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Book from late professor of English Jay Fliegelman's renowned collection of ‘association copies’ acquired by Green Library's Special Collections. A 1703 edition of Pliny the Younger’s Epistolae et Panegyricus bears the bookplate of John Quincy Adams.

Why I Teach History

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Book from late professor of English Jay Fliegelman's renowned collection of ‘association copies’ acquired by Green Library's Special Collections. A 1703 edition of Pliny the Younger’s Epistolae et Panegyricus bears the bookplate of John Quincy Adams.

 

For many, history is a set of facts, a collection of events, a sequence of happenings locked in the past. For me, history is far more than these things; it is a way of seeing the world. By learning how to see the past on its own terms, how to transform the strange and unfamiliar into the logical and the comprehensible, we acquire a crucial skill for the present: a way of seeing the world that enables us to make sense of its complex currents. In an increasingly global world in which we all must make sense of people from different walks of life and different cultures, this unique skill can prove invaluable. It might seem counterintuitive to think that one of the best ways to illuminate the present is by studying the past, but that is precisely why I think history can be so important.

I am excited to be teaching an introductory history seminar on the worlds of Thomas Jefferson as it affords a terrific chance to help show students why history is as much a way of thinking, a way of seeing, a way of comprehending, as it is an inert set of things that happened. I love seeing students try to make sense of somebody from the eighteenth century—be it Jefferson or the many different kinds of people whose lives were intertwined with his own. Often, students at first are confident that they understand an eighteenth-century person, that such an individual is animated by more or less the same things that guide them today. But then, when I point out certain things that this historical figure said or did, students are instead often amazed at how peculiar the person in fact is, how unusual the individual’s assumptions, beliefs, and desires are compared to their own. And here is where students start to see things in a new way. With more probing, they begin to see how the peculiar can appear logical, how the strange can, in fact, seem so appropriate. They once again find the eighteenth-century individual comprehensible, but in a totally different way than when they began. Where initially they were inclined to impose their own beliefs and assumptions on the past, now students begin to see the past on its own terms. I am always exhilarated witnessing that transformation in vision, in seeing history come to life for students. For such a transformation certainly illuminates the eighteenth century and allows students to better understand history, but it also helps them hone a skill that they can use for the rest of their lives.

Jonathan Gienapp

Assistant Professor of History

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