A few weeks ago, we took our children to a Fourth of July celebration sponsored by the Children of the American Revolution. The event included a flying pancake breakfast, as well as volunteers dressed as soldiers and camp nurses who taught the attendees about the Revolutionary War.
As history teachers, my husband and I wanted our children to learn about the history and importance of this holiday. But we discovered that teaching our children about our nation’s history involved some collateral damage: some tough questions about war.
“Why do the soldiers have guns?”
“Are there still wars today?”
“Will I have to fight in a war?”
“Why were people shooting at the soldiers? Aren’t the soldiers the good guys?”
My son already appears to be pondering some tough questions.
I teach AP European History. I teach about war many times a day, on many days during the year. Battles, strategies, weaponry, the causes of wars, casualties, wartime propaganda, reactions to war. I’ve taught a lot of kids a lot of information about a lot of wars.
But talking to my children about war? At ages 4 and 6? I don’t have a lesson plan for that.
I’m realizing that the wonderful, though unrealistic, world of black-and-white that my young children have lived in for years is now becoming much more multi-colored.
A few months ago, as I was explaining one of the rules for teachers at my school, my daughter asked, “Why do grown-ups need rules if all grown-ups are good?”
Oh, sweetie, I wish we were all good.
I wish I didn’t have to teach you that we’re not.
I wish I didn’t have to teach you about war.
I consider myself a pacifist. I grew up in a home with no toy guns or weapons – in fact, my mom wouldn’t even let me watch Popeye because it was too violent. I remember once during my sophomore year in high school I called home to ask my mom to come pick me up, and my sister informed me, “She can’t – she’s out on Highway 100 protesting the Gulf War.”
I tell my children that violence is wrong. We don’t allow toy weapons in our house. We say, “Don’t hit, don’t bite. Use your words, not your fists.” And now I have to explain to them that our presidents and leaders, the people we admire and teach our children to respect, don’t always use their words. And their weapons do a lot more damage than our fists do.
About a week after the 4th, we watched Mulan for family movie night. During one of the battle scenes, my daughter said, “Those are the nice soldiers, and those ones are the mean soldiers.”
I’m sad that my children will have to leave their secure “good people are good and bad people are bad” world. They are beginning to learn that good people sometimes do bad – very bad – things. I have to explain to them that in war, “nice,” “mean,” “right side,” and “wrong side” are all a matter of perspective. Each side believes they are the “good guys.” And sometimes, it’s hard to even tell who the “good guys” are.
As my children discover more about the world, they will learn not only about war, but the frightening extremes of human violence, both collective and personal.
Can I honestly tell them that monsters aren’t real?
I hope you weren’t reading this expecting a list of suggestions ~ because I confess feel a bit lost.
I feel somewhat comforted knowing I am not the only struggling with this. Just yesterday I read this post from Rachel of The Tao of Poop. Rachel writes about the disconnect she feels between singing songs and telling stories to our children that teach them “that actions have consequences, that might does not make right, and that justice can be on the side of the little guy.” And then we have to bring them up in a world that doesn’t always live up to “the moral of the story.”
I frequently discuss these issues with my high school students, and as a teacher, I can provide many reasons and analyses for why wars began and atrocities occurred throughout human history. I’m finding it’s a lot harder to tell my children why we go to war, and why the “good guys” kill people.
I’m sure as I find ways to explain war and injustice to my kids, their minds will grow to accommodate this new perspective, as they always do. It just saddens me to be the one who has to do it.
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