Think Piece #2

I picked up my first American Girl book, Meet Kirsten, when I was six years old. I read the majority of the book on the drive home from the library. Until that day I did not understand how immigrants struggled to come to the United States and make a life here. I did not realize that many people died in the process from contracting the diseases that were rampant on the ships. I did not know that children my age could die. After I finished Meet Kirsten, I knew all of that. I had a knowledge of that piece of America's history that I did not have before I read the book. I had heard all those facts at school, but reading about a girl my age, though a fictional character, who experienced that time in history
allowed me to connect with and personalize my country's past. Historical fiction allowed me to walk in the shoes of others, to see through new eyes, and to develop compassion and empathy for those who have gone before me.

Throughout high school, I was disengaged from my history classes. I found the long lectures and the endless facts to be irrelevant to my young life. I felt no connection to the historical characters. I often found myself nodding off in the back of the classroom, as far from caring about the content as one could be.

I had forgotten about the way that historical fiction impacts me until I read Elijah of Buxton. I had never considered what the lives of freed slaves living in Canada may be like. Even more so, I never stopped to think about the plight of people steps away from freedom who were caught before crossing the border. The final chapters of the book describing the way the capture family was being treated and abused made me
uncomfortable. I did not want to admit to myself that human beings could do such horrific things to other human beings. When the groups of people I read about became living, breathing characters across the pages of the book, I could no longer allow the complacency I had grown into. I was forced to acknowledge and confront this gruesome moment in history.

I had the same experience while reading The Fences Between Us. Having lived in Washington for my entire life, one may think that I would have some knowledge of the captivity of thousands of innocent Japanese Americans. Before reading the book I had not even an inkling of the atrocity. I had never stopped to ponder the people behind these events. My favorite part of the book was the post-script in which Kirby Larson outlined the very real events that the story was based around. When I read that many of the young Japanese men who enlisted as soldiers died in battle, I was wrecked. The very people whom the United States treated as less than human died for the sake of the nation. Had I not read that in the context of a story about one such young man, I am not sure the idea would have stuck with me. I do not think I would have given it pause. Because I became emotionally attached to the characters, though, I have mulled over these ideas since I finished the book. I have had many discussions with people about these events and have reflected on my own life and my part, whether intentional or not, in allowing for injustices.

Children and adults alike are taught that “ Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” Perhaps the dry and impersonal history textbooks of our school days contribute to this viscous cycle of tragedies. I know that I am not the only person affected by the reading of historical accounts in a fictional presentation. Perhaps if children were given well-researched historical fiction to read rather than being molded
into conventional forms of learning, they would be more interested in learning about things of the past. I can distance myself from facts, but I have a much harder time distancing myself from people. I would fathom that children would be the same way.

When I think of the large and complex topic of reluctant readers, I wonder at all the reasons children reach that place. Perhaps these novels and other engaging historical books would not catch the attention of these hesitant readers, but perhaps it would of ome. Perhaps these children would find, like I did, a companionship with the historical figures through the magic of reading. Perhaps if “ assigned” reading became “ engaged" reading, reluctant reading would become less of an epidemic and more of an anomaly.

Engaging children in learning lies as one of the purposes for children's books. Learning does not need to be boring. In fact, learning should be full of imagination and discovery. Much like the things I learned about social justice in my explorations project last quarter, I am finding that historical fiction offers the same dose of compassion and reverence for the things that others have gone through in the course of history. These books are far from doom and gloom. Overall they preach a message of hope and humanity even during darkness. I laughed with Elijah and Piper during the majority of each book and wept at the end at the realization that these characters were based on the lives of real children. I wish I had read these books as a child, and I certainly wish to pass these kinds of books on to my own children. I can hardly think of a more perfect marriage than education and entertainment.

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Notes: After I listened to Sherri's Jings, I realized that I did have a confusing timeline in my writing. I rearranged a few things because of that. I also added more details about my personal experiences with historical fiction. As Sherri suggested, I touched on reluctant reading, though I soon realized that reluctant reading and historical fiction could be a think piece of its own!