Queen Leah

“Does anyone remember what that word, ‘historiography’, means?”

I don’t expect them to know, so I’m not surprised when our eldest grimaced, embarrassed, and replies, “I know you’ve told us before but….”

“Oh it’s no big deal. It’s a fancy word that means something really simple.” I survey the moods and demeanor in the room, sensing the best way to approach.

“Historiography is a lot like this: let’s say that Leah”—I notice her perk up—“Leah is a queen who lived a thousand years ago.” She looks around, a little smug, happy to be crowned for her part of the illustration.

“One day Leah is in the woods and comes across a dragon. She realizes she has to FIGHT the dragon to protect her people. So she fights him, kills him, and wins the day.” The real Leah takes a bow.

“And then a few hundred years later, LEVI is doing some research on what many people now think is a myth. In his research, he finds a painting of a queen battling a dragon. It looks like the legends might have been true, because there are notes about the battle written on the back and dated to the exact day the event supposedly took place.”

I pause.
“By the way, what kind of source would the painting be?”

“A primary source!”

“Good. And what about the research paper that Levi is writing?”

“Secondary.”

“Awesome. Yes. Ok. So, Levi does all this research and writes a huge book about what he thinks happened, and since he’s a well-known historian, and the leading researcher on the subject, every one else pretty much agrees with him.”

Levi—despite not wanting to be enthralled with the story—smirks in spite of himself.

“There’s just one problem,” I say.
“Levi hates queens.”

I spot a flicker of conflict across their faces.

“So….you tell me. Can we trust everything that Levi says about Queen Leah?”

“Well, no.”

“Why.”

“Because….I don’t know, I guess because I wouldn’t know if he was telling the truth.”

“YES. And that, guys, is BIAS. Does that mean we toss the whole book out?”

Vigorous nods.

“NO. We READ the book and we try to decide what is biased about the writing, and what is historical fact—what can be proven. Because he did a lot of work and a lot of research, and it’s not all bad. We can use a LOT of that work. But we just have to learn how to pick out Levi’s personal thoughts when we know he’s being especially biased.”

I sense some glazing in our nine year-old’s eyes, so I pick up the pace.

“See, most of the historians who were alive around the time of Levi probably agreed with his interpretations, and his research and archeological evidence helped us learn about what happened. But a century later, people start feeling differently about queens. Historians start writing about Queen Leah in a totally different way, and their writing starts to influence everyone differently than before.”

“Ohhhh…..”

“And THAT is historiography: it’s the way that historians interpret the things that happened in the past, over time. A lot of the time when we’re reading a history book, we’re reading the ideas that a historian has about the past….and not all of what you read is true or fair. Even if you personally agree with it.”

I see wheels turning and it’s enough.
These mini-lessons, casual and short and frequent, are how I’ve handled the subject of history with the kids for years. They’re as natural as breathing for us, and even if they only absorb 20% what I say in any given discussion, it will build.

Historical empathy, chronology, context, a humble posture towards the past, and an understanding of interpretation—it will all build until it becomes interwoven with how they conceptualize the past.

“Mom! Look at you, being a little homeschool historian!” Leah exclaims and attempts to start a round of applause, which is met with an eye roll and a raised brow from her siblings.

It might build slowly, but we’ll get there.
😉