typical history or social science textbook is enough to make this assumption obvious. The very thought that we can do “world history” in a single year should be downright overwhelming.

But even if we narrow the horizons, even if we aim for a more focused study of a particular people or theme (say, “Modern European History” or “Post-Reconstruction U.S. History”), we still might not notice that the controlling modus operandi remains the same: we are here to cover material. The guiding philosophy at work, whether we notice it or not, is that the business of history class is to transfer factual data from the textbook to the brain (and we give tests to make sure that this conversion has occurred).

“But if my daughter is to be educated,” we might ask, “doesn’t she need to know the major facts of the major civilizations? Doesn’t she need to know about the Punic Wars and the medieval feudal system and the Cold War?” Absolutely. Part of the joy and the significance of studying history is to learn what we might call “the grand narrative.” It is a single, complex, and utterly fascinating story. For our young people to miss out on any of the major chapters of this story would be regrettable indeed!

But imagine if the goal of studying your favorite novel was reduced merely to coverage. Imagine studying Hamlet in which we never stopped to look closely at the famous “To be or not to be” monologue — stopping not simply to memorize it, or to note that it exists, but to think it through and to consider how it is we are arriving at its meaning. I would venture to guess that an essential part of what brings us to love a novel is precisely those experiences in which we stop and take a much closer look. I suppose it’s enjoyable to see the Grand Canyon at 70 miles-per-hour, but it can never beat getting out of your car and staying awhile.

There is a key point to notice here: while the content of a history class is absolutely essential, the emphasis in classical learning is not placed on content but on skills or “tools” of learning. This is the main point of “getting out of your car and staying awhile.” The goal is not simply to take in more content, but to master how it is we look at the content. And this is precisely the point missed by mainstream education today. Might the widespread dissatisfaction with history among young people (“History is boring,” they often say) have anything to do with the fact that they never get a chance to get out of the car and take a closer look at things? Or worse, that they have yet to be taught how to look?

I want to invite your high school student to join me as we take a “Closer Look” at the fascinating and critically important War for Independence. While we will learn a great deal about the period, the primary benefit is that your student will be given the opportunity to learn how to think about history. “Revisionist” history, often influenced by naturalist and Marxist assumptions, has become the norm, not the exception, in most colleges and universities today. The impact of this Revisionist-Marxist approach (not to mention other “progressivist” approaches) on how we understand our Founding Documents and remember our Founding Fathers can hardly be measured. I hope you will join me.

Dr. Tom Vierra teaches courses in The Great Conversation, Logic, Rhetoric, and History and is part of the administrative staff at WHA.