The Pedagogy of Hope

By Brittany B. Fremion

Part of my job (and joy) as a professor and historian is to be actively engaged with the community of scholars in my field and to contribute to its growth outside of the immediate university setting. One of the primary means of doing so is by participating in academic conferences. The major organization for environmental historians hosted its annual conference at the end of March in Chicago. I had the good fortune of being part of one of two roundtables dedicated to finding hope in environmental history. The title of my panel, which focused on hope in teaching, was entitled “The Pedagogy of Hope,” whereas the other revolved around scholarship, “Hope in Environmental History” (check out the conference program here: http://aseh.net/conference-workshops/2017-conference-chicago-1/conference-program).

In his 1993 presidential address to the American Society for Environmental History, William Cronon identified a key challenge of teaching environmental history: the subject often evokes despair in students. Noting that this emotion seemed neither personally nor politically useful, Cronon called upon environmental historians to communicate the field’s lessons in a more hopeful key. Nearly twenty-five years later, the two roundtables will consider how effectively environmental historians have answered this call. My particular roundtable will feature instructors who have worked to bring hopeful narratives and strategies into their environmentally-themed courses (taken from roundtable abstract).

In my upper-level comparative environmental history course (HST 302) at CMU I have worked to identify ways that reinforce the positive components of my field, despite the persistence of narratives of decline that seem to characterize it (i.e. the looming theme of ecological collapse at the hand of humanity). In order to do so, I often stress that knowledge, as the adage goes, is power. Knowledge of history in particular enables us to make better, more informed decisions in the future, to understand how we got to be where we are, and why multiple perspectives matter. This is particularly important when it comes to environmental issues. We must understand how and why ecosystems have changed in order to develop creative responses to address those changes. The environmental historian plays an especially significant role in helping us recognize our power to dramatically alter the world we inhabit.

The vehicle that carries conversations about the power of individuals to incite change in my classroom is, perhaps oddly, Daniel Quinn's Ishmael (1992). Quinn’s philosophical novel is the first book students read for my course and often their favorite. This work of fiction reorients readers’ perspectives so that they recognize their place within nature, not as separate, through (spoiler alert!) a series of telepathic conversations between a gorilla and student—purposely unnamed or assigned a gender, an effective writing strategy that enables the reader to identify as the student. The conversations are largely driven by questions raised by Ishmael, the gorilla, who is the teacher in this story. One of the first questions he asks the student is about his/her culture’s “creation myth,” to which the student responds with certainty that it is no myth. But Ishmael proves him/her wrong by juxtaposing the human story of creation with that of a jellyfish (you’ll have to get your hands on a copy of the book to better understand why). The moral to this story, and others, is that the Earth exists for no one species in particular; that we, as humans, may not be the pinnacle of creation. Ishmael also points out that we are subject to the laws of nature, challenging the human assumption of control over the environment. As a result, he is able to emphasize that humans, as powerful members of ecosystems, must be better stewards. In the end, he teaches the reader “how to save the planet—from ourselves. With this knowledge, we have the power to change our lives and save the world.”  

The discussion sparked by this book leads students to recognize the significant roles they play as members of campus, regional, national, and global communities—that the knowledge and skills they have acquired in my class (and others) should extend into their daily lives. They have the power to bring about change, whether it’s doing something seemingly nominal (like buying organic fair trade products, recycling, or using public transportation) or recognizably significant (supporting environmental initiatives, engaging in social activism, and/or writing policymakers). This self-awareness is in itself transformative and empowering. And it certainly gives me hope.

Without Faith: Church Interactions

By Jonathan Truitt

This week has been a lesson in irony. This is no reflection on my students or my family, they have all been awesome. Rather, it is on the state of other responsibilities within my professional and personal life. I am a colonial Latin American Historian. My research focuses on indigenous interaction with the Catholic Church in colonial Mexico City. I am not actually interested in whether or not the indigenous population believed in the faith, but rather I’m interested in their day-to-day interactions with it and how those interactions influenced the rest of their community. To put it simply I am trying to remove religion from an examination of religious life. I know what you are thinking, what good is this? The short answer is that the Catholic Church, in order to serve the Spanish faithful in the manner in which they were accustomed, a whole lot of requirements needed to be met in order to operate, and there simply were not enough Spaniards to keep it functioning, so they needed the indigenous population to plug the very large gap.

To place it in more modern terms I think about this interaction in the ways in which people who live in a company town, like Midland, Michigan -- home of Dow Chemical -- interact with the company on a daily basis even if they don’t work for the company. Simply stated a lot of infrastructure needs to be in place to support the people who work for the company. That reaches beyond the business itself and includes everything from supporting a good school system to recreational activities. Whenever the company opens a new plant somewhere they have to make sure they have the infrastructure in place. If they don’t, it can still work, but the results are going to be mixed. This is the very basic version of what I spend my time thinking about when I am not grading, playing with my children, sitting in meetings (though truth be told I am sometimes thinking about this while I am in meetings), working on developing game-based pedagogy, or meeting with students and colleagues.

So where is the irony? My book is written and the press has had it for almost a year at this point. Rather, I should say the presses, plural, because it has been jostled between presses with changing partnerships. They are still very interested in my book and this past Tuesday asked me to make some edits based on a reviewer’s comments on my conclusion. They would like the corrections by the end of next week. The reviewer is having difficulty understanding the premise of my book. The idea of studying people’s interaction with something rather than their actual belief is apparently a hard sell. Here is the irony. My book is reflective of my own interaction with the church. I am not a religious person, yet I attend church regularly with my wife who is a devoted Christian and wants to raise our children in the Christian faith. I am currently getting ready to head to church with my boys (my wife has gone on ahead as she plays hand bells and has a performance today). When I get to church I will be helping out in the nursery, next week I will be at a personnel committee meeting for the church (on which I serve), I have just finished leading an eight-week educational course for children at the church, and have been asked to create a special discussion group on immigration, also for the church. I am a member and many of the people at the church know my views. I value the community and support them in many things and they support me. In my interactions with the community my belief doesn’t matter, but my actions do. This is the very thing that I study and somehow I haven’t made it clear to the anonymous reviewer that my book isn’t about belief, but about the day-to-day interactions, even though I live it. So, as I sit here preparing to take my kids to church I wonder, have I sold you?

Blackbodies and White Lies

Max Planck, 1933

Max Planck, 1933

By Matthew Vannette, Associate Professor of Physics,                                                                                                                                                 Saginaw Valley State University

In the late 19th and into the early 20th centuries, physics had a problem.  The way scientists understood the world at that time could not explain why hot objects, like iron in a blacksmith's forge, glow the precise way they do. Such glowing objects are called blackbodies, and the light they emit is blackbody radiation. The spectrum (how bright the light is at each color) of a glowing body shows a bright peak at middle wavelengths, and gets dimmer at very long, infrared wavelengths and the shorter ultraviolet to X-ray wavelengths.  The particular wavelength where the peak is observed depends on the temperature of the object - higher temperature means a shorter wavelength for the peak.  At the time, Rayleigh's* analysis, using the accepted -- and very successful -- model of light as an electromagnetic wave, predicted that the spectrum should get continually brighter as the wavelength gets shorter, with very short wavelengths being infinitely bright, irrespective of the object's temperature.  Since brighter light means more energy, an infinitely bright light at any wavelength implies that every object gives off infinite energy. 

Rayleigh's result was so wrong it is termed the "ultraviolet catastrophe."  Then, in 1900 a young German physicist named Max Planck settled the matter by introducing energy quantization, the first step toward quantum mechanics.  This was an entirely new way of thinking about things, and it straight-forwardly prevents the infinite energy Rayleigh's model predicts.  Physics was saved.  The idea was so radical that even Planck felt it had no physical basis and that someone smarter would come along and correct it.  But, it solved the problem.

This is the story we tell physics students about the development of quantum mechanics and modern physics.  It has a nice feel to it.  Very scientific method-y, if you will.  And it's a lie.  Planck was not solving the ultraviolet catastrophe known to the rest of the physics community.  Planck's first paper on the subject was published in January of 1900 (though not read at a conference until October of that same year), and he was motivated by a small discrepancy in the long wavelength limit.  Rayleigh's was not published until July 1900.  It just so happens that Planck's work provided a good model over the entire spectrum.  Unless Planck had worked out the ultraviolet catastrophe himself, he could not have been trying to correct for it. And if he had worked it out, for some reason, he chose not to publish. Perhaps he refused to present a model that gave such bad predictions. A core tenet of science is that if the model does not match the data, it cannot be correct, except in a very limited sense.

Understanding the motivations of a researcher is very important. It can reveal subconscious biases that may have led to inadvertent mistakes or omissions. If a particular researcher, then, has the weight of authority, those mistakes and biases can become part of our culture. Even for scientists, it is important to know our history so that we can examine our intellectual forebears honestly. Many years ago, a mentor of mine at Boston College, Andrzej Herczynski said that Einstein was an ordinary genius -- well beyond what our normal minds can expect to achieve -- but Planck was a transcendental genius. We can appreciate Planck's contribution more fully when we realize that he solved a problem well before the rest of the physics community knew there was a problem to solve, and scientists can have a greater understanding for how research and theories are developed.

*British physicist, Lord Rayleigh, John William Strutt

 

 

 

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Archive

Steer Clear of the Swans. British National Archives, Kew, UK (Photo Credit: Jennifer Vannette)

Steer Clear of the Swans. British National Archives, Kew, UK (Photo Credit: Jennifer Vannette)

By Jennifer Vannette

We talk about archival work as if it’s always important and serious. To be fair, it mostly is. But sometimes it can be a comedy of errors. Every archive trip is different and every archive you visit has its own rules, style, and vibe.

When I was studying in the UK, I needed to use some Foreign Office papers, which are housed at the National Archives in Kew. I successfully navigated my train south to London and then the Underground out to Kew and was feeling very pleased with myself as I used my smart phone’s GPS to help me find my lodgings and then walk to the archive the next morning. I was there too early, but it was a beautiful day and the grounds were lovely so I wandered around and enjoyed myself. The doors opened, and I walked up to the desk to ask where to go. I still don’t know why they were surprised by my question, but they pointed me to the coat room. In this room, there were all sorts of helpful directions posted about using the lockers, what you could take into the reading room, and the clear bags you would need to use to carry your supplies. They also had umbrella stands, which although immensely practical for the UK, were still a fun novelty for an American. Basically, this room told me everything about using a locker -- something I have know how to do since middle school. The instructions were about to get less clear.

It took awhile to shove everything in the locker and sort out what I could take with me. Feeling a bit warm from my labors of shoving a backpack and coat into the too small locker, I nevertheless felt ready to get to work. There were signs pointing up the stairs to the reading room, so I started climbing. I came to a landing and found a billboard-sized sign emblazoned “Start Here.” So, I went up to the desk to start.

It turns out that that is not where one begins. Of course not. That would be silly. So, up one more flight of stairs I found a little room where I had to fill out more paperwork, sign more things saying I wouldn’t steal stuff (I had already done this once online), and then wait for my photo to be taken for my Researcher’s ID. Now, at this point I had walked a mile and a half to the archive, wrestled with my locker, walked up two flights of stairs and was super confused about where I was supposed to be. You can imagine how great that picture turned out.

ID in hand, I was sent back down stairs. But not as you might have guessed to the “Start Here” sign. Nope, I had to go to the other side of that floor and go through security. (I still don’t know who actually starts at the desk with the sign. It remains a mystery.) I went to hand over my bag and computer for inspection and dropped the bag; the contents spilled out. I walked through the security barrier and set off the alarm. I was sent back through twice and finally it was okay. At this point the security guards and I are having a good laugh because it was just so ridiculous. It was the start of our ongoing bit. You know, the classic “not you again!” bit. I was a hit with security.

The National Archives houses vast amounts material and hosts so many researchers that it’s no wonder they have really modernized the process. I checked in and was assigned a table at which to sit, and my table number corresponded to my locker number where they would deposit my requested materials. To request materials, I went to a computer bank and swiped my ID. That brought up my table/locker number and then any materials requested would automatically be linked to my number. It was pretty cool. When I finished with a box of materials, I took them to a return desk. The only downside is that unlike smaller archives, there was no personal attention offered by the archivists. And, unlike the security guys, they weren’t very friendly. I discovered that somewhere I lost my pencil (probably when my bag spilled) and the archivist-on-duty would not loan me one. He helpfully suggested I buy a new one at the gift shop. The souvenir pencils were £2 a piece. So helpful.

From the outside, it might look like researchers seem calm, cool, and collected, but some days it's really difficult to not feel foolish. That first day at the National Archives was one awkward moment after another. Every archive is different, so no matter how many you visit, it's just hard to predict what is going to happen. The best thing to do is roll with it and learn to laugh at yourself.

Active Politics is the Study of History*

By Trent Wolf (Class of 2015)

I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in History and Political Science, and since then, I have worked as a legislative assistant to State Representative Frank Liberati in the Michigan Legislature. Politics can be understood as simply a web of interconnected relationships: connections between legislators or between elected officials and voters, for example. In practice, no piece of legislation is passed in a democratic system without relationships being established between politicians, just as no elected official wins their campaign for public office without building and maintaining relationships with voters. The difficult, and nuanced, aspect is untangling all of these relationships through using the same skills historians use to untangle the hidden realities of humanity’s past.  Using this lens, politics can be viewed as history unfolding in real-time.

The most obvious, and potentially less direct, application of my studies in history would be simply understanding the historical context to the reality we live in today—something I believe too many in our society go without. Public policy and politics are intrinsically intertwined with our historical past. Basic understanding of historical facts impact the way in which laws are written and also influences the way in which politicians talk about their ideas and project those ideas to the public. Additionally, historical understanding, or lack thereof, directly defines the ways in which constituents perceive politicians and their ideas.

More directly, though, by employing the research skills learned through studying history—such as source analysis, aggregating analyzed historical data, and effectively communicating the story that data illustrates—I was able to develop a important set of skills that I use every day to be effective at my job.

For example, when performing historical research, secondary sources are used to provide context to a given topic and primary sources—such as speeches, letters, songs, poems, illustrations, and memoirs—are used to gain a better understanding of a topic, which allows a researcher to expand upon the known historical record. Similarly, in public policy and politics, we use secondary sources to frame societal problems and policy solutions, such as data on income inequality or school performance. Then primary sources, such as constituent communications, firsthand political information from elected officials, or forms of support from stakeholder groups, are combined with the secondary source information to gain a broader understanding of an issue and how it might be solved.

With this in mind, the same skills of thoroughly vetting sources and knowing that multiple perspectives must be gathered to gain a credible understanding of an issue or topic are directly used in both politics and history. For instance, in the same way historical research should not be told through the lens of one historical figure, one document, or one perspective—in politics you must also gain as much primary source perspective as possible to be able to effectively craft policy and campaign messaging. Additionally, I fully believe that individuals who study history properly are able to gain a sense of “open-mindedness,” or are more able to objectively analyze the information they are researching, which is sorely missing from our political system that has been ravaged by partisan hyperbole and ad hominin attacks.

I credit all of my experiences as a student of history for where I am today. In so many ways, those experiences have become directly linked to who I am as a working professional trying to better the world in which we all live as well as an individual and the way I view the world. In both history and politics, critical thinking and analysis as well as being able to think in new, creative ways are key to being able to contribute to the historical record or pass legislation.

*Polybius, The Histories, vol. 1

A German in Scotland ... via Michigan

Rainy Glasgow Cathedral   (Photo credit: Gillian Macdonald)

Rainy Glasgow Cathedral   (Photo credit: Gillian Macdonald)

By Marcel Haas   

Rain is pelting down as I walk down Glasgow’s Cathedral Street, heading towards the Gothic outlines of the High Kirk of Glasgow I can dimly make out through the dark clouds. I walk a bit faster, stepping around scores of students hurrying out of the rain and into the Andersonian Library. One last desperate dash and I am in the foyer of the University of Strathclyde’s Lord Hope building, which houses the School of Humanities and my primary domicile, the Department of History. I rummage around in my once again chaotic shoulder bag, before my hand emerges triumphantly clutching the key card I need to enter the secretive chambers that hold my desk, the graduate school. Finally, I slump down behind the computer screen and start typing, “Rain is pelting down…”

   I came to Glasgow in June 2016, having fled the continental warmth of the German summer only to be attacked by even more sun over Scotland. (Thank you, global warming!) Luckily, Glasgow’s well-deserved reputation for beastly weather had come through in the end, and I enjoyed some lovely wet days while moving into my new apartment in the city’s eastern borough of Dennistoun. My new home was both a relatively quiet residential area, and a continuously up-and-coming hipstertopia, including snazzy cafes and traditional Italian restaurants, second hand shops and quite a few liquor stores. Needless to say, I instantly fell in love.
 

   My little picture of Glasgow might confuse my surely enormous readership. “Why in the name of all historical research is this guy in Scotland?” some will ask, “And why should we care?” Those are excellent questions! Insulting, but spot on. Well, I am (perhaps rather obviously) a graduate student at CMU. Besides being one of the lucky few graciously given the chance to pursue the increasingly longish goal of the PhD, I took (even more pleasingly) the opportunity to spend one year at one of CMU’s prestigious partner institutions, at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, Scotland, United Kingdom (at the moment), European Union (not much longer, but hopefully soon again). Besides the prospect of living in yet another beautiful country, I had a good reason to be excited to move: I could do research on my dissertation topic at the very location where everything happened three hundred years ago! Granted, you, my fair reader, will only understand my exhilaration if you know that I study the relationship and first contact between Native Americans and the European empires, especially Great Britain, in the 18th century. There, I just told you. I hope you are appropriately excited for me.
 

   And so it goes that this increasingly wired up German made the grand journey from Michigan to Scotland (with a lengthy stop at his parents’ house in Jena, Germany) in a fashion reminiscent of the one made in the opposite direction by so many Scots during the last couple of centuries. In slightly less historic fashion I took a plane of course, which made the voyage considerably less arduous. (1) Scotland is now the third country where I studied and lived. It certainly is the prettiest. I say that with all due honours to Michigan, but there are few places on earth that can beat the view of Ben Nevis through the clouds, the winding road through Glen Coe, or the crushing waves around the Orkney Islands. (2)
  

 In my time here I have visited some of the best archives and academic institutions in the English-speaking world, and – all friendly hyperbole aside – they have helped me immensely to achieve some of my research goals. The British Library and the National Archives in London are only a (admittedly lengthy) bus ride away, Edinburgh’s Scottish National Library and Record Office are close-by, and Glasgow University holds an impressive special collection of 18th century documents. (3) Once the research stage is done I am also planning to attend and present at least at two large conferences in London and Edinburgh.
 

   This year has been (and still is) a revelation for me in terms of sightseeing and history, archival research opportunities, the bustling life at one of the busiest and best universities of the United Kingdom, and – last but not least – Glasgow’s culture. I know it is an often-used buzzword, but coming here has truly allowed me to broaden my horizon and gain new perspectives. (4) The people here are lovely, the food great, the drink (well if you have heard of Scotch Whisky, then no more words are necessary), and the university is racking itself to accommodate its foreign students’ academic needs. If this is not enough to make you come and see for yourself, then I do not know what would convince you.


(1) Except for the flight from Germany to Glasgow for which I enlisted the help of a certain Irish low-budget airline. They did not give me water on the plane. I had to buy it. Imagine my outrage!

(2) I am exaggerating only a wee bit when I say that one can hardly throw a stone without hitting a historic site on the Orkneys, be it 5000 year old stone circles like the Ring of Brodgar, or the Viking settlements at the Brough of Birsay. Seriously, if you are still reading this and not busy booking your flight to Scotland, you might hate history.

(3) The University of Glasgow’s campus is also a dead ringer for another famous, yet sadly fictional campus for the education of young wizards.

(4)There is a rather simplifying phrase in German, “Reisen bildet,” which literally means “travelling educates.” Obvious, yes, but also true. Sometimes both can be right.

History Matters: The Skills I Learned

By Emily Lint (Class of 2015)

Today, like most days, I thought about my time spent in history classes at CMU. I am currently halfway through my first year teaching at West Senior High School in Traverse City, MI. I teach economics. When I accepted the job in Traverse City near my family at the school where I student-taught I was thrilled. At first I wasn’t sure how my history training would apply to teaching Economics, but not too far into my first planning day in a hot classroom in the late summer I realized I would have plenty of opportunity to use my history training teaching economics. I learned far more than content from my history professors at CMU, and the non-content skills kicked in right away.

CMU’s history department made me a better thinker. I learned that historical events do not exist in a vacuum. Context is everything. I learned how to think about topics in their place in the grand scheme of things.  My experience with examining different angles of historical topics translates into my teaching every single day. I try my best to make sure my students understand concepts with context and can see how to apply what they learn to their lives every single day.

CMU’s history department made me a more well-rounded person. In my American history classes especially, I learned the story isn’t as simple as I had been told. When you’re telling the story of people, there are always lots of perspectives to consider. Likewise, every kid has a slightly different perspective and different set of experiences they carry with them into my classroom. Remembering to consider other perspectives has helped me get to know the dozens of kids who pass in and out of my room every day. 

CMU’s history department made me a better public speaker. As my time in the program progressed the classes got smaller and smaller and the opportunities to sit back and listen became fewer and farther between. Eventually I was forced to speak up. Small class sizes, accessible professors, and great content helped me become more comfortable speaking out. In my own classroom, I try to emulate those professors who brought me out of my shell. Incorporating elements of “sticks and carrots” that got me to talk in college into my own classroom has allowed me to witness the blossoming of students who offer incredible insight to classroom discussions every day.

Finally, CMU’s history department made me a more confident person. Every experience tackling original research, working on projects with professors, attending conferences, and presenting my work made me feel more and more confident with my ability to take on the world. Standing in front of 33 teenagers for the first time was less intimidating because I had already stood in front of far more people than that. Teaching content was less scary because I knew how to tell a story (even if it turns out the story is about economics). So much of what I feel comfortable doing today comes from the confidence instilled in me throughout my time with CMU’s history department.

I am grateful for so much about my time with CMU’s history department. The life lessons and skills I picked up along the way are the gifts from the CMU history department that I am most thankful for.

 

Adventuring in England

Wesley at his ancestoral home

Wesley at his ancestoral home

By Wesley Reynolds

Over the past five months, I have enjoyed my time studying at Newcastle University in Newcastle, UK. I have had the amazing opportunity to see the four corners of England -- not just the cities but the picturesque landscapes of rural England. I have fallen in love with the countryside, and through it, England’s people, national characteristics, and habits have seeped into my consciousness. Newcastle has turned out to be the perfect location for learning about England. It’s close to everything.

I am staying with a family just south of Gateshead (Newcastle’s sister city) in a little stone farmhouse; the perfect inspiration for higher learning. Bus fare is more than worth the opportunity of being introduced to England through the eyes of a traditional English family with connections both to Oxford and Cambridge Universities.

My host family is distinctive from the mining Geordie vernacular culture of Newcastle, but, for me, this has been an excellent match. They have instructed me in the finer social arts of inculcating an English sense of reserve, eating and drinking properly, posture and gestures, and even have helped me develop a southern English accent. There is a wonderful church and seminary here with many linguists, scholars, and people with real servant hearts. I have an amazing new home for study!

In addition to course work, I have been able to focus intently on my research on London coffeehouses. I visited the first coffeehouse in Oxford, and spent two weeks at the British Library in London and the National Archives in Kew investigating various primary sources. Accessing archives in England is an experience all of its own! Maybe for another post.

Most of all, I am enjoying the time I have off campus and discovering the culture. I am immersing myself in "old England”: Northumberland castles and farmland, the Lake District, York, Durham, Oxford, London, rural East Anglia, and pastoral Somerset. The Lake District is the most dramatic and inspiring landscape I have seen. It is a land of rock, fern, and waterfall; wild and unkempt, but still close to the mortal heart, with gradual shifts in lighting and subtle textures. The daylight in England touches the green grass with a golden hue and the moderate temperatures and frequent rains impart a certain gentleness to the country. Some of my favorite moments have been among the sheep meadows of Hexham, Northumbria; jumping over stone stiles and running along country paths. Passing along the Great Western railway through Bath and Bristol into the more gentle southwestern hill country of Somerset, I had the opportunity to stay in my old family ancestral manor house of Cothelstone. The red stone and soil seems now a part of me, and I will never forget awaking to a far green country spread out below my stone-framed, latticed window. In the southeast, the land is flatter and more suited for tillage. I stood on the runway from which my grandfather lifted off with his B-17 bomber in the Second World War. Up to Scotland sometime this semester!

The Future of the Past

By Sandy Planisek

Technology and teaching history don’t often cohabit the same paragraph but twice this month they made a joint appearance in history news.

AHA’s Perspectives on History magazine introduced a series of online digital textbooks being created by West Point Academy that feature hyperlinks and moving battle maps.  These amazingly rich books, designed specifically to teach West Point students war strategic and tactical thinking, make it possible to actually follow troop movements during battle.  When accompanied with extracts from leader thinking, it is possible to follow the goals, implementation, and outcomes of classic historical battles.  University faculty can test drive one of these books by going to West Point History of Warfare

PBS Digital Studios has just released a new virtual-reality movie shot in 360-degrees about the famous Battle of Antietam.  Focusing on two brothers on opposing sides and dying simultaneously during the battle, this cutting-edge, short movie emphasizes the emotional strain of war.  The entire movie entitled My Brother’s Keeper is only 10 minutes long. (Watch it using Google Chrome or Firefox and use the 360-degree arrows at the top to look around.)

While cultural history may dominate in our classrooms, it is war history that can attract the funding for cutting edge technology.

Welcome

Historical studies… a good excuse to travel. St. Andrews, Scotland

Historical studies… a good excuse to travel. St. Andrews, Scotland

Welcome to this new space created by the Department of History at Central Michigan University. Okay, it’s technically a blog but we like the word 'space' because we hope this becomes a participatory community — a place where you can engage and contribute. 

[Re]collection is a completely new project of the history department and it will certainly evolve over time. Why the name [Re]collection? Mostly because Greg secretly abhors the word "blog," so we had to avoid that. But in all seriousness, we selected a name that evokes the many aspects of life as a historian and historical studies in general. Memory and recollection are an intimate part of studying the past, but even more than that the name evokes the act of collecting evidence and information (Re: collection). It is a space where current and former faculty, students, and friends of the department can gather and share the work that is important to us. We hope you will soon find it an indispensable place for department news and connections. 

[Re]collection will feature posts by faculty, grad students, undergrads, and alumni on a variety of topics. We will offer discussions about teaching, get a glimpse at research in progress, get the insider's view on studying abroad, and learn about what in the world people do with their history degrees. Part of what we plan to do is to pull back the curtain, so to speak, and show people what it is like to study, teach, or otherwise engage with our discipline.

To contribute, send a post that is 500-800 words to Jennifer at cmichhistoryblog@gmail.com. You can check out the 'Submissions' tab for more details. No need for a lot of academic jargon. Your post can tell a story, explain a teaching strategy, or seek to foster further discussion about a potential research avenue. Perhaps you want to share about an archival trip or explore public history. Maybe you are knowledgable about digital humanities or the ever-changing job market.  Be creative with your ideas. To build this community we need your contributions. 

Greg Smith, Jon Truitt, and Jennifer Vannette