At some point during the first week of American history class I thought, this is a story I have heard many times before. Told by different people in different contexts, the details have varied, but the plot and characters remain the same. As the story progresses, I already know who’s who and what’s coming next.
But for some people in this class, this is a new story. There are young people who didn’t grow up here, for whom these are new names and places. They may have heard of George Washington (or perhaps not), but just about everything else is completely unfamiliar. (When Queen Victoria was mentioned, one person had to ask what country she ruled.)
After a test which included some information about the Mexican-American war, one student was complaining because the spelling of some place names didn’t seem to match the pronunciation. I told him that if he studied American history he would also have to learn a little Spanish. “I’m still learning English!” he said in frustration.
I don’t know the reasons all these students are here. Possibly to become Americans, possibly just to get an education. American history is a graduation requirement, so being here doesn’t necessarily mean they care. Having known this story all my life, I can’t properly imagine what it is like to hear it for the first time. At the end of one class, the professor gave a very moving speech about why our national anthem is the best. I wondered how it affected those who grew up in different places with different songs. Later, one of the young men for whom all this is new told me what a great speech it was and how it excited him. Once again, I was able to see hope for the future.