Reflections on Diverse Education

Today's favorite moments included . . .

. . . reading books with Daniel.

. . . Joy giving me a high five when I won a game of High-Ho Cherrio.

. . . watching Joy and Daddy build a train set together, then give each other a big hug when they finished.

And another thing . . .

. . . I heard on the news today that the CA state senate has passed a bill that would require middle and high schools to teach about LGBTs' (lesbian, gay, bisexual, & transgender) contributions to history and struggle for civil rights. Proponents insist that this will increase LGBT students' self-esteem, decrease discrimination and bullying, and make history more balanced and inclusive. Opponents of the bill argue that teachers already struggle to cram the basics of our history into the brief time allotted them, and that historical figures should be recognized for their contributions, not their sexual orientation or other personal matters that may have no direct bearing on their achievements (unless it particularly impacted the arc of history, e.g. JFK's Catholicism).

As a student of history--and a former teacher of it while I pursued my master's degree--I found myself thinking a lot about this issue today. First off, it begs the question "What is the purpose of of social studies?" Is it to teach the history that has shaped our nation as a whole? In that case, I think it's true that there just isn't time to discuss every single minority group, especially when they haven't had a major impact on the entire country (or state). Harvey Milk's election is vastly meaningful to many LGBTs, but it didn't impact our nation as a whole nearly as much as the election of, say, Lincoln or Obama. Discrimination against LGBTs is shameful and sometimes appalling, but it doesn't even approach the tragedy and scope of slavery and the Jim Crow laws.

But perhaps social studies class isn't just about teaching history. If it's about learning to avoid past mistakes and live sociably with all members of our community, should LGBT history be included to increase tolerance? Perhaps, but then where do you draw the line about who is spotlighted and who isn't? If history is incomplete without LGBTs, is it also incomplete without Jehovah's Witnesses, Hmongs, and the increasingly varied rainbow of mixed-race Americans (e.g. Latino-Whites, Black-Asians, Argentinian-Korean-Americans, and Cablinasians)? If LGBTs have a right to see their struggles recognized and their heroes celebrated, don't Armenians, foster kids, and Sikhs, too? If social studies is principally about shaping good citizens, perhaps we should focus on historical figures' family lives more than their politics (Abraham Lincoln, in addition to preserving our nation and emancipating the slaves, was a deeply devoted husband and father who declared "All that I am or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother").

As a Mormon, I would love to hear my minority group's persecutions acknowledged, prominent figures honored, and falsehoods refuted. It would be gratifying to have more Americans know that in this land of guaranteed religious freedom, Mormons were routinely and viciously persecuted for their beliefs, President Van Buren refused to protect them for fear he'd lose the next election (he lost anyway), and the governor of Missouri issued an extermination order against all Mormons in his state. Moreover, it would be great to hear teachers praise Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, and Gordon B. Hinckley, and have them debunk many of the widely-held misconceptions about Mormons (for example: Yes, we revere Jesus as our Savior; no, we don't practice polygamy any more; and no, we don't blindly follow our leaders*).

In reality, though, most public school history books give Mormons a scant paragraph or two, or overlook us altogether. And frankly, I'm OK with that. I recognize that some parts of history that shape and inspire my minority group don't necessarily shape or inspire the other 303 million people in this country, and there just isn't time to tell everyone's story.

I do think we should address diversity or discrimination when it has a major impact on our community as a whole, but I object to the idea that you can't relate to history or be moved by it unless it includes someone exactly like you. I think a major problem in modern American society is that many assume they have nothing in common with someone unless they have everything in common with them. Part of being truly American—and truly human—is learning to appreciate the achievements of others just because they’re fellow members of humanity striving to improve the world, and feeling that they pass that torch to you regardless of how you look, vote, or worship.


*That's a whole other essay in itself. I'll probably address that one later this week.