Little House on the Hudson?

More from the teaching history front: in a focus group this week, several teachers said they used Little House on the Prairie as a way of teaching about the history of New York State. It's been a long time since I've read any of the Little House books, and my daughter, now 19, never had any interest in them, but teachers seem to find them meaningful and useful. Interestingly, they use this to teach what they call "colonial" or "Early American" history, despite the fact that the books, written in the 1930s by Laura Ingalls Wilder, depict, through fiction, the Midwest in the late 19th century. I wonder whether the use of these books really reflects the teachers (mostly female) own childhood affection for these books, rather than any sort of real assessment of their usefulness in a classroom setting. I know for me, a small part of my mental images about the Revolutionary War were shaped by reading Johnny Tremaine by Esther Hudson. I had to go back and look up some descriptions of the book to recall the details, but I remember his apprenticeship as a silversmith, the sense of being involved in events larger than one's own life, and a sort of pluckiness and determination. Funny I don't remember Laura from Little House in the same way.

The same group of teachers mentioned that, on the museum visit, they wanted more activities that were appealing to boys in their group. I think of Little House as very much a girl's book--even Farmer Boy, also by Wilder, is more boy-centered, as it's based on Wilder's husband's growing up in New York's North Country.

What does this mean? is it the detail in the books that is appealing? the idea that many of the activities discussed are translatable to classroom activities? should we, as museum people care that teachers use these books to teach history? are there books relating to New York State's history that would make a good read before visiting certain NYS museums? Why cannot we shape real historic sources and narratives into forms that can engage students?

Back Then

(or perhaps this post should be titled, Lies my Teacher Taught Me, with apologies to James Loewen)







For a project, we surveyed elementary teachers who bring their students to a museum to find out about what they thought was important, what the students were learning, and how the visit tied to their curriculum. Although this museum's curriculum-based materials aren't the best, the website, collections and other materials clearly state that the site focuses on the 19th century. However, time and time again in the surveys, teachers said they visited because it connects with their study of Colonial history. Astounding. Can it really be that so many teachers--people with advanced degrees, and responsible for teaching children--really don't know the difference between the Colonial period and the 19th century? Should we be surprised that our general visitors can't make the distinction?

I'm not the kind of history person who thinks knowing every single date is important, but it seems to me that knowing a basic chronological progression might be a requirement for anyone teaching social studies. It presents a huge barrier for history museums and historic sites--if teachers can't even grasp the basics of what you're teaching, why would they come and how can they make sense of what happens at your site and connect it to their other classroom work?

What's the answer? Teacher workshops done by history museums? a revised system of training teachers?

New Exhibits of Note

I'm always reading about new exhibits and keep a mental list of ones I'd like to see, should I be somewhere. Some are on the list because of the subject matter, others because of an interesting installation or approach, and some just for fun. Here's some from my current list:

Discovering Rastafari! at the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History. I know little about this religion and culture and for me, an exhibition is always a great way to begin to learn more. Weirdly, there's just a one paragraph description on the museum's website, but you can read the New York Times review here.

The Horse, at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. Sounds like a large exhibit, chock-full of objects, computer interactives and hands-on elements. AMNH has produced a number of my most memorable exhibits, from tattoos to Darwin.

Take Your Time:
Olafur Eliasson at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
I couldn't describe this, so here's an excerpt from the museum's website:

Take your time: Olafur Eliasson is the first comprehensive survey in the United States of works by Olafur Eliasson, whose immersive environments, sculptures, and photographs elegantly recreate the extremes of landscape and atmosphere in his native Scandinavia, while foregrounding the sensory experience of the work itself. Drawn from collections worldwide, the presentation spans over fifteen years of Eliasson's career. His constructions, at once eccentric and highly geometric, use multicolored washes, focused projections of light, mirrors, and elements such as water, stone, and moss to shift the viewer's perception of place and self. By transforming the gallery into a hybrid space of nature and culture, Eliasson prompts an intensive engagement with the world and offers a fresh consideration of everyday life.

It looks beautiful and compelling--and when you visit the website, don't miss looking at the pictures of visitors interacting with the exhibit.

Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
I like historic costume, but I'm not very interested in when bustles came in or sleeves went out. The visual nature of clothing and its meaning in all of our lives is what draws me in. Any show that combines comic books, high fashion, and high performance sportswear seems worth seeing.

And one historic site for the list, the newly opened President Lincoln's Cottage.
Using "historical voices" and images, the site tells the story of the simple place that was Lincoln's retreat.

What do you want to see?

Eye on Design: Inspiration from Outside the Museum

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From a great session at AAM; watch the show and read more about it at Museum 2.0.   What do you think?

Fake/Real/Real/Fake?

At AAM, I attended two fascinating sessions by James Chung and Susie Wilkenning of Reach Advisors. I was particularly struck by the survey they had just completed of 5000 visitors to 13 major outdoor museums. You can read much more about the survey on the Reach Advisors' blog. The survey looked at, among other things, why people visit.

Why do they?

• 62% said to immerse themselves in the past
  
• 82% to hear stories of everyday people
  
• 79% because they are places for children to learn history
  

Visitors wanted more immersive experiences. They wanted more access to the site, more opportunity to do rather than watch demonstrations, to engage all five senses, and critically, they wanted well-informed accessible, friendly staff. All good things to consider for any museum.

But the part of the presentation I struggled with the most is about authenticity. Said one museum visitor, "In my mind, authenticity is synonymous with history museums." But is it really--and how do our audiences really know we are authentic. In one of my projects, a teacher survey revealed that a majority of teachers visiting this particular site feel it's the real deal, but some think it shows the colonial period when in fact, the artifacts and limited interpretation are the 19th century.

I'm glad that visitors think we're authentic--and in fact, the museums in the Reach Advisor survey are in the top level and clearly set high standards for authenticity. But in fact, many small museums also convey that authenticity, when in fact, they're portraying falsehoods--whether it's something about people being shorter back then or ignoring the presence of enslaved people in the site's history.

I wish museum and historic site visitors would be more critical--that they would spend more time asking why, than learning the how of spinning or printing. Maybe they won't, because many of them come, as the survey demonstrated, for a respite, a bucolic setting. And I wish we, as museum professionals, could spend more time really thinking about the meaning of authenticity for our audiences, understanding how we are perceived, and working, when necessary, to change those perceptions.

Above: Eggs (real) at the Farmers Museum, April 2008

Little Knowledge and the Big Dipper

Last night, at a party, I happened to meet the director of the Dudley Observatory.  As we talked, I owned up that I only maybe knew three things about astronomy: one, that people probably got it confused with astrology (correct on this one), that Pluto wasn't a planet anymore (still some debate, evidently), and lastly, that really the only thing I recognized in the night sky was the Big Dipper. With the last, she exclaimed, "That's all you need!" and went on to say that once you knew someone up there, that was the start, the way to unlock all you might want to know about the universe. Driving home, I thought about how easy that sounded--and how hard we often make it to gain the knowledge historians, art historians, anthropologists and others present in museum settings. What would exhibits be like if we really dedicated serious effort to seek out that one connecting point--the point that made it possible for us to enter in, excited, into a new world of knowledge?

And tonight, when I got home, I looked up at the sky and thought, "hmmm...maybe I'd like to know more."

Looking at Leadership

Star D'Angelo, director of the Shaker Heritage Society in Albany, NY, sent these observations about board leadership after she read my post on a leadership session at AAM.

"Leadership is a subject that I have been contemplating for some time now. I wonder how I can be a better leader, why and if I want to continue acting as a museum director, how my work brings meaning to my life and how it serves the community...

I recently challenged my board to think more creatively abot the nominating process by cultivating individuals who are interested in things that may not seem immediately relevant to our museum mission. This included people interested in preserving open space, fair trade enterprise and micro loans to poor people who want to start a business, the growing interest in "simple living" or "green lifestyles," character education for children, encouraging public/private partnerships, etc. These are all things that are relevant to our situation our to Shaker history or values but we have yet to focus on them. Several of my board members called to say that they were inspired by these suggestions and are now thinking about more than just finding that key fundraising person (important but not necessarily inspiring!) or local history buff."

To me, Star's comments are really about the vision we have for our organizations. In her case, the vision of the creators of her site, the Shakers, is very clear and helped shape these ideas for new board members.

I think many historic sites and local museums were founded by people with a strong interest in "stuff." And so, the place becomes about that "stuff," rather than about a larger meaning. Star's suggestions can serve as a model for many interested in creating more diverse, more involved, more creative boards. Each site has a story to tell and finding those more creative board members may involve spending real time and effort to determine what those stories are, and how they resonate in today's society and in your own community.

As you find those new board members and involve them in your community, I suspect you may find new audiences, new members, and new partnerships. There's lots of current museum scholarship about individual meaning-making for visitors--but in this case a director has really put those meaning-making ideas in play within the context of leadership.

How can you identify and recruit new and different board members for your organization?

Photo: The Shaker Heritage Site, Albany NY, from www.shakerhistory.org