Teaching Difficult History through Film [1 ed.] 1138190764, 9781138190764

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Teaching Difficult History through Film

Teaching Difficult History through Film explores the potential of film to engage young people in controversial or contested histories and how they are represented, ranging from gender and sexuality, to colonialism and slavery. Adding to the education literature of how to teach and learn difficult histories, contributors apply their theoretical and pedagogical expertise and experiences to a variety of historical topics to show the ways that film can create opportunities for challenging conversations in the classroom and attempts to recognize the perspectives of historically marginalized groups. Chapters focus on translating research into practice by applying theoretical frameworks such as critical race theory, auto-ethnography or cultural studies, as well as more practical pedagogical models with film. Each chapter also includes applicable pedagogical considerations, such as how to help students approach difficult topics, model questions or strategies for engaging students, and examples from the authors’ own experiences in teaching with film or in leading students to develop counter-narratives through filmmaking. These discussions of the real considerations facing classroom teachers and professors are sure to appeal to experienced secondary teachers, pre-service teacher education programs, graduate students, and academic audiences within education, history, and film studies. Part and chapter discussion guides, full references of the films included in the book, and resources for teachers are available on the book’s companion website www.teachingdifficulthistory.com. Jeremy Stoddard is Professor of Education and an Associated Faculty Member in the Film and Media Studies program at the College of William & Mary.

Alan S. Marcus is Associate Professor in the Department of Curriculum and Instruction at the Neag School of Education, University of Connecticut. David Hicks is Professor of History and Social Science Education (Social Studies) in the School of Education at Virginia Tech.

Teaching Difficult History through Film Edited by Jeremy Stoddard, Alan S. Marcus, and David Hicks

First published 2017 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Taylor & Francis The right of Jeremy Stoddard, Alan S. Marcus, and David Hicks to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book. ISBN: 978-1-138-19076-4 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-138-19077-1 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-64087-7 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo Std by diacriTech, Chennai

To all of the teachers and professors who thoughtfully engage their students in difficult, marginalized, and silenced histories (from Jeremy) To my nieces Sydney and Kasey for making my life as an uncle fun and totally rad (from Alan) For Megan, Connor, Sophie, Evan, and Fiona (from David)

Contents

List of Contributors

xi

PART I

Introduction to Teaching Difficult History and Film as Difficult History1 1 Using Film to Teach Difficult Histories Jeremy Stoddard, Alan S. Marcus, and David Hicks 2 Difficult History Means Difficult Questions: Using Film to Reveal the Perspective of “The Other” in Difficult History Topics Ben Walsh, David Hicks, and Stephanie van Hover

3

17

PART II

Human Rights, Trauma, and Contemporary Difficult  Histories37 3 Teaching the History and Contemporary Challenge of Human Rights through Film Glenn Mitoma

39

viii Contents

4 From Seeing to Learn to Learning to See: Films on the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict Brian Britt

57

5 The Torturers Among Us: History, the Film Industry, and Its Claims to Truth Robert P. Stephens

70

PART III

Difficult History, Identity, and Implementation in  Curriculum87 6 Institutional Roles in Using Film to Teach Difficult History: The Federal Agency for Civic Education and The Lives of Others  89 Mattias Frey 7 “I Saw a REAL Indian on TV Last Night!”: Engaging Students in Historical Thinking for Social Justice 106 Christine Rogers Stanton, Amanda LeClair-Diaz, Brad Hall, and Lucia Ricciardelli 8 What Does History Have to Do With This?:Youth Filmmaking for Social Change 125 Sandra Quiñones, Brian Bailey, Joseph Ehman, and Daniel Delehanty PART IV

Teaching Common but Difficult Histories through Film143 9 Hollywood Histories: Examining Contemporary Depictions of Race and American Slavery in Popular Film Keffrelyn D. Brown and Anthony L. Brown

145

10 Classroom as Memory Workspace: The Educational and Empathetic Potentials of 12 Years a Slave and Ask a Slave160 Matthew R. Cook and Derek H. Alderman 11 Teaching Difficult History with Film: Multiple Perspectives on the Holocaust Alan S. Marcus and Gary D. Mills

178

Contents  ix

PART V

Difficult Histories from the Margins in Curriculum and Teacher Education197 12 Questioning “Normal”: Actively Undoing Dis/ability Stereotypes Through Teaching a Critical Analysis of Films David J. Connor

199

13 Invoking Precious Knowledge with Teacher Candidates to Reclaim the Past, Reassess the Present, and Revolutionize Future Practice219 Mark Kohan and Emilie M. Camp 14 Finally “Seeing” a Queer Past: The Importance of Film in Teaching LGBTQ American History Sharon Ullman

237

Index253

Contributors

Editors Jeremy Stoddard is Professor of Education and an Associated Faculty Member in

the Film and Media Studies program at the College of William & Mary. Alan S. Marcus is Associate Professor in the Neag School of Education at the

University of Connecticut. David Hicks is Professor of Education in the Department of Curriculum &

Instruction at Virginia Tech.

Authors Derek H. Alderman is Professor and Head of the Department of Geography at the University of Tennessee-Knoxville. Brian Bailey is Associate Professor in Adolescence Education at Nazareth College. Brian Britt is Professor and Chair in the Department of Religion and Culture at

Virginia Tech. Anthony L. Brown is Associate Professor of Social Studies and Cultural Studies

in the Department of Curriculum & Instruction at University of Texas-Austin. Keffrelyn D. Brown is Associate Professor of Cultural Studies in Education in the

Department of Curriculum & Instruction at University of Texas-Austin.

xii Contributors

Emilie M. Camp is Associate Professor, Educator, in the School of Education at

the University of Cincinnati. David J. Connor is Professor of Special Education/Learning Disabilities at Hunter

College, City University of New York. Matthew R. Cook is Assistant Professor of Geography and Historic Preservation

at Eastern Michigan University. Daniel Delehanty teaches social studies at East High School in Rochester, NY, where he is also Co-Facilitator of the Teaching & Learning Institute. Joseph Ehman is a high school teacher and IB Diploma Program Coordinator

in Pittsburgh, PA. Mattias Frey is Reader in Film and the Managing Director of the Centre for Film and Media Research at the University of Kent. Brad Hall (Piikani) is Vice President for Mission Effectiveness at Blackfeet

Community College and a Graduate Student in Educational Leadership at Montana State University. Mark Kohan is Assistant Clinical Professor at the Neag School of Education at the

University of Connecticut. Amanda LeClair-Diaz is a doctoral candidate in the Teaching Learning and Sociocultural Studies Program at The University of Arizona. Gary D. Mills is Assistant Professor in History Education, The University of

Nottingham, School of Education, Jubilee Campus. Glenn Mitoma is Assistant Professor of Human Rights and Education at the University of Connecticut. Sandra Quiñones is Assistant Professor of Literacy Education at Duquesne

University. Lucia Ricciardelli is Associate Professor of Film Studies at Montana State

University. Christine Rogers Stanton is Assistant Professor of Curriculum & Instruction,

Social Studies Education, at Montana State University.

Contributors  xiii

Robert P. Stephens is Associate Professor of History at Virginia Tech. Sharon Ullman is Professor of History and Department Chair at Bryn Mawr

College. Stephanie van Hover is Associate Professor and Chair of the Department of

Curriculum & Instruction, University of Virginia. Ben Walsh is a history education consultant in the United Kingdom.

Part I

Introduction to Teaching Difficult History and Film as Difficult History

1 Using Film to Teach Difficult Histories Jeremy Stoddard, Alan S. Marcus, and David Hicks

Introduction History is full of difficult topics: topics that are difficult to portray, to discuss, to teach, to experience, and to understand. This volume builds from scholarship in history, film, and education with the goal of exploring the relationship between difficult history, film, and pedagogy and considering how best to teach difficult history. The idea for this volume emerged from our previous research on film in history education. Our research identified the role that film plays in high school teachers’ pedagogy with difficult histories, such as the history of enslaved peoples and American Indians in the US and victims and perpetrators of genocidal events such as the Holocaust (Marcus and Stoddard, 2007). We found that commonly used films focused on these often-marginalized topics in the history curriculum, including the films Dances with Wolves (1990), Glory (1987), and Amistad (1997). We also identified a pattern in teacher use of films focused on these histories: suburban and rural teachers showed African American history films more often while urban teachers used films on American Indian history.This suggests that teachers may be using film as a medium for engaging students in histories they are not as familiar with or not as comfortable teaching.  This initial study then led to our attempts to theorize this phenomenon, resulting in our conceptualization of the burden of historical representation as a model for analyzing film, and pedagogy with film, that represent marginalized and difficult histories (Stoddard and Marcus, 2006; Stoddard, Marcus, and Hicks, 2014). Building on recent research that uses theories of difficult knowledge in education research (e.g., Britzman, 1998) and in engaging in difficult knowledge with film (Garrett, 2011; Gaudelli, Crocco, and Hawkins, 2012), we identified a group

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of scholars from diverse disciplinary and theoretical backgrounds and challenged them to explore the relationship between difficult history and pedagogy, using film as the medium of study and engagement.The authors in this volume explore how films may be used to engage in the difficult past within pedagogies informed by theories from sociocultural, post-colonial, disability studies, critical theory and critical race theory, and film and cultural studies using examples from their own research and the fields of education, history, and film and cultural studies. Our goal with this volume is to expand the theoretical and pedagogical approaches for examining how film may and may not be useful for addressing difficult history through its role as a medium of instruction, as a historical source, or as an art form to communicate and interrogate history, collective memory, and student identity. In this introductory chapter we explore what makes history difficult, including traumatic aspects of the past as well as contextual and curricular difficulties in teaching about marginalized or challenging histories.We also examine the affordances and limits of history as portrayed on film and the pedagogical potential and constraints of using film to explore difficult histories. Finally, we provide an introduction to the overview of the structure of the volume and the challenge we posed to its authors.

What Is Difficult History: Why Is History Difficult? We first examine what makes some history difficult, and in particular d­ ifficult to engage young people in through commonly used pedagogies and existing history curriculum frameworks. Some history can be difficult because it is ­traumatic; because it is difficult for most people in the present to fathom; or because it raises issues of identity, marginalization, and oppression that are more easily ignored than addressed for many students and teachers (Epstein, 2009). We explore these aspects of difficult history below and contextualize them with research and our own experiences of how film is used as a medium to sometimes avoid, but more often to engage with, difficult histories. We also asked each of the authors in the volume to similarly conceptualize difficult history from their own disciplinary or theoretical perspectives and wrestle with what makes history difficult.

Traumatic and Affectively Difficult History Film and history both often rely on narrative, characters (whether fiction or based on a real person), and conflict to engage the reader or audience in examining some aspect of the past. Too often, this past and the history that attempts to represent it include violence, injustice, or other powerful instances largely viewed as taboo or ones that could inflict trauma.While these types of difficult aspects of the past can be vividly conveyed through many mediums (e.g., photographs), film in particular brings together the visual, audio, and character and narrative elements

Using Film to Teach Difficult Histories  5

to promote an affective and emotional response in an audience. This is powerful in that it engages audiences vividly and deeply – but also can create difficult and traumatic engagements with representations of the past. In fact, decisions made by filmmakers to adhere more or less closely to the historical record is often driven by whether or not the director believes it will engage audiences – as entertainment or to challenge their understandings of the past. This is what Walsh, Hicks, and van Hover refer to as affectively difficult history in Chapter 2 of this volume, as the medium itself is designed to engage affectively with the viewer and intended to elicit particular emotive effects, at least in its intended audience. The study of history can be emotive and controversial where there is actual or perceived unfairness to people by another individual or group in the past. This may also be the case where there are disparities between what is taught in school history, family/community histories, and other histories (see also, Epstein, 2009). Such issues and disparities create a strong resonance with students in particular educational settings (Historical Association, 2007, p. 3). This trauma can sometimes emerge as a form of difficult history that groups do not want to face or acknowledge – or that they do not want to engage with because they are cognizant of the trauma these representations could induce. We have had many conversations with teachers, students, and colleagues about 12 Years a Slave, Steve McQueen’s film adaptation of the story of a free AfricanAmerican man who was kidnapped and enslaved for 12 years before being freed through the courts. Many potential white viewers see this film as difficult because of not just the violence and difficult imagery they imagine will be in the film but also the acknowledgment that this history existed and that complicity in, and benefits from, slavery went well beyond the borders of the southern states in the US. Potential African-American audience members, and especially males, have been hesitant to view the film for a different aspect of difficulty. African Americans we spoke to in particular often worry about their own reaction to the trauma portrayed on screen and their own emotional response to the film’s representations. This emotional response is grounded in the individual and collective experiences of African Americans who have descended from enslaved peoples and who still experience racial violence and discrimination today. This may be a way of  “acting out” historical trauma, or reliving the past in some way, even if they do not have direct memory (LaCapra, 2001). However, the intended audience of McQueen was likely those “working through” and not acting out the trauma.These are people who need to create a distance to the history but also seek to understand the actions from the past and develop empathy with the potential of acquiring the “possibility of being an ethical agent” (LaCapra, 1998, p. 3). Similarly, teachers may not be comfortable engaging students in difficult histories within divided societies, and therefore may resist incorporating multiple perspectives or interpretations in their teaching (Zembylas, 2016). In Chapter 4, for example, Britt explores the difficulty of representing the ongoing and challenging history of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict – and the ramifications of this

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history for those involved as well as the broader global community invested in this conflict and its outcome. Similarly, while recognizing the importance of teaching affectively difficult histories such as race relations and the Civil Rights Movement, predominantly middle class white teachers in the US may be uncomfortable connecting the Black Lives Matter movement and debates around the flying of the Confederate flag with the concept of the Civil Rights Movement in their future history classrooms. Similarly, teachers in Northern Ireland or Israel may hesitate to want to engage students in their countries’ difficult pasts (Barton and McCully, 2005; Zembylas and Beckerman, 2008). These issues may be viewed as both affectively difficult as well as professionally difficult to teach in a way that engages students thoughtfully in these difficult pasts within communities that may not want all perspectives to be included in schools. The example above of the type of trauma experienced by teachers has also been theorized through a framework of difficult knowledge (e.g., Garrett, 2011; Gaudelli, Crocco, and Hawkins, 2012), using this psychoanalytic framework to help analyze how teachers may experience these representations and how they make sense of the history being represented – and think about teaching it. However, the latter experience of imagery with ties to collective or cultural memory needs additional theorizing and pedagogical consideration. Though many teachers see the value for students, and especially white students, to acknowledge the challenging nature of slavery in the United States and how the benefits of slavery are endemic to the development of the country, what does this mean when students could feel a potential historical trauma from this difficult history, such as the examples of those African-American men that we have talked with?

History that Is Marginalized or Challenges the Official History Curriculum There are numerous difficulties when it comes to the history curriculum in the US and in other parts of the world. These difficulties stretch from the ideological and nationalistic goals of history education to other objectives of history education, such as creating more humanistic citizens who can think critically. Of course, it has always been difficult even finding a place to start when deciding what to include or not include in any history course, or at what age students should engage in different historical content or concepts. The history curriculum has traditionally been used to reinforce a national narrative and maintain the status quo (Barton and Levstik, 2004; Foner, 1998). Though creating citizens has always been the goal of history education, the difficult decision or debate has always been over what kind of citizen we would like that to be and about who gets to be a citizen. For the curriculum, any time teachers, states, or curriculum writers want to reframe or include history that has been left out or is on the margins, it is seen as a threat to the status quo.

Using Film to Teach Difficult Histories  7

For most teachers, the difficulty comes in their role as gatekeeper, with one foot in the “official” curriculum and the other in making decisions about what else to bring in or in how to engage students in the history (e.g., transmission approach, inquiry) (Thornton, 1991). Other contextual factors such as high stakes testing or district level benchmark testing may also influence these decisions. Further, there is difficulty that emerges when teachers are not comfortable in teaching about certain issues they perceive to be difficult or controversial and therefore present an official account with little student engagement in the aspects of the history deemed as difficult. For example, the teachers using Amistad or Glory in the study we refer to in the introduction may be doing little to help students debrief or critique what they viewed in these films (Stoddard and Marcus, 2006). While this research suggests that some teachers may use films to avoid their own role in teaching difficult history, other pedagogues have found film to be an effective curricular tool to engage students directly in difficult aspects of the past. This latter group of teachers uses film as a vehicle to engage students in controversial aspects of events such as the Vietnam War, the Holocaust, or the complexities of race, enslavement, and the Civil War (Marcus, Metzger, Paxton, and Stoddard, 2010).The primary goal of these teachers is not to transmit content but to engage students in historical empathy or to develop inquiry skills using different forms of historical evidence – including film. These topics are largely included in the official curriculum but are not often engaged in through marginalized perspectives. Further, controversial or contested histories are difficult to navigate, especially when marginalized perspectives or views are rarely included in meaningful ways in the discussion. The knowledge and experiences of teachers or the contexts in which they teach may make some of these histories even more difficult. Similarly, issues related to gender, sexuality, and disability throughout history are difficult to incorporate thoughtfully into a curriculum and history that has long marginalized them (see Chapter 12 on portrayals of disability in film and Chapter 14 on films that represent LGBTQ history). However, regardless of curriculum or the teacher as curriculum gatekeeper, there are also issues of context that can make the teaching of difficult history complicated – or even help to define what is difficult about that history. One of us, for example, was taken aback when told that they could not use clips from the original made for television mini-series Roots (1977) in their classes because it would be deemed as too controversial. In other places, any use of film with an R rating, a certain level of violence, or any nudity could be viewed as taboo regardless of the topic or content of the film. Of course, the inclusion of difficult histories in any kind of official curriculum can also be politically charged. As Frey (Chapter 6) notes in his analysis of the official film guides created by a German civic education institute, the institute chose not to create a curriculum for the film The Baader Meinhof Complex (2008), which tells the story of the Red Army Faction terrorist group that operated in

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West Germany.This film tells a story that Frey notes may not be far enough in the past to make this film part of any official curriculum – timing of difficult histories can therefore also impact what appears in classrooms.

Teacher Epistemology and Difficult History One of the greatest challenges to overcome in history education is the disconnect between how most historians view the nature of history and how many teachers view history. Additionally, there are epistemic challenges to both how historians and teachers view film as a historical source and as a medium for teaching history. While historians view history as imagination constrained by evidence, most curricula portray history as a set of static facts to be remembered as part of a larger metanarrative of national history – in the US it often emerges as a metanarrative of freedom and progress (Barton and Levstik, 2004; Foner, 1998). Film often reinforces and replicates this metanarrative. What this disconnect boils down to is the epistemic views of history and the role of ideology in knowing what we know, or believing what we believe, about the past and how our view of history is warranted with evidence. For film, these epistemic views translate to viewing film representations as being accurate history or viewing film as a medium that is even capable of accurate representations of the past as an objective view. Instead, teachers would need to view film through a lens of warranting both the evidence and narrative being presented as one that represents a particular perspective and context that is in need of critique, or view film as a medium that is better utilized to raise questions about the past and how we can think about it (e.g., Rosenstone, 1995, 2006). Ideology, however, also factors into epistemic views of the past as it can often shape what we believe to be true or at least create a lack of consciousness when it comes to evaluating historical perspectives that align with our own ideological views. For example, Stoddard’s (2010) study of two teachers illustrated the role of ideology in teacher decision-making and pedagogy with documentary films in particular. He found that his participants used fiction film for clear objectives beyond a transfer of content and also made it clear that they were not accurate – but documentaries they selected, films that primarily aligned with the teachers’ political views, were presented without critique and more akin to a replacement of a lecture. Ideology can also come into play where teachers make choices to not use film to engage students in difficult history because of the ideology of students, their parents, or the local community. Though film is often viewed as a medium for broaching difficult historical topics, it is also historically viewed as a tool for propaganda, and in particular documentary film and “Hollywood” film is perceived as having a liberal bias by conservatives (Stoddard, 2013). In this way history and the engagement in marginalized or difficult topics in history are often silenced regardless of medium – or the only history films that are allowed (or perceived

Using Film to Teach Difficult Histories  9

by teachers to be allowed) are those that reinforce rather than challenge the ­predominant ideological view. Teachers similarly may find it challenging to incorporate alternative warranted perspectives on an event or changes in longstanding historical narratives in history because of their own or perceived local community dominant beliefs about the past, such as the Frey example in Germany illustrates (Chapter 6). Similarly, Kohan and Camp (Chapter 13) describe their pedagogical approach to using the film Precious Knowledge (2011) with pre-service teachers to engage them in discussions of marginalized perspectives and culturally responsive curriculum and pedagogy – and to ask them to confront their own beliefs and assumptions about what should be in the curriculum within the heated context of immigration and citizenship in the Southwest US.

Film and Difficult History One could argue that all history is difficult history as the discipline itself is limited in the claims it can make about the past, about what happened, and more importantly about why things happened and what those in the past intended (see Chapter 2). Similarly, the medium of film is limited in what can be presented on screen – in part because it needs to be discernible by the intended audience and is often constrained by film industry standards, the desire for Hollywood studio profits, and a filmmaker’s ability to translate the historical record to the big screen.

The Limits of Film as History These limits are paralleled in many ways by the historical discipline itself. History is often limited to the evidence that is available, whose perspectives are revealed by this evidence, the frameworks available to interpret these traces from the past, and the influences of the present on how we interpret the past. History conceived in this way is always less than the past, always a discipline in search of the truth (Gaddis, 2002; Jenkins, 1991). Although the past several decades have seen a subjective turn in the discipline of history, many still view history as being static, objective, or known even when the historians themselves understand the constraints to their claims and the evidence they may be based on. History is often also rooted in ideology and reflects the prevailing social views of its time of production – which too often means the marginalization of historical perspectives from non-white, non-Western, non-males from the past. Similarly, film often functions as a form of public pedagogy as it reflects the cultural, social, and political views of its time and place of production and reinforces these values in society. When used in the classroom, these representations in film hold an even greater weight as they are shown in an academic setting and by a perceived authority figure on the part of the teacher (Stoddard and Marcus, 2006; Stoddard, Marcus, and Hicks, 2014).

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What these films may reinforce, then, are stereotypical images of enslaved p­eoples in the forms of the “mammy” stock character or representations of American Indians as stoic, warlike, or uncivilized. Further, the narrative structures in film often also match the story of progress and freedom critiqued in the textbook version of history often presented. War films, such as Stephens’ analysis of Zero Dark Thirty (2012) in Chapter 5, are often portrayed as a fight against evil that makes actions such as torture acceptable to win this fight. Stephens’ analysis also highlights the tradition of interest convergence in films that represent marginalized histories and historical agents – meaning a film may include these perspectives so long as it is told from a white or dominant culture point of view or includes a white savior character to help maintain the dominant perspective and the needs of the intended audience. This does not mean that all audiences or all students take the “intended read” (Hall, 1997) of the film. They may challenge the representations presented, the stories or perspectives told, or the racial and gender stereotypes portrayed in film. However, they also may have a hard time discerning contemporary forms of stereotypes and issues of representation unless actively engaged in analyzing the film as text and representation – to help them have great historical consciousness regarding what they are seeing (Seixas, 1994).

Film as Difficult History Using our conceptualization of difficult history thus far, we now examine the affordances and constraints of film for engaging with difficult history. How can film then be used as a medium to engage young people in challenging and marginalized histories, cultures, and perspectives? The clichéd and often-repeated claim that “history is written by the victors,” is as true for history films as it is for the historical record. More accurately, the historical film is created (written, produced, directed, and funded) by, and for, the victors who represent the interests of the dominant culture. It can be a tool for oppression and propaganda as well as a tool for providing counter-narratives and non-Western epistemologies (Stoddard, Marcus, and Hicks, 2014). It is important then to consider the work of Rosenstone (1995, 2006) and other historians who view the medium of film as a way of doing history that challenges dominant forms and challenges readers, audiences, and historians alike to rethink how we communicate history and engage with the past. He sees the medium of film as a vehicle to challenge these dominant narratives and to rethink the form of history and to challenge audiences’ conceptions of history and the assumptions made on these dominant narratives that emphasize male, Western, and largely affluent perspectives on the past. If we consider Selma (2014) as an example of film as a medium of history – how does its reshaping of the relationship between civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr and President Lyndon Johnson challenge the historical record?

Using Film to Teach Difficult Histories  11

It portrays Johnson to be much more reluctant to move on civil rights issues and much more volatile in his relationship with King than most historical works, both academic and popular, portray. Many have argued that this is not a historically accurate portrayal, and they may be right according to the dominant historical record. However, as Walsh, Hicks, and van Hover in Chapter 2 suggest, here we are dealing with conceptually difficult history in terms of whose narratives are being represented.What becomes clear is that Selma offers up a narrative that gives more agency to Black civil rights leaders and their accomplishments and less agency to the white allies who, while important and key to major accomplishments, are often given overdue credit – especially in their intent. The filmmaker’s decision in Selma was not a case of being unaware of the historical record – but instead an example of using film to challenge the larger story of the Civil Rights Movement as part of the American historical narrative of progress and a quest for freedom. In addition to challenging historical interpretations of events such as the Civil Rights Movement, film can also be used to help those in the dominant culture better understand indigenous worldviews or epistemologies – and for American Indian students to view their history and perspectives that better reflect their own experiences on the screen? A film such as Smoke Signals (1998) is an ­example of how a film made for and by American Indians can be a powerful tool for challenging stereotypes and dominant narratives – as well as to introduce visually non-Western epistemologies and worldviews (Stoddard, Marcus, and Hicks, 2014). Stanton et al. in Chapter 7 present an autoethnographic study that analyzes the relationship between indigenous epistemology and representations of American Indians on film. It is important to also recognize, and have students recognize, film’s role as both a tool of dominance and oppression (e.g., ­stereotyping), as well as more recently as a medium for counter-storytelling. It is this latter emergence of film made for and by historically marginalized groups that is likely the greatest implication of this work.This is perhaps best illustrated in the projects described by Stanton et al. and Quiñones et al. (Chapter 8) that show how student production of film focused on difficult history can pedagogically address issues of identity, historical thinking, and aspects of a counter-narrative to dominant historical narratives. Similarly, how can films like 12 Years a Slave (2013) or Birth of a Nation (2016) challenge broader audiences to think about the complexities of slavery and how it was interwoven into aspects of social, political, and economic life in the Northern and Southern US (as well as other parts of the Americas)? However, even some of these films have a white savior or perspective that represents neoliberal, colonial, or dominant gender perspectives. The power of these films includes the attempts they make to incorporate marginalized historical perspectives and events, but they often make compromises in order to be produced. Brown and Brown (Chapter 9) provide a strategy for making use of the affordances of these films while avoiding reinforcing dominant narratives.They suggest using specific film clips that emphasize marginalized perspectives or particularly powerful affective moments – and

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that can be used as effective counter-narratives. Similarly, Cook and Alderman (Chapter 10) examine how theatrical media such as 12 Years a Slave compares to streaming media such as the web series Ask a Slave to challenge the historical representation of slavery. It is these pedagogical approaches to engaging students in difficult histories through film, both from dominant and historically marginalized communities, that we asked our authors to engage with in the following chapters. We gave them a few simple guidelines for the chapters: to provide their definition for difficult history, to use their disciplinary and theoretical frameworks to inform their ­analysis and pedagogical examples, to provide explicit descriptions of their ­pedagogy – including prompts and questions, and to include films and examples that could be applied or replicated in secondary and post-secondary history, cultural studies, education, and film classes.

Structure of the Book The remaining chapters of the volume are organized by theme. These themes are not organized by historical chronology but by approach or location of where history becomes difficult. In Part I, Chapter 2, by Walsh, Hicks, and van Hover, generatively builds from this chapter by examining what makes history difficult and the role film may play to explore these difficulties before providing a pedagogical framework and example cases for how to approach teaching difficult history through film. Part II presents three chapters that focus on persistently difficult historical issues related to human rights and the gray zones of human morality. In Chapter 3, Mitoma provides a framework for thinking about human rights broadly – t­ eaching about, for, and through human rights. In the next two ­chapters, Britt and Stephens then deepen our understanding of the dilemmas of using film to teach about human rights through the issues of the Palestinian–Israeli conflict and torture, respectively. The authors exemplify the power of looking at issues through multiple lenses as each author’s field – one human rights, one religion and culture, and one history – provide us with unique ways of viewing these dilemmas. Most importantly, these chapters disclose three essential issues: ­teaching human rights through film is an important way to develop citizenship skills, human rights raise acute curricula issues as they are not commonly taught, and teachers need to carefully consider their own role and subjectivities. Part III then explores the nature and potential of curricular and youth filmmaking projects focused on developing students’ critical literacy and historical identities through the analysis and critique of film and through making film, respectively. In Chapter 6, Frey presents the case of Filmhefte (film booklets) developed by Germany’s Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung (Federal Agency for Civic Education) focused on engaging students in interpreting Germany’s difficult past as presented on screen. This chapter raises the question of what role institutions

Using Film to Teach Difficult Histories  13

such as state and national curricular agencies have in engaging students in what they deem as difficult and in particular pedagogical techniques for studying film. In Chapter 7, Stanton et al. present two cases of autoethnography and the use of community-centered storywork to engage Native American students in ­analyzing the portrayal of American Indians on film and how these portrayals have impacted their own understandings of history and identity. The second case then looks at a collaborative and inter-cultural project focused on using filmmaking to sustain and revive community storytelling among youth from the Piikani and students and faculty from Montana State University. In Chapter 8, Quiñones et al. then explore efforts to engage students in two urban cities to use filmmaking to explore their own historical identities and to use film to explore the past and present counter-narratives to common contemporary and historical portrayals of civil rights events and their ongoing struggles. Based on these chapters, the use of youth filmmaking as a pedagogy and product for engaging with difficult history has great potential as counter-narrative and as medium for identity development and historical thinking among non-white youth. Part IV then includes three chapters that focus on topics – US chattel slavery and the Holocaust – that while typically included as part of the official curriculum in the US, teachers nevertheless find difficult to teach. Both US chattel slavery and the Holocaust are topics that are often engaged with through affective mediums such as film, images, and simulations – but the difficult aspects of the history are often avoided as many teachers are not comfortable with what is difficult – the institutionalized nature of race in the US legal system and in laws, the institutions in Nazi Germany, and the level of human suffering and indignity. In Chapter 9, Brown and Brown, through the lens of critical race theory and cultural memory, detail how three popular films – Amistad (1997), Lincoln (2012), and 12 Years a Slave (2013) can be used to help students unpack the question, “How is the history of US chattel slavery depicted in American motion pictures?” In doing so they illuminate how selected film clips can be used to employ film as counter-narrative, even when the overall narrative of a film may reify a white savior theme in a movie about enslaved peoples. In Chapter 10, Cook and Alderman then illustrate how through employing the lenses of geographies of memory – CRT and critical studies – two very different representations of slavery in the form of 12 Years a Slave and the online comedy web series Ask a Slave can be used to challenge and disrupt stereotypes about slavery and specifically the “mammy” stereotype within what they call the classroom memory workspace. Marcus and Mills in Chapter 11 then shift the gaze to illuminate the value and opportunities of breaking from the typical canon of Holocaust films – Schindler’s List, The Pianist, and/or The Boy in the Striped Pajamas – often favored by teachers in many UK and US classrooms. They provide a compelling and nuanced argument for why and how non-American/non-British film can deepen and enrich Holocaust education by providing more complex and realistic perspectives and portraits of the Holocaust for students.

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Part V brings in difficult histories that are often omitted or absent from d­ iscourse in history education – or may often not even be viewed as part of history education. As such, these chapters are designed to introduce and provide a space for new generative opportunities to engage in theoretical and practical conversations to enrich and enhance the teaching of difficult histories through film. In Chapter 12, Connor employs a disability studies framework to examine how disability has been portrayed historically in film – and makes the case for why students should be engaged in analyzing how the portrayal of disability in these films impacts how disability is included (or not) in common historical narratives. In Chapter 13, Kohan and Camp then bring the concept of difficult history to bear on education and the preparation of teachers.They examine how the film Precious Knowledge can be used to engage pre-service teachers in developing social justice consciousness while also facing their own identities and epistemologies related to teaching and teaching about difficult histories. Chapter 14 then provides an introduction to, and case for, teaching about LGBTQ history within US history. Here, Ullman recognizes the conceptual and actual challenges and opportunities of both teaching LGBTQ history and teaching LGBTQ history with film. While recognizing that certain states are beginning to incorporate LGBTQ history within their history and social science curriculum while other states are actively legislating to deny basic human rights to transgender citizens, Ullman offers up a series of films paired with potential discussion frames to serve as thoughtful and authentic pedagogical entry points for teaching these difficult histories that for many emerge from fear, hate, and ignorance. Teaching difficult history with film is clearly a challenging endeavor because such content immediately breaks through the separation of  “thought from f­ eeling” (Rosaldo, 1994, p. 406). However, as Rosaldo (1994) reminds us “[t]eachers can use such feelings as starting points for analysis and intellectual discussion … matters that arouse strong feelings often concern students deeply and can lead to more searching analyses than other issues … The result is that classrooms become less comfortable than they were before. Instead of seeking maximum comfort, teachers should strive for tolerable discomfort” (pp. 406–407). Classrooms, then, may best be described as “contact zones” or “borderlands” – within such spaces students’ perspectives, positions, and evidence-based claims will rub up against – maybe even clash against each other while also clashing against the very content. As Read (1998) notes, “Thus one of the challenges in the class(room) is to find ways of making different knowledges [and evidence-based claims and positions] public and to produce different knowledges in the process” (p. 114).We recognize in teaching difficult history it is naive to claim that individuals and groups beliefs and ideologies will remain safe, untouched, unaffected, or unchallenged. Successfully navigating the terrain of teaching difficult history requires not only a sense of civic and pedagogical courage on the part of teachers, but also teachers who are ready, willing, and able to organize experiences and activities that nurture the hard dialogic skills of civility, conversations, and cooperation

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around the content itself (see Booth, 2005; Rosaldo, 1994; Sennett, 2012). Setting the tone and embarking on such work with students, we suggest, begins with recognizing and then explicating the value of being theoretically, practically, and consistently engaged in the classroom’s routines and rhythms of “listening well, behaving tactfully, finding points of agreement and managing disagreement, or avoiding frustration in a difficult discussion” (Sennett, 2012, p. 6; Sennett, 2008). The foundations for such work with difficult history and film as discussed in the rest of this volume may well be framed by the following maxims: • •

•

“We are different from each other, as we are divided within ourselves: let’s talk” (Sennett, 2012, p. 126) Active listening means never assenting to or rejecting “any new positions [you] have not fully understood. Never shoot at a target that doesn’t exist, but don’t surrender to positions that are genuinely false or mistaken” (Booth, 2005, p. 386) Avoid arguments from authority and remember the power of the “­subjunctive mood” – “I would have thought” … “Possibly” … “Perhaps” … “Couldn’t you say that …” – to strengthen and enhance civil and cooperative conversations (see Sennett, 2012, p. 22).

References Barton, K. and Levstik, L. (2004). Teaching history for the common good. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers. Barton, K. and McCully, A. (2005). History, identity, and the school curriculum in North­ ern Ireland: An empirical study of secondary students’ ideas and perspectives. Journal of Curriculum Studies, 37(1), 85–116. Booth,W. (2005). Blind skepticism versus a rhetoric of assent. College Teaching, 67(4), 378–388. Britzman, D. P. (1998). Lost subjects, contested objects:Toward a psychoanalytic inquiry of learning. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Epstein, T. (2009). Interpreting national history: Race, identity, and pedagogy in classrooms and communities. New York: Routledge. Foner, E. (1998). The story of American freedom. New York: Norton. Gaddis, J. (2002). The landscape of history: How historians map the past. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Garrett, H.J. (2011). Routing and rerouting of difficult knowledge: Social studies teachers encounter When the Levees Broke. Theory and Research in Social Education, 39(3), 320–347. Gaudelli, W., Crocco, M., and Hawkins, A. (2012). Documentaries, outtakes, and digital archives in teaching difficult knowledge and the Vietnam War. Education and Society, 30(2), 5–25. Hall, S. (1997). The spectacle of the “other.” In S. Hall (Ed.), Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices (pp. 225–268). London: SAGE Publication in association with The Open University. Historical Association, (2007). T.E.A.C.H. Teaching emotive and controversial history 3–19. London: The Historical Association. Retrieved from http://www.history.org.uk/ resources/resource_780.html.

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Jenkins, K. (1991) Re-thinking history. London: Routledge. LaCapra, D. (1998). An interview with Professor Dominick LaCapra. A. Goldberg (Ed). Shoah Resource Center: The International School for Holocaust Studies. Retrieved April 1, 2016 from www.yadvashaem.org. LaCapra, D. (2001). Writing history, writing trauma. Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins University Press. Marcus, A., Metzger, S., Paxton, R., and Stoddard, J. (January 2010). Teaching history with film: Strategies for secondary social studies. New York: Routledge. Marcus, A. and Stoddard, J. (2007). Tinsel town as teacher: Hollywood film in the high school classroom. The History Teacher, 40(3), 303–330. Read, D. (1998). Writing trauma, history, story: The class(room) as borderland. JAC, 18(1), 105–121. Retrieved from http://www.jaconlinejournal.com/archives/vol18.1/ read-writing.pdf. Rosaldo, R. (1994). Cultural citizenship and educational democracy. Cultural Anthropology, 9(3), 402–411. Rosenstone, R. A. (1995). Visions of the past: The challenge of film to our idea of history. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rosenstone, R. A. (2006). History on film/film on history. Harlow, U.K.: Pearson Education Limited. Seixas, P. (1994) Confronting the moral frames of popular film: Young people respond to historical revisionism. American Journal of Education, 102, 261–285. Sennett, R. (2008). The craftsman. New Haven, Connecticut:Yale University Press. Sennett, R. (2012). Together: The rituals, pleasures and politics of cooperation. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Stoddard, J. (2010). The competing roles of epistemology and ideology in teachers’ pedagogy with historical media. Teachers and Teaching:Theory and Practice, 16(1), 133–151. Stoddard, J. (2013). Hillary: The Movie, The History Channel, and the challenge of the documentary for democratic education. Teachers College Record, 115(3), p. 1–32. Available online: http://www.tcrecord.org/Content.asp?ContentId=16731. Stoddard, J. D. and Marcus, A. S. (2006). The burden of historical representation: Race, freedom, and “educational” Hollywood film. Film & History: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Film and Television Studies 36(1), 26–35. Center for the Study of Film and History. Retrieved October 26, 2016, from Project MUSE database. Stoddard, J., Marcus, A., and Hicks, D. (2014). The burden of historical representation: The case of/for indigenous film. The History Teacher, 48(1), 9–36. Thornton, S. J. (1991). Teacher as curricular-instructional gatekeeper in social studies. In J. Shaver (Ed.), Handbook of Research on Social Studies Teaching and Learning, (pp. 237–248). New York: Macmillan. Zembylas, M. (2016). Teacher resistance to engage with “alternative” perspectives of difficult histories: The limits and prospects of affective disruption. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education. DOI: 10.1080/01596306.2015.1132680. Zembylas, M. and Bekerman, Z. (2008) Education and the dangerous memories of historical trauma: Narratives of pain, narratives of hope. Curriculum Inquiry, 8(2), 124–154.

2 Difficult History Means Difficult Questions Using Film to Reveal the Perspective of “The Other” in Difficult History Topics Ben Walsh, David Hicks, and Stephanie van Hover

Representation is a complex business and, especially when dealing with “difference,” it engages feelings, attitudes and emotions and it mobilizes fears and anxieties in the viewer, at deeper levels than we can explain in a simple, commonsense way. — Hall (1997, p. 226)

As the quotation above highlights, pedagogical challenges emerge when film is used to teach about the complex business of the representations of “the other,” the epistemological fragility of historical interpretations, and what it means to know and understand history (see Morgan, 2010). In this chapter, we explore these challenges through the following questions: What do we mean by difficult history? And why would anyone in their right mind teach “difficult history” using film and risk the wrath of not just students, but also parents, school board members, principals/headmasters for damaging, offending, or disturbing their students? We contend that sharing our ways of thinking about and posing questions that could be considered in preparation for teaching difficult history is a first step in advocating for the teaching of historical literacy that is self-aware and reflexive (see Jenkins, 1991). After sharing our understandings of and connections between two aspects of difficult history – affectively difficult and conceptually difficult history – and perspectives on the relationship between difficult history, historical literacy, and representations of “the other” over time and space, we discuss the challenges and potential of the role (as opposed to the use) of film within history classrooms. We then introduce a pedagogical model through which teachers can explicitly consider the role of film in tackling difficult histories and offer up two illustrative case studies of how this model may be used.

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Understanding Difficult History Concerns regarding the challenges of teaching difficult history are important issues on either side of the pond (see also Frey in the volume). For example, in 2007 the Historical Association in the United Kingdom produced T.E.A.C.H. A Report of the Historical Association on the Challenges and Opportunities for Teaching Emotive and Controversial History 3–19. This report, however, was seized upon by the press to create a sensationalized narrative that teachers were afraid to teach specific ­content. In response, the Historical Association issued the following statement: The Historical Association is disturbed to learn that false and misleading claims about the teaching of the Holocaust are being made … to the effect that English schools are being discouraged from teaching about the Holocaust in case it might offend Muslim pupils or their parents. … These claims are not true. … Many historical topics, including the Crusades, the Transatlantic Slave Trade or the Arab-Israeli conflict, can be considered emotive and controversial. The TEACH report found … that some teachers sometimes feel uncertain how best to approach such topics in such a way as to do the topics justice while respecting the feelings of particular groups of pupils. At no point did any teacher … claim to have avoided teaching about the Holocaust at Key Stage 3 for fear of offending Muslim children. (Coward, 2007) The reaction to the report and firm response from the Historical Association highlights how discussions of difficult history are highly complex, politically charged, and culturally sensitive affairs felt well beyond the secondary and college level history classrooms. The concerns documented in T.E.A.C.H regarding the challenge of teaching controversial topics, and Hall’s (1997) recognition of the difficulty of “dealing with difference” reflect what we describe as affectively difficult history. That is, history becomes affectively difficult when events dealing with conflict, violence, death, identity, loss, and personal and social trauma are perceived by some students as too personal, sensitive, unfair, disturbing, uncomfortable, shameful, emotive, or culturally controversial. Affectively difficult history emerges when students struggle with: (1) their own prior beliefs, expectations, and understanding of events, people, and issues; (2) issues of the complicity of their countries, culture, families in structural violence against others; and (3) the anxiety that comes with identifying with victims, bystanders, and perpetrators of violence in the past (Simon, 2011, p. 433; see Pitt and Britzman, 2003). Difference in perceptions and reactions to the content of affectively difficult history are shaped by multiple contexts including time, the maturity of students, geographic location and makeup of the community, cultural awareness, and family background and personal histories of

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the students in the classroom (see Historical Association, 2007; Meyerson and Paxton, 2007). As a number of chapters within this book illustrate, difficult histories are commonly taught and may be considered virtuous to teach. However, they may not always be appropriately planned and implemented. Certain affectively difficult history topics may be seen as pedagogically acceptable and defensible for the classroom. However, for many teachers, teaching affectively difficult history, even if included in the official curriculum, can feel professionally challenging if not dangerous based on the possible reactions of administration, students, and parent. A second aspect of difficult history that is woven within and through affectively difficult history is that of conceptually difficult history. That is, history becomes difficult because history is a dynamic, fluid discipline: complex, conceptually challenging, contested, counter-intuitive, and academically controversial (see, Jenkins, 1991; Sexias, 2012;Wineburg, 2007;White, 1998).To consider teaching affectively difficult history, we contend, requires designing instruction that seeks to explicitly create spaces for students to develop an understanding of the nature and purpose of history as a discipline (conceptually difficult history). Lee (2011) refers to this understanding as historical literacy. Becoming historically literate involves learning that history is an inferential discipline that is dependent on “the interpretation of sources of evidence, which do not of themselves provide an unproblematic picture of the past” (Lee 2005, p. 35). Learning to see history as “a way of seeing the world” and to orient oneself in time and space involves developing dispositions that encourage a disciplined approach to unpacking historical interpretations and representations of “the other” (Lee, 2011, pp. 65–66). This includes an “[a]cceptance that we may be obliged to tell different stories from the ones we would prefer to tell (even to the point of questioning our own presuppositions)… and a [r]ecognition of the importance of according people [the others] in the past the same respect as we would for ourselves as human beings” (Lee, 2011, p. 65). Additionally, such a disciplined approach necessitates developing an empathetic stance when studying the past (see Stoddard, 2007; Stoddard and Marcus, 2010). LaCapra (1999), in his work on the Holocaust, trauma, and loss, notes that the role of empathy and empathetic unsettlement does not mean “identifying with the victim [the other] to the point of making oneself a surrogate victim who has the right to the victim’s voice or subject position… [rather] it involves a kind of virtual experience through which one puts oneself in the other’s position while recognizing the difference of that position and hence not taking the other’s place” (p. 722). Empathy provides the opportunity to develop disciplined perspectives regarding historical interpretations and representations of “the other”; who through temporal and/or physical distance, race, gender, nationality, social class, religious beliefs, political ideology, sexual orientation, and perceived origin (typically ­immigrant as opposed to native) appear strange and different from ourselves.

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As  Hall (1997) notes, it is only through the recognition of difference that we can construct meanings around issues of culture, language, identity, power, and privilege over time and space. By failing to engage with what is known about “the other,” the knowledge gap about “the other” is often filled with speculation, misinformation, or worse. History education, we contend, should provide a “contact zone” or “borderland” to help students develop the intellectual tools for examining “the other” in a disciplined way (see Read, 1998).

“The Other” as a Helpful Lens for Teaching Difficult History Affectively difficult history and conceptually difficult history are not mutually exclusive, but rather, are tightly woven together.Tracing individual threads to separate them is not the most fruitful of exercises: knots and tangles will remain and some will tighten. Affectively difficult history helps us to understand why individuals or groups held views often alien to our own. For example, if we look at the state of medical knowledge and religious belief in the eighteenth and ­nineteenth  centuries, the devastation of Native American communities by smallpox is far more likely to be seen as an act of God than the work of a micro-­ organism. People of the time should not be dismissed as stupid for operating within a set of beliefs. Similarly, it may be difficult for the modern mind to reconcile Christian beliefs with the practice of slavery.We could dismiss these people as hypocrites, but surely a more fruitful approach is to use available evidence to understand what underpins their beliefs and values and how they reconciled their beliefs and actions. A current example would be how today’s consumer society blinds itself to the working conditions in sweatshops around the world making fashion items or consumer electronics. Affectively difficult history becomes difficult because of the events portrayed and because of the struggle to empathize with the victims, bystanders, perpetrators, and resisters in order to analyze them historically rather than in a moral, allegorical, or sentimentalized sense. In the case of conceptually difficult history, the same approach helps us to understand seemingly illogical actions or views. Appeasement in the 1930s, for example, has become synonymous with cowardly and immoral weakness. But how often are historical events so clear-cut? An analysis of the realities of the time challenges us to engage with the possibility that the unpalatable approach taken in a given situation may have been the “least worst” option. Can we really dismiss half of the voting population of Germany in 1933 as brainwashed, stupid, or even anti-Semitic for voting for the Nazis? Or do we, reluctantly, have to look for a more complex, nuanced answer from remaining historical evidence? Again, conceptually difficult history becomes difficult because of the struggle to empathize, particularly in terms of developing a sufficient perspective and consideration of “the other” over time and space. All of the individuals and groups mentioned above are “others” to today’s students. If students can dismiss the inhabitants of the past as stupid or strange,

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is it not possible that they will do the same for their “other” neighbors in the present? Equally, if we do “the others” of the past the courtesy of asking students to ­consider them from their own perspective, then perhaps we are equipping students to extend the same courtesy to present day “others”? At the very least we can make the claim that through engaging in the study of affectively and conceptually difficult history we have modelled an intellectual and behavioral mindset that might make that consideration easier. Film is clearly not the only medium that can be used to teach difficult history in and out of school, of course, but it does offer some interesting and exciting opportunities.

The Film Dimension in Difficult History: The Role of Film vs. the Use of Film Film presents us with constructs and privileged representations of the past. We deliberately use the term “dimension” rather than whether film is a helpful or unhelpful medium. It can, of course, be either, but we argue that it might be helpful to think in terms of the role of film in a lesson or sequence of lessons rather than the use of film. In this instance we refer to the use of film as showing film primarily for the story it tells – its narrative content – or the ability of film to generate a sense of period. By role of film we mean the way in which film can be used to help students grapple with more subtle and difficult ideas and representations that recognize, as Engert and Spencer (2009) note, “Movies are neither objective nor culturally neutral texts, but socially constructed transcripts of ‘reality’: inherently subjective, equally valid, and most of all, culturally bound stories” (p. 91). Recognizing the socially and culturally constructed nature of film and how one’s socio-cultural contexts shapes our reading and level of evaluation of the film is foundational for moving through narrative levels of observation to more critical and hermeneutic levels of observation (see Sexias, 1993, p. 356).

Difficulties with the Use of Film Problematic uses of films in history classrooms emerge when teachers and students view film as an objective and true record of the past rather than as a socially and culturally constructed text (Marcus, Paxton, and Meyerson, 2006; Stoddard and Marcus, 2010). Without scaffolding questions students are “likely to be swept completely into the ‘historical’ world as presented on film, but unlikely to exercise critical judgement of the filmic depiction of the past” (Sexias, 1993, p. 352; Lang, 2002). That is not to say that students are unsophisticated viewers of film. In fact, it is their very abilities to read current filmic conventions and devices so well that makes it difficult for them to critically engage with and be willing to unpack cinematic representations of individuals (the other) and events in the past (Sexias, 1993, 1994). Films offer up “preferred readings” that reflect ­contemporary thought and ideas, and in doing so make the unfamiliar familiar

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in order to bring audiences emotionally closer to characters and events over time and space (Hall,  1997). Having students engage with little more than a narrative level of observation by simply viewing films will neither have the desired effect of considering one’s own understanding of others, nor effectively absolve teachers from the difficulty of engaging with difficult content. Interestingly, even when examining the “thoughtful” use of both popular and documentary films in history classroom, Stoddard (2012) noted a tendency of teachers to choose documentary films to present a particular point of view. Such teacher decision-making regarding the choice of documentaries was not necessarily problematic in terms of the perspective offered. What was problematic was the fact that the students were asked to explore different sides of a controversial issue but were provided with filmic evidence that could only lead to the “correct” answer. If we simply rely on film as an actuality medium – to tell students the tale of the past – we lose opportunities to consider the role of film to teach affectively and conceptually difficult histories.

Considering the Role of Film and the Value of Compelling Questions There is a significant body of work on teaching with film through a disciplinary lens (see Donnelly, 2014; Morgan, 2010; Stoddard, 2012). O’Connor (2002) suggests that a first step to teaching history with film begins with treating films as texts (moving image documents) that can be analyzed for “content – what is pictured and what is said; its production – how it came to portray what it does; and its reception – what sense people made of it when it was first produced and how it may have influenced attitudes or events over time” (p. 23).That is, film can be studied and analyzed using the same disciplinary methods and considerations as other documentary sources. O’Connor (2001, 2002) suggests four frameworks for analysis based on the type of historical questions being asked and the nature of historical inquiry being undertaken in the classroom: (1) moving-image documents as representations of history; (2) moving-image documents as evidence for social and cultural history; (3) moving-image documents as evidence for historical fact; and (4) moving image document as evidence for the history of film and television. Currently, many history educators might push against equating Framework 3 as simply focusing a lesson on identifying historical inaccuracies in a film; that is, verisimilitude over values, veracity, privilege, and representation (Doherty, 2002; MacArthur, 2015). As Lang (2002) notes “much of the criticism of films for historical inaccuracy is futile – films are never going to be accurate to the extent that even the most basic textbook must be” (p. 47). However, it is the questions one asks of film that shapes how films can explore the representations of “the other.” For example, by asking, “where are the acceptable bounds of accuracy within which filmmakers may be permitted license to alter history?” (Lang, 2002, p. 47) opportunities emerge for examining the “ethics of representation” of “the other” (Phillips, 2010), and situating one’s understanding

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of historical interpretation within a social and cultural epistemic model (Cassidy, Flaherty, and Fordham, 2011). Similarly, Banham and Hall (2003) found that by asking such questions as “Why is JFK remembered so positively?” as opposed to “Who killed JFK?”, “Was JFK a hero?”, or “How accurate or fair is the film depiction of JFK?” (p. 7), they were explicitly able to move their students toward a more critical level of filmic observation and develop a more nuanced understanding of how historical interpretations are constructed over time and space while viewing clips from Oliver Stone’s JFK (example of O’Connor’s Frame 1). More recently, Barrett (2015) provides ideas for compelling questions to use with D.W. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation (1915) as evidence for both social and cultural history, and for the history of film and TV (Frameworks 2 and 4). For example, she suggests, that John Singleton’s assertion that Birth of a Nation should be remembered because “American is at its heart racist” could become the hook to ask: What does Birth of a Nation reveal about the potential of film to construct discriminatory history? Additionally, scenes from Birth of a Nation when juxtaposed with scenes from contemporary filmic representations of African Americans during the Civil War and reconstruction provide the opportunity to ask: “What do more contemporary films reveal about their makers’ values and assumptions and how do they differ from Griffith’s?” and, “What do the differences reveal about changing images of America and about the times from which they emerged?” (p. 49). Barrett’s willingness to examine issues of race through Birth of a Nation highlights the potential of exploring affectively and conceptually difficult history through film. In the remainder of this chapter, we build on this assertion and offer two case studies that apply a preliminary model to help teacher consider and approach the potential of film in tackling difficult histories.

The Role of Film in Teaching Difficult History: A Preliminary Model In designing this model, we recognize that no model provides a magic bullet to teaching any content. To be of any value models should be adaptable, scalable, designed for ease of use and take into consideration both what we teach and how we teach. Our model includes six initiating questions through which teachers can explicitly consider the role of film in tackling difficult histories: • • • • • •

What makes this topic a good example of difficult history? Who or what is/are the other(s) we are trying to examine? What film/clip/clips will I use to help in this process and what is their role? How can I frame the task so that students engage with film beyond the ­narrative level of observation? What (if any) additional supporting materials are required to allow students to understand the wider context of the film/clips they are studying? What end product are students required to produce?

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Case Studies: How the Model Worked in Practice The first case studies illuminate how we have used this model with students, while the second case reflects a series of meetings in which inservice and pre-service teachers discussed ways of addressing the issue of civil rights, a widely taught and extremely important topic in both the US and UK history curricula.

Case Study 1: Neville Chamberlain, Munich and Appeasement 1938 Key question: Has history been too harsh on Neville Chamberlain? In this case study, students were asked to investigate the question of appeasement. Our initial thinking was that students might use newsreels to “uncover” the story of appeasement. However, we decided to take a different approach in which we first taught a standard narrative of appeasement and then used newsreel clips to encourage students to consider how far they were convinced by the standard textbook view.

What makes this topic a good example of difficult history? The Munich Agreement and associated events of 1938 fit the bill for history that is affectively difficult. Students are usually eager to unload hindsight-driven political criticism or moral outrage upon Chamberlain in this drama. Appeasement and Munich are infamous events, particularly in academic narratives in the US and UK. There is also a well-established popular narrative in both countries. In the UK it is not hidden, in large part because in the popular narrative the low point of appeasement in 1938 provides a fine counterpoint to the redemptive actions of Britain in the World War II, particularly in the early stages of the war from 1939 to 1941. In this narrative, Chamberlain is not generally a villain but he is certainly portrayed as foolish and weak and sometimes as cowardly. There are similarities in the US narrative of appeasement, although these are rooted more in the narrative of US policy in the Cold War. As Lovegall and Osgood (2010) comment: Although the United States was not party to the 1938 agreement,Americans have nonetheless fixated on it for seven decades. “Munich” and “appeasement” have been among the dirtiest words in American politics, synonymous with naïveté and weakness, and signifying a craven willingness to barter away the nation’s vital interests for empty promises. Munich and appeasement also lend themselves to exploring conceptually ­difficult history. For many students the “sell-out” at Munich is difficult to understand. Britain and France were western European democracies, built on the same intellectual, spiritual, and moral values as the US. What possible reasons could explain

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the actions of Britain and France, particularly since these actions failed to prevent war anyway?

Who or what are the others we are trying to examine? In this case the core question is – why did Chamberlain chose to appease Hitler? But the letter of this question is not usually what students see. Rather they see the question: “Why did Chamberlain do such a terrible thing in choosing to appease Hitler?” Clearly no modern person would choose to do what Chamberlain did. This presentist position, founded on hindsight and reinforced by successive popular narratives and ongoing references to appeasement in political culture, makes Chamberlain into an “other” – one whose values and thinking seem utterly alien. For many students the only rational explanation must be some kind of flaw in Chamberlain. What else could possibly explain this unfathomable act? Better still, it presents a simple solution to the conundrum. Even more palatably, events helpfully unfold in chronological order to prove that the policy was at best misguided and possibly even immoral. This is where it becomes the duty of the historian and history teacher to introduce considerations and factors which might otherwise be missed or ignored, and may even be unpalatable. If we are going to move beyond the simplistic version of Neville Chamberlain and appeasement (and indeed any other type of difficult history) to a version which is more truly rooted in the discipline of history we are going to have to examine more “others” often left out of the popular ­narrative: the British press, the British public, the British political class, and also the US ambassador to Britain at the time, Joseph Kennedy.

What film/clip/clips will I use to help in this process and what is their role? For this inquiry the challenge is how to narrow down the film material available on the subject of appeasement. Using documentaries that reflect the traditional, highly critical approach to the subject will not encourage students to consider the question of “the other” or challenge the traditional public narrative on ­appeasement. As a result, our attention shifted to contemporary newsreel footage (see Table 2.1). The newsreels – available online – can be shown as short clips to support focused analysis and revisited as needed. They are also suitable for O’Connor’s approach of treating moving image documents as representations of history. The newsreels provide a genuine contemporary source: a living, breathing insight into the opinion of the news agency which was broadcasting the newsreel and clearly trying to shape the perception and opinion of their audiences at the time. We wanted these sources to prove challenging and disruptive to uncritical “first draft thinking” that ignores the context and provenance of the source (see Wineburg, 2007, p. 11). It is easy for students to dismiss

26  Walsh, Hicks, and van Hover TABLE 2.1  Description of film clips and online locations

Film

Clip details and location

Chamberlain – Sudeten Crisis 1938 (first 2 minutes)

This British news report charts Chamberlain’s flight to meet with Hitler in Munich in 1938 and shows us how the event was reported to the public. http://www.britishpathe.com/video/chamberlain-sudetencrisis-1938

Chamberlain – Sudeten Crisis 1938 (second 2 minutes)

This clip shows us his return to England with the Munich Agreement. It shows the best known of Chamberlain’s impromptu speeches. However, it also shows the popular reaction of acclaim for Chamberlain upon his return. The overall tone of pride and support in the reportage is also interesting. http://www.britishpathe.com/video/chamberlain-sudetencrisis-1938

Ambassador Joseph Kennedy speaks on world affairs April 24th 1939

In this clip Kennedy is shown receiving an award for freedom in the city of Edinburgh. We then see a short extract from his speech in which he suggests that the people of the world should count their blessings that a war has not broken out. http://www.itnsource.com/en/shotlist/BHC_RTV/1939/04/ 24/BGU407240691/?s=BGU407240691

US Ambassador Joseph Kennedy received freedom of Edinburgh April 24th 1939

This is a collection of newsreel clips that show how the news was presented at the time. Although Kennedy is the headline piece he is featured for only one minute before other stories are covered. In that minute Kennedy expresses his continued hopes for peace, although they are hopes rather than expectations. http://www.itnsource.com/en/shotlist/BHC_RTV/1939/04/24/ BGX407241857/?s=joseph%20kennedy

­ ewsreels as being biased. But it is these very flaws in the eyes of students, who n so easily succumb to judging them as biased and casting them onto the biased scrap heap, which make them valuable sources to the historian and valuable resources to the history teacher. Through examining different, contemporary perspectives – Chamberlain’s and Kennedy’s own words – students can juxtapose such sources against the accepted authoritative version from the textbook (cf. Sexias 1993, 1994).

How can I frame the task so that students engage with film beyond the narrative level of observation? Questions such as “What happened at Munich in 1938?” or even “Why did Chamberlain follow a policy of appeasement?” essentially direct students into a mode of narrative observation. To help students move beyond a narrative level of observation, we began with the traditional narrative of appeasement – the classic textbook-driven model. In line with Wineburg’s (2007) and Seixas’s (1993, 1994)

Difficult History Means Difficult Questions  27

findings, most students readily assimilated a narrative they were somewhat familiar with. The newsreel clips were then introduced to challenge this conventional ­narrative. After viewing each individual clip, students were asked a series of spiralling questions (see Table 2.2 for example). After analyzing each clip students moved onto the corroboration process across all clips as they considered the following questions: 1. If Chamberlain was pursuing such a bad policy why were so many people agreeing with him? 2. If Chamberlain’s policy was so wrong why was US Ambassador Joseph Kennedy supporting him? Which of these views sounds more plausible: • • •

Chamberlain was a fool Chamberlain was a coward Chamberlain had very few options

The discussion afforded students opportunities to see a more contextually complex picture of Chamberlain and the situation he faced. Even students who were most critical of Chamberlain began to realize that to dismiss appeasement as cowardly or immoral was too simplistic.They may not have agreed with the policy but they could articulate how it came about and recognized that ­one-­dimensional answers could be accurate while at the same time ­incomplete. These insights were achieved by trying to get into the mind of significant “­others” at the time  – Chamberlain, other supporters of appeasement and the British public.

What (if any) additional supporting materials are required to allow students to understand the wider context of the film/clips they are studying? Our primary aim was to help students discover a slightly bigger history than the one in textbooks or heard at home.We used contemporary newsreels to show that in 1938 and 1939 Chamberlain had a good deal of support. Some students had their interest piqued by this issue and we were able to recommend them to further reading on the ways in which historians have revised their views on appeasement. TABLE 2.2  Question frame for Chamberlain – Sudeten Crisis 1938 part 1.

Easy Questions

Difficult Questions

1. Where does Chamberlain decide to go? 2. Who is he going to talk to? 3. What does the reporter say about going to war over Bohemia (Czechoslovakia)? 4. How did Chamberlain travel? 5. What did Chamberlain say his policy was? 6. What did he say about Hitler before he left?

1. Would you say the reporting of this event was critical or supportive of Chamberlain? How did you reach this decision? 2. Why were people cheering Chamberlain?

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What end product are students required to produce? Having debated the issues in the light of the new evidence students were asked to address the key question: Has history been too harsh on Neville Chamberlain? We provided a series of choices as to exactly how they could develop their ­evidence-based account: • • • •

A traditional essay A revisionist obituary A critique of the story of appeasement provided in their textbook or other publication of their choice An elevator pitch on why Chamberlain deserved to be rehabilitated

Summary The guiding question in this case study was whether history had been unduly harsh to Neville Chamberlain. We wanted students to see that the reality of the situation was more complex. We also wanted them to realize this for themselves and ask: • •

Has history been unfair to Chamberlain? If Chamberlain was so wrong, is it fair that he alone should be stigmatized in the way that he has?

Having students puzzle through the questions was a significant achievement. And we would hope it provides a model to look at other historical individuals, groups, or events in similar ways to examine difficult history.

Case Study 2 (A planning study): Lyndon Baines Johnson and the Civil Rights Movement Key question: Why did the portrayal of President Lyndon Johnson in movie Selma cause such controversy? In this case study, inservice and pre-service teachers were asked to work through the model while considering how to plan a difficult history lesson focusing on the debate around the portrayal of President Johnson in the film Selma.

What makes this topic a good example of difficult history? As an example of affectively difficult history within US history classrooms, the Civil Rights Movement is a painful and bruising reminder of the breadth and depth of institutional racism and violence toward minorities then and now (Joseph, 2015). For many UK students the US Civil Rights Movement is an

Difficult History Means Difficult Questions  29

iconic story and a difficult reminder of the challenges and pressures African Americans currently face in terms of racism, xenophobia, privilege, and prejudice. The story of the Civil Rights Movement also presents students with conceptually difficult history. History has a tendency to present personalities and events that transcend the discipline. However, regarding such figures and events as beyond analysis (and by implication, critique) runs the risk of distorting the historical record. More importantly, by seeing individuals or small groups as iconic movers and shakers there is a danger that a wider picture is missed. The following exchange in the popular history broadcast Backstory with the American History Guys illustrates this challenge. ED: Well, … I’m in the street marching against this movie. … BRIAN: … We really need to ask what the filmmaker’s trying to do. And DuVernay has been very eloquent in interviews after the movie, saying she wanted to make a film about the people who make up the movement. The problem is she doesn’t do that. The problem is, she so intent on displacing the trope of the great white savior in the form of Johnson that she replaces him with the great black savior – Martin Luther King. …. All I’m saying is that for somebody who wants to make a film about the people, there were precious few scenes with the actual people in the film. (Onuff, Ayers, and Balogh, 2015) While their main concern is the way in which the Civil Rights Movement is portrayed as the work of one iconic figure, within this complaint lies a concern about the way in which President Johnson is portrayed. Mark Updegrove, director of the LBJ Presidential Library, expressed similar concerns about the portrayal of Johnson: … Selma misses mightily in faithfully capturing the pivotal relationship – contentious, the film would have you believe – between King and President Lyndon Baines Johnson. … This characterization of the 36th president flies in the face of history. In truth, the partnership between LBJ and MLK on civil rights is one of the most productive and consequential in American history. … Why does the film’s mischaracterization matter? Because at a time when racial tension is once again high, from Ferguson to Brooklyn, it does no good to bastardize one of the most hallowed chapters in the Civil Rights Movement by suggesting that the President himself stood in the way of progress. (Updegrove, 2014, December 22)

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Defenders in contrast highlight Selma’s importance for illuminating the role of black women (and men) as activists within a collective movement, and the ­generational and ideological tensions within the Civil Rights Movement itself (see  Joseph, 2015; Scott, 2014). Some have also suggested that the outcry was because Selma is “too black and too strong” (Joseph, 2015), and that “critiques around the portrayal … are not actually about historical accuracy – they are about weight and ownership, about who owns particular historical achievements and who can claim the authority to speak these histories” (MacArthur, 2015). Similarly, the director Ava DuVernay, pushed back with calls for people to develop an understanding of and interrogate history themselves (see Figure 2.1): Everyone sees history through their own lens … The custodian of Johnson’s legacy is going to see the film differently from an African-American from Compton whose father is from Lowndes County, Alabama. … This film’s not about Johnson.This film is about Dr. King and the people of Selma. I’m a filmmaker who is black, who is telling this story through the lens of black people. Nothing’s been heightened, nothing’s been watered down. It’s the truth as I know it. So I invite people to see the film, and figure out what’s true for them. (Wood, 2015)

Who or what are the others we are trying to examine? One advantage of focusing on representations of “the other” is to draw attention away from iconic figures.While King stands out in the movie, there are important “others” also represented. The other civil rights activists including women are featured and so are the large numbers who marched. The opponents of King and

Selma Director Ava DuVernay’s twitter post. This figure illustrates DuVernay’s response to critics who questioned Selma’s historical representation of LBJ.

FIGURE 2.1. 

Difficult History Means Difficult Questions  31

the civil rights campaigners also appear in the movie. This raises the possibility of using the film as a platform to examine the motives, experiences, and significance of the role of these “others.” Another significant “other” is Johnson. How could a US president not be a sympathetic admirer of Martin Luther King? As with Chamberlain, the initial solutions to this conundrum would be to see Johnson as prejudiced or just plain bad. It was felt that the flaws in the portrayal of Johnson could be an opportunity rather than a problem, if we could find the right line of investigation. A final “other” is the film’s director, Ava DuVernay. As an African-American movie director she qualified as “other” in the sense that none of our teachers had any insight into her perspectives or experiences. For many teachers the opportunity to explore the perspective of this “other” was the most exciting. Interestingly, such an interest in learning about DuVernay, mirrors Carr’s (1961) suggestion that if we are to learn history and understand the nature of historical interpretation we need to know the historian first.

What film/clip/clips will I use to help in this process and what is their role? The current-ness of the movie Selma, especially given the context of the Black Lives Matter movement, made it a powerful choice as a resource for accessing difficult history. However, film length was identified as a challenge to its use in classrooms. With this in mind, the teachers suggested using official trailers. The trailer alongside clips from the movie, are easily accessible from numerous sources, including YouTube and the Internet Movie Database (IMDb.com).

How can I frame the task so that students engage with film beyond the narrative level of observation? Focusing upon concerns around the identified flaws in the film was presented as hook into the content. The term “flaws” is perhaps a little harsh but is meant only in the sense that the film is as flawed as any other account. Ultimately, the pedagogical approaches broke down into three broad but overlapping categories. The first category suggested examining the representations provided by the film.This approach reflects O’Connor’s Framework 3 (Moving Image Documents as Evidence for Historical Fact). The inquiry centered on asking how far the representations of various groups and individuals stood up against other source material, ranging from textbooks to original documents and testimonies. The inquiry was framed by the following questions: 1. The civil rights marchers were just extras in Selma, but were they just extras in history? 2. How would President Johnson have reacted to watching the movie Selma?

32  Walsh, Hicks, and van Hover

3. Would you recommend the movie Selma to anyone studying why some ­people opposed the civil rights marchers? The second category focused on the perspective of the filmmaker, in terms of what was Ava DuVernay trying to achieve, and how and why did she try to achieve it? This was consistent with O’Connor’s Framework 1 (Moving Image Documents as Representation of History) and possibly also O’Connor’s Framework 2 (Moving Image Documents as Evidence for Social and Cultural History). Questions for this approach include: 1. What do we learn about the director’s views on the events in Selma in 1965? 2. Many historians and other commentators feel that President Johnson is portrayed harshly in the movie Selma. Did the director make a mistake or is there another explanation of why Johnson is portrayed in this way? 3. “Filmmakers have the right to tell stories any way they want.” Do you agree with this view? The third category considered the representations of events in the wider context of today. This would be consistent with O’Connor’s Framework 2 (and maybe Framework 4). This category was considered to be the most challenging but also potentially the most rewarding and could be used as a follow-up to the other two approaches. Questions for this approach include: 1. Were the criticisms of the movie Selma based on historical accuracy or other factors? 2. What does the controversy over the movie Selma tell us about the US today? (Is Selma, as some historians have argued, just too black a movie for audiences given the current racial tensions and concerns?) 3. “The movie Selma is a work of fiction. Any historical inaccuracies do not matter.” Do you agree with this statement?

What (if any) supporting materials are required to allow students to understand the wider context of the film/clips they are studying? The majority of teachers felt that their own subject knowledge and the standard textbook and similar resources were sufficient in terms of enabling students to grasp the core narrative. However, in order for students to examine one or more examples of the “other” in the differing approaches the idea of juxtaposing either the whole film, film clips, or official trailers with extracts from online articles, podcasts, media critiques, and rebuttals – as shared above – emerged (see Table 2.3).

Difficult History Means Difficult Questions  33 TABLE 2.3  Criticism and defense of Selma in the media

Criticism of Selma

In Defense of Selma

Califano, Jr., J. (December 2014, 26). The movie ‘Selma’ has a glaring flaw. The Washington Post. Retrieved from https:// www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/ the-movie-selma-has-a-glaringhistorical-inaccuracy/2014/12/26/ 70ad3ea2-8aa4-11e4-a085-34e9b9f 09a58_story.html

Joseph, P. (January 2015, 10). ‘Selma’ backlash misses the point. National Public Radio Code Switch: Frontiers of Race, Culture and Ethnicity. Retrieved from http://www.npr.org/sections/ codeswitch/2015/01/10/376081786/ selma-backlash-misses-the-point

Dowd, M. (January 2015, 17). Not just a movie. The New York Times. Retrieved from http://mobile.nytimes. com/2015/01/18/opinion/sunday/ not-just-a-movie.html?smid=twNYTimesDowd&seid=auto&_ r=1&referrer=

MacArthur, J. (February 2015, 25). ‘Selma’ wasn’t historically inaccurate, it was just another side of the story. Huffington Post. Retrieved from http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/juliemacarthur/selma-lyndon-johnsonbacklash_b_6753210.html

Onuf, P., Ayers, E., and Balogh, B. (Presenters). (February 2015, 12). Pop history: The past in last year’s media. Backstory with the American history Guys. Podcast retrieved from http:// backstoryradio.org/shows/awards-2015/

Naureckas, J. (January 2015, 12). Why Selma’s critics are wrong about civil rights history. In These Times. Retrieved from http://inthesetimes.com/ article/17512/selma_criticism

Updegrove, M. (December 2014, 22). What ‘Selma’ gets wrong: LBJ and MLK were close partners in reform. Politico Magazine. Retrieved from http://www.politico.com/magazine/ story/2014/12/what-selma-gets-wrong113743#ixzz3yN9LyNB2

Wood, G. (February 2015, 6). Selma director: ‘It’s the truth as I know it’. The Telegraph. Retrieved from http:// www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/ film/11395464/Selma-Nothings-beenwatered-down.html

What end product are students required to produce? Given the focus on debate and range of compelling questions within and across the categories of inquiry, the teachers’ end products focused on relatively traditional written responses. Students could choose to write essay responses from the questions listed. Others were challenged to write film reviews. One of the more ambitious plans was to use editing software to present a trailer for an alternative movie which was kinder to Johnson.

34  Walsh, Hicks, and van Hover

Summary As with appeasement, two overwhelming points emerged from this planning process. The first was that the problematic film clips actually had greater potential to engage and stimulate students because they were problematic. This provided an angle that teachers could use to challenge students to move beyond the narrative level of observation. The second was the deep and detailed consideration of the question or questions underpinning the investigation. Without a well-developed and compelling inquiry question the risk was that students would not progress beyond the narrative level of observation and any opportunity to discover “the other” would be lost.

Conclusion Films are not innately difficult to use in history classrooms, especially if the intent is to do little more than fill class time or give students a break or a treat. In this chapter we recognize that teaching affectively and conceptually difficult history through film is challenging and requires fidelity in planning and implementation. There is no simple answer as to how best to approach the challenge, and it would be trite to suggest so. But then, where else should challenging topics and issues be explored if not the history classroom? (Kitson and Thompson, 2015).The model and illustrative case studies are designed as just one possible starting point to highlight the potential for discussions and evaluations of pedagogical possibilities when considering teaching affectively and conceptually difficult history. At the heart of the model is a recognition of the value of teaching history to glean insight into the mindsets of past individuals and societies and representations of the “other.” This begins with asking key planning questions to shape inquiries and explicitly lay the groundwork for preparing students to engage with film(s) (and other sources) through a disciplinary lens that stresses sophisticated and systematic historical literacy work (see Riley, 1999).

References Banham, D. and Hall, R. (2003). JFK: The medium, the message and the myth, Teaching History, 113, 6–12. Barrett, J. (2015). Polychronicon: Interpreting The Birth of a Nation. Teaching History, 160, 48–49. Carr, E.H. (1961). What is history? London: Penguin. Cassidy, L., Flaherty, C., and Fordham, M. (2011). Seeing the historical world: Exploring how students perceive the relationship between historical interpretations. Teaching History, 142, 14–20. Coward, B. (2007, September 7). The T.E.A.C.H. Report. Retrieved from http://www .history.org.uk/resources/resource_780.html. Doherty, T. (2002). Film and history, foxes and hedgehogs. OAH Magazine of History, 16(4), 13–15.

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Donnelly, D. (2014). Using feature films in teaching historical understanding: Research and practice. Agora, 49(1), 4–12. Engert, S. and Spencer, A. (2009). International relations at the movies:Teaching and learning about international politics through film. Perspectives, 17(1), 83–103. Hall, S. (1997). The spectacle of the “other.” In S. Hall (Ed.), Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices (pp. 225–268). London: SAGE Publication in association with The Open University. Historical Association, (2007). T.E.A.C.H. Teaching emotive and controversial history 3–19. London: The Historical Association. Retrieved from http://www.history.org.uk/ resources/resource_780.html. Jenkins, K. (1991) Re-thinking history. London; Routledge. Joseph, P. (2015, January 10). Selma backlash misses the point. National Public Radio Code Switch: Frontiers of Race, Culture and Ethnicity. Retrieved from http://www.npr.org/ sections/codeswitch/2015/01/10/376081786/selma-backlash-misses-the-point. Kitson, A. and Thompson, S. (2015). Teaching the very recent past: “Miriam’s vision” and the London bombings. Teaching History, 160, 26–33. LaCapra, D. (1999). Trauma, absence, loss. Critical Inquiry, 25(4), 696–727. Lang, S. (2002). Mushrooms and snake-oil: Using film at AS/A level. Teaching History, 108, 44–48. Lee, P. (2005). Putting principles into practice: Understanding history. In M.S. Donovan and J.D. Bransford, (Eds.), How Students Learn: History in the Classroom (pp. 31–77). Washington, DC: The National Academies Press. Lee, P. (2011). History education and historical literacy. In I. Davies (Ed.), Debates in History Teaching (pp. 63–72). New York: Routledge. Lovegall, F. and Osgood, K. (2010, July/August,). The ghost of Munich: America’s appeasement complex. World Affairs. Retrieved: http://www.worldaffairsjournal.org/article/ ghost-munich-americas-appeasement-complex. MacArthur, J. (2015, February 25). Selma wasn’t historically inaccurate, it was just another side of the story. Huffington Post. Retrieved from http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/ julie-macarthur/selma-lyndon-johnson-backlash_b_6753210.html. Marcus, A. S., Paxton, R. J., and Meyerson, P. (2006). “The reality of it all”: History students read the movies. Theory & Research in Social Education, 34(4), 516–552. Meyerson, P.M. and Paxton, R. (2007). Stronger than the classroom: Movies, texts and conceptual change (or lack thereof) amidst sociocultural groups. In A. S. Marcus (Ed.), Celluloid Blackboard:Teaching History with Film (pp. 167–185). Charlotte, NC: IAP. Morgan, P. (2010). How can we deepen and broaden post-16 students’ historical engagement with the Holocaust? Developing a rationale and methods for using film. Teaching History, 141, 27–32. O’Connor, J. (2001). Reading, writing, and critical viewing: Coordinating skill development in history learning. The History Teacher, 34(2), 183–192. O’Connor, J. (2002). Image as artefact: Historians and the moving-image media. OAH Magazine of History, 16(4), 23. Onuf, P., Ayers, E., and Balogh, B. (Presenters). (2015, February 12). Pop history:The past in last year’s media. Backstory with the American History Guys. Podcast retrieved from http:// backstoryradio.org/shows/awards-2015/. Phillips, I. (2010). A question of attribution:Working with ghetto photography, images, and imagery. Teaching History, 141, 11–17.

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Pitt, A. and Britzman, D. (2003). Speculating on qualities of difficult knowledge in teaching and learning: An experiment in psychoanalytic research. Qualitative Studies in Education, 16(6), 755–776. Read, D. (1998). Writing trauma, history, story: The class(room) as borderland. JAC, 18(1), 105–121. Retrieved from http://www.jaconlinejournal.com/archives/vol18.1/ read-writing.pdf. Riley, C. (1999). Evidential understanding, period, knowledge and the development of literacy: A practical approach to “Layers of Inference” for Key Stage 3. Teaching History, 97, 6–12. Scott, A.O. (2014, December 24). A 50-mile march, nearly 50 years later: In Selma, King is just one of the many heroes. The New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes .com/2014/12/25/arts/in-selma-king-is-just-one-of-the-heroes.html?_r=1. Sexias, P. (1993). Popular film and young people’s understandings of the history of Native American-white relations. The History Teacher, 26(3), 351–370. Sexias, P. (1994). Confronting the moral frames of popular film: Young people respond to historical revisionism. American Journal of Education, 102(3), pp. 261–285. Sexias, P. (2012). Progress, presence, and historical consciousness: Confronting past, present, and future in post-modern times. Padagogica Historica, 48(6), 859–872. Simon, R. (2011). A shock to thought: Curatorial judgment and the public exhibition of “difficult knowledge.” Memory Studies 4(4), 432–449. Stoddard, J. (2007). Attempting to understand the lives of others: Film as a tool for developing historical empathy. In A. S. Marcus (Ed.), Celluloid Blackboard:Teaching History with Film (pp. 187–214). Charlotte, NC: IAP. Stoddard, J. (2012). Film as a “thoughtful” medium for teaching history. Learning, Media and Technology, 37(3), 271–288. Stoddard, J. and Marcus, A. (2010). More than “showing what happened”: Exploring the potential of teaching history with film. The High School Journal, 93(2), 83–90. Updegrove, M. (2014, December 22). What Selma gets wrong: LBJ and MLK were close partners in reform. Politico Magazine. Retrieved from http://www.politico.com/ magazine/story/2014/12/what-selma-gets-wrong-113743#ixzz3yN9LyNB2. White, R. (1998). Remembering Ahanagran: Storytelling in a family’s past. New York: Hill and Wang. Wineburg, S. (2007). Unnatural and essential: The nature of historical thinking. Teaching History, 129, 6–11. Wood, G. (2015, February 6). Selma director: “It’s the truth as I know it.” The Telegraph. Retrieved from http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/11395464/SelmaNothings-been-watered-down.html.

Part II

Human Rights, Trauma, and Contemporary Difficult Histories

3 Teaching the History and Contemporary Challenge of Human Rights through Film Glenn Mitoma

Introduction Since the 1993 Vienna Conference on Human Rights, the international ­community has given renewed emphasis to Universal Declaration of Human Rights call to “strive by teaching and education to promote respect for [human] rights and freedoms.” For over two decades, the United Nations, UNESCO, the European Union, individual countries, non-governmental organizations, schools and colleges, and educators around the world have developed a wide range of resources, standards, and recommendations designed to increase the global public understanding of and commitment to human rights principles. Such work has been premised on the assumption that promotion of human rights requires more than just the elaboration of international laws, such as International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, or the establishment of enforcement mechanisms, such as the UN Human Rights Council’s Universal Period Review. Critical to the success of the post-World War II human rights project is the fostering of a widespread “culture” of human rights, expressed as a shared set of ethical commitments to the universal dignity of all human beings. To be effective, however, this movement for human rights education (HRE) must connect with existing classroom strategies at the same time it provides support of the integration of its content and pedagogical practices. As with other “difficult” subjects, human rights can present teachers with unique challenges, even as that same difficulty presents unique opportunities for authentic learning. In this chapter, I take the opportunity to explore how and why the use of film

40  Glenn Mitoma

provides an effective strategy for integrating human rights into history or social studies classrooms. In particular, I argue that the capacity of film to render abstract principles, remote institutions, and complex interconnections accessible, to foster empathy and understanding across difference, and to present opportunities to take action, makes it an important pedagogical resource for human rights education. While recognizing the limitations and dangers posed by both the subject (human rights) and the medium (film), including the potentially traumatizing effect of viewing representation of abuse and the potential to reinforce counterproductive perspectives of pity and “othering,” this essay is designed to assist teachers as they consider taking on the challenge of addressing human rights with their students. Through specific examples linked with key objectives identified in HRE standards and guidelines, I provide a preliminary framework for identifying opportunities to use film in teaching about human rights topics, for human rights values, and through human rights skills.

Human Rights Education Defined Adopted in 2011 by the United Nations General Assembly, the UN Declaration on Human Rights Education and Training established the official global definition of HRE as “all education, training, information, awareness-raising and learning activities aimed at promoting universal respect for and observance of all human rights,” with the aim of preventing “human rights violations and abuses by providing persons with knowledge, skills and understandings and developing their attitudes and behaviors, to empower them to contribute to the building and promotion of a universal culture of human rights” (United Nations General Assembly, 2011). Broad and open-ended, this definition situates HRE as inherently political by orienting it toward the progressive realization of justice and the advancement of human rights in practice. The Declaration goes on to specify three dimensions of the relationship between education and human rights: a. Education about human rights, which includes providing knowledge and understanding of human rights norms and principles, the values and mechanisms that underpin them, and the mechanisms for their protection; b. Education through human rights, which includes learning and teaching in a way that respects the rights of both educators and learners; c. Education for human rights, which includes empowering persons to enjoy and exercise their rights and to respect and uphold the rights of others. Understood as education about, through, and for human rights, HRE describes a particular content, context, and aspiration for education that extends the aims and objectives of schooling beyond vocational readiness, college preparation, or nationalist models of citizenship. Applying this definition here in consideration of

Teaching the History of Human Rights   41

the potential role of film in advancing HRE, my objective is not only to highlight the specific usefulness, and limitations, of film as a resource for teaching about, for, and through human rights, but also to suggest the general value of this approach to classroom education. While my particular concern is with the potential use of film in secondary classrooms in the formal education sector, I also want to acknowledge the important role film can play in the wider field of informal and non-formal human rights education. Indeed, as popular cultural form, films have served as a primary venue for public political pedagogy. In this regard, Giroux (2011) is undoubtedly correct that “[f]ilms both shape and bear witness to the ethical and political differences that animate the broader social landscape,” human rights among them. Broad public engagement with and understanding of human rights issues–torture, slavery, violence against women, and so on–is often mediated through film. In a more specialized context, the close historical, institutional, and ideological connection between human rights education and “change movements” has meant that the informal education sector, particularly “trainings” or “workshops” with specific professionals (police officers, social workers, etc.) or vulnerable social groups (rural women, refugees, etc.), has been a primary venue for HRE (Tibbitts, 2002). Nevertheless, if progress is to be made toward the broad aspirations of HRE– namely, the construction of a global culture of human rights–then fulsome integration into the formal classroom setting will be required.

Difficult Histories of Human Rights Avoiding a Secondary Trauma Human rights is a difficult historical subject. Studying the history (and present) of human rights often includes, attending to extreme manifestations of violence, inhumanity, and oppression–the “wreckage upon wreckage” that piles at the feet of Benjamin’s (1968) angel of history. Scrutinizing the times and places where human rights have been violated can inspire fear, disgust, anger, and sorrow–but not necessarily understanding. Often discussed in the context of teaching the Holocaust (see Chapter 11 for a fuller discussion of the Holocaust and these issues of content, film, and trauma), scholars have identified the ethical and pedagogical implications of exposing students to traumatic material, which may engender a “secondary trauma” whose instructional value is ambiguous at best (Alsup, 2003). Even so, such extremity can also be captivating for students: difficult to look away from and hard to forget. Care and attention is required to ensure that students are not overwhelmed and alienated, provoking disengagement due to either depression or cynicism. As discussed below, using film in this context is particularly fraught as the immersive somatic experience of film viewing can intensify the risks of such reactions at the same time it can allow for a shallow and exploitative treatment of the subject.

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Challenging the Status Quo Even when historical inquiry goes beyond the narrative of violation and focuses on struggles for justice and dignity, these histories can be difficult in a different way as they highlight challenges to the status quo by marginalized or exploited groups or individuals. Struggles that reinforce contemporary social, political, and economic arrangements (i.e., the assertion of natural rights during the Revolutionary War, the fight against Nazi genocidal tyranny, or the dissident protest against Communist totalitarianism) are more likely to be incorporated into the official curriculum than those that call into question those arrangements (i.e., ­indigenous peoples’ resistance to European colonialism, “Wobblie” efforts to establish industrial democracy against capitalist exploitation, or the work of transnational feminists to secure broad ratification of the Convention for the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women)–a point made many decades ago by Apple (1979). Broaching the latter type of histories in the classroom can invite resistance from students, colleagues, parents, and segments of the wider community, as they have the potential to challenge hegemonic narratives about past events and suggest critical re-evaluation of contemporary power arrangements (see Chapter 13 for an example of such organized political resistance in the case of Mexican American Studies in Tucson, Arizona). At the national level, governments are often ambivalent at best when it comes to the history of human rights struggles, in large part because states themselves are the primary violators of their citizens’ rights. Thus, the ruling party in China suppresses all discussion, including classroom discussion, of the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre (Sarotte, 2012), the Turkish government advances an official narrative of Armenian Genocide as a “deportation” program with tragic results (Dixon, 2010), and the Spanish Popular Party, after taking power in 1996, launched an effort to legitimize the Franco dictatorship in history textbooks as a necessary response to the dangerous political upheavals of the early twentieth century (Boyd, 2008).

Insufficient Training for Teachers Even where space is made for the inclusion of human rights within a history, social studies, or any other classroom, teachers may find it difficult to approach the topic because of the lack of formal training in either the content or pedagogy of HRE. A recent study by Cassidy, Brunner, and Webster (2014) of students in a Scottish university teacher preparation program revealed that while respondents nearly all agreed that human rights were important subjects to be taught to children, a full two-thirds lacked the confidence that their training had adequately prepared them to do so. More pointedly–and tellingly–these future teachers also expressed deep concerns that teaching human rights in their classrooms might provoke a backlash from religious or politically conservative parents. That such doubts are apparent among teacher candidates in Scotland, after nearly two decades of HRE

Teaching the History of Human Rights   43

promotion at the UN, European Union, and Council of Europe levels, indicate the need for a more concerted effort to integrate HRE into teacher preparation programs–perhaps more so in the US, where human rights suffer an even lower profile.

Dangers of Presentism A final “difficulty” with the history of human rights is entwined with the disciplinary conventions and assumptions of historians. While the topic has recently enjoyed something of a boom among academic and popular historians, the fundamental human rights principle of universality cuts against the guiding methodological principle of historicity (Mitoma, 2014). Human rights, as they have been articulated, are presented as inherent, inalienable, and universal to all human beings everywhere. History, as it has been practiced since Ranke, has been fastidious in embedding events and concepts within their specific context, in essence relativizing them to particular time and place. In his critique of Paul Gordon Lauren’s (1998) seminal The Evolution of International Human Rights: Vision Seen, Afshari (2007) argues that the attempts to project human rights into the past ignore the extent to which the values and institutions with underpin human rights discourse are of recent invention with limited historical relevance beyond the mid-twentieth century. Moyn (2010) has been even more polemical, radically historicizing human rights to the 1970s and suggesting that those who project a deeper past for human rights are letting their politics trump their scholarly rigor. If one of the objectives of history education is to equip students with the tools to evaluate and understand the past according to the disciplinary conventions of the field, then in taking up human rights teachers need be mindful that the subject presents a constant danger of presentism.

Film and Human Rights By itself, the use of film resolves none of these difficulties inherent in human rights history, but it does present an important opportunity to support student learning in the broader field of HRE, as described above. As Stoddard, Marcus, and Hicks (2014) note, film is often deployed in the classroom as part of a strategy for cultivating empathy among students. Historian Lynn Hunt (2008) has identified the emergence of a widespread sentiment of empathy among the French and British middle class as the critical subjective ground on which the late e­ ighteenth century “rights revolutions” were erected. According to Hunt, the pedagogical technology for this dissemination was the epistolary novel, epitomized by Samuel Richardson’s Pamela (1740) and Jean Jacques Rousseau’s Julie (1761), which provided a sort of mental prosthesis by which readers could imagine the subjective experiences of others, particularly lower-class women. As philosopher Rorty (2001) has remarked, such a “sentimental education” remains critical in

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the contemporary world, because the “ability to see the similarities between ourselves and people very unlike us as outweighing the differences” (p. 234) can hardly be taken for granted, as it is a fundamental requirement for human rights protection. Undoubtedly, literature remains a critical cultural resource for the spread of the empathetic imagination, but there are reasons to think that the film may have displaced the book as the most prominent medium to tell the sort of “long, sad, sentimental story” Rorty (2001) and other proponents of human rights culture have in mind. Tascon (2012) has noted the “explosion” of human rights film festivals, from Kolkata to Glasgow, often sponsored by or coordinated with major human rights non-governmental organizations, such as Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International. Such an explosion is due in large part to the intuition expressed by Gibney (2013) that “[w]hat film helps us do, better than any other medium,” is to put “a human face on terms such as persecution, inequality, and oppression, and in doing so it provides outsiders with vital information and meaning about the lives of ‘others’” (p. 1). The accessibility and efficiency with which film communicates, combined with the medium’s capacity to represent the faces, voices, and life-worlds of distant others lends it a special power that educators have long sought to effectively utilize in their classrooms. Before describing some of the ways in which film might be deployed in the service of advancing the specific goals of human rights education, a word of caution. The mimetic quality of film and the pleasure associated with their viewing allow for an all-to-easy suspension of critical analysis, and, as such, can be extraordinarily effective in naturalizing contested or contingent claims. The findings of Stoddard and Marcus (2010) indicate that students often regard filmic depictions as accurate representations of “what actually happened,” even when they are aware that the film is a work of imagination, or at least selection (p. 86). Given the economic resources required to produce and distribute mainstream films, the voices and perspectives most often heard will be those that seek either to reinforce dominant historical or cultural narratives and/or minimize complexity and nuance in favor of commercially viable spectacle and sentiment. For films that engage human rights themes, these factors carry the added danger not only of getting things wrong, but of doing wrong, by presenting stories of distant suffering that, when viewed from the relative comfort of movie theaters or classrooms, elicit the distancing and perversely pleasurable sentiment of pity. As opposed to empathy, which confirms a common humanity and a reciprocal responsibility, pity separates the viewer from the victim by reinforcing the privileged status of the viewer as someone who is not subject to the same vulnerability and suffering and, in doing so, allowing the viewer an experience of satisfaction and relief (Laqueur, 2011). Notwithstanding these challenges and dangers (which, in truth, are not exclusive to film), educators will find film an important tool for the particular aims of HRE.

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Films to Foster Knowledge and Understanding about Human Rights A defining feature of human rights education as distinct from other adjacent and overlapping fields such as peace education or social justice education is the explicit connection made with international human rights standards and instruments, their history and underlying philosophy and moral framework (Tibbits, 2002). Unsurprisingly, much of the focus has centered on raising awareness of and appreciation for the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) as the definitive global statement of which human rights are enumerated, who is entitled to them, and why they are to be protected. Situated within the broader contexts of both the history of international institutions (such as the United Nations) and the further elaboration of standards and instruments (such as the Convention on the Rights of the Child), the study of the UDHR provides an important point of departure for a form of global civic education designed to foster students’ ability to engage with, and feel attachment to, the principles and institutions of global governance. While the UN has developed a significant human rights system, the only major international human rights institution to receive the attention of filmmakers is the International Criminal Court (ICC). Established by the 1998 Rome Statute, the ICC began functioning in 2002 with a mandate to prosecute perpetrators of the most serious violations of international humanitarian law, including crimes against humanity, war crimes, and genocide. The Reckoning (2009), The Prosecutor (2010), and The Court (2013) each depict the work of the ICC as a noble, if frustrating crusade to counter the impunity with which the powerful have historically trampled the rights of the powerless. Few institutions are as remote from the classroom as the ICC, and each of these films does much to humanize the court by focusing on the individuals who make it up.Toward that end, the personality of Luis Moreno Ocampo, who as founding Prosecutor served until 2014, predominates, with his forceful and passionate efforts to bring individuals like Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir and Congolese warlord Thomas Lubanga to justice. The accessibility of these films is enhanced by their reliance on the conventions of the courtroom drama, with The Court in particular following the tense work of mounting an effective prosecution of Thomas Lubanga and culminating in his conviction on 2012 for using child soldiers. The Reckoning, produced before that historic conviction, concentrates more heavily on situating the ICC’s work within the context of earlier efforts at international criminal justice, including the Nuremberg War Crimes Trials and the international criminal tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda. The film also successfully exploits the ability to cut from the gleaming, modern court facility in The Hague to the scenes of violence and displacement the court is designed to address. Such a juxtaposition helps to establish the stakes of international justice, and can provide an opportunity for considering the adequacy or effectiveness of criminal justice as a response to mass atrocities.

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Critical to the structure of these films and to the aims of human rights ­education more generally is the establishment of a clear connection between the particular violations of human rights and their remedies. The ICC is unique as an international institution designed to provide a very clear mechanism of accountability for individual who commit grave violations. Students should be aware, however, that these are often the exceptions and that in most cases, accountability of human rights abuse is difficult and ambiguous at best. The ICC has jurisdiction over some crimes in some places during some periods, most which do not include the actions of the most powerful nations in the international system. Several times in The Reckoning we see officials from the George W. Bush Administration disparage and dismiss the ICC, with former UN Ambassador John Bolton declaring the court “a terrible idea” and promising to work against it “as long as I’m alive” (Yates, 2009). These difficulties can be drawn out by having students read through some of the critical passages of the ICC founding document, the Rome Statute (United Nations, 1998), particularly Articles 5–8, which define the Court’s jurisdiction and the crimes of genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. As quintessential human rights violations, these crimes are clearly articulated in law, but, as the films demonstrate, they are very difficult to enforce. For students, the tensions between the “black-and-white” letter of the law and ambiguities and challenges of implementing that law can be frustrating, but such frustrations can be the starting point for students to move past simplistic ideas about how human rights norms are enforced and human rights conditions can be improved. If the three films on the ICC depict the process of accountability, many other films provide an opportunity to explore the process by which human rights are violated in the first place.1 Indeed, some of the consequences of the American opposition to the ICC are made evident in Taxi to the Dark Side (2007), which chronicles the final, terrifying days of Kabul taxi driver Dilawar after he was captured and tortured to death by American security forces in Afghanistan in December 2002. Despite clear evidence, Dilawar’s death was the result of a brutal beating, the initial military investigation found the 23-year old died of natural causes. After a report by the New York Times, the case was reopened and several low-level American soldiers were convicted of war crimes, but the film spends more time filling in the legal and political context through which the torture was allowed to occur. By juxtaposing the Bush Administration’s efforts to redefine the meaning of the word “torture” both in law and in popular opinion with the vivid accounts from former interrogators of hanging prisoners from chains for hours at a time, keeping them awake for days, and blasting them with rage metal music, the film presents students the opportunity to connect sadistic violence with public policy. For an in-depth look at issues of torture as a difficult history, see Chapter 5. Here, as well, the “humanizing” effects of film serve not only to give a face and specific identity to the vague Afghan “Other” against whom so much violence has

Teaching the History of Human Rights   47

been deployed in the War on Terror, but also the American perpetrators as well. Interrogator Damien Corsetti appears not as a moral monster, but as a young man thrust into a bewildering and frightening place where brutality was made both a job and a patriotic duty.The film provides an opportunity for students to consider the question of who is responsible for these kinds of abuses, and, more challenging, how to hold them accountable. If part of what unpins the human rights ethos is the insistence that regardless of the nuances of legal opinions, the limits of national constitutional protections, and the perceived imperatives of national security, there are basic guarantees of fundamental dignity for all human beings, Taxi to the Dark Side helps to establish why this should be the case. Even so, this subject will be doubly difficult: On the one hand, torture presents instances of extreme and acute human suffering and violence which are by design traumatic for the victim–a trauma that can have secondary effects on students. Viewing such films, reading accounts (e.g., International Committee of the Red Cross report on the treatment of 14 “high value detainees” in CIA custody [ICRC, 2007]), or even classroom discussion of the issue must be carefully planned and implemented with awareness of the sensitivities, maturity, and prior experiences of students. On the other hand, Taxi to the Dark Side grapples with the specific history of the United States as perpetrator of torture in the recent past, which as a subject is politically controversial. In American classrooms in particular, examination of this history is difficult as it challenges student and community self-perceptions with regards to the role of the United States in the world. Denial of torture or a defense of its legitimacy is among the range of typical student responses. Teachers should be prepared for such views and allocate adequate time for discussion and deliberation on points of contention (Table 3.1). TABLE 3.1  Other films about human rights

Title (Year)

Director

Subject

The Lives of Others (2006)

Florian Henckel von Donnersmark

Surveillance and oppression in Cold War East Germany.

Standard Operating Procedure (2008)

Errol Morris

Torture at Abu Ghraib

The Act of Killing (2012)

Joshua Oppenheimer

Impunity and mass atrocities in Indonesia

Watchers of the Sky (2014)

Edet Belzberg

Biography of Raphael Lemkin, father of the Genocide Convention

Coexist (2014)

Adam Mazo

Reconciliation in the aftermath of the Rwandan Genocide

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Films to Foster Values and Attitudes for Human Rights Student knowledge of human rights standards and institutions and their ­understanding of how human rights are violated and/or protected are significant objectives for HRE, but so too is the fostering of values and attitudes that support human rights. This ideological function of human rights education can be controversial, despite the widespread global consensus with respect to the validity and significance of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Donnelly, 2013). Even so, international institutions such as the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe have adopted guidelines for HRE that include core competencies for learners in values and attitudes, including respect for others based on their inherent dignity; non-discrimination based race, gender, religion, or other status; commitment to protecting human rights for all; and “compassion for and solidarity with those suffering human rights violations” (OSCE, 2012). As noted above, film is a potent medium for the fostering of empathy, which underlays many of the values promoted by HRE. In emphasizing empathy, however, a careful distinction should be made with identification on the one side and pity on the other, both of which film is also well positioned to elicit. Identification, or the perception of a shared experience or identity, is often called forth in films that feature characters or subjects closely positioned with the viewers’ own social and cultural location. In films such as Missing (1982), which depicts the aftermath of the 1973 military coup in Chile, viewers follow Ed Horman (played by Jack Lemmon) as he searches for his son, a freelance journalist “disappeared” by the regime of Gen. Augusto Pinochet along with thousands of Chileans. Gibney (2013) concedes that such a film is effective with North American audiences precisely because Horman is “the epitome of the American way of life,” and our investment in the film in part relies on our identification with Horman’s fear, confusion, and growing anger as he uncovers the role of the US government in the coup (p. 23). Alternatively, pity, as noted earlier, alienates and “others” the viewer from the subject by casting their suffering as unimaginably horrible and, in doing so, confirming the viewer’s own safety, security, and privilege (Goldberg, 2007). Pitiable figures abound in film and other visual media. The famous 1984 BBC television news report by Michael Buerk, which featured footage taken in famine-affected regions of northern Ethiopian, shocked, appalled, and saddened viewers around the world with its images of children with distended stomachs, sounds of wailing relatives next to shrouded bodies, and the on-camera death of an impossibly tiny two-year-old girl. The report and others like it precipitated a massive outpouring of aid (most famously with the Live Aid mega-concerts in London and New York), but did little to illuminate the reasons for the famine or foster a broader commitment to the region and its people (Benthall, 2010). The difficult histories of Latin American dictatorships and African famine are made all the more difficult when the objective is to avoid provoking a dehumanizing sense of

Teaching the History of Human Rights   49

pity and privilege in students without relying exclusively on narratives that offer opportunities for easy identification. As an attitude in support of human rights, empathy requires a recognition and acknowledgment of difference, while also seeking to understand the perspective, motivations, and experiences across that difference. As suggested by Winter (2016), empathy creates the “bridging effects of mediation, not by collapsing the distance between the witness and the human rights subject (or victim of violation), but rather by materializing their connection” (p. 418). In the feature film Dirty Pretty Things (2002), Okwe, an illegal migrant from Africa, and Senay, a Turkish asylum seeker, negotiate a set of vulnerabilities and opportunities in London that often remain invisible to those with secure citizenship status.The plot hinges around the increasingly desperate lengths Senay must go to remain in London, culminating in the selling of her kidney to an illegal organ trafficker, and the characters are marked by their distinct circumstances that will separate them from most students’ experiences. Yet, their lives, perspectives, and decisions–even bad ones–are made understandable through a careful rendering of them as fully rounded  human beings. Because the film presents more than just a “sad, sentimental story,” teachers have an opportunity to foster student empathy as perspective recognition (Barton and Levstik, 2004) by asking students to connect Senay’s decisions to her past experiences and current circumstances. Furthermore, as those experiences and circumstances are in part defined by a migrant’s lack of rights (e.g., freedom of religion, freedom of movement, right to work, right to security of person) and social invisibility, Dirty Pretty Things can foster what Barton and Levstik call empathy as caring. For them, this form of empathy is essential to establishing a personal stake in history, both in terms of an emotional investment in the experiences of individuals in the past and in terms of an ethical commitment to applying the lessons of history in the present. Barton and Levstik (2004) call this later element “the endpoint of historical study in a democracy” (p. 242), but it may equally be considered an essential aim of HRE. While different, Okwe and Senay played by attractive and charismatic actors, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Audrey Tautou, are nonetheless easy to root for and understand. As Stoddard’s (2007) study of using film to develop historical empathy among students in relation to the Holocaust suggests, the accessibility of film can allow easy identification between students and characters, leading to a false sense that students “get” the character’s perspective. Difficult history may at times call for difficult films, such as the documentary film Darwin’s Nightmare (2004), which requires students to make sense for themselves what is “happening” in the small fishing village on the banks of Lake Victoria in Tanzania. Devoid of narration or expert talking-head exposition, the film explores the consequences of peculiar environmental crisis: the Nile perch, a species of fish introduced into the lake in the 1950s in an effort to establish a commercial fishery, has decimated near all other fish populations and precipitated the collapse of the region’s ecosystem. Today, almost all economic activity seems to be connected with the processing

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of Nile perch and their shipment via massive cargo planes to supermarkets and restaurants in Europe. As the film unfolds, viewers are introduced to drug-­addicted street children, small fisherman who can’t feed their families, sex-workers hired by visiting pilots, Tanzanian environmental officials, and fish processing plant managers, each with their own perspective and experience. Sympathetic feelings may come quickly, but understanding does not, as students will be required to debate and discuss the connections between the ecological voracity of the Nile perch, the economic consequences of relying on this destructive resource, and–the film slowly reveals–an illicit trade in arms destined for various conflicts in Africa. Wogenstein (2015) has written that human rights educators should take seriously Bertolt Brecht’s admonition that effective theater (or in this case film) should eschew sentimental empathy and instead present challenging narratives audiences must work to understand and evaluate. Darwin’s Nightmare is Brechtian to the extent that the filmmakers seem at times to actively distance and defamiliarize the viewer from the subject. Teachers, therefore, should be prepared for students not to “get it” on first viewing, but it is precisely the difficulty of the film that invites discussion, analysis, and–ultimately–a limited understanding of the connections between economics, the environment, and war in central Africa. Students might be asked, for example, to examine maps of the armed conflicts in Africa as presented on the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project website (http://acleddata .com) and consider how the illegal arms trade makes use of the Nile perch ­shipping network. Such interconnections, which include attenuated material connections to the more comfortable world of the typical viewer (who, after all, is buying the fish and manufacturing or selling the guns?), are hardly self-­evident and therefore must be carefully drawn out through discussion and reflection. Using Darwin’s Nightmare, teachers can expect understanding to be born less from empathy and perspective-recognition and more from critical analysis (Table 3.2). TABLE 3.2  Additional films for human rights

Title (Year)

Director

Subject

Paris Is Burning (1990)

Jennie Livingston

Drag Queen “House Culture” in New York

The Wire (2002–2008)

David Simon (creator)

War on Drugs

Arna’s Chidlren (2004)

Juliano Mer-Khamis, Danniel Danniel

Palestinian–Israeli Conflict

The Undocumented (2014)

Marco Williams

Undocumented migrants in Arizona

Dawnland (forthcoming)

Adam Mazo, Ben Pender-Cudlip

Indigenous Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Maine

Teaching the History of Human Rights   51

Films to Foster Skills that Work through Human Rights The final dimension of HRE, that is, education through human rights, implies in part that students will also be identifying, developing, and using a set of skills by which human rights are practically enjoyed and protected. Returning to the competencies identified in the OSCE guidelines, such skills include the ability to critically evaluate issues through a human rights lens, apply human rights principles and standards to help solve problems in their own lives and communities, and effectively advocate in collaboration with others for the protection and promotion of human rights (OSCE, 2012). In this dimension, film can be deployed in the classroom not as a text to be analyzed and understood or as narrative designed to evoke an empathetic response, but as a form of practical activity in support of human rights. In the spring of 2012, many students may have engaged the film KONY 2012 (2012), produced by the organization Invisible Children, Inc. and released primarily through social media as part of a campaign against Ugandan warlord and ICC-fugitive Joseph Kony.The film reached 100 million views on YouTube faster than any other video in history and generated an unprecedented level of interest in both the issue of child soldiers and the phenomenon of online human rights activism (Chalk, 2012). Produced with a budget of over one million dollars, the film blends a compelling story (a young father’s crusade to protect his friend and make the world better), with an effective structure (combining the look of personal video, news footage, animated data visualization, and a Facebook page) and a simple call to action (share the video, buy the advocacy “kit”). More than just the message, in this case the medium was also the form of activism as millions, including celebrities Oprah Winfrey and Justin Beiber, tweeted a link to the film and declared themselves committed to the cause of “stopping” Joseph Kony (Chalk, 2012). While the film and the campaign did help inspire a US Senate Resolution condemning Kony, the limitations of this instance of video activism are evident not only from the fact that Kony remains at large (as of 2016) but also with collapse of support for Invisible Children after a mental and emotional breakdown of its founder and the protagonist of KONY 2012 Jason Russell, a video of which was ironically subject to the same viral logic as the original film. Viewing KONY 2012 in a classroom rather than in a Facebook feed allows for the opportunity to both analyze the video as a constructed text and to consider what kinds of actions are productive in pursuit of human rights goals. Students may be asked to compare KONY 2012 to other viral videos shared online and list reasons they find for its popularity. Given the difficulty of this subject–the ­kidnapping, exploitation, and torture of children–students should also consider how Invisible Children has made the story “relatable,” particularly by foregrounding the relationship between Jason Russell and his son Gavin. Such critical media skills can help students recognize the strategies deployed by advocates to convince and compel audiences to action. Given the very clear “call to action” contained in

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the video, teachers may also find it useful to have students deliberate on the kind of responses human rights abuses call for and to think through the consequences of interventions. KONY 2012 seems to imply that US military force should be used to capture Joseph Kony, a prospect fraught with consequences. The lack of context given to the conflict between Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army and the government of Uganda, or the regional politics of the Great Lakes region of Africa has been widely noted (Chalk, 2012). Students’ own research would quickly reveal the deep skepticism as to the efficacy of Western military intervention by most Ugandans, and considered discussion may lead students to conclude that addressing difficult human rights dilemmas is, in fact, difficult. Whatever its shortcomings, KONY 2012 demonstrates the capacity of films to be a way of taking action (informed or otherwise).A second example that indicates the potential for film to serve as a form of human rights practice can be found in Enemies of the People (2009).The film is the result of a collaboration between Rob Lemkin, a filmmaker and nephew of the man who invented the word “genocide” Raphael Lemkin, and Thet Sambath, a journalist whose mother, father, and brother were murdered by the Khmer Rouge regime during the Cambodian Genocide. Featuring conversations and reenactments with perpetrators, the core of the film revolves around a series of interviews Sambath conducted over many years with “Brother Number Two” Nuon Chea, who, along with Pol Pot, ruled Cambodia and ordered the genocidal killings. Meticulously, Sambath cultivates a friendship with Chea, disguising the fact that he and his family were victims of the violence. Slowly, Sambath elicits Chea’s admission–the first ever recorded–that he and Pot were, in fact, responsible for the killings. Viewers may recognize that in this moment, and again near the end of the film when Sambath reveals the truth about his family, Enemies of the People is not just a call for justice, but is itself a form of justice for the victims. Alongside viewing the film, students should elaborate their own understanding of what justice in the aftermath of such mass atrocities might look like, including retributive (summary executions, war crimes trials, etc.) or restorative models (truth and reconciliation commissions, reparations payments, etc.). In addition to providing contextualization of the Cambodian Genocide of the 1970s, teachers may also choose to present information about the ongoing efforts to try leaders of the Khmer Rouge at the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC) hybrid tribunal, which has faced widespread criticism for limited jurisdiction and politicized process (Scully, 2011). Students may be encouraged to rethink the act of viewing the film as an act of witnessing the film, whereby their recognition of Chea’s responsibility and Sambath’s survival constitute an important, albeit small, contribution to human rights practice. As a final instance in which film might be used to develop students’ skills through which to advance human rights, teachers may wish to put away the projector and pull out the camera. While I can only touch upon the strategy for and potential of filmmaking for advancing HRE in classrooms, doing so is

Teaching the History of Human Rights   53 TABLE 3.3  Other films connected with advocacy through human rights

Title (Year)

Director

Subject

The Harvest/La Cosecha (2010)

Robin Romano

Child migrant labor in the US

Gaslands (2010)

Josh Fox

Environmental impact of fracking

Miss Representation (2011)

Jennifer Siebel Newsom

Gender stereotypes and discrimination in the US

Trust 350 (2013)

Our Children’s Trust

Young Climate Change Activists

He Named Me Malala (2015)

David Guggenheim

Life and activism of Malala Yousafzai

an acknowledgment both of the technical opportunity presented by the fact that many students will have access to relatively high-quality video production equipment (such as advanced smart phones and free editing software), and the imperative to ensure learning opportunities provide a space for student voice and empowerment. Recently, the video advocacy organization WITNESS has begun adapting its considerable experience and resources for training advocacy organizations on the effective use of video in their campaigns (a classic example of HRE in the informal sector) for classroom use with students in high school and college. Their Video for Change Curriculum (WITNESS, n.d.) provides a scaffolding for students to design, produce, and distribute videos that do not simply document a particular human rights issues, but act as a component in a wider campaign to have an impact on that issue. During the spring semester of 2016, instructors at the University of Connecticut piloted a new service learning course with students engaged in the production of human rights videos utilizing the WITNESS methodology–a promising development for the use of film to enhance HRE competencies. Examples of additional ways for students to create videos as part of their learning about difficult history are discussed in Chapters 7 and 8 (Table 3.3).

Conclusion Along with defining HRE, the 2011 UN Declaration also definitively states that “everyone has the right to know, seek and receive information about all human rights and fundamental freedoms”–in effect a human right to human rights education. Teachers, administrators, officials, parents, and others involved in education have a responsibility to provide students with a variety of opportunities to develop core competencies in human rights knowledge and understanding, values and attitudes, and skills and capabilities. As with all international human rights

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obligations, exactly how this responsibility is fulfilled will inevitably depend on the local context and be shaped by the particular needs, organizational structure, and capacities of individual schools and communities. Toward this end, the use of film can be a significant tool, particularly in social studies classrooms where grappling with the difficult past utilizing a wide range of sources, and not merely the typical print-based documents, is an attractive or already established practice. This is true not only because films are often relatively accessible texts for students to engage, but also because their sensory and narrative characteristics can make the abstract and remote world of international human rights law more dramatic and concrete. The cold and imposing edifice of the ICC makes it a difficult subject, to be sure, but films can also help navigate difficult historical terrain in ways that cultivate empathy, both as a skill of historical thinking and as a value of human rights education. This is not because films are “easy”–Darwin’s Nightmare is no easy film–but because the work required to understand these human rights films can develop student capacity to engage in the hard work of perspective recognition, care, and structural analysis. Finally, viewing films about the past and present of human rights, which can and do take up the problem of what to do about this difficult history, provides one example of modest but meaningful action in our shared responsibility to build a universal cultural of human rights.

Note 1 Among the most popular films depicting human rights violations is Hotel Rwanda (2005). I have chosen not to analyze this film because it has been widely discussed elsewhere, and because its status as “the” cinematic depiction of post-Holocaust genocide raises more questions than can be adequately addressed in this paper. An HRE perspective on the film would recommend its use in classrooms only from a critical perspective that problematizes both the decontextualization of the genocide from the broader history of central Africa (common for a film designed for Western consumption) and the elevation of Paul Rusesabagina to a saint-like hero (Mboti, 2010). Those who use the film should also examine the ongoing political controversy (with significant human rights dimensions) between the Rwandan government’s and Rusesabagina (Waldorf, 2009).

References Afshari, R. (2007). On the historiography of human rights reflections on Paul Gordon Lauren’s The Evolution of International Human Rights: Visions Seen. Human Rights Quarterly, 29(1), 1–67. Alsup, J. (2003). A pedagogy of trauma (or a crisis of cynicism): Teaching, writing, and the holocaust. In M. Bernard-Donals and R. Glejzer (Eds.), Witnessing the Disaster: Essays on the Representation and the Holocaust (pp.75–89). Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Apple, M. (1979). Ideology and Curriculum. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

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Barton, K. and Levstik, L. (2004). Teaching History for the Common Good. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Benjamin, W. (1968). These on the philosophy of history. In W. Benjamin Illuminations (pp. 253–264). H. Zohn (Trans.). New York: Schocken Books. Benthall, J. (2010). Disaster, Relief, and the Media. (New Ed.). Wantage, UK: Sean Kingston Publishing. Boyd, C. (2008).The politics of history and memory in democratic Spain. The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 617, 133–148. Cassidy, C., Brunner, R., and Webster, E. (2014). Teaching human rights? “All Hell Will Break Loose!” Education, Citizenship and Social Justice, 9(1), 19–33. Chalk, S. (2012). Kony 2012: Success or Failure? London: International Broadcasting Trust. Retrieved from http://www.ibt.org.uk/documents/reports/Kony-full.pdf. Dixon, J. (2010). Defending the nation? Maintaining Turkey’s narrative of the Armenian Genocide. South European Society and Politics, 15(3), 467–485. Donnelly, J. (2013). Universal Human Rights in Theory and Practice. (3rd Ed). Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Gibney, M. (2013). Watching Human Rights: The 101 Best Films. Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers. Giroux, H. (2011). Breaking into the movies: Public pedagogy and the politics of film. Policy Futures in Education 9(6), 686–695. Goldberg, E. (2007). Beyond Terror: Gender, Narrative, and Human Rights. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Hunt, L. (2008). Inventing Human Rights: A History. New York: W.W. Norton & Company. International Committee of the Red Cross [ICRC]. (2007). ICRC Report on the Treatment of Fourteen “High Value Detainees” in CIA Custody. Washington, DC: ICRC. Laqueur,T. (2011). Mourning, pity, and the work of narrative in the making of “humanity”. In R. Wilson and R. Brown (Eds.), Humanitarianism and Suffering: The Mobilization of Empathy (pp. 31–57). New York: Cambridge University Press. Lauren, P. (1998). The Evolution of International Human Rights:Visions Seen. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Mboti, N. (2010). To show the world as it is, or as it is not: The gaze of hollywood films about Africa. African Identities, 8(4), 317–332. Mitoma, G. (2014). “The character of contemporary history”: Human rights history and early modern violence. History, 99(336), 549–565. Moyn, S. (2010). The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe [OSCE]. (2012). Guidelines on Human Rights Education for Secondary School Systems. Warsaw, Poland: OSCE. Rorty, R. (2001). Human rights, rationality, and sentimentality. In P. Hayden (Ed.), The Philosophy of Human Rights (pp. 241–257). St. Paul, MN: Paragon House. Sarotte, M.E. (2012). China’s fear of contagion: Tiananmen square and the power of the European example. International Security, 37(2), 156–182. Scully, S. (2011). Judging the successes and failures of the extraordinary chambers of the courts of Cambodia. Asian-Pacific Law & Policy Journal, 12(1), 300–353. Stoddard, J. (2007). Attempting to understand the lives of others: Film as a tool for developing historical empathy. In A. Marcus (Ed.), Celluloid Blackboard: Teaching History with Film (pp. 187–214). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing.

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Stoddard, J. and Marcus, A. (2010). More than “showing what happened”: Exploring the potential of teaching history with film. The High School History Journal, 93(2), 83–90. Stoddard, J., Marcus, A., and Hicks, D. (2014). The burden of historical representation: The case of/for Indigenous film. The History Teacher, 48(1), 9–35. Tascon, S. (2012). Considering human rights films, representation, and ethics: Whose face? Human Rights Quarterly, 34(4), 864–883. Tibbitts, F. (2002). Understanding what we do: Emerging models for human rights education. International Review of Education, 48(3–4), 159–171. United Nations. (1998). Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. Document A/CONF.183/9. United Nations General Assembly. (2011). United Nations Declaration on Human Rights Education and Training. GA Resolution 66/137. Wardorf, L. (2009). Revisiting Hotel Rwanda: Genocide ideology, reconciliation, and rescuers. Journal of Genocide Research, 11(1), 101–125. Winter, S. (2016). “Inverted sympathy”: Empathy and mediation in literary transactions of human rights. In S. McClennan and A. Schultheis Moore (Eds.), The Routledge Companion to Literature and Human Rights (pp. 414–426). London, UK: Routledge. WITNESS. (n.d.). Video for Change Curriculum. Retrieved from https://library.witness.org/ product-category/curriculum/. Wogenstein, S. (2015). Holocaust education and human rights education reconsidered: A response to Anja Mihr. Journal of Human Rights, 14(4), 545–553. Yates, P. (Director) (2009). The Reckoning: The Battle for the International Criminal Court. Skylight Pictures.

4 From Seeing to Learn to Learning to See Films on the Palestinian–Israeli Conflict Brian Britt

Introduction Why do films that show troubled histories to large audiences often make very little impact educationally, socially, or culturally, even when they appear to present those histories faithfully? In this chapter, this question leads to audience education and reception in recent films on the Palestinian–Israeli conflict. From the physical and social conditions of perception to the work of interpretation and response, the experience of seeing film involves many elements and steps. Critic Walter Benjamin (1892–1940) was among the first influential theorists of film reception, and along with his contemporary Sigfried Kracauer (1889–1966), he saw the political danger and potential of this new form. Combining analysis of the physical conditions of perception with the social conditions of reception, Benjamin and Kracauer developed theoretical tools for understanding film that have significant implications for contemporary education about difficult histories. Writing about the tension between the risks and possibilities of media culture, Miriam Hansen (2004) calls for renewed attention to Walter Benjamin’s pursuit of the effects and reception of mass media in terms of “a political ecology of the senses. For us – teachers, scholars, intellectuals – to engage on both sides of this antinomy, we need theory, and we need aesthetics. The current reinvention of the aesthetic in the humanities would do well to heed Benjamin’s lesson” (p. 394). To cultivate such an aesthetics means, at minimum, to train audiences with a basic vocabulary of film elements and their effects on viewers. It also requires a study of genres of film and narrative – their history, their context in daily life, and their patterns of audience impact. Such an aesthetic education can, even for those unfamiliar with a particular history, equip an audience with skills of discernment and interpretation that enable nuanced understanding and open paths to further learning.

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Through an engagement with the critical theory of Benjamin, Kracauer, and Hansen, this essay offers a framework for a pedagogical aesthetics of film and applies it to films involving the Palestinian–Israeli conflict. My discussion presents three pairs of films which, when studied together, encourage students to compare, contrast, and engage with debates around the difficult history of the conflict: the first are dramas of human relationships; the second are documentaries; and the third blur the boundary of imagination and reality. Linked by form as well as content, these pairs of films could serve as the basis for learning activities that enhance students’ skills and knowledge of film and of the conflict.

Palestinian–Israeli Conflict as Difficult History A Debate about Facts Few histories are more “difficult” than the Arab–Israeli conflict, as any quick survey of library and bookstore shelves will show. One difficulty concerns the facts themselves.What exactly took place in the events up to the creation of the state of Israel in 1948? And how did the state of Israel acquire the lands in the West Bank, Gaza, and the Golan Heights in 1967? Debates over facts and even names for these two historical dates – 1948 and 1967 – illustrate how difficult the conflict is (Segev, 2000, 2007). In both cases, there are significant disagreements on what took place and who was responsible. Pro-Israeli writers describe the first date and the events leading up to it as the War of Independence, that is, the independence of the state of Israel, while critics of Israel, particularly Arabs, describe it as the Naqba (catastrophe); both versions of this history are commemorated by communities in Israel and the Palestinian territories. While opposing parties agree that the second event, the war of 1967, led to the expansion of Israeli forces into the West Bank, Gaza Strip, and the Golan Heights, there is major disagreement over who was responsible for that war and whether its territorial outcome is justified. These territories, along with Jerusalem, form the focus of the current conflict, and their histories are not only “difficult” but also central to the conflict itself.

Curricular Disputes Both events led to Israeli gains and Palestinian losses, and the stakes of the conflict extend to the global scale, with the United States lending massive military support to Israel while also seeking to persuade Israel to work with Palestinians and regional neighbors to resolve it. The ongoing conflict has contributed to curricular debates as well. A recently released high school civics textbook in Israel illustrates the situation. According to the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, “The book says there is a dispute over whether the territories that Israel captured in 1967 are ‘occupied’ or ‘liberated,’ adding that ‘many others prefer to withdraw from the territories in the context of a peace agreement, due to the problematic nature of ruling over another nation and over a large Arab population’” (Skop, 2016).

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Who Has Ownership, Who Counts as a Victim Behind these disputes lie distinct histories of victimization and suffering. For Palestinians, centuries of life under Ottoman Turkish rule ended when the British Empire took control of Palestine after the end of the First World War. At the same time, growing numbers of Jewish immigrants from Europe and Russia were settling in Palestine as part of the Zionist movement. By 1922, the Jewish population had reached about 100,000, more than double what it was in 1880, but it was the Nazi genocide against European Jews that accelerated Jewish emigration to Palestine and contributed to the eventual creation of the state of Israel in 1948 (Barnavi, 1992, p. 203). From a Palestinian perspective, the rapid Jewish growth and settlement of Palestine in the name of Zionism led to a series of injustices ranging from confiscation of land and property to violent expulsions and massacres. From a Zionist and Israeli perspective, the story of settlement and eventual statehood for Israel chronicles the courageous acts of pioneers who laid the groundwork for a safe homeland away from European histories of anti-Jewish injustice and genocide.

Ongoing Violent Conflict with Global Stakes Today, Palestinian and Israeli history represent two competing stories of aspiration to national existence and security. Since the early twentieth century, violent conflict, often against civilians, has characterized both histories. In addition to the events around 1948 and 1967, dozens of other incidents between the two groups, each told in different ways, have contributed to the conflict. One focus of these difficult, competing histories is the creation of Israeli settlements in the West Bank, Golan Heights, and Gaza Strip after the 1967 war. While the settlements in Gaza have been abandoned, those in the West Bank especially have grown in size and number, and disagreement on whether they are legal or legitimate, which has now become an international debate, depends largely on how this difficult history is understood. Meanwhile, the conflict has taken on global proportions. International stakeholders include not only regional countries such as Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Iran but also the United States, Russia, and Europe. Teaching about this ­difficult history takes place all around the world, and no resolution to the conflict seems possible without a high level of understanding that goes beyond one-sided narratives of violence and victimization. In other words, the future of the Israeli– Palestinian conflict depends on a reckoning with the past. Because even students who live far from this conflict hear and see reports about it, learning to understand it through multiple means, including film, can be useful. The goal of this chapter is to provide some models and resources for learning to see the conflict through film.The goal of “learning to see,” rather than “seeing to learn,” reflects the fact that images we see do not automatically provide understanding. When we learn to see through images on film, we learn skills of

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interpretation, discernment, and the type of engaged empathy Megan Boler calls “testimonial reading” (Boler, 1999, pp. 165–166). This chapter presents three pairs of films organized by issues and possible learning activities. Bethlehem and Omar (both from 2013) examine personal relationships in the face of the conflict.Two documentaries, The Law in These Parts (2011) and Five Broken Cameras (2012), examine the possibilities and limits of how film can bring life experiences and historical testimony to an audience. Finally, the chapter compares two films by the same director (Ari Folman), one of which deals with the conflict – Waltz with Bashir (2008) – while the other explores the boundaries of what is real through a fantasy on virtual reality entertainment (The  Congress, 2013). These three pairs of films each engage a different way of “seeing” the conflict: through personal relationships, through the effort to record and provide testimony, and through the broader question of who we are, what is real, and how we experience and see conflict through moving images.

Film and Media Theory It was Benjamin (2008) whose essay, “The Work of Art in the Age of its Mechanical Reproducibility,” identified the dual possibilities of film as a progressive or repressive art form. Recognizing the massive appeal and influence of film as compared to other forms of art, Benjamin identified audience reception, rather than film production and contents, as the focus of the political potential of film. But this potential was never guaranteed; writing during the Nazi regime in Germany, Benjamin understood that in order to have progressive results, aesthetic and political sensibilities must be cultivated in audiences. Comparing the distracted state of consciousness in film audiences to the experience of architecture, Benjamin calls for a program of aesthetic training that recognizes this distraction: “Reception in distraction – the sort of reception which is increasingly noticeable in all areas of art and is a symptom of profound changes in apperception – finds in film its true training ground” (pp.  40–41). Such training, argued Benjamin, could counteract the fascist tendency to aestheticize politics by politicizing art (Benjamin, p. 42). Benjamin’s friend Theodor Adorno disagreed, arguing that film was a lesser form of art that could not yield progressive political results (Adorno, 1986, pp. 120–126). Kracauer’s ground-breaking studies of film recognize the balance of formal elements and audience reception. His early studies of film, written during the Weimar Republic, reflect his conviction that film already played a central role in shaping public life and consciousness. From the most abstract level of recognizing how film captures physical objects and people in motion, Kracauer (1999) discusses motifs, type scenes, and even what films do not show. His discussion of audience reception has some affinities with Benjamin’s, noting how filmgoers experience film in a state of “lowered consciousness” that can be compared to hypnosis or dreaming and therefore receptive to propaganda (Kracauer, 1999, pp. 159–166).Yet by its grounding in material reality, argues Kracauer, film takes

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us to ideas not “on highways leading through the void but on paths that wind through the thicket of things” (Kracauer, 1999, p. 309). Despite all their variety and propensity for multiple ideological purposes, Kracauer concludes by suggesting that film can stimulate audiences to reflect on the “rapprochement between the peoples of the world” (Kracauer, 1999, p. 310). In other words, film can enhance our understanding of other people and situations. Giving an example of how a scene from a film by Satyajit Ray brings viewers to relate to characters across geographic and cultural boundaries, he argues that ideas such as this “­penetrate ephemeral physical reality and burn through it” (Kracauer, 1999, p. 311). For Kracauer as for Benjamin, film represented a new cultural phenomenon with religious and cultic attributes that demanded critical attention in a wider political and economic context. Kracauer describes the large movie theaters of 1920s Berlin as “palaces of distraction,” describing their “elegant surface splendor” as part of a mass experience of a “total artwork of effects” that “assaults all the senses using every possible means,” including spotlights, drapes, and glass fixtures (Kracauer, 1995, pp. 323–324). For Kracauer, film extends beyond the medium itself to the social and cultural context of the audience. This attention to the reception and form of film in Kracauer and Benjamin provides a starting point for a pedagogical aesthetics of films about the Palestinian–Israeli conflict.

Teaching the Conflict: A Sketch What would such a pedagogical aesthetics look like? For advanced middle and high school students, it would begin with a basic historical narrative of the conflict, presented in dialogue with students to identify their previous knowledge, assumptions, and curiosities. This exercise would serve the diagnostic function of noting gaps in knowledge and opportunities for learning. Second, students would participate in a brief interactive survey of film aesthetics, identifying several genres and elements from the study of cinema. A short list of genres, such as documentary, comedy, thriller, romance, and action film, could serve as the basis for identifying features and elements of each genre. This exercise could be done as a group activity or homework, possibly to be supported by video examples selected by the students. From these genres and examples, students could be asked to generate a simple list of film elements and techniques, such as voiceover narration, types and uses of music, varieties of camera angles and shots, qualities of color and lighting, and varieties of editing and sequencing. Such a list, though short, would help alert students to the skills of observing how films are structured and made. Third, the question of effects and audience reception could be raised. For each element and technique, examples could be given with the additional question of what effect the technique or element may have on the viewer. Another way to address this question of quality would be to ask them to analyze these elements in a film they like. Next, students could have a discussion about their experiences of how films are distributed, watched, and reviewed. They could consider

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questions about how movies are advertised, how people choose which ones to see, how they describe the experience itself, and how they and others evaluate the experience. Finally, equipped with historical background and this set of tools, the next step would be to ask students to explain how these elements might make a film interesting, successful, or simply good in their opinion. After reviewing the films in light of genre, formal elements, and audience reception, students could either prepare their own critical responses of the films as representations of the conflict or they could read and respond to film reviews with their own reception in mind. The work and projects to this point would be collected by the student in a kind of handbook or toolkit to consult in responding to the films. What follows are three pairs of films with a discussion of how each pair could be used to teach the conflict using the tools identified here. I do not attempt a complete summary of the films (though – spoiler alert – I do disclose some of the film’s plot twists and endings) but instead select particular details and scenes to illustrate how students may develop skills in political and aesthetic analysis in terms of the “political ecology of the senses” proposed by Hansen. Since films are not easily seen all at once in a given class period, students could either watch them over time in class or on their own. They should make brief notes as they watch the films and then, in discussion and written assignments such as journals and short essays, address the central question of how these films represent the conflict, with emphasis on the formal, aesthetic elements they have learned, along with their personal responses. The use of pairs is designed to give students an opportunity to evaluate through comparison, engaging in the widespread inclination of m ­ oviegoers to rate, compare, and review films. These pairings are only one ­possibility; as I will show, there are many connections among all six films.

Personal Relationships in the Conflict: Bethlehem and Omar (2013) Guiding Questions: How does the conflict affect personal relationships? What kinds of friendship and love are possible in the context of the conflict? Bethlehem tracks the relationship between a young Palestinian informant and his Israeli “handler.” In a plot familiar from thrillers involving cops and their informants, Razi (the handler from Shin Bet, the Israeli security agency) and Sanfur, the Palestinian boy whose older brother is wanted for a bombing in Jerusalem, form a bond that mixes trust with lies, and toughness with vulnerability.The driving suspense of the plot is whether the feelings of respect and affection between the two characters will transcend or succumb to the conflict. Both the man and the boy, who share a physical resemblance, face criticism from their peers on either side of the conflict, though in Sanfur’s case the pressure and stakes – family loyalty and danger of death – are greater.

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Students are likely to find this film engaging and familiar enough to discuss it thoughtfully. But as one Israeli critic put it, there is very little attention to the conflict and broader context in the film (Levy, 2013). Instead, the film alternates between the stressful deliberations and actions of the Israeli security forces as they hunt for terrorists and the complex underworld of competing Palestinian factions. Both main characters are liminal: Sanfur appreciates the attention from Razi and the treatment he receives in an Israeli hospital, while Razi’s superb Arabic and unusual attachment to Sanfur, whom he addresses as “habibi” (my dear), draw criticism from his wife. As if to point out their close relationship, sometimes fraternal and sometimes father–son-like, the movie’s poster depicts the two ­characters side by side in a way that highlights their physical resemblance. Released around the same time as Bethlehem (2013), Omar tells a similar story of the conflict, but the central relationship in this film is between a young Palestinian man (Omar) and, Nadja, the woman he loves and the sister of his friend Tarek, a militant leader. After he is arrested and tortured for an attack on an Israeli soldier he carried out with Tarek and another friend, Amjad, Omar is paired with a handler (Rami) who tries to use Omar to find Tarek. As with Bethlehem, the plot becomes a thriller that pits the love story of Omar and Nadja, sweetly portrayed in their private moments together, against the violent demands of the conflict, which pull the lovers apart. As the plot unfolds, the third friend in the group, Amjad, emerges as the true villain, and like Bethlehem, the plot culminates in a violent confrontation among the main characters. Love story and political struggle become entangled with disastrous results. Directed by Hany Abu-Assad, whose Paradise Now (2005) also tells a story of violent Palestinian resistance to Israel, Omar was nominated for an Academy Award in the same year as Bethlehem. While Bethlehem concentrates on the constant danger to the main characters and parties on both sides of the conflict, Omar depicts more scenes of life in the West Bank, focusing particularly on the separation wall, which Omar climbs in the first scene. Omar depicts clashes with Israeli forces, difficulties crossing through checkpoints, poverty, and experiences of arrest, torture, and imprisonment. In prison, Omar learns that saying “I’ll never confess” is equivalent to a confession, a reality that points to the political and legal issues raised in The Law in These Parts (2011). Thus implicated in a murder plot, Omar faces the choice between collaborating with the authorities or indefinite incarceration. Students who see both films could compare the tenderness in the two relationships, the violent concluding scenes, or small details such as the dialogue between Rami and his wife in Bethlehem and the recurring parable – told in an early scene of Omar and repeated at the end – about using sugar to catch a monkey. Most of all, students who draw such a comparison can demonstrate how a genre and plot formula can work in similar but contrasting ways. The relationship of informant and handler in Bethlehem often seems to be genuine, with trust and vulnerability on both sides, until the conflict bears down upon it. In Omar, true affection

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lies elsewhere, between the young man and woman, but there too the pressure of the situation prevents a happy outcome. Students may be asked to reflect on the strengths and limitations of each film as a way to learn about the conflict. The comparison enables broader questions about their shared genre elements of thriller, war movie, and even melodramatic love story. What feelings do the films arouse, and how do these feelings enable or inhibit understanding? A specific question here could be: How does the dramatic conclusion of Omar make you feel as a member of the audience, and what impact does that feeling have on your thoughts about the conflict? One of the only constants about the Palestinian–Israeli conflict is that it excites passions. How can teaching the conflict acknowledge and work effectively with these passions? In Feeling Power, Megan Boler, theorist of social justice education, distinguishes between “passive empathy,” which may not lead to effective learning or responses to conflicts such as this, and “testimonial reading,” a more nuanced form of engagement that recognizes the observer’s or reader’s relationship to the subject. No less respectful of the passions than passive empathy, testimonial reading calls upon the student to acknowledge her own position in relation to the “text” and the power dynamics of the case in question (Boler, 1999, pp. 165–166).

Documenting History: The Law in These Parts (2011) and Five Broken Cameras (2011) Guiding Questions:What facts does each documentary show or not show? What does each film say about the act of documenting difficult history? The Law in These Parts, a documentary consisting of interviews with retired judges who ruled in cases involving the Israeli occupation, opens with a scene depicting the assembly of a desk and arrangement of equipment on the set of the film. The director’s monologue in that scene describes the inherently constructed and selective nature of the film and the documentary genre in general. Other reflexive moments in the film include a comparison between the control of the filmmaker in leaving out a particular interview and the control exercised by the Israeli government in the territories.The interviews with the judges, which trace the history of the occupation, raise questions of how law legitimates the use of force and the competing demands of order and justice. Never naïve, the judges reflect on the implications of their work, noting for example that a decision that improves conditions under the occupation may also serve to extend and strengthen it. In this way, the film can be compared to another documentary, The Gatekeepers (2012), which presents interviews with former leaders of Israeli security forces. Five Broken Cameras documents two parallel stories in the life of filmmaker Emad Burnad: the birth and development of his fourth son, and the political campaign in his village against the Israeli separation wall and occupation.The cameras of the film’s title represent a series of clashes between Israeli forces and demonstrators filmed by Burnad. Each time a camera is destroyed, he repairs or replaces

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it and continues recording scenes of demonstrations and life in his community. The film includes several scenes of genuine playfulness among the Palestinian activists, from the attempt to build a shelter that withstands the physical and legal barriers of Israeli control to a scene in which the act of filming is followed, even punished, by violence. In this way, Five Broken Cameras shares a sustained reflexivity with The Law in These Parts, and students comparing them can find models of the kind of learning they are asked to do – an aesthetically informed “testimonial reading” – in the two films. One way to get at this is to set out the distinction between form – documentary film – and content – the topic of the film – and to ask how they are related at those moments when the filmmaker draws attention to the form. In addition to questions of law and legitimacy, both films also share an interest in details of how land is lost, acquired, and held under the occupation. A scene in The Law in These Parts retells how the Ottoman law of “mawat [dead] land” represented a turning point in the Israeli ­occupation. One of the retired jurists recounts how he mentioned this little-known law, which allowed the seizure of land for reasons other than security, in a meeting with Ariel Sharon, and how Sharon immediately asked him to explain it further. Five Broken Cameras documents how the Palestinian protesters take advantage of an Israeli law banning the automatic destruction of a concrete structure to establish a “­settlement” of their own on land that had been seized by the government. By drawing attention to the process of making a documentary film, The Law in These Parts and Five Broken Cameras implicitly raise questions about how life relates to film, how filmmakers make choices, and whether film can make an impact on the conflict. Near the end of Five Broken Cameras, in a scene where a hospital visit to Tel Aviv allows Burnad to take his children to the beach, the filmmaker claims that his work helps him heal the physical (and p­ sychological) wounds he has experienced. Healing, he says, is the victim’s only obligation, and, he continues, “I film to heal.”

Memory and Imagination: Playing with Reality with Reality in Waltz with Bashir (2008) and The Congress (2013) Guiding Questions:What stories do we tell ourselves about conflict? How do memory and the imagination connect us to the reality and history of conflict? Waltz with Bashir depicts a personal search and struggle with memories of Israel’s 1982 campaign against Palestinians in Lebanon. Ari Folman, the film’s writer and director, is depicted in animation as he tries to recover his lost memories of the war through interviews with fellow military veterans who served with him. The film vividly represents the massacres against civilians in refugee camps carried out by Lebanese Christian troops under Israeli supervision. These attacks drew and continue to draw sharp criticism from human rights groups within Israel and around the world. At the same time, the film focuses on the personal struggle of the Israeli veterans with the experience.

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The film’s unusual aesthetic form – animation – along with its ­autobiographical frame as the protagonist’s struggle to face and understand the past – raises interesting questions about its political content. Is it a sharp criticism of Israeli military action or the story of a personal journey? What role does the animation play, and to what effect for audience understanding of difficult history? From the film’s opening scene, which depicts another veteran’s nightmare of vicious dogs, Waltz with Bashir places primary attention on the trauma of the Lebanon war for Folman and other Israelis. The driving plot device is documentary and therapeutic: to recover lost memories of the war and to report on what took place. A primary question for interpreting the film is how the documentary and therapeutic goals are related. If, as I suggest, the primary focus is to address the personal trauma of Folman and other veterans, then the documentary function of telling what happened may be depoliticized. “Can’t film be therapeutic?” asks Ari in an early scene. On the other hand, as Folman links his personal trauma to that of his comrades in pursuit of the details of the massacres of Palestinian civilians in Lebanon, the personal becomes political. All the speaking characters in the film are Israeli, and the film concentrates on their experiences, but as the film progresses, it presents images and scenes of violence whose victims are Israeli and non-Israeli alike. The film culminates in the recovery of the most difficult memory of all, the 1982 Sabra and Shatila refugee camp massacres, ending with a scene that shifts from animation to documentary film footage depicting the mourning and the dead.1 This shift from the personal search for therapeutic recovery to a broader reckoning with collective trauma and responsibility suggests a primarily political aim. Yet the striking visual effects of the animation, and the film’s lingering on powerful images, especially a recurring scene of Israeli soldiers emerging from a swim at a Beirut beach during a nighttime battle, imply more aesthetic aims. The film’s title scene recounts an Israeli soldier’s dance-like walk through enemy fire near buildings decorated with posters of the newly assassinated Christian Phalangist military leader Gemayel Bashir. Since it was partly vengeance for this death that motivated the Phalangist troops, allied with Israel, to carry out the massacre, the film’s title summarizes the political context of the entire war. But how do the film’s therapeutic aims and aesthetic presentation represent political atrocity? Does Waltz with Bashir offer a powerful critique of the war or does it, by focusing on veterans’ reckoning and recovery, reinforce the conflict by humanizing Israelis and distancing others? To answer these questions, students can compare Waltz with Bashir with Folman’s next film, The Congress, which depicts a world in which an actor’s image and identity can be captured technologically for unlimited use by filmmakers.The protagonist, played by Robin Wright and based loosely on her career, struggles with this loss of herself. As with Waltz with Bashir, The Congress deploys animation, though, whereas Waltz with Bashir shifts from animation to live action briefly at

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the end, The Congress shifts from live action to animation in a plot that depicts the dystopian transformation of reality into illusion. Like The Truman Show (1998) and The Matrix (1999), The Congress plays with the question of what is real through a plot involving futuristic technology – a scanner that can capture the actor so completely that she can be animated in any film without ever acting again. The protagonist is Robin Wright, a character named and loosely based on the life of the film’s lead actor. An early scene in the film shows her gazing at a poster of herself as the lead in The Princess Bride (1987), an image that comes to represent her lost youth and potential for its permanent digital recovery. The film shifts to animation when Robin Wright visits a place called Abrahama for the Futurist Congress, where she discovers a totally fluid reality shaped by her wishes and a new technology and contract offer based on the replacement of movies by total freedom to change and experience any reality. The Congress touches off a violent revolution, however, which leads to massive confusion for Robin, leading after many years to a struggle against a futuristic world of illusion to find her son and recover hope and a sense of integrity. Like Waltz with Bashir, the focus of The Congress is the emotional and psychological experience of its protagonist. The search for a therapeutic recovery of memory in Waltz with Bashir drives a journey that concludes with animated and then live action scenes of women crying and wailing after the massacre. The Congress begins and ends with scenes of Robin Wright crying. Both endings signify a breakthrough of sorts, at least for the personal searches that drive both films (for memory in Bashir and Wright’s son Aaron in Congress). Yet both films relate the personal to the political. Political violence – the massacres in Bashir and an uprising in Congress – provides the context and turning point for both films. The promotional website of The Congress describes the story in melodramatic terms linking political and personal freedom: [T]he rebels who have been fighting the deceptive regime of the pharmaceutical world, unite and turn the Futurist Congress into a fatally violent arena. The struggle for clarity of thought becomes a war of independence for the right to imagine …. Will she [Robin] go back to living in the world of truth, a gray world devoid of chemistry, where she is an aging, anonymous actress caring for her sick 30-year-old son? (The Congress) In light of how The Congress frames conflicts for political liberty in a futuristic entertainment age in terms of an actress’s personal journey, one may ask students to consider how Waltz with Bashir, whose resemblance to The Congress extends beyond a common director and the use of animation, balances the political conflict against a story of personal suffering and recovery.

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Conclusion: Learning to See Conflict through Film Reflexivity, the acknowledgment of an activity within the activity, appears in many of the films and models the kind of reflection advocated by Hansen and Boler. By noting reflexive images and statements in the films, most explicit in The Law in These Parts and Five Broken Cameras, students can compare their own positions as viewers to the filmmakers’ statements about their work. When the filmmaker in Five Broken Cameras presents some of his footage to a small audience in his village in order to boost morale and solidarity, he says (in ­voiceover), “Screening my footage allows the villagers to get some distance from these events.” This distance is what students need in order to see the difficult history of the conflict in a broader perspective. Reflexive self-awareness in the films models the kind of learning that combines aesthetic and political understanding. Once students demonstrate this understanding, they can then engage in critical discussion of the Palestinian–Israeli conflict. Education theorist Gerald Graff ’s (1992) injunction to “teach the conflicts” provides a model for this kind of discussion: instead of being told what to think, the films and teaching environment provide tools for them to weigh different positions and ideas, together with affective and aesthetic responses. Combined with even a brief overview of events, educators can hope for significant learning outcomes around the circumstances, causes, and effects of the conflict through a curriculum centered on film. Following Kracauer, this work acknowledges the nature and function of film in society, which requires attention to formal issues of camera work and filmmaking as well as the industry that has made film into a central part of social life and culture since the twentieth century. Most of all, students can discover how to link form and content, film and reality, for themselves. And because this conflict arouses some of the fiercest passions of any around the world today, a particular focus on how these films reflect, project, and arouse feelings is also necessary (Boler). Can a film contribute to resolving a conflict? The answer depends, of course, on the film and its audience. Students already draw impressions of the wider world from films and other audio–visual media. Almost all of them have an abundance of experience watching screen images. What they typically lack is a set of tools for seeing film as a technical and artistic medium that works on our senses in particular ways through particular means in particular contexts. The six films discussed here, presented in the context of the conflict itself and as films about it, present opportunities to learn about the conditions and experiences of the conflict. Reflexive elements in these films alert observant viewers to the artificial, constructed nature of film itself and therefore to the standpoints of film and viewer alike. The “political ecology of the senses” identified by Hansen as vital to our times suggests the kind of pedagogical aesthetics sketched here. In 1936, Walter Benjamin and Theodor Adorno disagreed on the political potential of film: Adorno doubted the possibility of deriving meaningful political

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change from film, while Benjamin cautiously identified progressive potential in educated film reception. Today, there can be no question that film has become a primary medium for the public to learn about world conflict. By their appeal and wide distribution, films have become a primary source of learning and education, particularly for audiences who live far from the people and places they depict. Even for those who study the Israeli–Palestinian conflict through reading about its history and political dynamics, films such as the ones discussed here can provide the sorts of images of people and places that contextualize and humanize the conflict. The question is not whether viewers learn in this way but how well they do so.

Note 1 See the brief description at the BBC News site: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_ east/1779713.stm

References Adorno, T. (1986). Letter to Walter Benjamin, 18 March 1936. In E. Bloch et al. (Ed.), Aesthetics and Politics. London:Verso. Barnavi, E. (Ed.). (1992). A Historical Atlas of the Jewish People: From the Time of the Patriarchs to the Present. New York: Schocken Books. Benjamin, W. (2008). The work of art in the age of its technological reproducibility. In M. W. Jennings et al. (Ed.). The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Boler, M. (1999). Feeling Power: Emotions and Education. New York: Routledge. The Congress Promotional Website. Retrieved from http://thecongress-movie.com/home .htm?lng=en. Graff, G. (1992). Beyond the Culture Wars: How Teaching the Conflicts can Revitalize American Education. New York: W.W. Norton. Hansen, M.B. (2004). Why media aesthetics? Critical Inquiry 30: 391–395. Kracauer, S. (1999). Theory of Film: The Redemption of Reality. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Kracauer, S. (1995). Cult of distraction: On Berlin’s picture palaces. In The Mass Ornament: Weimar Essays (pp. 323–328). T. Y. Levin (Trans.). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Levy, G. (2013). ‘Bethlehem’ is yet another Israeli propaganda film. Haaretz, October 26, 2013. Retrieved from http://www.haaretz.com/opinion/.premium-1.550699. Segev, T. (2007). 1967: Israel, the War, and the Year that Transformed the Middle East (1st U.S. ed.). New York: Metropolitan Books. Segev, T. (2000). One Palestine, Complete: Jews and Arabs Under the Mandate. New York: Metropolitan Books. Skop,Y (2016). Bennett’s new civics book meets with Israeli–Arab furor. Haaretz, May 12, 2016. Retrieved from www.haaretz.com.

5 The Torturers Among Us History, the Film Industry, and Its Claims to Truth Robert P. Stephens

In the pre-photographic era, images came directly from our eyes to our brains and were part of our experience of reality.With the advent of photography, images were torn free from the world, snatched from the fabric of reality, and enshrined as separate entities. They became more like dreams. Errol Morris (2011, p. 92)

The historian unmakes stories as much as creates them, dissolving apparently coherent narratives into tangles of contradictory evidence and differing interpretations. Tom Gunning (1994, p. 31)

Introduction Film – a medium of light, movement, and sound – compounds photography’s flight from reality, the lapse into dreamlands that Errol Morris cogently notes. The question of this volume, the dilemma of teaching “difficult history” through the medium of film, may appear, like photography, straight forward: to provide students with a set of conceptual tools to think critically and strategically about how to conceptualize historical subjects that they would rather not contemplate deeply.Yet, as Morris notes, if images tear free from the world, how are we to get them back? How do we anchor our students’ understanding in a reality and help them understand the intrinsic instability of that reality they perceive? Not such an easy feat after all.

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Historians, on the whole, have trouble with film as a medium (Rosenstone, 2012). Most of us were trained in a largely textual world, and do much of our archival work, the gold standard of the discipline, in textual sources. Only more recently has the “visual turn” received a substantial amount of attention. So if our discipline is predicated on the notion of a more-or-less objective (which is to say empirical) representation of reality, how do we deal with the dream world that is Hollywood and with different modes of the representation of reality? What I am stressing here is: how do we deal with competing truth claims, and how do we teach our students to do the same? There are many pedagogical modes that historians and teachers use to teach history through film; indeed, you will find many distinct approaches in this volume. In this chapter, I focus on three modes: the representational, the representative, and the epistemological (Susman, 2012; White, 1988). All three of these modes of thinking are valid, though I will argue that, particularly when dealing with difficult subjects, there is a hierarchy of understanding.

Representational The most common way that history teachers use film is representational; by that, I mean they screen a film for students and then they compare the film to “­historical reality” (Marcus et al., 2010). What did the film get “right” and what did it get “wrong”? This, it seems to me, is reductive and displays a genuine lack of understanding of how film and the film industry work (White, 1988; Rosenstone, 1995a,b, 2014; Toplin, 2003; Sorlin, 1994; Burgoyne, 2008).Yet this is a mode that students are both keenly interested in and, to a certain extent, have the ability to actively participate in. “Everyone was too clean.” “Lincoln never said that!” All of this feeds in to preconceptions that students have about history as a discipline and as a responsible representation of the truth (Wildt and Selwyn, 1996). This, by the way, is where most professors and teachers are most comfortable as well: the use of expertise to critique an “unrealistic” portrayal (Davis, 2002; Saeger, 1995).

Representative The next mode of analysis is what I will call the representative. This strategy often works hand-in-hand with the representational. In the representative mode, the film is seen not only as a representation of the past, but also a representative object of the time it was made, of certain ideological and material obsessions of the filmmakers and their audiences that tell us more about the time in which they were made than in the period they portray (Ferro, 1998; Bodnar, 2001; Carvalho, 2006; Loshitzky, 2011).This is what Marcus et al. (2010) describe as teachers using film as a primary source. In this mode, All Quiet on the Western Front illustrates the

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turmoil of the interwar period; Spartacus becomes as much about McCarthyism and the Black List as it does about the Roman Republic and slave uprisings; Munich acts as a stand-in for the war on terror. This mode of analysis includes the historical and collective memory of nations and societies, especially with respect to traumatic events (Jelavich, 2005; Davis, 2002; Parker, 2007; Rice, 2001; Varon, 2008). Again, this mode of analysis is valuable, and particularly when it is paired with the first, it helps students understand not just the “facts,” but also about how multiple interpretations of events are always at play and how contemporary pressures warp the ways in which we understand the past. The representative mode has some drawbacks as well. This is where an understanding of the political nature of historical interpretation comes to the fore. Without careful guidance, students can either rapidly become radical relativists [“so you’re telling us all interpretations are in competition and so then nothing is true”] or they can dig in and revert to their own political interpretation of the truth and defend it with a righteous anger. Neither of those outcomes is particularly helpful, especially when dealing with difficult topics.

Epistemological The third, and arguably most difficult, mode is epistemological: helping students understand how filmmakers use certain modes of representation to construct an argument about the past and to make claims about the truth-value of their specific interpretation, to understand how filmmakers construct knowledge about the past using a broad set of conceptual and material tools developed by a specific industry over the course of its history. As White (1988) has noted, film is not a privileged medium and ultimately acts in the same way as other media. “Every written history is a product of processes of condensation, displacement, symbolization, and qualification exactly like those used in the production of a filmed representation,”White claims (p. 1194). “It is only the medium that differs, not the way in which messages are produced” (p. 1194). Film has a grammar and syntax, just as written language does, though students rarely are asked to try to ascertain the rules of this grammar and syntax and to divine the way the rules create meaning. By asking students to wrestle with the epistemology of film – how exactly film uses conventions to create knowledge – we can begin to really hone the critical “reading” skills that students may abandon in their conditioned willingness to suspend disbelief. What I am suggesting here is not just the multiple readings that can be gleaned from a single film, but the fundamental ambiguity of texts. Rather, I want to highlight the need to teach students the way that film as a medium and an industry works in order to provide them the critical tools to interrogate their own readings. Teaching this kind of critical reading of film requires us to educate students about how filmmakers use certain filmic devices to create a verisimilitude that creates the illusion that their version of the truth is accurate. It means showing

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and explaining how the film is made and why certain representations are more or less effective in giving the appearance of “reality” (Sutton, 2004). The advantage of this mode of analysis is that it forces students to question their own prejudices and to critically “read” film in a way that illuminates the constructed nature of all historical interpretations. This kind of critical media literacy, what Marcus et al. (2010) call historical film literacy, is crucial to making difficult subjects and their representations comprehensible. The goal here is not just to provide students the tools to compare film and “reality,” nor to coax them into interrogating their own prejudicial readings, but rather to give them the means to understand exactly how filmmakers construct meaning and produce knowledge that then plays out in the larger culture. How, for example, framing devices, flashbacks, montage, and other filmic devices are used to give a sense of the passage of time. Or how real complex events are condensed, focused on particular characters, and altered to fit existing generic conventions in order to meet audience expectations.

Torture as Difficult History It may seem obvious why a chapter on torture films is in a volume on “difficult history.” Some presidential candidates in 2016 openly advocated an embrace of torture and continued revelations emerge through the Freedom of Information Act about the acts of torture and the legal mechanisms that supported them in Afghanistan and Iraq, the topic of torture has far from disappeared from our national conversation. Reuters reported on March 30, 2016, that 63% of Americans support torturing terror suspects (Kahn, 2016); this despite a consensus among Intelligence and Military experts that torture has not only been ineffective but has badly damaged American credibility globally and been in breach of international treaties that prevent the use of torture. Secondary students and most college students were too young to be politically conscious when the issue of torture reemerged after the invasion of Afghanistan, and the landscape upon which torture is debated has shifted significantly since then. Although for many of us, the reason that torture is a difficult topic to teach is obvious, let me outline a few of the reasons this topic is so controversial and often toxic.

Difficult for Teachers First, many of us who teach history grew up in an era when torture was not up for significant debate; it was something other countries did (or so we told ourselves). During the Cold War, torture was simply framed differently; when I was our students’ age the villain tortured the hero, not the other way around. I find it difficult when my students are reticent to come to a consensus that torture is legally and morally indefensible. Difficult history does not just mean difficult for students; these topics are often difficult for teachers as well. Despite my own sense of the efficacy and morality of torture, it is important in the classroom to allow

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for multiple, often conflicting points of view. There is, after all, a broad part of the public that views torture not only as necessary but as justified.The urgency, therefore, is not to provide the answer, nor to insist that students agree with my own values; the point is to get them to think deeply about the ways in which mediated realities play a fundamental role in shaping all our opinions and the ramifications of decisions made from this incomplete, fragmentary form of knowledge.

Justification in the Media Second, the media landscape shifted after the attacks of September 11, 2001 (Prince, 2009). In the age of Jack Bauer from the television series 24, torture was reframed from anathema to civilized countries to a mediated necessity. The ­ticking-time-bomb scenario became a primary trope to not only justify but glorify acts of torture as not only justified but emphatically patriotic.The dominance of this kind of mediated justification has become widespread and is the cognitive sea that our students swim in.

Graphic Imagery Third, many films have brutal images and use them effectively; many of the Holocaust films (see Chapter 11), films about slavery or war (see Chapters 9 and 10), all have a tendency to use generic, graphic imagery to provoke an emotional response from viewers. Somehow, though, torture seems a genre apart. The images of the deliberate torture of individuals are still horrific. The question for us as educators is how much violence do we want to inflict on our students. Do they need to see the images of torture to truly understand them, or are we just enlarging the vast library of violent images in their developing brains? This is a question I do not have a clear answer for, but this is clearly another aspect of torture as a difficult history topic.

Current Era of Terrorism Finally, torture makes for difficult history because we still live in and will live in for the foreseeable future, a turbulent era dominated in the media by mass terror on a global scale. With that continued seemingly random violence radiating fear into dysfunctional political systems, there is still a strong current in American politics for many to believe that the ends always justify the means and that torture is an acceptable weapon in the war on terror. Others continue to find torture a bridge too far, anathema, beyond the pale. And both of the strains of American culture come into our classrooms, which almost inevitably leads to conflict and can spill outside the classroom. I want to particularly caution secondary school teachers about teaching torture using films. The intense passions that this topic brings to the surface can bubble over, and it would only take a few parents with strong

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feelings to create a significant backlash. This is an important topic and deserves to be taught at the advanced secondary level, but it should be done in consultation with administrators and parents to ensure that teaching difficult history does not become a detriment to teachers’ careers or students’ educations.

Torture Films and Truth Value In this chapter, I examine two films from the post-9/11 era that deal with the difficult issue of torture and the complicity of the United States in its propagation: Standard Operating Procedure (2008) and Zero Dark Thirty (2012). My students have struggled with this issue in my classes. It almost invariably creates consternation and conflict, as students wrestle with their own preconceptions about torture, about the “war on terror,” and about the morality of US policy and practice. I purposefully show films on difficult subjects like torture in pairs or in a group of three to allow the class to delve into the modes of representation in order to better understand how all narratives use diverse methods to make certain truth claims about torture, its use, and its meaning. This allows me to utilize films with radically different truth claims to help students unpack over a number of weeks exactly how these are conceived, framed, and executed. What I would like to stress in this chapter is the need to dive deeply through the representational and representative modes of analysis and to help students step back from their preconceptions and develop the conceptual tools to question the epistemological conceits not only of film, but of written or textual sources as well. In the end, the most important tools that we can help our students grow are the critical and skeptical habits of thought that are core to our work as historians and, ultimately, to understanding the fullness of the past.

Zero Dark Thirty Although Zero Dark Thirty was made six years after Standard Operating Procedure, I want to approach it first. In pairing films, I find it helpful to show Zero Dark Thirty to students first for two reasons. First, studio films, particularly of recent vintage, are an easy entry point into the subject for students; the aesthetics of Zero Dark Thirty conform to their sensibilities, and the generic structure and pacing of the film is designed to draw viewers in. It is, after all, a rather conventional and well-made film. Second, I hold off on Morris’ more “difficult” documentary because it helps to force them to rethink what they did or did not learn from the historical fiction. Zero Dark Thirty was actually a latecomer in Hollywood’s portrayal of torture on film. As Prince (2009) notes, what appears like a post-9/11 phenomenon can be traced back at least to the 1980s. With the “war on terror” and the subsequent invasion and occupation of Afghanistan and Iraq, the authorization of “enhanced interrogation techniques” by the Bush administration first at black sites, at Guantanamo Bay, and then at Abu Ghraib, torture became a central,

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potent political debate. At mid-decade there was a spate of documentaries that ­investigated 9/11 and its ramifications as well as a number of commercial fictional films that at least obliquely dealt with the topic of war and its consequences. This reached a peak in 2007 and 2008 with fictional films such as The Kingdom, Charlie Wilson’s War, In the Valley of Ellah, Rendition, and A Mighty Heart, while significant documentaries like Ghosts of Abu Ghraib, Taxi to the Dark Side, and Standard Operating Procedure aimed a critical light at the execution of the war on terror (Danzig, 2012; Prince, 2009). Some of these similar issues are addressed in Chapter 3 on human rights though through a different lens. Zero Dark Thirty was in many ways an accidental film. Director Kathryn Bigelow, who won the Oscar for Best Picture for The Hurt Locker in 2008, was working on a film about the search for Osama bin Laden in Tora Bora when the raid on bin Laden’s compound took place in 2011. She and screen writer Marc Boal swiftly shifted gears to create a feature film about this significant episode in the war on terror. Filmed in 2012 and released in January 2013, the production proceeded at a landslide pace in a glacial industry. With a $40 million budget, the film eventually earned more than $95 million at the box office and won significant acclaim, including an Oscar nomination for best picture. The film traces the decade-long hunt for Osama bin Laden after 9/11. The film “falls into the category of Hollywood law enforcement and military films celebrating an extraordinary accomplishment by a government agency,” as Powers points out.“Zero Dark Thirty is an institutional history with a composite hero, built around a thriller chase plot” (2013, p. 303). The story revolves around CIA agent Maya, played by Jessica Chastain, who relentlessly pursues Osama bin Laden’s courier, eventually discovering the compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan. Through force of will, she convinces the government to execute the daring SEAL team raid that killed the 9/11 mastermind. It is, by all accounts, a gripping film, well-paced, beautifully filmed, and convincingly acted.Yet at the heart of this generic thriller lies the thorny question of the morality and efficacy of torture.1 So how does one go about teaching this film? My strategy with difficult films has always relied on class discussion. In fact, I often split my class to have a small enough group to share a significant conversation. My method could best be described as guided discussion. I know the points that I eventually want to get to, but I allow the conversation to develop organically.The key is to be prepared; having planned carefully exactly the conceptual and critical tools I want my students to develop. In the case of Zero Dark Thirty, I want them to understand: (1) how the genre demands of commercial cinema guide the plot; (2) the multiple interpretations that can and have been gleaned from the picture; and (3) the methods that filmmakers utilize to construct truth claims about their narratives. I always pair the films with readings (Bough, 2013; Pautz, 2015; Shih, 2013; Sontag, 2004). that help contextualize what they are seeing and push their understanding. One of the key goals is for them to understand not only visual sources but commentary on those sources as well.

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I tend to begin my discussions with a generic and banal question, simply asking about how they liked the film; that manages to get them talking without forcing them immediately into the thick of a difficult topic. It has been my experience that students naturally move into both the representational and representative modes of analysis. First, they want to talk about how “true” the film is. Having grown up on commercial film, most undergraduates are well conditioned to suspend disbelief. They generally know a bit about the bin Laden raid, so the film fills in some holes in their knowledge about the pursuit and raid. In general, they believe that Zero Dark Thirty is a “pretty good” representation of what actually happened. Usually, in the early part of the discussion they tend not to fully engage their critical faculties. The conversation often then shifts quickly to the moral question of torture. They genuinely want to debate the politics of torture. Some students find the ends justify the means, while others are politically opposed to torture in any form or argue that the film overplays the efficacy of “enhanced interrogation” techniques. This is the part of the debate that requires a deft hand by the instructor. I do not short circuit this conversation, but I do try to temper the conversation and argue that this debate is part and parcel of a larger national and international debate. As a follow up exercise to reinforce this, I ask them to read some of the reviews to see how the debate unfolded in the immediate aftermath of the release. The left attacked the film as an apology for torture, while the right accused Bigelow of “slandering America by falsely proposing that the US ever used torture in the so-called war-on-terror; and secondly, was traitorously fueling Islamist extremism” (Boughn, 2013, p. 20). I also direct them to research on how individuals’ preexisting political outlook tends to condition their perception of the moral aspects of the film (Pautz, 2015). The debate over the morality and efficacy, while essential, tends to burn itself out fairly quickly. At that point, I guide the conversation more actively to attempt to energize their skepticism and critical faculties while reaching my instructional goals. I ask them about truth claims the film makes and how the filmmakers accomplish this. I first ask them about the opening of the movie. The film actually begins with a six-second shot of a black screen with white lettering stating: “The following motion picture is based on first hand accounts of actual events.” The screen then goes blank as audio from phone calls made from inside the World Trade Center plays. The title September 11, 2001, appears for a few seconds and then fades out. For 83 seconds, we listen to panicked calls pleading for help while we stare at a blank screen. The sequence ends with an emergency operator saying “oh my God.”This then cuts to a title that states “Two years later,” followed by “The Saudi Group,” while the image fades into the first of several torture scenes. I ask the students what this first five minutes tells us about the film. They usually note quickly that the opening statement that the film is “based on first hand accounts” is a truth claim. But what kind of truth claim is it, and what is its affect? This questioning asks students to shift into critical mode and think about how

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the film is constructed as a visualization of a collection of accounts, and hopefully guides them to think critically about how you construct a narrative out of disparate accounts, how narrative film uses conventions to shape those accounts into a coherent story, and how this act of constructing a narrative changes the story. After all, generically this is a thriller chase film: how can you get that from firsthand accounts; do people actually tell stories that way when relating to what really happened; how did the filmmakers turn those firsthand accounts into something the audience would be familiar with and accept as “the truth”? At this point in the conversation, I hope that they have begun to recognize the generic conventions that passed unnoticed while they were analyzing the film in the representational and representative modes. I then ask them about the first two scenes: the audio from the actual attacks without image versus the violence of the first acted torture scene. What is the purpose of the jarring juxtaposition? It is in my mind both incredibly manipulative and at the same time effective at tying the truth claim of the real voices to the artificiality of the Hollywood movie. It also has the effect of utilizing the voices of the dying to justify or excuse the torture that immediately follows. It says to viewers, we did this because they did that, quid pro quo. The important point I am trying to get them to recognize is how “reality” and “representation” can anchor and support each other. The director is saying the twin towers fell; you can hear that; therefore, all of this is true. It is a deft use of real footage to bolster fiction. After discussing the truth claim inherent in the opening, I bring them back to the torture scenes, which include stress positions, physical violence, and waterboarding. I tell the students that I want to move out of talking about the politics of this and talk directly about the filmmaking aspect. I ask them: how realistic are the torture scenes? Students tend to find these scenes viscerally authentic. I then ask them: how do you know that? This is an attempt to provoke their skepticism. I ask them if they actually water-boarded the actors. The answer to this is obviously no, but it raises questions about the rest of the torture portrayed. I then ask them if these scenes look like other torture scenes they have seen, whether in other movies or TV, or in the so-called torture-porn horror films (Kerner, 2015). I hope to get them to understand how verisimilitude – the act of appearing real – works and how films tend to talk to other films, producing a reality effect by tapping into a stream of images they have already seen elsewhere.This is a key point that I want them to absorb: commercial film is not real; it attempts to appear real. To reinforce this point about verisimilitude, I then bring them to the climactic raid scene, a long rambling sequence that shows the raid on the bin Laden compound. I ask them again, does this seem real? They almost always believe that it does. I then point out the Hollywood bag of tricks that is so deftly utilized by Bigelow in this climactic scene. In particular, I point to the use of camera filters to simulate night vision goggles. By using point-of-view shots filmed through a filter, it gives the scene a sense of veracity that is in fact artificial.

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I like to end the discussion by going back to the meaning of the film by b­ ringing up the final scene. After the raid, Maya views bin Laden’s dead body, and then, in the final shot, she enters a transport plane to leave Afghanistan. She sits alone as the plane leaves and cries. The ambiguity of this last image has been open to various interpretations (Boughn, 2013). My hope is that this gives them the opportunity to reflect on the film as a whole and to understand the multiple meanings the audience can take away from the film. So at the end of our discussion, if I have done a good job moderating the discussion, I hope that they have shifted into the epistemological mode of analysis and have found a greater understanding about how film itself works to construct a verisimilitude that claims to be true. This is not an easy outcome. And I would like to stress that if we do not give our students the tools to actively and critically understand how visual narratives create a reality, then we are not providing them with the tools they need to effectively mine the past.

Standard Operating Procedure The next week I show a very different film that I hope builds on what they learned the week before. Made by Errol Morris, one of the most important documentary directors of the last 20 years, Standard Operating Procedure focuses on the prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib and the photographic evidence of the treatment of detainees. It is an unusual film, though quite in line with Morris’ oeuvre, especially The Fog of War (2003) and The Unknown Known (2013). My students have tended to have difficulty penetrating this film, in large part because it confounds their expectations about what a documentary should be; diverging considerably from the generic conventions of war documentaries, Morris spends the film interrogating the images that emerged from Abu Ghraib and contextualizing them looking for the truth rather than simply showing the truth.This opacity proves to be a real asset in getting them to unpack exactly why the film puzzles them. The plot of the film is deceptively straightforward. Morris uses the testimony of those involved in Abu Ghraib, the photographs, some expert testimony, and reenactments of key incidents in a chronological manner. Morris traces the path from the chaotic first days in the prison, through the subsequent mistreatment of detainees by MPs and interrogators from Other Government Agencies (OGAs), followed by the publication of the photographs and the subsequent hunt for scapegoats. The primary witnesses that Morris interviews include MPs Jeremy Sivits, Megan Ambuhl, Sabrina Harman, and Lynndie England, as well as private interrogator Tim Dugan, Army forensic investigator Brent Pack, and General Janice Karpinski, who was in charge of military prisons in Iraq and took the fall with the MPs (Prince, 2009, p. 217). The story is told through their interviews with Morris. This relatively direct structure belies a quite complex film, one that has received considerable attention, praise, and criticism. I begin our discussion in class, like

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I usually do: how did you like the film? My experience has been quite mixed on this film. Many students do not like the film.They share this with the general public; even though Morris is a fairly famous filmmaker, Standard Operating Procedure cost nearly $5 million to make, but only made just over $320,000 at the box office, which was a surprise given the success of Fog of War (Cieply and Sisario, 2008). Most critics, on the other hand, praised the film, and it ended up on several best of the year lists for 2008. In any case, even their dislike is an opening for discussion. I press them on what exactly they did not care for in the film. Since the events of Abu Ghraib took place over a decade ago, many of the students have not actually seen the photographs, and they react with horror at the violence and degradation depicted. Others view the MPs interviewed by Morris unsympathetically; they are “unlikeable” witnesses. Often, students dislike and distrust the reenactments Morris uses in an apparent distrust of the aestheticization of the violence perpetrated at the prison. Some students even claim to not “get” the point Morris is trying to make. From this initial discussion, I guide the conversation toward a discussion of what truth claims Morris’s film tries to make and how the style of the film supports or detracts from those claims. It seems to me that many undergraduate students have trouble understanding exactly what the film is about. “Standard Operating Procedure’s preoccupation with mediation has been misunderstood and maligned by critics as irresponsible, self-indulgent filmmaking,” argues Caitlin Benson-Allott,“but in fact it contributes to a longstanding debate in documentary film about the truth value and communicative capacity of the image, a debate that in recent years has seen many epistemologically inclined documentaries accused of fatalism and self-indulgence” (2009, p. 39). Morris himself in several interviews, in his own blog for the New York Times, and in a subsequent collection of his writings has pointed out that his interest is primarily in what photographs can actually tell us. “We take what we see as being veridical. Somehow, if we see it, it must be the case,” he notes. “But all of this empirical information still doesn’t tell you what you’re looking at.You may think you know a lot about the photographs, but they don’t record what’s in people’s heads.They don’t record context.They don’t record why the photograph was taken or what is depicted. They provide evidence, but many, many additional steps have to be taken before you can say evidence of what” (Morris, 2008, p. 54; Morris and Bates, 1989). In this way, Morris’ exploration of the veridical ambivalence of photography is much like that of Susan Sontag, who argues that photographs cannot speak for themselves; they only mean something in relation to a narrative about the image (Sontag, 2003, 2004). This form of skepticism about the image is part of what perplexes and perturbs students; for many of them, the images record the truth.The notion that the images need to be interrogated may even be more difficult to convey than when we try to teach students the historian’s role in evaluating textual sources, but it is just as important (Nunn, 2014). As Morris (2011) points out, “Photographs

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attract false beliefs the way flypaper attracts flies. Why my skepticism? Because vision is privileged in our society and our sensorium. We trust it; we place our confidence in it. Photography allows us to uncritically think. We imagine that photographs provide a magic path to the truth” (p. 92). So part of the discussion of Standard Operating Procedure must focus on this skepticism about images and how that actually structures the truth claims Morris makes. Morris’s interviews with the perpetrators are not about what actually happened; that simply is not his primary focus. Most of what he wants to know is how and why the Abu Ghraib images were taken, and how we can best make sense of them. One of his primary foils in the film is Brent Pack, the Army’s forensic expert who was charged with syncing the thousands of photographs on a fixed timeline, correcting the errors of the metadata embedded in the photographs. This forensic investigation leads to some of the most damning sequences in the film, in which Pack is asked by Morris to judge individual photographs as to whether they were crimes or, and this is where the film gets its title, simply “Standard Operating Procedure” (­Benson-Allot, 2009; Williams, 2010; Austin, 2011; Fallon, 2013; Letort, 2013). Once we have come to some agreement about the focus of the film and on Morris’s interrogation of photography, I try to guide the conversation to the film itself: how does Morris’s critique of photography transfer to our reading of the documentary. If photography is “flypaper,” what is a documentary? What falls out of the frame in Morris’s film? What’s missing? The answers to this are not hard to come by, though the students often have trouble with this thought exercise. One of the obvious answers is that the victims themselves are missing. The voices that give context to the images are limited to the perpetrators, and only a select group of those. The testimony of the Iraqis that were the subjects of the images are nowhere to be found. To be fair, Morris attempted to track down some of the main subjects of the images but failed to find them in the morass of occupied Iraq. Another clear answer to how the film attempts to claim the truth has to do with Morris’s particular style.The use of visually beautiful reenactments, CGI, and a dramatic score by Danny Elfman, cut against the grain of the dominant cinema verité aesthetic utilized in many documentaries. Morris has received both considerable criticism and praise for this “unreal” reality. Film scholar Robert Sklar in his review of the film concludes:“Overdramatized and underconceptualized, Standard Operating Procedure makes a weak case for postmodern stylistics as a source of political insight into torture and the Iraq war” (2008, p. 52). Morris has responded to his critics that: “People used to think that the truth should be shot badly. The truth is not guaranteed by natural lighting or a handheld camera” (Feinstein, 2008). While I personally agree with this sentiment, students can rightly critique the film for undercutting the veracity of the photographs themselves through the stagecraft of Hollywood. Finally, it is important to discuss with students the structure of the film itself. It, like most narratives, has a beginning, middle, and end. It also has a point of view.

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Morris, in the end, makes an argument about the meaning of the photographs from Abu Ghraib and how we should understand them. In an interview in Sight & Sound, Morris makes his argument concrete: I want to make something clear: I don’t feel that the ‘bad apples,’ as President Bush termed those punished by the US military for their involvement with the photographs, are in any way morally compromised. Quite the contrary. To me it is a miscarriage of justice. I don’t think it does our country any good to blame the little guy and let the big guy walk away. It degrades the entire concept of America. (Feinstein, 2008) At the end of the movie, text tells the readers about the sentences for the v­ arious interviewees, and it notes, significantly, that none of the OGA interrogators, or any of the government officials that promulgated the policies that allowed the travesties at Abu Ghraib to take place faced prosecution or even discipline. My experience in teaching this film is that my undergraduate students have had real trouble gleaning this argument from the film. Perhaps it is too subtle, but I think more that the students simply have difficulty conceiving how the acts perpetrated at Abu Ghraib can act as a synecdoche for a set of policies that, as Williams (2010) has pointed out, led to the “cluster fuck” in Iraq in particular and in the entire “war on terror” in general. In terms of assessment, I divide my History through Film course into three sections, with three or four films each. Each week students write a blog response to the film, which their small groups are asked to comment on. At the end of each section, such as torture films, I ask the students to write an out-of-class essay that analyzes and synthesizes what they have learned from the films and readings; for example, I recently asked students to write 1500-word essays on one of the following questions: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Which of the films in this portion of the course is most true and why? What narrative strategies do these films use to frame political violence? How do filmic depictions of political violence affect our moral sentiments? How do these films utilize pathos and catharsis to reach the viewers?

It is important to me that students can demonstrate that they can (1) analyze the films in a thoughtful manner, (2) synthesize what they have learned from multiple films and readings, (3) utilize the films and readings to construct a coherent argument that clarifies their own thoughts, and (4) do so within the generic conventions of historical work, including proper documentation. I follow up the essay with a 50-question in class exam to confirm that the students have read and comprehended assigned readings (which vary each semester). It is important to me, and equally important at the secondary level, for students to begin building the habits

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of mind of historians, including learning to build a historiographical imagination that puts authors in conversation with each other; they need to know which author had which idea and how they differed from one another. By combining the essay and the objective tests. I think my students have not only a better grasp of the topic, but show better retention of the material as well. Secondary teachers can apply these ideas either through doing a unit on the topic or incorporating these issues into the existing curriculum such as discussion of warfare and 9/11.

Conclusion At the end of the course section on torture, I ask the students: how do we bring these two very different films into dialogue? What do they, taken together, tell us about torture and about history? I begin by asking them which film they liked better. Most of my students still prefer Zero Dark Thirty. When I ask them why, they point to the obvious: they like the characters, the aesthetics, the clear story line, and, truth be told, the melodrama, the sense that good triumphs over evil. Most remain ambivalent, if not outright hostile, to Standard Operating Procedure. Yet, in most cases, they are aware of why they feel this way. I then try to bring them back around to the question of modes of analysis. They can see the constructed nature of both narratives; they can see more clearly how Hollywood works to create a verisimilitude that can easily be mistaken for truth; hopefully, they can see exactly how filmmakers go about using the tools of narrative film to make truth claims that can stand in for historical experience. To sum up the lesson, I bring them back to the question of torture and epistemological systems: does the representation of torture bear on moral issues or epistemological ones? Of course the answer is both. Torture is one of the great moral tests of our times, and these films tackle that question head on. The answer in both is ambivalent. The final scene of Zero Dark Thirty shows Maya weeping for a lost innocence; though the morality of killing Osama bin Laden is not in question, the question of whether the means justify the ends remains open. In Standard Operating Procedure, the question of culpability is called into question: Who should be responsible for the war crimes perpetrated in the “war on terror”? But both films bring to mind an important question raised by Judy Butler in her own investigation of torture and the ethics of photography. “Implicit in the discourse of humanization is the question of grievability,” Butler (2010) writes: “whose life, if extinguished, would be publicly grievable and whose life would leave either no public trace to grieve, or only a partial, mangled, and enigmatic trace?” This is fundamentally a question about representation and epistemology; how do we know what the violence done against bodies means, and how do we create an ethics to respond to the visual evidence that provides traces of this oft hidden violence? My hope for the students, which I am quite open about, is that they can dig down to the mode of epistemology when confronted with difficult

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subjects; that they can approach it both as a question of ethics and morality, while at the same time using their critical and skeptical tools to understand both what they can know and what they should question. To conclude, I would like to think for a few moments about how this lesson on the visual representation of torture can inform teaching other difficult subjects. I would like to point to three ways in which the method I have outlined here might be helpful in other contexts. First, when dealing with film, it is of the utmost importance that history students learn something about how film works. There is an entire discipline of film studies that has done excellent work in examining these questions, but it is a field of which most of our history undergraduates are blissfully unaware. They need to understand film qua film before they can really analyze these documents as historical sources. Second, although the representational and representative modes of analysis are important in utilizing film sources as a way to understand the past, they are not sufficient in themselves. It is important to know what deviates from the truth, as it is to understand how films speak to the times in which they are made. However, for me, the real value in using films to teach difficult subjects is to help students develop the habits of mind that can aid them in their journey toward a proper historical skepticism. I am not suggesting some postmodern relativistic notion that all texts are constructed and thus equally valid. Instead, I am suggesting that young historians must be able to understand how sources in multiple media are utilized to formulate an argument, a narrative, that helps explain not just what happened but what it means as well. Finally, it is my hope that the epistemological questions I raise for them will be transferable to the rest of their study. I hope that the skepticism I have raised in relation to how films represent the truth will be transferred to their approach to the more conventional sources that historians use every day. After all, the truth claims that we interrogate in films ought to also be utilized in their approach to statistics, to written texts, and to material culture. Ultimately, it is my contention that film provides us a window into developing a set of skills in our students that will make them not only better scholars of film, but better historians in general.

Note 1 Seymour Hersh (2016) has contested the facts portrayed in Zero Dark Thirty.

References Austin, T. (2011). Standard operating procedure, ‘the mystery of photography’ and the politics of pity. Screen, 52(3), 342–357. Benson-Allott, C. (2009). Standard operating procedure: Mediating torture. Film Quarterly, 62(4), 39–44. Bodnar, J. (2001). Saving private ryan and postwar memory in America. The American Historical Review, 106, 805–817.

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Boughn, M. (2013). The war on art and Zero Dark Thirty. Cineaction, 91, 19–26. Burgoyne, R. (2008). The Hollywood Historical Film. Oxford: Blackwell. Burrell, L. (2008). Making sense of ambiguous evidence: A conversation with documentary filmmaker Errol Morris. Harvard Business Review, 53–57. Butler, J. P. (2010). Frames of war (first paperback ed.). New York:Verso. Carvalho, B. (2006).War hurts:Vietnam movies and the memory of a lost war. Millennium – Journal of International Studies, 34, 951–962. Cieply, M. and Sisario, B. (April 26, 2008). Film on Abu Ghraib puts focus on paid interviews. New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/26/­ movies/26morris.html. Danzig, D. (2012). Countering the Jack Bauer effect: An examination of how to limit the influence of TV’s most popular, and most brutal, hero. In M. Flynn and F. F. Salek (Eds.), Screening Torture: Media Representations of State Terror and Political Domination (pp. 21–34). New York: Columbia University Press. Davis, N. Z. (2002). Slaves on Screen: Film and Historical Vision. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Fallon, K. (2013). Archives analog and digital: Errol Morris and documentary film in the digital age. Screen, 54(1), 20–43. Feinstein, H. (2008). Beyond the frame. Sight & sound, 18(7), 34–36. Ferro, M. (1988). Cinema and History, trans. Naomi Greene. Detroit:Wayne State University Press. Gourevitch, P. and Morris, E. (2008). Standard Operating Procedure. New York: Penguin. Gunning, T. (1994). DW Griffith and the Origins of American Narrative Film:The Early Years at Biograph. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press. Hersh, S. (2016). The Killing of Osama bin Laden.Verso. Jelavich, P. (2005). Berlin Alexanderplatz: Radio, Film, and the Death of Weimar Culture. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Kahn, C. (2016). Most Americans support torture against terrorist suspects – Reuters/Ipsos poll. Reuters. Retrieved from http://www.reuters.com/. Kerner, A. M. (2015). Torture Porn in the Wake of 9/11: Horror, Exploitation, and the Cinema of Sensation. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Letort, D. (2013). Looking back into Abu Ghraib: Standard operating procedure (Erroll Morris, 2008). Media,War & Conflict, 6(3), 221–232. Loshitzky, Y. (2011). The post-Holocaust Jew in the age of “The War on Terror”: Steven Spielberg’s Munich. Journal of Palestine Studies, 40, 77–87. Marcus, A. S., Metzger, S. A., Paxton, R. J., and Stoddard, J.D. (2010) Teaching History with Film: Strategies for Secondary Social Studies. New York: Routledge. Morris, E. (2011). Believing is Seeing (Observations on the Mysteries of Photography). New York: Penguin. Morris, E. and Bates, P. (1989). Truth not guaranteed: An interview with Errol Morris. Cineaste (17)1, 16–17. Nunn, H. (2004). Errol Morris: Documentary as psychic drama. Screen, 45(4), 413–422. Parker, M. (2007). Something to declare: History in Atom Egoyan’s Ararat. University of Toronto Quarterly, 76, 1040–1054. Pautz, M. C. (2015). Argo and zero dark thirty: Film, government, and audiences. PS: Political Science & Politics, 48(01), 120–128. Powers, R. G. (2013). Zero dark thirty. Journal of American History, 100(1), 303–305. Prince, S. (2009). Firestorm: American Film in the Age of Terrorism. New York: Columbia University Press.

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Rice, L. (2001). The voice of silence: Alain Resnais’ night and fog and collective memory in post-Holocaust France, 1944–1974. Film & History, 32, 22–29. Rosenstone, R. A. (Ed.). (1995a). Revisioning History: Film and the Construction of a New Past. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Rosenstone, R. A. (1995b). Visions of the Past: The Challenge of Film to our Idea of History. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rosenstone, R. A. (2012). History on Film/Film on History. New York: Routledge. Saeger, J. S. (1995).The mission and historical missions: Film and the writing of history. The Americas, 51, 393–415. Shih, I. (2013). Existential heroines: Zero dark thirty and homeland. Kennedy School Review, 13, 98. Sklar, R. (2008, Summer). Taxi to the dark side and standard operating procedure. Cineaste, 50–52. Sontag, S. (2003). Regarding the Pain of Others (1st ed.). New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Sontag, S. (2004). Regarding the torture of others. New York Times, 23(05), 04. Sorlin, P. (1994). War and cinema: Interpreting the relationship. Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, 14, 357–366. Susman, W. (2012). Culture as History. New York: Pantheon. Sutton, D. (2004). The DreamWorks effect: The case for studying the ideology of production design. Screen, 45, 383–390. Toplin, R. B. (2003). Cinematic history: Where do we go from here. The Public Historian, 25, 79–91. Varon, J. (2008). Stammheim forever and the ghosts of Guantanamo: Cultural memory and the politics of incarceration. German Monitor, 70(1), 303–325. White, H. (1988). Historiography and historiophoty. The American Historical Review, 93, 1193–1199. Wildt, M. and Selwyn, P. (1996). The invented and the real: Historiographical notes on Schindler’s list. History Workshop Journal, 41, 240–249. Williams, L. (2010). Cluster fuck: The forcible frame in Errol Morris’s standard operating procedure. Camera Obscura, 25(1 73), 29–67.

Part III

Difficult History, Identity, and Implementation in Curriculum

6 Institutional Roles in Using Film to Teach Difficult History The Federal Agency for Civic Education and The Lives of Others Mattias Frey

When it comes to teaching with film, empirical studies have demonstrated how teachers feel they lack formal training, have little time to engage with pedagogical theories, and are “left to their own devices” (Hultkrantz, 2014, p. iv).This begs the question of the role that institutions – beyond the school itself – can play to assist teachers.This issue is all the more pressing in communicating historical topics that may be difficult to explain or are sensitive in nature to the educator, student, or larger community or society. Here I address this question through the case study of Germany’s Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung (Federal Agency for Civic Education; hereafter referred to as “the BpB” or “the Agency”). The BpB was founded in 1952 as part of the larger efforts of democratic “Re-education” and “Re-orientation” of the German people following the National Socialist period. Through workshops, conferences, seminars, and a large array of brochures, leaflets, periodicals, and web offerings for teachers, students, and the larger public, its mission today remains “to cement democratic consciousness and the understanding of political issues through education.” In the last twenty years there has been an increasing focus on media, and especially feature films, to understand history and political issues. This effort is most notable in the so-called Filmhefte (film booklets), a regular series of brochures (available as pdf files at https://www.bpb.de/shop/lernen/filmhefte/) that offer teachers information on how to teach the content, characters, themes, and aesthetics of (usually historical) feature films and documentaries, and instruct them on how to broach important and sensitive questions and issues. Using content and discourse analysis of the institution’s self-presentation – including the BpB website, a semi-structured interview with Kathrin Willmann (head of the film division in the Agency’s multimedia department), and above all the Filmhefte

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themselves – I seek to answer the following sub-questions: How do the brochures (as a corpus) tend to focus on films that deal with difficult history? How do the brochures propose that educators teach difficult periods of history with the films in question? What institutional imperatives and strategies inflect the form and content of the Filmhefte? Examining these issues – in particular through a case study of the booklet on The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen, 2006) – allows me to come to some broader conclusions about how institutions internationally can better support teachers in educating pupils about difficult but important historical events and issues. Before embarking on that close analysis, I first define difficult/sensitive history and then survey the booklets’ form, address, and foci as a corpus.

Difficult History: The Agency’s Mission and Filmhefte Topics In accordance with its mission, the BpB subscribes to the core belief that discussing sensitive and difficult historical issues is important to one’s development as a citizen (Barber, 1984; Camicia, 2008; Parker, 1996; Hess, 2008) and that film and other media have unique characteristics that can help facilitate such discussions. This chapter understands and conceptualizes “difficult history” – and how the BpB Filmhefte approach difficult history – in a few specific ways: •

•

•

Topics that are difficult to teach because no clear public consensus has been reached about their interpretation. For example, the left-wing German terrorism of the 1970s enjoyed considerable retroactive sympathy among a substantial minority of Germans because of perceptions that postwar authorities continued some fascist legacies and that the response to the terrorists was unjust, illiberal, and disproportionate. In contrast, there is a clear and unanimous political consensus in Germany and most of the world that the genocide of Jews in Nazi concentration camps was illegal, immoral, and inhumane.The subject is taught exhaustively in German schools without the need to “balance” opposing points of view. Topics that are difficult to teach because they are especially complex, cumbersome to represent, and difficult to understand. Again, left-wing German terrorism is a good example; as we shall see, the BpB declined to publish a brochure on a film depicting this issue for this very reason. Topics that are difficult because they encroach upon particular sensitivities of teachers, students, and their communities: whether because of the topics’ traumatic nature (genocide, war crimes), social taboos (female genital mutilation, LBGT histories), or strong contemporary ­resonance (teaching Do the Right Thing [1989] in 2015 in Ferguson, Missouri or American History X [1998] or La Haine [1995] among the many European communities currently afflicted with fears about mass migration to

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the Continent). As we shall see, the BpB engages with these films as a means to fulfill its institutional remit and promote an active, tolerant, and engaged form of citizenship education. Over the course of this chapter I will return to these various ways in which history can be difficult to teach and how the BpB approaches (or avoids) these issues. Turning now to the specific topics of difficult history, the Filmhefte address such issues both among productions that are explicitly historical in their setting, and those non-period films that nonetheless gesture to larger historical issues that are supposed to be broached in discussion. The chief themes of the Filmhefte, as indicated in their respective “Issues” section (more on this below), are the following (in descending order of prevalence): • •

• • • • • • • •

racial, ethnic, and religious divisions – for example, Do the Right Thing; La Haine; Goodbye Bafana (2007) fascism (including Nazism, its legacy, and neo-fascist groups and ideas) – for example, The Nasty Girl (Das schreckliche Mädchen, 1990); Rosenstraße (2003); Sophie Scholl (2005) violence and gangs, organized crime – for example, Kroko (2003); American History X terrorism – for example, Black Box BRD (2001); The Friend (Fremder Freund, 2003) German East–West divisions and their history – for example, Never Mind the Wall (Wie Feuer und Flamme, 2001); Good Bye, Lenin! (2003) migration, the EU – for example, In This World (2002); Distant Lights (Lichter, 2003) environmental problems – for example, Erin Brokovich (2000); We Feed the World (2005) war – for example, Turtles Can Fly (Lakposhthâ ham parvaz mikonand, 2004); Grbavica (2006) gender and LGBT issues – for example, Moolaadé (2004); Summer Storm (Sommersturm, 2004) bullying, especially in school – for example, Tough Enough (Knallhart, 2006); Ben X (2007)

There are two key points to draw from this list of topics. First, these topics correspond to some of the most pressing, contentious, indeed difficult issues that have been debated in German public discourse over the last twenty years. Encouraging teachers and students to discuss these films via these difficult topics (and discuss difficult topics via these films) helps the Agency to fulfill its mission to help students grasp urgent political, historical, and social topics and thereby engage in contemporary debates. Second, it is important to note how structuring the booklets around these specific themes represents an active, conscious intervention into the

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interpretation of history and of these films – rather than simply an “explanation” of or “reflection” on any stable or fixed meanings.There are other ways, for example, to discuss the Julia Roberts star-vehicle Erin Brokovich or Hayao Miyazaki’s anime Castle in the Sky (Tenkuu no shiro rapyuta, 1986) than, as the Agency does, as “environmental films.” The Filmhefte deliberately highlight certain aspects of these films so as to draw out the difficult topics and stoke discussion.

Form of the Filmhefte Although some of the first Filmhefte from the late 1990s had a slightly condensed format, since 2000 (and with a few significant additions since 2003) they have had remarkably consistent design, form, size, and contents. The BpB typically produces an initial print run of 3,000 copies per Filmheft at €1 each (Jahresbericht ­2012–2013, 2014), with a potentially unlimited number available as a free pdf download from the website (e.g., We Feed the World was downloaded 7861 times between July 2013 and May 2014; Jahresbericht 2012–2013, 2014). Kathrin Willmann reports that the most popular Filmhefte, such as those dealing with Good Bye, Lenin!,The Lives of Others, and Sophie Scholl, had print circulations in the range of 20,000–25,000, with those filmmakers having the option to print and distribute even further copies at their own cost (Kathrin Willmann, interview with the author, June 17, 2015). According to Willmann, each brochure takes at least three to four months to produce; for films dealing with “complex” or more difficult subjects, such as the Holocaust, for which the Agency must consult external experts to verify or elaborate on drafts, roughly half a year is necessary. The booklets are written by freelance authors, whom Willmann employs to inhabit a mixture of academic and journalistic writing, to “find a tone that teachers can actually use in school.” Willmann and her team oversee each booklet and the series as a whole to ensure that both the materials and the text fit the Agency’s institutional goals and its characteristic style and means of presentation. Among these goals is the task to present content “in as balanced a way as possible, illuminated from all sides, that we do not show any tendencies … [so] that each person can form his or her own opinion.” In other words, in cases where the historical topic is especially difficult (i.e., lacking “clear public consensus” or encroaching “particular sensitivities of teachers, students, and their communities”), the BpB uses rhetorical strategies (explained below) to diffuse the potential for controversy. But beyond selecting different aspects of a particular film and presenting these aspects with sensitivity, the Agency also chooses (or refuses) to prepare Filmhefte on one film or another based on these institutional remits. Willmann used the Agency’s decision not to prepare a booklet on The Baader Meinhof Complex (Der Baader Meinhof Komplex, 2008), to illustrate the point: “there we decided not to [produce a booklet], because [the film’s] mode of historical interpretation, retrospective historical interpretation – even though it was verified by historians, and so on – it would

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have been too complex for us to translate that into the realities of school.” This point reveals the paradox behind teaching difficult history, especially via feature films that for commercial reasons must condense a historical episode into two or three hours. On the one hand, the BpB has the remit to deal with difficult and sensitive historical topics, in order to stoke students’ political and moral engagement. On the other hand, it cannot appear to take sides on controversial topics or introduce questions or other lines of engagement that may inflame sensitivities or political issues that the students, teachers, and their communities may face in the contemporary moment. Willmann reports that, in the digital age, the Agency cannot determine ­precisely who the end users of the Filmhefte are. Nevertheless, questionnaires and correspondence indicate that the brochures are being used in diverse l­earning ­situations including elementary schools, as well as by university students and professors. However, the primary users (and the Agency's target audience) are ­secondary school teachers, especially those who teach the final two years, when classes ­prepare for the Abitur (German equivalent of the English A-levels or US AP exams). According to Willmann, the Agency receives requests from foreign countries, including the US, but in particular Britain and France, to translate the brochures. Nevertheless, given the BpB’s status as a subsidiary of the Federal Ministry of the Interior, the primary market remains high school teachers in Germany. The remainder of this section presents the standardized form and contents of the brochures in order to familiarize the reader with the content and to preview the BpB’s basic approach to teaching film in the classroom. The typical table of contents registers the following sections over 16 to 24 pages: plot, characters, issues, film language, exemplary sequence, questions, work page, protocol of scenes, materials, and further reading. Specifically, a Filmheft contains the following parts: First, a title page includes a still from the film, the title, and production details such as the name of the director and the year and country (or countries) of production. The second page presents a short foreword. The vast majority of the Filmhefte contains a preface with a message from BpB president Thomas Krüger under a heading such as “Film Education” or “Film Education and Participation.” It explains that: Media mold our world … and should therefore be an object of critical analysis. For media competence is essential in a world dominated by media. Children and young people must learn as early as possible how to relate to, understand, interrogate, and creatively translate media contents and aesthetics. Film education must therefore be comprehensively integrated into lesson plans in Germany. For that to happen a rethinking must take place so that film is finally recognized in the public consciousness as a cultural product and not merely as a medium of entertainment. Debating cinema

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can provide children and young people with the impulse to intervene into shaping current events and participating in social and political decision-making. (Schaeffer, 2002, p. 2)1 This message reveals how the Agency sees the discussion of feature films in the classroom as a springboard for the larger project of fostering political engagement and an active form of citizenship. In addition, the emphasis on the interplay of aesthetics, political messages, media literacy, and civic participation, it should be noted, constitutes a common way of speaking about film among similar institutions (e.g., the British Film Institute’s web and print materials) (Nowell-Smith and Dupin, 2012). In the third part there are further images from the film and a more complete list of credits including cast and crew, length, rating, distributor, prizes and awards, and a detailed plot summary. Fourth, a page details each character and his or her “position” on the film’s main issues. This page usually contains a sidebar that defines or otherwise provides the background to key terms, groups, persons, or events. For example, the Sophie Scholl Filmheft provides a paragraph on the Gestapo, the Battle of Stalingrad, the Hitler-Youth, the Nazi justice system, the Bündische Jugend, the Eastern Front, euthanasia, and Goebbels’ “total war” speech, respectively. Fifth, there is a detailed (two-page) protocol of each scene, including its time code in minutes. These summaries allow teachers to easily find specific scenes and refresh their memories as to the sequence of events. At the same time, it also cues users to some issues of narrative form and style (e.g., montage sequences or the use of music to convey narrative information or atmosphere) that some lay viewers may not recognize as such. For example, again from the Sophie Scholl Filmheft: S2. Hans and Sophie in their apartment. She writes a letter to her friend Lisa, he prepares the next batch of flyers. – In the morning the siblings depart with a suitcase full of flyers to the university (music). – In the empty lecture hall they hurriedly lay out flyers (music, montage sequence). Later they return in order to get rid of the last flyers. Sophie shoves a pile into the courtyard. A bell rings. The siblings blend into the crowd of students who are exiting the classrooms. They are stopped by the janitor, who had been observing them. 0:06–0:14. (Bühler, 2005, p. 16) Sixth, “Film Language” contains approximately two pages of aesthetic-formal commentary. This might include the discussion of genre, narrative form, production design and locations, costumes, cinematography and editing, music and sound. A sidebar glossary accompanies this section, providing standard definitions or explanations (repeated word-for-word across the booklets) of ­techniques and concepts (e.g., shot-countershot, subjective camera, Steadycam, film music, diegetic music, lighting, or shot scale). These terms are not only useful to teach students.

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For teachers with little training in the vocabularies and concerns of film form and style, they can help bridge the gap.2 Seventh, there is a one-page “Exemplary Sequence,” a scene subjected to close analysis of its socio-political “message” and its use of film language, including sound, editing, and mise en scène. The Filmheft on The Edukators (Die fetten Jahre sind vorbei, 2004), for example, focuses on the final scene. It analyzes how – through the use of montage, abrupt changes in perspective, and the musical accompaniment of Jeff Buckley’s “Halleluja,” among other devices – the “sequence unifies two of the film’s central motifs – the humor and audaciousness of the ‘Guardians’ [i.e., the protagonist terrorists] as well as their experience of the severity of governmental authority and those in power” (Arnold, 2004, p. 15). Eighth, there is a list of roughly thirty “Questions” that teachers may use to stimulate discussion.These demands are linked to other sections so that the teacher can efficiently target those areas he or she seeks to stress. So, for example, the Filmheft on The White Ribbon (Das weiße Band, 2009) includes: queries on story and characters, “Which historical events affect the plot and how are they communicated in the film?”; issues, “How was the film’s production designed so as to allow for a historically correct representation?”; film language, “What effect does the use of voice-over have among spectators and how is it implemented in the film?”; the exemplary sequence; and the subsequent “Materials” (Scheurer, 2009, p. 14). Ninth, there are worksheets that propose a wealth of in-class exercises and activities as well as field trips to undertake in conjunction with the film (I discuss these in-depth in the case study below), and tenth, “Materials.” These may include chronologies (for example, key dates and milestones in German-Polish relations), information about the background of the film’s setting, or the filmmaker’s background. Other brochures contain short excerpts from secondary literature, speeches, memoirs, or interviews with historical agents or witnesses. This section concludes with bibliographic information and tips and links for further reading. The more recent Filmhefte offer “Teaching Suggestions” that recommend subjects in which the material might be taught. For example, the brochure on And Along Come Tourists (Am Ende kommen Touristen, 2007) provides a page of advice that corresponds to the class in which the film is taught: German, history/ politics, music, ethics/religion. History teachers are urged to bring the film to bear on lessons about the concentration camp Auschwitz-Birkenau, the role of German industry and chemical companies during the Nazi period, oral history, and Poland’s role in the EU – and to use certain teaching methods with each (e.g., source analysis on demographic data regarding the Polish economy) (Bühler, 2007, p. 16).

How to Deal with Difficult History: The Lives of Others This section looks more closely at the Lives of Others Filmheft, a case study of how the Agency addresses one of the most difficult and exemplary historical issues in

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German public life at the time: the former East Germany’s status and legacy today. Together with Nazism/the Holocaust, it is among the most prevalently treated historical topics and social issues in the series, and indeed among German historical filmmaking of the last twenty years (Frey, 2013). Furthermore, it was also the issue most “difficult” to teachers, students, and larger German society in 2006, when The Lives of Others premiered and the BpB brochure was issued. In those days, recession was biting yet again, unemployment was peaking (at 11.1% in 2005), and internal East–West tensions were running high: among East Germans who felt that unification-era promises of “blooming landscapes” had not been kept, and among West Germans who resented having to pay higher taxes to support restoration of the Eastern infrastructure while their own towns, cities, and roads looked increasingly lackluster and fragile (Dustmann et al., 2014). Academics spoke of the unification as “annexation” and of the East as a postcolonial territory (Cooke, 2005). Some Eastern commentators longed for the good, old days, a way of remembering called Ostalgie (nostalgia for the Eastern past) and couched in bygone pop songs, styles of clothes, furniture, and other consumer items: in other words, divorced from the authoritarian political structures and socio-cultural repression (Frey, 2013; Hogwood, 2000). Symptomatic of this cultural anxiety were the many German historical films made about the German Democratic Republic (GDR) between 1998 and 2006 (Frey, 2013). In 2006 Germany, the “Eastern past” fit the criteria of a “controversial public issue,” defined as “unresolved questions of public policy that spark significant disagreement” (Hess, 2002, p. 11; Camicia, 2008). The Lives of Others fits the criteria of a “difficult film” for this reason but also others, including its portrayal of a “good” Stasi officer, which no doubt different sets of viewers – depending on factors such as age, regional background, and politics – found difficult for various reasons (e.g., “sensitivities” as outlined at the beginning of this chapter). Examining the BpB Filmheft’s teaching strategies illuminates one possible practical method to deal with such a film, but also provides insights into how the Agency chose to balance stakeholder demands in doing so. Authored by Marianne Falck of the Bernhard Wicki Gedächtnis Fonds e.V., a charitable organization devoted to “the promotion of education, tolerance, and international understanding based on the filmic legacy of Bernhard Wicki,” the director of the classic anti-war film The Bridge [Die Brücke, 1959]) (http://www .wicki-film.de/bw_ged_fond.htm), the brochure appeared in March 2006, in time for the film’s general cinema release in Germany (March 23, 2006). The first ­feature-length effort by director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, The Lives of Others picks up in 1984 East Berlin, narrating the story of the writer Georg Dreyman, his actress wife Christa-Maria Sieland, and the Stasi agent Gerd Wiesler (all fictional characters). Wiesler, under orders to spy on the artist couple for what turn out to be dubious reasons, begins to identify with Dreyman and then helps the latter smuggle a critical article to the Federal Republic. A key feature of the film is the stylized (some might say schematic) characterization of the leading figures, such as the ruthlessly ambitious Stasi officer Anton Grubitz, the grotesque

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Party boss Bruno Hempf, the tortured turncoat Sieland, and the moral yet naïve protagonists (and initial antagonists) Dreyman and Wiesler. The leading cast of well-known German actors, muted colors and careful set design, and the generic mixture of period drama and police thriller likewise helped curry favor with audiences and critics in Germany and subsequently abroad (for more on the ­positive reception, see Frey, 2013). Unsurprisingly perhaps, the “Keywords” in the BpB brochure on the film dwell on historical terms relating to the GDR, political acronyms and terminologies that may not be comprehensible to the average 17-year-old in the ­twenty-first century. These include: ministry for state security (i.e., Stasi); the GDR state-party SED; the meaning of “dissident”; the Hauptabteilung XX/7 (responsible for the surveillance of art and culture figures); “operational procedure” (Stasi-speak for the systematic targeting of an individual); as well as the BStU, the government authority that is today responsible for the preservation of documents relating to the secret police and intelligence agencies of the former GDR and providing access to persons persecuted and surveilled by the ­government. The entry also explains that the “film’s representation of accessing files at the BStU is aesthetically quite different and does not correspond to reality,” a nod to the “­authenticity” discourse of assessing dramatic historical films (Falck, 2006, p. 6; Stubbs, 2013, pp. 37–59). In the “Issues” section, the Filmheft introduces five basic approaches to the film and the history that it invokes. First, the brochure proposes to contextualize The Lives of Others with several other recent historical feature films about the GDR (and in particular those which represented the Stasi, which the educator (and students) may or may not have seen. For instance, the brochure compares The Lives of Others with other films such as The Legend of Rita (Die Stille nach dem Schuss, 2000), The Promise (Das Versprechen, 1995), and The Red Cockatoo (Der rote Kakadu, 2006).This discussion serves on the one hand to emphasize the relative frequency of such productions (and their corresponding recurrent focus on the Stasi) and the fact that historical films about the former East Germany are a significant part of domestic production, begging the question to teachers and students about why this topic might be so popular among domestic filmmakers and audiences. On the other hand, it clearly also allows teachers and students to understand The Lives of Others’ unique characteristics and its particular take on East German history. In contrast to those other films, The Lives of Others “places questions about the interaction between watched and watchers into the foreground” (Falck, 2006, p. 6). It should be emphasized that such comments – in this Filmheft and others – neither shy away from normative analysis and critique nor do they abandon extratextual concerns (i.e., features of the film beyond the film itself, including production conditions, marketing, and so on). For example, the ­passage continues thus: “In the form of artistic exaggeration and simplified ­representation the film seeks answers, which certainly do not mirror the real historical circumstances one-to-one, but which can be read as a social parable about the possibilities of individual resistance against a repressive power apparatus” (p. 6). In this

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passage we see how the booklet seeks to temper expectations of authenticity, which would indeed be a major concern in the film’s reception (Frey, 2013; Ash, 2007) and remains perhaps the dominant way that lay viewers assess historical films (Stubbs, 2013). Instead, it guides teachers to present the film as an allegory of the relationship between the individual and community under authoritarian political conditions, a way of viewing that opens up discussion of other historical situations beyond 1980s East Germany, including what were then current events (e.g., civil liberties issues surrounding the massive expansion of video surveillance or the conditions of Guantanamo prisoners). In its second approach, the Filmheft hones in on “cultural politics and critique of the political system.” Specifically, it points out how the film represents the 1980s GDR culture scene and how the suspicions in public life infiltrate personal matters, including the marriage between Dreymann and Sieland and the tragic fate of the playwright Jerska, who, after being forbidden to work in the theater for signing a petition, turns to drink and eventually commits suicide.The Filmheft uses this theme to provoke the discussion of actual historical events, including the deportation of Wolf Biermann in 1976 as well as artists’ protests following the 1975 Helsinki Accords, cases explained in a sidebar (in addition to other key figures or terms, such as Erich Honecker or Informal Collaborators). Third, the Filmheft engages with the transformation of Dreyman from “state artist to enemy of the state,” highlighting the Party’s need for leading artists to present the GDR internationally; such artists were often awarded with relative privileges in comparison to other citizens. Yet such special treatment was often rescinded if an artist fell out of line or favor and the booklet highlights how film characters such as Sieland, who is led to believe that she can only continue her acting career if she has sex with Party boss Hempf, speak to such examples. The fourth issue broaches the “surveillance apparatus,” dramatized throughout the film. The brochure reminds readers that The Lives of Others ignores historical realities in the way that Grubitz and Wiesler so completely and unbureaucratically set up such a major operation in the hierarchically organized Stasi. Nevertheless, according to the brochure, the film successfully communicates the Stasi’s arbitrary decisions and power games as well as Wiesler’s inner transformation and ethical dilemmas, such as how his initial involvement resulted from duty and service, rather than malice (Falck, 2006, pp. 8–9). The final major issue relates to how the GDR controlled the culture industry and in particular how writers became a target of the Stasi in the 1970s; the organization used particularly cruel physical and psychological methods to pressure and blackmail such free spirits into submission and conformity. The “Film Language” section highlights four formal/stylistic elements essential to examining and discussing The Lives of Others and its portrayal of the past: “film genre and narrative form,” “camera and editing,” “music and sound,” and “set design, costumes, and lighting.” Under the first category, the brochure describes the film as a “historical social drama” with some elements of “political drama” and

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“love story” (p. 10). It notes the heavy concentration on the ­artist scene ­surrounding Dreyman and on Wiesler and his Stasi milieu. Finally, it details the temporal structure of the film and how these historical segments are indicated using text subtitles and by displaying, for example, a newspaper in Wiesler’s car dated March 11, 1985, with a headline about Gorbachev’s ascent to power. The second section on cinematography and editing highlights the “carefully orchestrated, steady compositions” and camera perspectives (e.g., low-angle shots designed to make Wiesler more intimidating during interrogations) and the dominance of close-ups, which “express the inner emotions of the characters.” It also explains the emotional effects of several other techniques, including traveling shots and parallel montage. The remaining sections treat the significance of Oscar-winner Gabriel Yared’s score, on- and off-screen sound, and voice-over, among other audio elements, as well as location shooting in the former Stasi buildings and how it and the production design, props, lighting, color scheme, and costumes contributed to the perceived “authenticity” of the historical experience as well as to characterization. The “Exemplary Sequence,” an 8-minute scene, is the climax near the end of the film when the Stasi search Dreyman’s house for the typewriter used to write a critical article published in a West German magazine, he discovers that Sieland has been informing on him to the Stasi, and, at the end of the scene, she dies in a traffic accident. In detailed, chronological descriptions, the booklet distills the formal techniques that contribute to a “rollercoaster of emotions,” particularly, the suspense as to whether Dreyman is found out, and the several shifts in moral perspective on Sieland (both Dreyman’s, the Stasi officers’, and the audience’s). The page-long analysis specifies, for example, how characters moving out of the largely stationary camera’s frame, and how medium close-ups of the Stasi officers’ search create a distanced atmosphere of surveillance, while cross-cuts to closeups of Dreyman, Sieland, and Wiesler transmit their upset. Zooms, various shot scales, changing perspectives, quick editing, traveling shots, and the score steadily increase tension. Meanwhile, a part of the sequence in which Dreyman confronts Sieland in the shower is significant both for its staging (the door separating the characters in space but thereby also on a symbolic, emotional level) and costume (Sieland’s nudity while Dreyman is fully clothed contributing to her fragility and both literal and figurative exposure in the scene). The aforementioned stylistic techniques remain essential to understanding the ending of the sequence and its affective functions. After the “Sequence Protocol,” which describes the 25 scenes, there is a substantial set of “Materials” (i.e., primary and secondary documents). These include excerpts from the January 1976 internal Stasi directive regarding the “­development and execution of operational procedures,” intended to discredit an “enemy” individual, including the use of surveillance, informants, threatening anonymous letters or telephone calls, the systematic spreading of rumors about the ­individual, or the forcible interrogation of her or him (p. 18). The section also includes: a statement from the history professor who consulted on the film regarding the possibilities of

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resistance within Stasi officers; a table that ­contains details of the number of spies and informants in the former East Germany (p. 19); a timeline about the GDR from its founding to the unification with the Federal Republic (p. 20); excerpts from political dissidents’ creative works (singer-­ songwriter’s Wolf Biermann’s “Stasi-Ballad” and a poem by Jürgen Fuchs); and information about the background of the director, von Donnersmarck (p. 21). There are, furthermore, literature and links about the film, GDR history, the Stasi, and GDR cultural politics, and suggestions for further reading from BpB materials.The final page contains an advertisement for a contest for students and classes from BpB partner VisionKino and Buena Vista International (Disney’s international distribution division) to win a free screening of the film for the class, thirty books about the film, and thirty soundtracks. Perhaps the most important aspects to the BpB’s approach to the difficult history in The Lives of Others arise in its suggestions for discussion (p. 13). The initial questions center around characterization. They lead students to examine the ways in which the character arcs undergo changes of political position and moral perspective and how these often intertwined because of the political situation in the former East Germany. They ask students to contemplate the characterization of certain figures – leading ones such as Dreyman, Wiesler, and Sieland, but also the minor players such as “the dissident Paul Hauser” (i.e., “Which characteristics describe Christa-Maria Sieland? How does she behave under interrogation? Detail her relationship to Minister Bruno Hempf.”). By directly juxtaposing Sieland with her interrogation and her more or less forced sexual relations with Hempf, such questions lead pupils to interrogate facile moral evaluations of characters and to understand behaviors and actions in a more empathetic light. Further queries in this section, such as “What do you experience in the first film scene about the Ministry for State Security?, Which characters represent the Ministry?, and How do Anton Grubitz and Gerd Wiesler differ in terms of their function at the Stasi?,” seek to guide pupils to a more differentiated understanding of individuals’ roles in institutions and how (official or perceived) hierarchies can influence personal decision-making, organizational direction, and ethical standards. The second set of questions hones in on topics raised in the “Issues” section. The brochure recommends asking pupils, for example, about the means by which Dreyman expresses his political discontent and why he chose to publish his critical article about the GDR in West Germany, and about the cultural politics that informed the representation of the theater profession. Several questions, however, broach the Stasi’s organization and methods and deliberate on questions of historical authenticity. For example, see the phrasing of the following: “What is an ‘Informal Collaborator’? Why is Christa-Maria prepared to undertake this form of collaboration with the Stasi? Are such motivations typical for the majority of the Informal Collaborators?” (p. 13). Through their successive order, these questions inflect the understanding of key historical terms (Informal Collaborator) with the potential for empathy through countervailing moral imperatives. In  other words, they nudge pupils to consider whether Sieland acted to save her career

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or under the duress of interrogation and sexual violence. Finally, in a third move, they ponder whether historical evidence supports such representations as typical or extraordinary. Further questions in this category follow a similar procedure, for example, “How is the system of surveillance depicted in the film? In which aspects does this representation deviate from the reality?” (p. 13). The recommendations in “Film Language” run the gamut of form and style, from music and cinematography to production design, narrative structure, and genre. Remarkably, the brochure signals that pupils regard these elements inseparably from characterization or socio-historical issues, indeed, as emanating from and framing such elements. For example: “How does The Lives of Others communicate an impression of authenticity?”; “Where and with which function is a subjective camera used?”; and “In which way is the lighting implemented to characterize the figures?” focuses students’ attention to the film as creative construct, rather than naturally occurring reflection of reality. The final group of questions, regarding the “Materials,” also uses this procedure of linking form to spectatorial effects and historical experience, if to a lesser extent. Here more straightforward factual lessons about the various GDR laws, political and cultural events, and Stasi methods are at stake. The Filmheft provides recommendations for using The Lives of Others in a wide variety of potential subjects (p. 14). These include German classes, where topics such as the GDR literature and theater, the works of Bertolt Brecht, and Wolf Biermann can be analyzed together with others, such as cultural censorship under Communism. There are also suggestions for politics/social studies, music, religion/psychology/ethics, art, and even physics (where the booklet suggests teachers discuss how surveillance equipment works and can be constructed). To be sure, the largest set of suggestions is meant for history teachers.These educators are encouraged to use the film as a springboard to discuss the following topics, in particular via certain specific activities (in parentheses here): • • • • • • • •

•

Society and the power system under Communist Party rule (in-class presentation, interviewing people who lived through the period) The former Stasi prison in the Berlin neighborhood of Hohenschönhausen (field trip) Social history of the GDR (source work) West-East German relations (comparison/collage) The position and biography of Erich Honecker The relationships between art and politics (portrait, presentation) Political resistance in the GDR (visit to the memorial/museum Gedenkstätte Normannenstraße) From the “German question” to German unification; the economic and social situation of the GDR before the fall of the Berlin Wall (visit to the Stasi Records Agency) Celebrations of the fortieth anniversary of the GDR (film documentaries, posters).

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The worksheet suggests several general activities. One asks students to use a Venn diagram to compare and contrast the character of the “watcher,” Stasi officer Wiesler, and his “watched” target, Dreyman. Another exercise recommends a group discussion of the thesis “Suicide – a form of resistance?” Pupils are asked to speculate on why the suicide rate in Hungary and the GDR was so high during the Cold War (a major topic broached in the film, as Dreyman writes a critical article about the subject for a West German magazine, a crime for which he is eventually caught). There are also more creative assignments. One asks students to imagine they are Wiesler and write a letter to Dreyman after unification; another asks them to imagine they are a playwright charged with developing a critical response to the GDR’s fortieth anniversary for the stage, with one scene devoted to an event that happened in each five years of the GDR’s history (p. 15). For this exercise, the chronology on page 20 of the booklet is meant to help pupils generate ideas, alongside “books and the Internet.”

Conclusion In this case study, several key aspects of the BpB’s attitude to “difficult history” emerge. First, there is a clear effort to embed the films and the issues they raise within a number of discourses and imperatives, including media literacy, historical instruction, historiography (i.e., critical source analysis), film-aesthetic analysis, character empathy, and civics/ethics (i.e., a theme throughout the booklets is “civil courage,” which includes confronting fascist political movements or school bullying). This is a modern approach to film pedagogy in history classrooms that corresponds with approaches from other cultural contexts (e.g., Marcus et al., 2010). In accordance with key BpB values, film is understood as an art, craft, industry, and entertainment – and as a springboard for discussion of political and social issues, including the aforementioned key topics (e.g., racial and ethnic tensions, fascism and its legacies, migration). The approach to difficult history, then, is comprehensive, but also allows individual teachers to telescope in on certain topics or emphases; they can appropriate the Filmhefte for their own purposes and ends. This not only allows several kinds of teachers (history, but also even physics) to use the films in class. It allows social studies teachers to consider issues like: How does the particular form or style of the film communicate history and a particular interpretation of history? or Why did the filmmakers choose this means of storytelling and what motivations (artistic, economic, and so on) may have codetermined such decisions? Second, on the practical level of the educator, it is clear that the Filmhefte greatly reduce preparation and allow the teacher more time to contemplate how to broach sensitive issues that may be particular to his or her class. Not only do the booklets provide critical questions to ask of the film, its historical representations, and how these are achieved via aesthetic devices; not only do they suggest certain topics to discuss as a result of the film’s themes and historical agents and events.

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They also offer example activities that can be used to both exercise and test these understandings; they provide primary materials and background information on the film, its makers, and the political, social, and cultural context. In other words, at least for those teachers with a solid understanding of the issues presented in the film, the Filmhefte can potentially reduce preparation to simply sourcing the film. This feature of the Filmhefte should not be underestimated: one of the most challenging aspects of using feature films in classrooms is time for preparation (Marcus et al., 2010). Indeed, the brochures also help with film selection, also highlighted as one of the most common challenges for practitioner educators (Marcus et al., 2010). The third important aspect of the Filmhefte involves the often understated presentation of difficult history. A critical reckoning with the booklets must note the tactful treatment of some sensitive topics; it would not be outrageous to claim that the booklets sidestep some substantial present-day implications of difficult history. For example, although the Lives of Others booklet deals with issues of civil liberties and surveillance, it does not squarely take up the significant legacy of East–West German tensions, a relevant issue in 2006 (e.g., resentments over massive unemployment in Eastern rural regions).The booklet does not propose to contemplate alternative courses of action, beyond unification under the aegis of the Federal Republic, for instance, as some scholars in this area advocate (Parker, 1996; Hess, 2002). Nevertheless, critique of this nature perhaps misses the point in this context. Such lacunae may be alternatively interpreted as a teaching methodology for dealing with difficult history. The BpB hopes to address such sensitive issues obliquely, rather than confront them directly. In other words, it proposes to teach one aspect of what was then a controversial issue as non-controversial or conventional wisdom.This suggests clear and conscious framing choices (Entman, 2004; Camicia, 2008). The BpB frames difficult issues as either consigned to the past (the unjust GDR regime) or with the discourses of modern-day video surveillance and unlawful interrogation methods (Guantanamo Bay); these are issues that have sufficient historical and/or cultural distance to German pupils so as to seem less of a personal threat. Discussing why their mother is unemployed or the complicity of their East German grandfather as a Stasi informant would be much more uncomfortable and could create divisions within the classroom. One could also argue that, in the German context especially, some apparently “difficult” history has become institutionalized – through heavy emphasis and direct confrontation in curricula but also through public memorials, including politicians’ rituals carried by the mass media.This seems true especially in the case of the Second World War and the Holocaust, where public contrition is expected and de rigueur. Fourth and finally, the case study of the BpB’s Filmhefte provides a productive model to be adopted on an institutional level in other linguistic and cultural contexts. There is no space here to consider broader cross-cultural comparisons with the strategies used by other institutions, such as the British Film Institute or the

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now-defunct Film Education UK, which attempted to fulfill a similar mission. It nonetheless remains essential to contemplate how such good practice can be replicated elsewhere. The success of the Agency in producing high-quality film booklets and other materials does not necessarily demonstrate the need for government (whether national, regional, or local) to fill the market gap. Indeed, these roles can be overtaken by charities, non-profits, quasi-governmental institutions, or professional teachers’ societies. Nevertheless, this study demonstrates the need for collective action. Despite the brave and admirable ad hoc resources provided by individuals (e.g., Russel Tarr’s “Active History” website), lone educators should not have to undertake such laborious tasks that independent collectives are better equipped to support. Nor should teaching history through film be left solely to industry interests (e.g., sponsored class viewings of Schindler’s List or The Lives of Others). Institutions such as the BpB have vital, (inter)national roles in long-term interpretations of certain historical phenomena and events. With careful planning and positive input from diverse stakeholders (historians, film scholars, educational researchers, and others), pupils (who are, after all, citizens) can experience a variety of films from diverse cultural contexts and perspectives, beyond Schindler’s List and the other modern classroom classics. These have the potential to introduce new ways of seeing history and empathizing with others, and to produce an expanded canon that transcends the knowledge and experience of individual educators. Advocating institutional support for teaching difficult history via film does not constitute a call to teachers to turn off their brains. Institutions follow their own imperatives and are responsible to their respective patrons. In the case of the BpB these clearly have to do with its mission to promote political discussion and democratic structures, its status as subsidiary of the German Ministry of the Interior, the latter’s objectives, and the specter of its ultimate funder: the German taxpayer. Materials assembled in other institutional contexts will have their own constituents and benefactors. A critical teacher must take these political constellations into account when adopting such materials and be able to move beyond the specific questions and sources, no matter how neatly and intelligently packaged. Support at the level of the school and local community is also essential (Hess, 2002). If film can serve as a potent medium for discussing difficult and sensitive historical issues and institutional interests align, tomorrow’s citizens may be able to diffuse controversy more efficiently and with better outcomes. Notes 1 Unless otherwise noted all translations from the German in this chapter are the author’s. The author gratefully acknowledges the Leverhulme Trust, whose Philip Leverhulme Prize (PLP-2015-008) funded the research behind this article. 2 As Willmann reports, the BpB and its subsidiaries hold regular workshops for teachers on such techniques. Such events also help the Agency in its work as attending teachers provide feedback used when planning future brochures.

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References Arnold, I. (2004). Die fetten Jahre sind vorbei. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Ash, T. G. (2007, May 31). The Stasi in our minds. The New York Review of Books. Barber, B. R. (1984). Strong Democracy: Participatory Politics for a New Age. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Bühler, P. (2005). Sophie Scholl. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Bühler, P. (2007). Am Ende kommen Touristen. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Camicia, S. P. (2008). Deciding what is a controversial issue: A case study of social studies curriculum controversy. Theory and Research in Social Education, 36(4), 298–316. Cooke, P. (2005). Representing East Germany Since Reunification: From Colonization to Nostalgia. Oxford, UK: Berg. Dustmann, C., Fitzenberger, B., Schönberg, U., and Spitz-Oener, A. (2014). From sick man of Europe to economic superstar: Germany’s resurgent economy. Journal of Economic Perspectives, 28(1), 167–188. Entman, R. M. (2004). Projections of Power: Framing News, Public Opinions and U.S. Foreign Policy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Falck, M. (2006). Das Leben der Anderen. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Frey, M. (2013). Postwall German Cinema: History, Film History, and Cinephilia. Oxford, UK: Berghahn. Hess, D. E. (2002). Discussing controversial public issues in secondary social studies classrooms: Learning from skilled teachers. Theory and Research in Social Education, 30(1), 10–41. Hess, D. E. (2008). Controversial issues and democratic discourse. In L. S. Levstik and C. A. Tyson (Eds.), Handbook of Research in Social Studies Education (pp. 124–136). New York: Routledge. Hogwood, P. (2000). Reconstructing identity in post-communist Germany. Journal of Communist Studies and Transition Politics, 16(4), 45–67. Hultkrantz, C. (2014). Playtime! En studie av lärares syn på film som pedagogiskt hjälpmedel i historieämnet på gymnasiet. Umeå: Umeå universitet. Jahresbericht 2012–2013. (2014). Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Kaupp, C. M. (2003). Good Bye, Lenin! Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Marcus, A. S., Metzger, S. A., Paxton, R. J., and Stoddard, J. D. (2010). Teaching History with Film: Strategies for Secondary Social Studies. New York: Routledge. Nowell-Smith, G. and Dupin, C. (Eds.) (2012). The British Film Institute, the Government and Film Culture, 1933–2000. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Parker, W. C. (1996). Curriculum for democracy. In R. Soder (Ed.), Democracy, Education, and the Schools (pp. 182–210). San Francisco: Josey-Bass. Schaeffer, K. T. (2002). Kick it Like Beckham. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Scheurer, K. (2009). Das weiße Band – eine deutsche Kindergeschichte. Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Stubbs, J. (2013). Historical Film: A Critical Introduction. New York: Bloomsbury.

7 “I Saw a REAL Indian on TV Last Night!” Engaging Students in Historical Thinking for Social Justice Christine Rogers Stanton, Amanda LeClair-Diaz, Brad Hall, and Lucia Ricciardelli

At a school on a Native American1 reservation, a second grader sprinted to greet his teacher in the hallway outside his classroom.“Guess what?” he asked, bouncing up and down. “I saw a real Indian on TV last night!” The boy’s teacher smiled and replied,“Now, honey, you know that you are a real Indian, right?”The boy stopped bouncing and released a dramatic sigh, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and rolling eyes. “Noooo … ” he said, shaking his head. “I mean a REAL Indian. With a headdress and everything.” This story is important for several reasons. First, it highlights the p­ owerful influence of media, including TV and film, in shaping understandings of “Indian” identity for both non-Indigenous and Indigenous peoples. Second, it illustrates the assumption by some – maybe many – teachers that Native youth have an inherent, clear sense of cultural identity. Most importantly, for the teacher involved in this scenario, the experience demonstrated the need for her to engage her students in critical discussions about representations in film. Each of these reasons contributes to our thinking about difficult history. In terms of Indigenous experiences, “difficult history” can refer to traumatic events related to colonization and genocide, such as the Trail of Tears (the forced relocation of Cherokee, which resulted in the deaths of over 5,000 people). Teaching about such events can prove difficult because they are emotionally charged and because a tension often arises between patriotic narratives (e.g., Westward Expansion was vital for economic growth) and social justice-oriented ­perspectives (e.g., Manifest Destiny reinforced ideas of European superiority and made it easier for people to justify oppression). Additionally, we argue that all Indigenous histories are made “difficult” within the contemporary US educational landscape. Many Indigenous communities face endangerment of languages, practices,  and  oral  ­ histories because those knowledges were forbidden by White colonizers/settlers/educators.

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This  legacy of assimilation even leads to Indigenous peoples internalizing ­stereotypes themselves. This chapter, therefore, focuses on teaching histories that are difficult because they are about emotionally charged events (such as the Trail of Tears) and/or because they are integral to honoring Indigenous epistemologies and revitalizing traditional knowledges (such as oral histories). Two objectives frame our chapter:  (1) to introduce educators to the ways teaching about representations of Indigenous peoples in film can enrich student thinking about difficult ­history and (2) to share strategies for using filmmaking to teach difficult history in culturally sustaining and revitalizing ways. To address these objectives, we begin with an overview of the need for enhanced critical and historical thinking about the largely negative ways Indigenous peoples have typically been represented in curricula and film. Then, we introduce an alternative teaching model – ­Community-Centered Storywork – as a means to engage learners in thinking deeply about representations of Indigenous peoples. To demonstrate application of Community-Centered Storywork, we describe two case studies. Following the discussion of the cases, we offer general implications for Community-Centered Storywork and teaching difficult history.

Facing Difficult History: Thinking about Indigenous Peoples in Film Across forms of visual media, Indigenous peoples are frequently depicted in stereotypical ways (Hoffman, 2012; Kilpatrick, 1999; Seixas, 2007; Stoddard, ­ Marcus, and Hicks, 2014). While historical examples illustrate the tendency for filmmakers and photographers to blatantly capitalize on images of the savage or primitive other, contemporary examples reinforce stereotypes in more subtle ways. For example, Disney’s film Pocahontas (1995), which remains very popular with young children, promotes stereotypes that Indigenous peoples are connected to nature (Marubbio, 2006, p. 6). Films such as Avatar (2009) and Dances with Wolves (1990) – which are often credited for exposing mainstream Americans to negative aspects of colonization – portray Indigenous peoples as passive and simple (Stromberg, 2001). Even The Revenant (2015), which has been widely praised for its efforts to elevate attention to the brutalities inflicted upon Indigenous peoples and for its historical accuracy, has been criticized for reinforcing the popular “White savior” myth and for encouraging Indigenous passivity/assimilation (Ross, 2016). Writers and directors may believe they are breaking down stereotypes, when in actuality they are providing a narrow view of the complexities of Indigenous identities. Historical thinking requires much more than basic exposure to historical events and experiences: It demands that students “make meaning” as they “­situate their own personal histories in the context of national and world history” (Wineburg, 2001, p. viii). To become historical thinkers, students must actively engage with multiple perspectives, including counter-narratives (i.e., those that counter

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p­ opular, mainstream accounts). Wineburg (2001) notes that historical thinking is a skill that is “unnatural” (p. 3) to most students. Such thinking requires attention to perspectives, subjectivity, context, and complexity. Historians, for example, use sourcing techniques to consider the influence of source positionality on interpretations of events. In contrast, today’s youth tend to view historical accounts as static, factual, and simplistic (Wineburg, 2001). They do not necessarily think about multiple perspectives and how those perspectives shape societal understandings of history. Given the influence of media on student thinking about historical events (Marcus, Paxton, and Meyerson, 2006; Wineburg, 2001) and Native ­experiences (Seixas, 2007; Stoddard, Marcus, and Hicks, 2014), it is important to carefully evaluate the role of film and filmmaking as teaching tools. Teaching about ­ Indigenous histories is particularly challenging because today’s youth tend to take stereotypical and inaccurate representations at face value. Furthermore, ­teachers may avoid these topics because they worry about encouraging “blame and ­victimization” (Goetsch, 2012, p. 411). However, without troubling through difficult history, our students neglect the complexity of the past and the lessons it holds for the future. Below, we offer a framework to help guide teachers through this process, as well as examples of how we have applied the framework to practice.

Community-Centered Storywork: A Framework for Thinking about Difficult History Our projects endeavor to center community-based knowledges and enhance the use of frameworks developed by Indigenous researchers for Indigenous peoples. Specific to the study of history, Indigenous scholars emphasize the importance of elevating attention to the excluded stories of Indigenous peoples (Grande, 2004; Kovach, 2009; Smith, 1999; Wilson, 2008). Reclaiming these narratives can prove to be a source of strength for Indigenous learners, especially if Indigenous values frame learning (Wilson, 2008). McCarty and Lee (2014) encourage use of culturally sustaining/revitalizing pedagogy (CSRP), which employs a “decolonizing critique” (p. 118) as a means to revive endangered Indigenous knowledges and ways of knowing. It is important that students (and teachers, and scholars) view an Indigenous counter-narrative as more than just another story to help complete a historical picture. Brayboy (2005) advocates for meaningful integration of Indigenous ­counter-narratives as a means to revitalize Indigenous knowledges and ways of knowing. As Brayboy (2005) emphasizes, “stories are not separate from theory” (p. 430), nor should they be kept separate from interpretation or research. To understand counter-narratives in a multifaceted and culturally responsive way, Archibald (2008) encourages the use of Indigenous storywork, which applies the principles of respect, responsibility, reciprocity, reverence, holism,

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i­nterrelatedness, and synergy to development, sharing, and interpretation of ­stories. The 4 Rs ­framework developed by Kirkness and Barnhardt (2001), which is often included in work by Indigenous scholars, notes the importance of respect, relevance, reciprocity, and responsibility (Kirkness and Barnhardt, 2001). During the projects presented in this chapter, community members, leaders, and participants enhanced the Indigenous storywork (Archibald, 2008) and 4 Rs (Kirkness and Barnhardt, 2001) frameworks by incorporating two additional “Rs”: reflection and representation.

Applying Community-Centered Storywork to Film and Filmmaking In addition to the foundation for community-centered storywork developed by Archibald (2008) and Kirkness and Barnhardt (2001), the projects described below drew upon the methodological orientations of autoethnography (Bochner, 2007; Jones, 2005) and community-centered participatory research (Israel et al., 1998; Northway, 2010). It is important to note that the methodological decisions guiding the study of educational contexts can be applicable to classroom pedagogy. In other words, we believe that teachers and students can, and should, themselves participate in community-centered storywork as scholars of social science, particularly when reflecting on their own identities and when evaluating the representations of Native peoples within history. The first project, Mapping the Influences of the Hollywood “Indian,” uses films portraying Native peoples to guide reflection about identity, history, and multiple perspectives. This case offers an opportunity for teachers to expand awareness of the role of subjectivity in shaping narratives about difficult history, as well as an appreciation for contextual understanding. The second project, Piikani Digital Histories, engages students in creating short documentaries about difficult histories as a means to respond to and challenge settler narratives. This case provides examples of ways that student development of counter-narratives can build appreciation for socio-historical complexity and dynamism. In addition to providing overviews of the cases, we share examples from each to illustrate applications for teaching difficult history.

Mapping the Influences: Researching Representations to Advance Historical Thinking While the first project we share was completed as part of a Masters program, it provides insights into ways K-12 teachers can use film to enrich student thinking about difficult history. Specifically, the project illuminates ideas for teaching about colonization, genocide, and historical trauma. We share the basics of the project through the narrative of the author, Amanda, to illustrate ways autoethnography can be applied to analysis of films.

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Amanda I grew up on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming, where I attended ­predominately White schools located in a bordertown outside of the reservation. For the majority of my education, I was the only Native student in my classes and faced micro- and macro-aggressions from peers and educators. Due to these racist incidents, I felt a disconnect between my cultural and academic identities. As a Masters student, I was able to revisit these tensions through reflection on the various ways that Native peoples are represented in dominant culture and how these representations shaped my identity. My thesis, Mapping the Influences of the Hollywood “Indian” (LeClair, 2011), was a qualitative study that decentered stereotypical images of Indigenous peoples and centered my Indigenous counter-­ narrative. I used autoethnography, which is a critical and rigorous study of the self, to analyze the images of the “noble savage,” the “Indian Princess,” the “­savage,” the “squaw,” and the “New Age Indian” and how Native people are typically categorized into these images and how they affected me as an Eastern Shoshone/ Northern Arapaho woman.

Planning for Critical Thinking about Films Autoethnography draws upon the traditions “autobiography, personal narratives, memoirs” and other “endeavors” to connect the cultural or social to the personal (Jones, 2005, p. 765). It is “a research method that utilizes the researchers’ autobiographical data to analyze and interpret their cultural assumptions” (Chang, 2008, p. 9). In other words, autoethnography is not simply about sharing positive stories about personal experiences; it also holds the potential for “tension-filled self-investigation” that uncovers difficult knowledge about the self and one’s cultural community (Jones, 2005, p. 767). The autoethnographic process demands awareness of positionality, context, and relationality, which makes it an ideal methodology for engaging both Indigenous and non-Indigenous students in thinking about difficult history. The three films I chose to analyze were Michael Mann’s The Last of the Mohicans (1992), Jonathan Wacks’s Powwow Highway (1989), and Chris Eyre’s Smoke Signals (1998). I first read the books that served as the inspirations for the films I planned to analyze, annotated paragraphs where theory connected, and created memos of personal reactions I had while reading. I then watched each film and compared and contrasted reactions I remembered from when I was young to my responses as a graduate student. Finally, I situated my analysis within understandings of my identity and membership within particular interpretive communities (­reservation and higher education) (Fish, 1980). This process of recalling and interpreting memories was painful at times for me, but eventually proved to be healing.

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Examples from Practice: Using Film to Think about Difficult History One of the films analyzed in the project, The Last of the Mohicans (1992), is a historical drama about colonization and genocide, as illustrated through the relationships fictional Mohican chief Chingachgook and his sons Uncas (biological) and Hawkeye (adopted) form with English troops during the French and Indian War (part of the Seven Years’ War). The film starred an English actor (Daniel ­Day-Lewis), was written by an American of English descent (James Fenimore Cooper), and directed by a White man (Michael Mann). As I evaluated the representations of Native peoples in films like Last of the Mohicans, I was able to consider the influence of stereotyping on my own identity. I remember watching The Last of the Mohicans with my family when I was young. At the time, I found the film entertaining and admired the beautiful cinematography. Perhaps members of my family and community were willing to excuse or disregard negative aspects of the film out of appreciation for casting Native actors in the roles of Native characters. Later, I realized that the film’s representations of Indigenous peoples suggest a binary of historical Indigeneity that conflicts with my personal reality. In the movie, several main characters can be classified as “noble savages” (Hawkeye, Uncas, and Chingachgook), while one represents the “savage” (Huron leader Magua). Even though there are individuals who believe the noble savage is a positive representation, the film remains problematic because it demonizes the Native people who are fighting against colonization and genocide (like Magua). I remember my family always sympathizing with Magua, but I never knew why, until I learned about the noble savage/savage binaries and how both of these images are harmful to Native people. It was not until Smoke Signals (1998) that I felt like I saw a representation of Native people I could connect with on a personal level. The film was the first all-Native American film production, as it was written by Sherman Alexie (Spokane, Coeur D’Alene) and directed and produced by Chris Eyre (Cheyenne, Arapaho). It follows the stories of two contemporary, but fictional, Coeur D’Alene tribal members, Victor (played by Adam Beach, Saulteaux First Nations) and Thomas (played by Evan Adams, Coast Salish). During their journey to pick up the remains of Victor’s father, Victor and Thomas consider what it means to be Indigenous through ­critique of archetypes that have been forced on Indigenous peoples. Smoke Signals was a unique movie for me because the characters phenotypically looked like people who were in my family. There were various aspects of reservation life depicted in Smoke Signals that validated my experiences growing up in a reservation community. Although I had heard criticism of the film focusing too much on the negative aspects of reservation life, I felt the film was still pertinent for my identity because it was the first time real issues (whether they were negative or positive) were being portrayed in an honest way. That honesty allows a direct confrontation with both the perceptions of Native culture

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(i.e., stereotypical representations) and the realities, particularly as related to the lasting effects of colonization, genocide, and historical trauma. For example, in one scene in Smoke Signals, Victor espouses the stereotype of the “stoic Indian” by encouraging Thomas to look like he came back from hunting a buffalo, while Thomas counters this perspective with historical tribal knowledge and states their tribe were fisherman, not buffalo hunters. This scene alone summarizes the internal struggle Native peoples have and the pressure to be true to their tribal knowledge or true to what popular culture deems “authentic.” The scene also demonstrates the interrelatedness of past and present for Indigenous communities. For Victor,Thomas, and many other Native peoples, the stereotypes that have emerged out of these representations of difficult history continue to affect their contemporary lives in real, and at times, traumatic ways.

Lessons for Teachers Historically marginalized peoples are rarely represented in ways that feel respectful or authentic to them, particularly in popular media. Even the more respectful and “authentic” films – such as Smoke Signals – generate debate among both Indigenous and non-Indigenous viewers. For students, recognizing that all representations are shaped by many influences can boost understanding of the complexities driving historical thinking.To support the Community-Centered Storywork tenet of responsibility, teachers and students can refer to resources (such as oyate. org or the blog Native Appropriations) and/or collaborate with Indigenous community members to learn about culturally responsive representations. If an educator chooses to show films that depict stereotypes of Native people, he/she should engage learners in conversations about why stereotypical representations are not helpful in terms of historical understanding or social justice. To guide in-depth autoethnographic inquiry in their classrooms, teachers can use questions similar to those used in the Mapping project: How do we define our identities? How do individual definitions of identity differ from the representations in film? How do they differ from expectations of family, cultural communities, and school? And, most importantly, why do they differ? Specifically, teachers can use autoethnographic writing to help students explore positionality, context, and multiple perspectives – concepts that are vital for teaching difficult history in culturally sustaining and revitalizing ways. Asking questions that provoke thinking about cultural positionality can help students think about over-simplification in historical representations, which can serve to create space for counter-narratives while simultaneously discouraging unproductive responses related to White guilt. For example, teachers can ask: Which character do you like more – Thomas or Victor? Why? During the time period highlighted in Last of the Mohicans, were there only Maguas and Hawkeyes, or did other Indigenous peoples respond to colonization and genocide in different ways? What were those different ways? What about the White historical actors? What other responses and

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actions that are not represented in the film? To respect intertribal diversity and recognize historical dynamism, teachers might ask students these questions:Would views of the films differ if contemporary members of the Mohican (there are still Mohican tribal members today), Huron, or Coeur D’Alene Nations evaluated them? How? Why? What does that suggest about the nature of identity? What questions would you ask characters or historical actors, and how can we find the answers? The Mapping project offers additional insights to the use of film to purposefully complicate student understandings of historical representations. Since students often believe the first representations they encounter, guiding them through critical discussions of the representations – particularly if representations c­ onflict – can prove helpful. To guide analysis, teachers can ask students to “map” the influences of the storywork tenets (e.g., respect, responsibility, interrelatedness, etc.) as they view films. For example: Why are Magua and Hawkeye portrayed differently? Traditionally, did Huron and Mohican leaders view their responsibilities to their communities differently? How has Indigenous resistance changed over time, and why has it changed? Then, groups of students can work together to conduct research regarding their questions, identify examples from the film to highlight, and share their findings with the class as a whole.

Piikani Digital Histories: Creating Counter-Narratives The Piikani Digital Histories (PDH) project illustrates the potential for the use of counter-narrative filmmaking to teach difficult history in culturally sustaining and revitalizing ways. The project involved participants from Blackfeet Community College (a tribal college with an interest in revitalizing Blackfeet/Piikani culture through education, research, and leadership development) and Montana State University (a predominantly White, research institution), including undergraduate and graduate students, faculty, staff, recent graduates, Native scholars, and tribal community members. Three of us (Brad Hall, Lucia Ricciardelli, and Christine Stanton) brought a variety of backgrounds and expertise together to develop the project. Below, we share information about our personal journeys regarding teaching difficult history through filmmaking in order to provide context for description of the project.

Brad Oki nii-st-oo nii-taa-niiko. Omak Saa-koo-ma-pi … Amp-skaa-pi Piikani. Hello, my name is Brad Hall. I was raised on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation in North Central Montana. First and foremost I am a teacher, teaching exclusively on my home reservation and eventually becoming an educational leader. I have always been intrigued by history. For me, the past is ever present and tied to my own future, and this insight is linked to the resiliency of my nation. The values and

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customs instilled in me by my family and culture have always provided me with a strong foundation to accept the challenge of educational research and l­eadership. I received the name Omak Saa-koo-ma-pi, which in English means “Big Boy,” from my Uncle Jim Spotted Eagle. This name previously belonged to my late ­grandfather. In our culture, “naming” identifies an individual in the context of a collective commitment to always be in a position to contribute to family, community, and nation. Names are not purely physical – they are metaphors that guide life experiences. My search for knowledge has sustained my own resiliency and guides my practice as a historian, teacher, educational leader, and researcher. Rather than viewing Indigenous culture as an impediment to success within mainstream educational contexts, I see my culture and family as an inner strength that has led me to accomplish my own personal successes and solidified an unwavering commitment to my community. I am positioned to be critical of the interpretations of others, appreciative of my allies, and forever linked to the land I stand on that has shaped my identity.

Lucia I was born and raised in a White upper middle class family in Bologna, Italy, where I lived for 31 years. Despite its notoriously fragmented political system, Italy has a cohesive national culture and a high degree of ethnic and religious homogeneity. Growing up, I had to consistently adjust my idiosyncrasies against this expectation for social conformity; cultural “deviance” was not an option. I therefore decided to leave Italy for a study-abroad opportunity in the US, eager to experience firsthand the cultural and religious diversities of the “Great Melting Pot.” My interdisciplinary PhD program in film studies and art history at the University of California Santa Barbara led to the doctoral project, Visual Culture and the Crisis of History: American Documentary Practice in the Postmodern Era, a study of the contemporary crisis of Eurocentric history through the lens of American documentary filmmaking. During the past two decades, my scholarly work has shown a constant concern with uncovering how Eurocentric representations of cultural identity tend to generalize human experience and establish overarching “truths” about the past, ultimately supporting the status quo and crushing minority identities. My involvement in the PDH project is a logical continuation of my scholarly research with its call for more accurate representations of cultural identity coming from the margins, as well as my personal exploration into alternative lifestyles and ways of thinking.

Christine I am a White woman from an upper middle class background. I grew up mainly in central Wyoming, where I attended schools that were demographically over 95% White. I had no idea that I lived less than two hours from a reservation or that

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contemporary Indigenous peoples in the US continued to encounter oppressive policies and racism resulting in educational inequities, health discrepancies, poverty, and other challenges. Later, as a teacher in a community bordering a reservation, I was encouraged by several tribal leaders to engage in research to advance change. Since then, my career as a teacher educator and scholar has focused on expanding inclusion of Indigenous counter-narratives throughout curricula. As a cultural outsider, I strive to engage in culturally sustaining/revitalizing research and teaching through use of community-centered participatory methodologies (Stanton, 2014; Northway, 2010). Several years ago, Brad and I began discussing a partnership to revitalize Piikani (Blackfeet) community counter-narratives, which evolved into the project we share below.

Planning for Counter-Narrative Filmmaking To plan the PDH project, we worked closely with Native community members and student participants.The collaboration informed various aspects of the project design and implementation, from selection of documentary approaches and interview locations to structures of the five workshops. A key goal of the project was to promote intercultural partnership and mentorship. The predominantly White participants from Montana State University (MSU), who were affiliated with programs in film studies, provided mentorship in terms of technical film production, while the Indigenous participants from Blackfeet Community College (BCC) provided mentorship in terms of Piikani cultural protocol, Indigenous research methodologies, and community-centered learning. Community-Centered Story­ work requires an awareness of knowledges that are unique to specific tribal groups, including what information can be shared in particular settings or by certain individuals. In the project, community members determined how much information could be divulged while maintaining community integrity. The project, which spanned two years, consisted of a planning phase, five workshops, and a community showcase in Browning, Montana. During the first  workshop, participants were introduced to and expanded upon the 4 Rs framework (Kirkness and Barnhardt, 2001), and they learned about Nichols’s (2010) documentary modes. They then formed teams to share ideas about their audiovisual projects and practice storyboarding (i.e., planning using a sequence of drawn images). The workshop concluded with an orientation to the filming equipment (i.e., camera, tripod, and lighting/sound equipment) and a demonstration of different interview approaches. The second workshop began with a discussion of research ethics in tribal communities. The MSU students then illustrated the pre-production, production, and post-production phases of their audiovisual projects via PowerPoint and mentored the BCC participants as they planned their projects using the same digital platform. The workshop concluded with an introduction to film editing techniques using iMovie software. The third workshop provided individualized mentorship for film development

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in the Blackfeet community. MSU participants helped BCC participants plan the ­framing and composition of shots, practice interviewing skills, and experiment with editing techniques, lighting schemes, and audio recording equipment. The fourth and fifth workshops focused on finalizing the BCC participants’ digital stories in preparation for the community showcase.The showcase, which was held in conjunction with a four-day community-wide cultural and research celebration, included an overview of the project as well as the premiere of one of the student-created films. In addition to the formal workshops, much of the intercultural learning occurred in informal settings (e.g., during meals).

Examples from Practice: Using Documentary Filmmaking to Teach Difficult History During the first workshop, participants evaluated examples from documentary film and photography (e.g., Edward S. Curtis’s The Vanishing Race, 1904; Robert J. Flaherty’s Nanook of the North, 1922; Ken Burns’s The Civil War, 1990) to illustrate how – even through non-fiction media – perspective and bias can result in stereotyping and historical inaccuracies. For example, in small teams, participants compared and contrasted photographs depicting reservation life from Aaron Huey (a non-Indigenous professional photographer whose photos are well known for their focus on poverty), Matika Wilbur (an Indigenous professional photographer working to positively photograph members of all 500+ federally recognized tribes in ways that are determined by the subjects), and a Project Exposure team (youth photographers from the Pine Ridge reservation tasked with photographing aspects of culture in daily life). The comparison activity provoked discussion about multiple perspectives, relationships within Indigenous communities, and the potential for decontextualized narratives to reinforce stereotypes. The participants then discussed how films created by cultural outsiders might differ from documentaries made by Indigenous filmmakers. Would the subject/ content be the same? Would the stories be told in the same ways? Why or why not? How might Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples work together to develop culturally revitalizing counter-narrative films? For example, Would Inuit Nanook be depicted as “primitive” and “childish” by Indigenous filmmakers? Would his story be told in the same ways, using an omniscient narrator who speaks in the authoritative and “objective” voice of God? Would Indigenous filmmakers produce images of  White peoples labeling them as “the vanishing race”? We continued critical questioning about positionality and perspective throughout hands-on workshop activities. For instance, during the storyboarding phase of the workshop, an elder expressed interest in having a film that used a “bird’s eye perspective,” which would align with expectations regarding the telling of a culturally significant story. A film student suggested using a camera mounted on a drone and the elder’s voice over narration to share the story, producing the bird-like view the elder envisioned.

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The principle of respect is closely related to relevance, since respect includes gaining awareness of, and creating space for, topics of importance to the community. During the planning phase of their counter-narrative documentaries, community members identified culturally significant topics (e.g., language revitalization, Piikani accounts of a massacre, etc.). As is true across the tenets, ­relevance relies upon culturally sustaining support for both content and process. For ­example, as participants in the project reviewed b-roll materials, such as archival photographs, to supplement their video footage, they discussed the content (e.g., “That looks like it is at X Lake”) and the process for inclusion or exclusion (e.g., “We should show the bottom of the tipi, because the markings on the bottom are really important to the Blackfeet”). Similarly, the use of film aligns with relevance in terms of ways of knowing and sharing histories within many Indigenous communities. Iseke and Moore (2011) suggest that use of filmmaking technology “challenges not only the stories of the dominant society but also oppose the exclusivity of text-based resources” (p. 34). One of the Native participants in the project agreed, emphasizing that “film has a more powerful impact [than books] … It’s recreating the oral tradition.” Our conversations revealed that the audiovisual format allows the viewer to interact with the teller in a more culturally aligned way, particularly for tribes that did not use a written language to share knowledge. For example, the use of cinematic techniques such as drone shots can provide Indigenous peoples with technology needed to represent collective histories more accurately than static interview shots focusing on single individuals. We also encouraged participants to think about how a sense of collective responsibility might affect storywork.The non-Indigenous participants noted that they usually choose subjects and make procedural decisions independently, while the Native participants recognized what Iseke and Moore (2011) term a “kinship responsibility,” which calls for recognition of interrelatedness within the community (p. 33). Native participants explained that they needed to “check with” cultural leaders regarding inclusion of specific content, especially stories or photographs that shared ceremonial information. The process allowed both Indigenous and non-Indigenous participants to realize that some knowledge, including memories related to difficult history, may belong to the community, not the individual. In these cases, sharing specific information with a wide, largely unknown audience may jeopardize sensitive, collective knowledges.

Lessons for Teachers Overall, the PDH project helped participants develop respect for Indigenous knowledges and ways of knowing, relevance as determined by community members, interrelatedness, and responsibility to the broader community. Adhering to these Community-Centered Storywork tenets required engagement by both Indigenous and non-Indigenous participants during the creation

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and dissemination of counter-narratives. Participants and community members noted that they learned about the active roles of various individuals, including the speaker, filmmaker, and audience member, throughout the process of creating and sharing narratives. Teachers can support similar learning in a variety of ways, including collaborative filmmaking, digital storytelling, and storyboarding. Ideally, to mirror the efforts of the PDH project, youth would work closely with Indigenous community members to revitalize oral histories through audiovisual counter-narratives. Partnering students with community members to record oral histories has demonstrated increased empathy and increased awareness of relationality between cultural or ethnic groups and across ages (Iseke and Moore, 2011). However, one aspect that distinguishes the PDH project from many other oral history research efforts is its attention to the process of culturally sustaining and revitalizing filmmaking, as opposed to only focusing on the product. Therefore, teachers might find it helpful to investigate the process of professional filmmaking with students, so students recognize the amount of time and the types of decisions expected for planning, gathering audiovisual data, and editing. For example, teachers could share excerpts of the Smoke Signals screenplay and storyboard, interviews with Sherman Alexie and Chris Eyre, and clips from the film to offer regarding the process of moving an idea from a vision to the finished product. Additionally, teachers might encourage students to think about challenges related to making a counter-narrative that preserves the needs of a historically marginalized community while meeting the expectations of the industry. For example, teachers could ask: Do filmmakers have a responsibility to represent people with accuracy, or is their responsibility simply to entertain? When creating films about Indigenous peoples, do Indigenous filmmakers have a greater responsibility to Indigenous communities than non-Indigenous filmmakers? Do filmmakers have the same responsibility to appropriately represent historical contexts as they do with contemporary communities? During collaborative filmmaking efforts, teachers can increase student accountability to the community by creating multiple (as opposed to single, isolated) opportunities for youth to engage with community members, share their products-in-process, and practice deep listening skills. While production of quality audiovisual counter-narratives would be ideal, teachers with limited time or resources can still promote deeper thinking about difficult history through less sophisticated digital storywork, especially since many of today’s teachers and youth can access high quality video cameras and editing software using their smartphones and tablets. Instead of creating collaborative documentaries, students can build short digital stories using open access resources, such as stock photos, or their own images, drawings, and so on, and adding voice over narration to describe events in difficult history often excluded or misrepresented in mainstream curricula. To find the answers to these questions, students will likely need to engage in original research with members of the Indigenous communities affected by the difficult history, or conduct a review of existing research related to these topics.

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Storyboarding alone can provide a basic structure to support discussion of representations and counter-narratives. Students can create a storyboard based on an existing film (or other media) representation, and then develop a second storyboard presenting a different perspective on the event. If possible, students should co-construct the counter-narrative storyboard with Indigenous community members with access to historical knowledge of the event. It is important to explain to students that oral histories are valid, yet underutilized, methods of transmitting historical information from generation to generation.

Implications for Practice Dion (2007) emphasizes that while public school classrooms have long served as “significant sites of production and reproduction of dominant ways of ­knowing” (p. 330), they also hold the potential to disrupt the inauthentic,“molded images” of Indigenous peoples popular within dominant discourses (p. 329).The two ­projects discussed in this chapter can provide examples for advancing historical thinking and collaborative inquiry with Indigenous communities. The first project, Mapping the Influences, demonstrates ways teachers can use films representing Indigenous peoples to engage students in thinking about difficult history. Overall, the Mapping project offered insights regarding subjectivity, self-determination, and historical complexity. Amanda created space to ask questions regarding the construction of Indigenous identity – including her own – by validating counter-narratives within the process of historical and cultural ­thinking. Significantly, the project normalized reflection and questioning skills that are essential for deeper understanding of history, film, and culture. It is important to note, however, that the Mapping project requires learners to go beyond superficial viewing by thinking critically about Indigeneity. For example, simply writing about one’s own connection to place, viewing a popular film like Last of the Mohicans, and discussing the connections Indigenous peoples have to place according to the film will likely not advance historical or critical thinking about difficult history in a culturally sustaining or revitalizing way. Instead, such a progression might reinforce romantic stereotypes (e.g., Indigenous peoples have vanished, had a special connection with the wilderness, were weak against the European colonizers, etc.), particularly for students unfamiliar with Indigenous peoples and their continued experiences and resistance. Given the tendency for films to portray Indigenous peoples in inaccurate and disrespectful ways and for youth to uncritically accept representations at face value, it is important for educators (including those outside of social studies education and teacher educators) to guide students through the process of “mapping” the aspects that shape identities and experiences. In addition to the historical context (which informs representations in both historical films like Last of the Mohicans and contemporary films like Smoke Signals), teachers and students

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need to consider the sociocultural landscape shaping the filmmaker’s vision. It is also important to ­situate one’s self within those sociocultural and ­historical contexts. Through autoethnographic writing, guided analysis and discussions, and ­dialogue  with Indigenous community members, teachers and students can critically evaluate  film representations related to colonization, genocide, and ­ ­historical trauma. Unfortunately, the widespread belief that documentary films transparently “show” events and people, that they are “windows on the world,” creates an additional layer of challenge in terms of teaching difficult history through documentary viewing and filmmaking. Since youth tend to view information presented in textbooks and through documentary media as “objective,” they may believe that filmmakers simply turn on the camera and capture reality, including historical reality, and including realities related to difficult history. Therefore, sharing examples of different documentary modes may help illuminate the subjectivity that shapes views of history and experience. The second project, Piikani Digital Histories, offers a model to teach difficult history in culturally sustaining and revitalizing ways. The use of ­student-led documentary filmmaking can promote critical thinking about historical ­ “­objectivity” and the role of individuals and communities in shaping perspectives of difficult history. Specifically, collaborative historical research can help students recognize that Indigenous communities hold certain knowledges collectively, and  – t­herefore – decisions about how to represent and share such information should not be made without careful collaboration. Additionally, Indigenous communities may not distinguish between story and theory, history and “myth,” or past and present, whereas non-Indigenous audiences often have more limited views in terms of what qualifies as “history” or research (Brayboy, 2005). Therefore, teachers – ­particularly those who are not members of the Indigenous community – cannot rely simply upon their preconceived understandings or professional preparation in terms of determining what qualifies as history. Instead, careful, continuous collaboration is vital to advance culturally sustaining and revitalizing education. It is also important for teacher education programs to work with Indigenous communities in terms of developing their more dynamic and inclusive understandings of history and story. Historical thinking for social justice begins with respect for Indigenous knowledges, which can be introduced through guided questioning related to Indigenous representations within film, textbooks, and other curricular resources. For example, teachers can pose questions about mainstream narratives, which often exclude or diminish the difficult history surrounding colonization, settlement, and genocide, such as “What were the implications of not being allowed to speak the Indigenous language or practice cultural traditions? Why is the language so important?” To help students think about the motivations that guide the construction of historical narratives, teachers can ask students questions like,

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“Who decided what topics to include in this film, and why? Whose perspectives are left out, and why? How can we learn more about topics and perspectives that are important to Indigenous communities?” Careful questioning can also help students recognize the ongoing influence of difficult history and inappropriate representations. For instance, teachers might ask: How did forced relocation of tribes affect what today’s young members of the tribes know about geography, culture, and history? Why? How can those knowledges be revitalized for this and future generations? How can those knowledges be shared more accurately and respectfully with people from outside of the communities? Using such questioning, educators can guide students through thinking about the continued influence of both difficult history itself and the ways Indigenous peoples are represented within narratives about difficult history. To further advance appreciation for multiple perspectives and respect for Indigenous views, teachers can share counter-narratives created by Native filmmakers and juxtapose these histories with mainstream media representations. As students evaluate multiple films (including everything from Hollywood blockbusters to youth-produced documentaries) as vehicles for teaching historical content, they can develop a deeper awareness of perspective and identity. To encourage critical thinking through evaluation of films, it is helpful for students to use the language of filmmaking, which can be learned through hands-on production activities (e.g., storyboarding, filming, editing, etc.). When students discuss, write about, or otherwise share their evaluations of film, teachers can ask them to support their evaluations of films using specific cultural knowledges learned through research and/or dialogue with Indigenous community partners (e.g., “Since the Marias River was originally called the ‘Bear River’ by the Blackfeet, referring to the massacre site only by the name picked by Meriwether Lewis downplays the Blackfeet version of history”). Similarly, youth can support their interpretations and evaluations through application of filmmaking discourse (e.g., “The director of the TV documentary uses an expository mode to suggest objectivity, but doesn’t share his sources or include Indigenous stories, while the YouTube film includes the filmmaker’s story and multiple accounts from community members. Therefore, I think the YouTube film is more credible as a source of insider knowledge than the TV documentary”). To add depth to historical thinking, students can investigate the importance of relationships within the learning of history. Most importantly, students can engage in community-centered research with Indigenous community members. Such research can include collection of oral histories, development of short films, or implementation of action research projects. Each of these examples requires students to learn about cultural etiquette, interpersonal communication, and collective understanding. If it is not possible to engage students in collaborative inquiry with Indigenous partners within the local community, teachers can still create inquiry-based experiences using video conferencing or social media.

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While  sustained, interactive collaborations are most appropriate in terms of developing appreciation for relationships, teachers can also cultivate a “dialogue” with Indigenous authors, filmmakers, and scholars by asking students to respond to existing counter-narratives, such as films, blogs, and photographs created by Indigenous peoples. Juxtaposing examples from different films is another way to create a sense of dialogue, awareness of multiple perspectives, and development of a critical lens (Seixas, 1994). Importantly, Community-Centered Storywork can help develop an awareness of the importance of self-reflection for historical thinkers. Having students explore multiple narratives and counter-narratives provides a foundation for discussions related to identity. Teachers can ask questions such as “Do people choose their identities? How do family and community members shape identities? How are identities formed? How do our different identities affect our perspectives of historical and contemporary experiences?” Encouraging students to engage in autoethnographic practices can lend critical depth to the process. For e­ xample, they can compare and contrast their own positionality statements with those of others (including autobiographical and biographical descriptions of historical sources) and explain their analyses of primary source documents, films, narratives, and counter-narratives by drawing upon their statements. These practices can prove effective for developing understanding of perspective, situatedness, sourcing, and context within the study of history and culture.

Conclusion As Wineburg (2001) notes, historical thinking requires students to “situate their own personal histories in the context” of history (p. viii). However, as the projects shared in this chapter suggest, individuals do not determine identity and context alone. A fuller understanding of both identity and context depends upon awareness of the collective experiences of the community. For educators, ­Community-Centered Storywork can provide a culturally responsive, student-led model for teaching difficult history through film and filmmaking. In the US, history is made difficult through multiple, conflicting views of progress, destiny, and property. As a result, many of the oppressive and brutal acts against Indigenous peoples are neglected within curricula. To advance social justice, we advocate for Community-Centered Storywork as a means to confront difficult history and revitalize the Indigenous knowledges which have been oppressed, forbidden, or marginalized (Grande, 2004; Kovach, 2009; Smith, 1999; Wilson, 2008). Specifically, critical evaluation of mainstream films can help students (and teachers) think about colonization and genocide, as well as the lasting effects of historical trauma and forced assimilation. Furthermore, the collaborative development of counter-narratives can help students think about the role of representation and storyteller within the construction of history, while shifting attention from blame and victimization to action and cultural revitalization.

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Note 1 While it is preferable to refer to Indigenous peoples using specific group names, ­particularly the traditional names the peoples have chosen themselves (e.g., “Piikani”), it is not always possible or appropriate. Specificity can compromise culturally sensitive knowledges and/or the privacy of individuals, especially given the small populations of many tribes/communities. However, using terms that over-generalize can imply a lack of inter- and intra-tribal diversities. This chapter alternates between “Indigenous,” “Native,” “tribal,” and – when appropriate – specific tribal names. Additionally, ­throughout the chapter use plural forms to refer to peoples, knowledges, histories, and experiences in order to emphasize diversity.

References Archibald, J. (2008). Indigenous Storywork: Educating the Heart, Mind, Body, and Spirit. Vancouver: UBC Press. Bochner, A. P. (2007). Notes toward an ethic of memory in autoethnographic inquiry. In N. K. Denzin and M. D. Giardina (Eds.), Ethical Futures in Qualitative Research: Decolonizing the Politics of Knowledge (pp. 197–208). Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Brayboy, B. (2005). Toward a tribal critical race theory in education. The Urban Review, 37(5), 425–446. Chang, H. (2008). Autoethnography as Method (Vol. 1). Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Dion, S. D. (2007). Disrupting molded images: Identities, responsibilities and ­relationships— Teachers and Indigenous subject material. Teaching Education, 18(4), 329–342. Fish, S. E. (1980). Is There a Text in This Class?: The Authority of Interpretive Communities. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Goetsch, E. (2012). An integrant part: Using cultural landscapes in interpretation of difficult history. Rethinking Protected Areas in a Changing World: Proceedings of the 2011 George Wright Society Conference on Parks, Protected Areas, and Cultural Sites. Retrieved from http://www.georgewright.org/1170goetsch.pdf. Grande, S. (2004). Red Pedagogy: Native American Social and Political Thought. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Hoffman, E. D. (2012). Introduction. In E. D. Hoffman (Ed.), American Indians and Popular Culture,Volume 1: Media, Sports, and Politics (pp. xi-xviii). Denver, CO: Praeger. Iseke, J. and Moore, S. (2011). Community-based Indigenous digital storytelling with elders and youth. American Indian Culture and Research Journal, 35(4), 19–38. Israel, B., Schulz, A., Parker, E., and Becker, A. (1998). Review of community-based research: Assessing partnership approaches to improve public health. Annual Review of Public Health, 19, 173–202. Jones, S. H. (2005). Autoethnography: Making the personal political. In N. K. Denzin and Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.) The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research (3rd Ed.) (pp. 763–791). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE. Kilpatrick, N. J. (1999). Celluloid Indians: Native Americans and Film. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Kirkness, V. J. and Barnhardt, R. (2001). First Nations and higher education: The four R’s—Respect, relevance, reciprocity, responsibility. In R. Hayoe and J. Pan (Eds.), Knowledge Across Cultures: A Contribution to Dialogue Among Civilizations. Hong Kong: The University of Hong Kong. Retrieved from February 9, 2015, http://www.ankn .uaf.edu/IEW/winhec/FourRs2ndEd.html.

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Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous Methodologies: Characteristics, Conversations, and Contexts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. LeClair, A. (2011). Mapping the Influences of the Hollywood “Indian” (Master’s thesis). Retrieved from ProQuest Dissertations Publishing. (Accession No. 897100997). Marcus, A. S., Paxton, R. J., and Meyerson, P. (2006). “The reality of it all”: History students read the movies. Theory & Research in Social Education, 34(4), 516–552. Marubbio, M. (2006). Killing the Indian Maiden: Images of Native American Women in Film. Lexington, KY: The University Press of Kentucky. McCarty, T. and Lee, T. (2014). Critical culturally sustaining/revitalizing pedagogy and Indigenous education sovereignty. Harvard Educational Review, 84(1), 101–124. Nichols, B. (2010). Introduction to Documentary. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Northway, R. (2010). Participatory research: Part 1: Key features and underlying philosophy. International Journal of Therapy and Rehabilitation, 17(4), 174–179. Ross, G. (2016, January 18). Revenant review: It’s OK, but still the same ol’ White savior stuff for Native people. Indian Country Today. Retrieved from http://indiancountry todaymedianetwork.com/2016/01/18/revenant-review-its-ok-still-same-ol-whitesavior-stuff-native-people-163106. Seixas, P. (1994). Young people respond to historical revisionism. American Journal of Education, 102(3), 261–285. Seixas, P. (2007). Popular film and young people’s understanding of the history of ­Native-White relations. In A. S. Marcus (Ed.), Celluloid Blackboard: Teaching History with Film (pp. 99–120). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. New York: Zed Books. Stanton, C. R. (2014).The curricular Indian agent: Discursive colonization and Indigenous (dys)agency in U.S. history textbooks. Curriculum Inquiry, 44(5), 649–676. Stoddard, J., Marcus, A., and Hicks, D. (2014). The burden of historical representation: The case of/for Indigenous film. The History Teacher, 48(1), 9–36. Stromberg, E. (2001). Out of the cupboard and up with the “Smoke Signals”: Cinematic Representations of American Indians in the Nineties. Studies in Popular Culture, 24(1), 33–46. Wilson, S. (2008). Research is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods. Halifax, NS: Fernwood Publishing. Wineburg, S. (2001). Historical Thinking and Other Unnatural Acts: Charting the Future of Teaching the Past. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.

8 What Does History Have to Do with This? Youth Filmmaking for Social Change Sandra Quiñones, Brian Bailey, Joseph Ehman, and Daniel Delehanty

Introduction Imagine three students from a ‘minority–majority’ US public high school ­watching local news media coverage of a White police shooting an unarmed African American male peer from their school. Later that week, the same three students go to the local movie theater to watch Selma, the 2014 historical drama film written by Paul Webb and directed by Ava Duverney. In front of their eyes is a visual account of the 1965 Selma to Montgomery voting right marches and the portrayal of several civil rights leaders including Martin Luther King Jr, James Luther Bevel, and John Lewis. Then, one student turns to the other and says, “I guess not much has changed.” The other student responds with “yep” and hopes that his/ her friend doesn’t notice the tears rolling down his/her face. The third student walks away to get some popcorn and soda… As noted by Zembylas (2014), “a long-standing challenge in contemporary discourses of curriculum and pedagogy is how to theorize the reception and handling of traumatic representations” (p. 390). Yet, the concept of difficult knowledge invites educators to reflect on the pedagogical challenges posed by students’ painful encounters with difficult history (Britzman, 1998, 2000a, 200b, 2013; Britzman and Pitt, 2004; Pitt and Britzman, 2003). This body of scholarship also considers students’ internal conflicts arising from classroom discussions of film connected with difficult history. Drawing from Judith Butler’s work, Zembylas (2014) demonstrates that this affect, or psychosocial vulnerability experienced by our students, can “become a point of departure for an action-oriented solidarity” (p. 403). In so doing, Zembylas moves toward a more “dynamic theorization of difficult knowledge” (p. 404) that invokes important implications for pedagogical

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and curricular practices that seek to be action-oriented and transformative, while still acknowledging power differentials and asymmetries of trauma, vulnerability, grief, loss, responsibility, and injustice (p. 405). As a means building on existing scholarship about teaching history with film (Marcus, 2007; Marcus et al., 2010; Rosenstone, 2014; Russell, 2009), and teaching difficult history through film (this volume), we describe action-oriented, collaborative pedagogical approaches used by high school teachers and university faculty.

Purpose and Context This chapter explores how youth and adults collaborated to create films about social justice issues in schools and communities. Rather than describing pedagogical approaches related to the analysis of existing films, we describe action-oriented pedagogical approaches where youth and adults create their own documentary films about timely and relevant issues grounded in difficult historical contexts. Our work takes place in two medium-sized cities where “race riots” occurred in the 1960s: Rochester, New York, and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.The Rochester race riots of 1964 and 1967 centered police brutality against Blacks. The Pittsburgh race riots of 1968 centered the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. Given the historical context of both cities, we explore how difficult history is surfaced through filmmaking about contemporary issues such as police–youth interactions and urban-suburban educational disparities. We use the phrase difficult historical realities to describe how our schools and youth are impacted by institutional racism, income inequality, state-sanctioned segregation, and violence. Thus, the purpose of this chapter is to highlight the transformative potential of using filmmaking to address current issues that are rooted in areas of the past and difficult to incorporate into the dominant curriculum and culture. Here we draw from two school-university community-engagement initiatives. The second and fourth author, Brian Bailey and Daniel Delahanty, are c­ o-founders of the Rochester Participatory Educational Research Collaborative (RPERC). RPERC is comprised of students and faculty from the Teaching & Learning Institute at East High School, Nazareth College, and St. John Fisher College in Rochester, New York. Brian Bailey is an Associate Professor of Adolescence Education at Nazareth College. Daniel Delahanty is a nationally certified Social Studies teacher and co-facilitator of the Teacher & Learning Institute at East High School (Rochester City School District). The first and third author, Sandra Quiñones and Joseph Ehman, are c­ o-founders of the Youth Films Collaborative (YFC). YFC is comprised of students and teachers from the Barack Obama Academy for International Studies and faculty and students from the School of Education at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Sandra Quiñones is an Assistant Professor of Literacy Education at Duquesne University. Joseph Ehma is IB Diploma Program Coordinator at Roberto Clemente Academy in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

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Theoretical Framework Next we provide the reader with an overview of theoretical concepts informing our work with youth. We draw on multiple fields including education, sociology, and media studies.

Voice We use the concept of voice in relation to how people resist oppression, as seen in many feminist and post-feminist theories (Belenky et al., 1986; Hooks, 2000). Voice also refers to instances where youth attempt to overcome and resist the ways in which schools and communities work to silence (Fine and Weis, 2003) and marginalize students by reproducing inequalities on account of race, class, gender, disability, and sexuality (Bowles and Gintis, 1976; Oakes, 1995). Voice is used in our work to question who gets to speak and who gets to make decisions with regard to school and community issues that directly impact youth. If we consider the history of film, our history as a country, and who has access to the tools of production, we know that the ability to make a film has by and large excluded people of color and working class. New filmmaking technologies have made it possible for many people to produce and distribute videos (short films, music videos, public service announcements, etc.), including youth. These technologies along with new modes of distribution (YouTube, youth film festivals) are changing and changed by the wide range of literacy practices that people use to participate in and make changes to society.

Filmmaking and Youth Research on filmmaking in school settings is just beginning to emerge with a small number of studies that look primarily at video as a technical literacy skill that helps students become more “media literate” (Burn and Parker, 2001; Parker, 1999; Ranker, 2007; Sefton-Greene and Parker, 2000). A smaller but promising segment of work in the field, primarily conducted outside the formal school setting, have looked at how students are using the opportunity to create and show digital movies (Bailey, 2011; Burn and Parker, 2003; Dowdy et al., 2003; Hull et al., 2006; Hull and Nelson, 2005; Morrell, 2005; Ranker, 2008; Theodosakis, 2009). Glynda Hull and Mark Nelson’s work in Oakland’s Digital Underground Story Telling for (You)th (DUSTY) and Stephen Goodman’s work in New York’s Educational Video Center (EVC) are indicative of research that looks at how students are using the opportunity to create multimodal texts to do things in their lives like construct identities (Hull and Nelson, 2005), re-define gender (Hull et al., 2006) and ­participate as citizens in critical thought and democratic social change (Goodman,  2003). Hull’s research has illuminated some of the purposes and uses for students’ digital ­multimodal stories, such as; exploring alternative definitions of masculinity, offering a tribute to family members or friends, recounting or interpreting a pivotal

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moment or key event, representing place, space, or community, preserving history, creating art or an artifact, grieving, or reflecting, reaching, informing, or influencing a wider audience (Hull et al., 2006; Hull and Nelson, 2005).

Situated Identities Stuart Hall has shown how identity is not a fixed entity but rather a constantly negotiated work in process with multiple manifestations as it is performed, manipulated, constructed through the process of representation (Hall, 1990, 1996, 2001).We draw on the work of Holland et al. (1998) and Sfard and Prusak (2005) to think about how students’ movies served as cultural spaces for students to build allegiances with and in opposition to historical symbols, texts, and meanings. Across the research sites, students used their movies to shape, mediate, and transform representations of their lived historical, cultural, and social life worlds. As such, we use “situated identities” to refer to how students used their digital movies as cultural artifacts (Holland et al., 1998) to position themselves through literacy practices (Gee, 1996) and storytelling (Sfard and Prusak, 2005) in order to negotiate and construct their sense of self and represent themselves in specific ways. The situated identities of youth and the movies that students made are not isolated from the historical socio-cultural contexts in which they are constructed; rather they are created and enacted in practice through institutions, communities, and a wide range of social spaces to reframe history and change the present. Urban youth are often represented in Hollywood movies as apathetic at best and criminal at worst. More often than not, urban youth are portrayed in popular media texts as deficits without seeing their talents, intellect, and character. To this extent, youth filmmaking for social change provides the kind of counter-narrative that challenges deficit models and historical representations of urban youth.

Rochester Participatory Educational Research Collaborative (RPERC): Brian and Daniel RPERC is a collection of Rochester City School District high school students and teachers along with Nazareth College and St. John Fisher students and faculty who conduct research in urban schools using a Youth Participatory Action Research model and make films to tell our stories. Youth Participatory Action Research (YPAR) is a research methodology and pedagogy where experienced researchers mentor young people in the act of conducting original research and creating critical texts in order to (1) create new knowledge (2) develop cultural and academic capital to operate in multiple discourse communities (3) create transformative opportunities for youth to take a lead in questioning policies and educational practices, including unequal power relations in our schools and ­society, and (4) challenge traditional school-based pedagogy and purposes by offering a different way for adults and youth to collaborate on meaningful learning experiences

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(Cammarota and Fine, 2008; Duncan-Andrade and Morrell, 2008; Ginwright, Cammarota, and Noguera, 2005; Mirra, Garcia, and Morrell, 2016). In a departure from traditional research models in which college faculty are the “experts” driving the research effort and adult technical “experts” are the filmmakers, our model aims to be equally inclusive of all voices with power shared equally amongst all members.The goal of our work is to add to the body of research about what we understand about the society we live in and more specifically, our education system by involving teachers and students as co-researchers and co-­filmmakers. We use our research and filmmaking to argue for more commonsense educational reform, analyze relations between youth and adults, question how we have historically arrived at our present reality, and suggest changes for our community. In 2011, we started by asking the East High School students in the group what questions they had about their education and what they would like to change about their school and community. Students raised concerns over multiple stories in the local press about the lack of college-ready students graduating from Rochester’s urban schools, which sparked discussion and questions from all the members of the group about what is meant by “college ready.” Over the course of nine months, we collected and analyzed ethnographic data regarding college readiness and presented our work in March 2012 at the Diversity in Research & Practice Conference at Columbia University’s Teachers College. In the summer of 2012, RPERC’s work began to expand in scope and direction. While exploring the concept of what it means to be college ready, the issue of disparity between urban and suburban educational outcomes in the Rochester community came to the forefront. In this discussion, the concept of racial division in the community inevitably emerged as a primary consideration. While maintaining its focus on what it means to be college ready, RPERC began examining college readiness through the lens of the urban-suburban racial divide in the community with the goal of generating both community awareness and community responsibility through a documentary film called College Ready. In the passage below, Ronald explains his thinking about the urban-­suburban racial divide and how it relates to access and inequities in relation to college readiness and his own college-going identity. Ronald identifies as an African American male from a working class family. He has lived in Rochester his whole life. He grew up in a low-income neighborhood and is now attending college in a high-income neighborhood. In his own words, he states: Making the film College Ready engaged me in thinking about issues of inequality by starting with the question, why are only 5% of Rochester City School students properly prepared for college? It really made me think about what’s going on in the City of Rochester. I was included in that 5% because I went to a city school but I knew I wanted something different for my life. Making the film helped me understand the history of segregation in Rochester and see that it still goes on because of the borderlines that keep

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our schools in this area separate. It makes you think about what the students in white, suburban schools learning that the students at city schools aren’t. It really started with the riots in Rochester of July of 1964, this is when people of all races used to live in the city and shop there. But because of racism issues, many white people began to pack up and move out of the city into what we now call suburban areas. As far as income inequality, now I’m at Nazareth College that’s in Pittsford and it’s one of the richest areas in the area. But only 10 miles away is some of the poorest neighborhoods in this area where I went to high school. So, it makes you think about what is really wrong here. —Ronald In the passage above, Ronald makes direct connections between the difficult ­history of segregation in Rochester, the race riots in the sixties, and the current re-segregation of public schools (60 years after Brown v. Board of Education). Ronald also alludes to how the filmmaking process not only shaped his aspirations to “be something different,” but also deepened his views on privilege and college readiness in relation to complex racial, economic, and geographic dynamics. He recognizes the connections between income inequality, educational access, and school funding. As part of the filmmaking process, Ronald did research about these issues and developed his own voice about the reproduction of educational inequality. Now that he is attending a college in a high-income neighborhood, the perspectives raised in the documentary about college readiness are much more pronounced and personal – and he is currently in the complex and painful process of promoting social change. In the documentary film, College Ready, while standing in front of a wealthy, White suburban school, Ronald provides narration in one section and asks a crucial question of the viewer: Segregation is still alive and well in America. People know it’s wrong but society fails to act upon it.We need to teach urban students what it means to be college ready. If we weren’t segregated into black schools, white schools, rich schools, and poor schools, would we have to? —Ronald Ronald is experiencing contemporary educational injustices that are grounded in difficult historical realities in a very concrete manner. In so doing, he connects difficult historical realities to challenging contemporary injustices in education that, in his perspective, merit our individual and collective attention. His words above indicate that he understands how a history of injustice has led us to a point where communities and schools in Rochester have been purposely divided along race and socioeconomic lines. However, this is not just Ronald’s opinion. While making the film, adults and students examined statistics, maps, conducted

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interviews, transcribed documents and used research to construct an informed picture about how demographics impact and are impacted by their daily lives. We do not claim that the film or RPERC is free of bias, but we use research to create at an informed perspective on how we arrived at a place where city schools students are 95% Black and Latino and 90% living in poverty and most of the suburban schools surrounding Rochester as predominantly white and not living in poverty. To this extent, the College Ready documentary film making process provided students with an opportunity to engage with the community history. Like Ronald, Tamara is a former RPERC participant who is now thriving academically and socially at Nazareth College.Tamara self-identifies as mixed race (Caucasion father and African American mother) and lives with an adoptive parent in one of the most economically distressed neighborhoods in Rochester. In the passage below, Tamara describes her perspectives and experiences about how the filmmaking process shaped her identity and views about inequality and college readiness. Making the film College Ready allowed me to think of the inequality that I had to face in high school without even knowing it, simply because of my race, geographic location, income, and family struggles. I was aware that everything I had worked hard through somehow seemed to work against my abilities to succeed on the national level of being college ready and the real world. The issues of equality began to hit home while making the movie when I learned about issues like the 1964 Race Riots, “white flight”, and de-facto school segregation based on my zip code. I learned that I was not given the right amount of support, resources, or simple care in school to succeed academically. —Tamara Tamara talks about the often unspoken obstacles that urban students face due to the ways that we have historically concentrated poverty and segregated schools in Rochester. Discussing difficult histories is an important part of Daniel’s teaching and throughout the social studies curriculum, Tamara and her classmates analyze and debate historical inequities in our community such as Rochester’s race riots, laws promoting de-facto segregation, institutional racism through school redistricting, and so on. Making the movie was a way to bring some of those issues to life and allowed her to communicate her understanding to a real audience in the film. An integral part of collective social action was to seek opportunities to share the RPERC work with a wider audience. Therefore, Brian and Daniel submitted a proposal to present at the 2013 annual conference of the American Educational Research Association (AERA) in San Francisco. The proposal was accepted and AERA invited RPERC to screen its documentary at the conference from April 27 to May 1 2013. RPERC sent six East High student filmmakers, two East

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High teachers, three Nazareth College students, and two Nazareth College faculty members to San Francisco. In October 2013, the group also traveled to Boston to present findings and screen a segment of the College Ready film at the National Council of Teachers of English Annual Conference. The group has also presented the research and documentary film throughout schools and colleges in the New York State. Needless to say, this phase of the process provided many opportunities for youth to practice public speaking, take on advocacy roles informed by research, and serve as agents for social change. In the next passage, Tamara describes her growing sociopolitical consciousness as part of the filmmaking process and her overall participation in RPERC. She also reflects on her college-going identity in relation to her own lived historical, cultural, and social life worlds. Because of this film I was able to be aware of what was being asked of me when walking into college. Meaning, research skills, critical thinking, time management and beyond. I was able to learn how to stand up for things I believe in, in order to make a change for the better as well as the value of reciprocity and equality in learning, teaching, and inspiring one another to take on the world. I am still learning more about myself, how to catch up, and how to “unblind myself ” from the inequalities I faced because of where I lived, the limited education I received, and the effects of poverty and segregation. —Tamara Tamara’s poignant narrative reminds us that documentary filmmaking about ­contemporary issues can serve both as a tool for thinking critically about ­difficult history and also as a tool for improving the educational outcomes of urban youth. We wanted the filmmaking process to serve as a vehicle for youth voice and social change. Thus, it is important to note that in the process of conducting the research, high school students were becoming “college ready.” They were ­engaging in and with research articles, critical thinking, writing, public speaking, fundraising, travel, and so on. In fact, 100% of the students who have participated in RPERC are attending colleges.

Youth Films Collaborative (YFC): Sandra and Joseph As community partners, we (Sandra and Joseph) were inspired by how youth and adults in Rochester (NY) collaborated using the Youth Participatory Action Research model to engage with difficult historical realities and gain a critical understanding of timely and relevant issues in education. Moreover, we were excited by the opportunity for students and adults to engage with the history of Pittsburgh and collaborate in the documentary filmmaking process. In the fall of 2014, Brian traveled to Pittsburgh to co-plan the initial stages of the Youth Films Collaborative (YFC). YFC is a digital media initiative between high school

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students enrolled in Joseph’s (third author) IB Film class and adults from Duquesne University’s School of Education (i.e., faculty, staff, graduate students). Our goal was to create 10–15 minute documentary films about social justice issues generated by youth. Similar to RPERC, we also wanted to provide students with an opportunity to amplify their voice for social change. The YFC initiative was informed by Epstein’s (2014) work on civic literacy projects. In her book Teaching Civic Literacy Projects: Student Engagement with Social Problems, Grades 4-12, Epstein illustrates how teachers can enact meaningful and critical forms of civic education in schools. She describes three key phases in the process of engaging students in civic literacy projects: (1) problem identification; (2) problem exploration; and (3) action. In what follows, we describe the YFC initiative through these three phases.

Problem Identification Problem identification entails tapping into students’ knowledge and experiences by using strategies that surface student voices and pressing concerns (Epstein, 2014). In our case, this was done through an open forum with 115 students held at the school in October 2014. This open forum session was facilitated by Brian Bailey. Joseph and I, as well as several graduate assistants, were also present at the forum. Brian first provided the youth with background knowledge about RPERC and shared an excerpt from the College Ready documentary. He then asked youth about their knowledge of documentaries that address equity and social justice issues. Many students noted movies and documentaries such as “Fruitvale Station,” and Chris Rock’s “Good Hair.” After discussing students’ knowledge of documentaries, we posed the challenge of creating 10–15 minute documentaries that address school and community issues currently shaping their lives. The following topics were generated in the initial forum with youth: • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Gentrification of school neighborhood Segregation Language and Self-Destruction “Acting White” “Acting Black” as synonymous to ignorant How urban school youth are perceived by suburban public school youth Self-destructive or “bad” influential music Crime among youth ages 13–18 and how it affects everyone How Black males should interact with police Subconscious racism Sexualization and excessive reprimanding of girls in school spaces Overemphasis on standardized testing Balancing social life and school life (“Should I go out?”) Interracial dating

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After generating a wide variety of possible topics to engage with, Joseph and Sandra facilitated several activities with the aim of narrowing the topics and identifying working groups. These in-class activities included discussion forums, voting sessions, and persuasive essay writing. For example, to narrow the topics, Joseph held whole group and small group discussions addressing questions such as: (a) What topic is most appealing to you as a student in this school community? Why? and (b) Why do you think it is important to address this topic through a documentary film? To help identify a small working group of 20–25 students who would take on the challenge of making three documentaries, Joe asked the students to write a persuasive essay responding to the following prompt questions: Why do you want to actively participate in the process of creating a documentary film about this topic? What ideas do you have for a documentary film about this topic? During this process, three projects emerged as priority for the students: 1. Youth & Police Interactions: The nature of interactions between youth and police in Pittsburgh, with an emphasis on the experiences and perspectives of school youth and the policing of Black and Brown youth in school and community settings. 2. Urban vs. Suburban School: The differences between a suburban school and an urban school with International Baccalaureate (IB) programs, particularly in relation to education, safety, and diversity. 3. In-School (Subconscious) Segregation: This group explored White–Black segregation and racialized spaces within the school setting, such as the school cafeteria, sports teams, and social groups. After going through the process of choosing three focus areas and identifying a core group of students for the project, we moved on to the problem exploration phase. For this next phase of problem exploration, each student group was partnered with a university member who agreed to collaborate with youth on the respective topic.

Problem Exploration Problem exploration accounts for building a historical framework, analyzing multiple perspectives, utilizing various multimodal resources, and studying the resources through critique and discussion (Epstein, 2014). Similar to RPERC, historical issues of racism and segregation were relevant to the youth-generated problems identified. Racialized dynamics about their school context were observed and questioned as part of the critical inquiry process. For example, the students ­inquiring about in-school segregation made key observations about the school cafeteria, school sports, and college going classes as Black and White segregated spaces. Accordingly, where “the White kids” and “the Black kids” sat in the cafeteria became a topic of critical inquiry for the students (Tatum, 2003). The students also questioned why the tennis team was comprised mostly of White students, while the basketball team was nearly all Black students.Together, the teachers and students noticed that Black

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students were less likely to actively participate in classrooms when surrounded by mostly White peers.Yet these same students were more likely to actively participate in class when the White students were not present. Naturally, all of these observations posed important concerns for the school community. In our discussions, we encouraged the youth to dig deeper and consider how these perceptions relate to difficult historical realities and forms of institutionalized racism that operate in policies and practices.We asked students to consider how power is and has been used to systematically deny people of color access to resources, political influence, and equality. However, this remains to be an area of development. Toward the end of the school year, many students still correlated contemporary in-school segregation and urban-suburban inequities with problems of perception and stereotypes, rather than systemic, institutionalized racism in school and community policies and practices. The concept of racial division in the larger Pittsburgh community, and connections with difficult historical realities, was more salient in the documentary film about youth–police interactions. An important learning outcome in the ­process of investigating this particular issue was the awareness of multiple viewpoints and conflicting experiences. Students conducted surveys and interviews to gather their peer’s perspectives and experiences about the issue. In doing so, they found that that Black students (both male and female) were more likely to report having “negative” interactions with police, as compared to White peers. In addition to race, they learned that location mattered. More specifically, where students lived correlated with the frequency and type/nature of interaction they had with police. Student noted that predominantly Black neighborhoods were more heavily policed than predominantly White neighborhoods. Students also had a growing awareness that what was happening in Pittsburgh in relation to youth–police interactions paralleled what was happening in other cities such as Rochester, New York and Ferguson, Missouri. Additionally, pursuing this timely and relevant topic gave African-American and White students at the school the opportunity to interact in new ways and to discuss topics that are not usually covered in the school curriculum. They listened to each others’ perspectives and experiences and realized that reflecting on multiple perspectives can lead to a deeper understanding of police–youth interactions as a social problem that relates to larger societal issues. Through the inquiry process, the students also learned how youth in other cities were attempting to address the problem. In the passage below, we hear from one of the African-American males, Rasheem, who actively participated in the filmmaking process about youth– police interactions. He states: Through the documentary filmmaking experience, I was able to see the many perspectives about the issue at hand from my school and community. I was able to thoroughly explain my viewpoints and experiences about the issue. I was also able to listen to other important views and experiences. I was able to connect with the many fantastic people who work at

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a ­university a get a hint of how networking in college will be. Finally, I was – and still am – passionate about the topic that we talked about through our documentary and I see film as a perfect way to pursue this topic. —Rasheem In the excerpt above, we see how Rasheem valued the opportunity to “­thoroughly explain his viewpoints about the issue” and was also able to “listen to other important views and experiences.” He also felt that film provided a viable venue for pursuing a difficult topic that connects with how race and racism manifests in police–youth interactions within the school and community spaces. In fact, Rasheem’s perspectives remind us of that “as a vehicle for learning, film is unique in the way it can encourage a greater range of storytelling and visual culture than the written word” (Marcus and Mills, this volume). Moreover, as a genre of film, documentaries represent a genre that can cultivate “perspective recognition” by positioning their audiences to particular viewpoints through the narrative and production of the film. Documentaries as a genre of film can also feature multiple perspectives or different viewpoints about the central issue being explored. As such, documentary filmmaking can be a vehicle to address current issues that are rooted in areas of the past that are difficult to incorporate into the dominant curriculum and culture. Again, to some extent during of the problem exploration phase, theYFC students and adults interrogated how racism and power dynamics shape their experiences and perspectives around police–youth interactions (Fine et al., 2003; Goodrich, Anderson, and LaMotte, 2014). We considered the historical context of racism in the US context, including the Civil Rights Movement, and how it shaped their identities as Black and White youth in contemporary Pittsburgh. The adults and students struggled, however, with how to incorporate all this into a 10-minute documentary film. In the end, the students wanted to focus more of the content on youth perspectives. In other words, they did not make explicit connections to difficult historical realities in the script-writing or visual elements of the film. In the quote below, Rasheem alludes to this creative tension in the filmmaking process: Overall, this project helped me to understand how the filmmaking process goes with covering different hot topics like police brutality, etc. I think it is difficult to actually create a documentary that is valuable and not boring, because then it could lose the value of important information. Historical issues are still current and are difficult topics to cover. —Rasheem As part of the problem exploration process, Joseph and Sandra held several ­adult-youth collaborative work sessions during the school day. Here we juggled the development of critical inquiry and digital media/technical skills. Joseph led the digital media/technical skills development while Sandra led the critical inquiry skills development. For example, we practiced critical inquiry skills such

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as asking different types of interview questions and identifying credible sources. We also engaged in the development of technical/digital media practices, including features of documentaries as a genre of film, script writing, location scouting, production ideas, and editing. Reflecting on her overall digital media skills development and overall learning experience, Ashante, an African-American female student who also worked on the police–youth interactions documentary, notes: Being thrust into this project with no prior experience forced me to learn about filmmaking on a fast pace. I now know more about the planning, filming, and editing involved in the making of a documentary. I know have more of a respect for those behind the camera who aren’t always recognized. Thanks to the documentary filmmaking experience, I gained the skill of public speaking. I was also exposed to a multitude of viewpoints and ideals on the issues here in Pittsburgh. Finally, I was able to improve on my directing skills. —Ashante Here we see how Ashante acknowledges not only her growth in technical skills related to the filmmaking process, but also her growth in social learning from being exposed to different viewpoints about timely and relevant issues in Pittsburgh.

Action Action involves reaching outside of the school classroom, projecting a clear message for real change to an authentic audience, using multiple modalities, and also reflecting on the action (Epstein, 2014).We asked the students:What is the change that you would like to see with regard to the community issue? How do we create action around the message in the documentary? Following the likes of RPERC, the YFC sought the opportunity to share its work with a wider audience by presenting at several academic conferences and youth-based venues. For example, several adults and youth collectively shared their experiences and perspectives as participants in the initiative at the 2015 Digital Media & Learning Conference held in Los Angeles, California (June 2016). The students described their experiences in this project, including how it influenced their thinking about themselves, others, and the process of identifying and exploring community issues in their school community. The youth also shared what changes they would like to see with regard to police–youth interactions and how to use the documentary in their school and local community to influence the change they would like to see around the issue. For example, they want to share the video and discuss the topic with 9th grade students as a kind of mentoring activity blended with advocacy around the topic. They also considered organizing purposeful social events where youth and police could interact and get to know each other in a more positive ways. Brian Bailey provided the Pittsburgh youth with ideas that had been organized and implemented by RPERC during the 2014–2015 school year, including “Cops,

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Kids, and Videogames” and “Cops, Kids, and Cookies.” Both events p­ rovided an opportunity for youth and police to interact in positive ways. This kind of social action aligned with the intention of creating social change by improving communication and building better relationships between youth and police.

Discussion and Recommendations Collectively, we view film as being a medium to engage young people in the study of difficult historical realities. Namely, how institutionalized racism operates in school and community policies and practices.To varying extents, we asked students to consider how power is and has been used to systematically deny people of color access to resources, political influence, and equality. As part of the filmmaking process, we often wondered: How can we tell stories that ask people to re-think our policies and practices? How can we use movies to envision different arrangements than we have had in the past in terms of power? As community-engagement initiatives, RPERC and YFC sought to cultivate reflective, change-centered processes (including the development of youth’s critical thinking and research skills) and intercultural dialogue with peers and adults in and outside of school. In the RPERC program, youth examine what it means to be “college ready.” The difficult history here was Brown vs. Board of education; de facto white flight to the suburbs; and the idea that “college readiness” language often is used to exclude urban youth from their place in higher education. ­Post-filmmaking interviews conducted with RPERC students, teachers, and college professors about the film they created provided insights into their experiences as researchers, filmmakers, first-year college students, and how their knowledge of our history as a segregated society had developed through their research and filmmaking. As part of the YFC, youth in Pittsburgh used filmmaking to tell difficult stories about how police–youth interactions play out in their local communities. The youth really gravitated toward this topic because nearly every student had in some way experienced, or had a friend that experienced, some type of negative interaction with police. The climate at the time, with national attention on youth-police violence against Black males, also made it very appealing for the students to share their experiences. Thus, this topic seemed to directly relate to them as young people. Most notable has been how students developed a greater understanding of disparities with regard to police–youth interactions, particularly in relation to the surveillance of Black males in public spaces. Upon reflection, Joseph and I (Sandra) agree that we could have done more to extend the critical inquiry process and include more connections to difficult historical realities within the Pittsburgh community. Given time constraints and planning limitations, we did not fully uncover and work through this aspect of the initiative. Comparatively speaking, we commend RPERC youth and adults who made deeper connections between difficult historical realities and what it means to be college ready.

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In light of our collective journeys of youth filmmaking for social change, we offer three recommendations to readers. Our first recommendation is to be intentional about minimizing power differentials between adults and youth, yet to be prepared to negotiate challenging power differentials that inevitably shape the collaborative research and filmmaking processes. Discuss, in advance, what a youthbased community engagement or youth-driven school-university initiative means for you. Decide how involved the youth and adults will be in the decision-making and planning processes and give ample time for relationship-­building activities. Also, consider what you will do when there are tenuous differences between the ideas posed by adults and the youth. For example, as adult participants, Sandra and Joseph really thought that the gentrification subject would be a “hot topic” for the Youth Films Collaborative (YFC). From our perspective, gentrification of the school neighborhood was a complex and timely issue for a documentary film. We were interested in discussing the relevance and significance of desegregation and race relations in relation to this community issue. We thought some historical contexts about the school, where it was located, and what was happening in that neighborhood were essential for the students to understand. We also knew that making explicit connections to the difficult historical realities, such as ongoing displacement of Blacks in Pittsburgh (and institutional racism, more broadly) would be an important part of that process. However, the youth did not see gentrification as a pressing issue. Most students thought that the growing presence of big commercial franchises (i.e., Target, Home Depot) was “cool” and that the rising home property values was “a good thing” for everyone in the neighborhood. Generally speaking, the youth seemed to have a limited understanding about the oppressive or problematic aspects of gentrification. They really liked the benefits that commercial development brought to them as young people (i.e., more places to hang out, shop, etc.). Naturally, we tried to challenge their thinking on the topic by offering alternative perspectives and asking more questions. Even though we encouraged the students to choose gentrification as a local social justice problem to address, at the time we felt the need to “back off ” of our own opinions and let the students have a stronger sense of autonomy and control in the decision of what problem(s) to focus on for the documentary films. Again, we advise others to consider the importance of negotiation and compromise as an integral, yet challenging part of adult-youth collaborative processes. A second recommendation is to carefully consider time and schedule demands. For example, during the planning phase, the YFC agreed on taking on three different topics for the documentary filmmaking process. However, complicated scheduling issues, combined with time and resource constraints, posed serious challenges to the collaborative filmmaking process. In hindsight, we recommend focusing on one topic and creating one documentary during a school year, rather than taking on three different topics during the same school year. Furthermore, we would also consider doing this work as part of after-school practices with

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youth, rather than during the regular school day. Taking valuable instructional and learning time during the school day had unintended consequences for students and teachers. For instance, the students had to take extra time to “catch up” with curricular demands that they missed during YFC work time. As the film teacher, Joseph had to make special accommodations in order to comply with multiple and numerous school-related demands happening within a short time period. On the other hand, the filmmaking experiences that the junior year students developed through the YFC initiative positively informed the IB senior film project. All things considered, we still recommend that university faculty and high school teachers interested in youth filmmaking for disciplinary learning and social change look into examples of thriving after school programs such as the Get Real! Students Tackling Authentic and Relevant Science (STARS) program at the University of Rochester (see http://­getrealscience.com/STARS/). A third recommendation is to be mindful that this work can be laced with tensions, particularly in the context of “balancing” school-university partnerships with tenure track demands. Some administrators were concerned, for instance, that Sandra was spending a considerable amount of time on “service” that was not leading to an IRB approved research study or teacher education scholarship. However, Sandra knew that developing trusting relationships with youth, and their teachers, is a process that takes time. As a qualitative researcher in a tenure track position, she approached the first year of the initiative as a time to get to know and build relationships with community partners. Although she was open to the idea of co-constructing a research project with Joseph as part of the initiative, she felt pressured to rush the process and get published so that the community engagement practices “counted as more than service” toward her tenure and promotion. In other words, Sandra had to navigate and mediate the conflicting demands that many community-engaged scholars face, particularly in relation to reciprocity (for a nuanced discussion of reciprocity in community-engaged teaching and research, see Dostilio et al., 2012). In closing, our purpose was to demonstrate the art of documentary fi ­ lmmaking as a viable strategy for engaging youth with difficult historical realities prevalent in their contemporary communities. Filmmaking can be used as a platform for counter-storytelling, providing voice to the historically marginalized, and for challenging the dominant cultural and historical narrative most common in schools and academic standards. However, like many practices in schools and universities, this kind of work is laborious, rewarding, and challenging. We appreciate your attention and invite you to use filmmaking as a tool for collaborative teaching and learning about difficult historical realities.

Acknowledgments We are grateful for the grant funding received by the Heinz Endowments to support justice-oriented community engagement with local youth at Duquesne University’s School of Education.

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References Bailey, B. (2011). “When I make a film, it’s out of my head”: Expressing emotions and ­healing through digital filmmaking in the classroom. Journal of Digital Culture and Education, 1(3), 76–97. Belenky, M. F., Clinchy, B. M., Goldberger, N. R., and Tarule, J. M. (1986). Women’s Ways of Knowing:The Development of Self,Voice, and Mind. New York: Basic Books. Bowles, S. and Gintis, H. (1976). Schooling in Capitalist America: Educational Reform and the Contradictions of Economic Life. New York: Basic Books. Britzman, D. P. (1998). Lost Subjects, Contested Objects: Toward a Psychoanalytic Inquiry of Learning. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Britzman, D. P. (2000a). If the story cannot end: Deferred action, ambivalence, and difficult knowledge. In R. I. Simon, S. Rosenberg, and C. Eppert (Eds.), Between Hope and Despair: The Pedagogical Encounter of Historical Remembrance (pp. 27–57). Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Britzman, D. P. (2000b). Teacher education in the confusion of our times. Journal of Teacher Education, 51(3), 200–205. Britzman, D. P. (2013). Between psychoanalysis and pedagogy: Scenes of rapprochement and alienation. Curriculum Inquiry, 43(1), 95–117. Britzman, D. P. and Pitt, A. (2004). Pedagogy and clinical knowledge: Some psychoanalytic observations on losing and refinding significance. JAC: A Quarterly Journal for the Interdisciplinary Study of Rhetoric,Writing, Multiple Literacies, and Politics, 24(2), 353–374. Burn, A. and Parker, D. (2001). Making your mark: Digital inscription, animation, and a new visual semiotic. Education, Communication and Information, 1, 155–179. Burn, A. and Parker, D. (2003). Analysing Media Texts. London: Continuum. Cammarota, J. and Fine, M. (Eds.). (2008). Revolutionalizing Eeducation: Youth Participatory Action Research in Motion. New York: Routledge. Dostilio, L., Brackmann, S. M., Edwards, K. E., Harrison, B., Kliewer, B. W., and Clayton, P. H. (2012). Reciprocity: Saying what we mean and meaning what we say. Michigan Journal of Community Service Learning, 19(1), 17–32. Dowdy, J. K., Reedus, N. G., Anderson-Thompkins, S., and Heim, P. L. (2003).The making of griots: One Black filmmaker’s journey with six teenagers. The High School Journal, 86(4), 49–62. Duncan-Andrade, J. R. and Morrell, E. (2008). The Art of Critical Pedagogy: Possibilities for Moving from Theory to Practice in Urban Schools. New York: Peter Lang. Epstein, S. E. (2014). Teaching Civic Literacy Projects: Student Engagement with Social Problems, Grades 4–12. New York: Teachers College Press. Fine, M., Freudberg, N., Payne, Y., Perkins, T., Smith, K., and Wanzer, K. (2003). Anything can happen with police around: Urban youth evaluate strategies of surveillance in public places. Journal of Social Issues, 59(1), 141–158. Fine, M. and Weis, L. (2003). Silenced Voices and Extraordinary Conversations: Re-imagining Schools. New York: Teachers College Press. Gee, J. P. (1996). Sociolinguistics and Literacies: Ideology in Discourses (2nd ed.). London: Taylor & Francis. Ginwright, S., Cammarota, J., and Noguera, P. (2005).Youth, social justice, and communi­ ties: Toward a theory of urban youth policy. Social Justice, 32(3), 24–40 (see http://www .socialjusticejournal.org/product/shawn-ginwright-julio-cammarota-and-­pedronoguera-2/). Goodman, S. (2003). Teaching Youth Media: A Critical Guide to Literacy, Video Production, and Social Change. New York: Teachers College Press.

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Goodrich, S. A., Anderson, S. A., and LaMotte,V. (2014). Evaluation of a program designed to promote positive police and youth interactions. Journal of Juvenile Justice, 3(2), 55–71. Holland, D, Lachicotte,W. Jr., Skinner, D., and Cain, C. (1998). Identity and Agency in Cultural Worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Hooks, B. (2000). Feminism is for Everybody: Passionate Politics. Boston, MA: South End Press. Hall, S. (1990). Cultural identity and diaspora. In J. Rutherford (Ed.), Identity: Community, Culture, Difference (pp. 222–237). London: Lawrence & Wishart. Hall, S. (1996).What is this ‘black’ in black popular culture. In D. Morley and C. ­Kuan-Hsing (Eds.), Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in Cultural Studies. New York: Routledge. Hall, S. (2001). The work of representation. In S. Hall (Ed.), Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices (pp. 13-74). London: Sage. Hull, G. A., Kenney, N. L., Marple, S., and Forsman-Schneider, A. (2006). Many versions of masculine: An exploration of boys’ identity formation through digital storytelling in an afterschool program. The Robert Bowne Foundation Occassional Paper Series, 6, 1–42. Hull, G. A. and Nelson, M. (2005). Locating the semiotic power of multimodality. Written Communication, 22(2), 224–261. Marcus, A. S. (Ed.). (2007). Celluloid Blackboard: Teaching History with Film. Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Marcus, A. S., Metzger, S. A., Paxton, R. J., and Stoddard, J. D. (2010). Teaching History with Film: Strategies for Secondary Social Studies. New York: Routledge. Marcus, A. S. and Mills, G. (2017).Teaching difficult history with film: Multiple perspectives on the Holocaust. In J. Stoddard, A. S. Marcus, and D. Hicks (Eds). Teaching Difficult History through Film. New York: Routledge, pp. 178–196. Mirra, N., Garcia, A., and Morrell, E. (2016). Doing Youth Participatory Youth Research: Transforming Inquiry with Researchers, Educators, and Students. New York, NY: Routledge. Morrell, E. (2005). Critical Literacy, Media Production, and Civic Engagement. Paper presented at the AERA Annual Meeting, Montreal, Canada. Oakes, J. (1995). Keeping Track: How Schools Structure Inequality. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Parker, D. (1999). You’ve read the book, now make the film: Moving image media, print literacy and narrative. English in Education, 33, 24–35. Pitt, A. and Britzman, D. P. (2003). Speculations on qualities of difficult knowledge in teaching and learning: An experiment in psychoanalytic research. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 16(6), 755–776. Ranker, J. (2007). A new perspective on inquiry: A case study of digital video production. English Journal, 97(1), 77–82. Ranker, J. (2008). Making meaning on the screen: Digital video production about the Dominican Republic. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, 51(5), 410–422. Rosenstone, R. A. (2014). History on Film/Film on History. New York: Routledge. Russell, W. B. (2009). Teaching Social Issues with Film. Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Sefton-Greene, J. and Parker, D. (2000). Edit-Play. London: BFI. Sfard, A. and Prusak, A. (2005).Telling identities: In search of an analytic tool for investigating learning as a culturally shaped activity. Educational Researcher, 34, 14–22. Tatum, B. D. (2003). Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? And Other Conversations About Race. New York: Basic Books. Theodosakis, N. (2009). The Director in the Classroom: How Filmmaking Inspires Learning (2nd ed.). Penticton, British Columbia: Nikos Theodosakis. Zembylas, M. (2014). Theorizing “difficult knowledge” in the aftermath of the “affective turn”: Implications for curriculum and pedagogy in handling traumatic representations. Curriculum Inquiry, 44(3), 390–412.

Part IV

Teaching Common but Difficult Histories through Film

9 Hollywood Histories Examining Contemporary Depictions of Race and American Slavery in Popular Film Keffrelyn D. Brown and Anthony L. Brown

Introduction The concern over representation has been an enduring issue within African-American racial politics. As scholar Henry Louis Gates (1988) makes clear, African Americans remained steadfast in contesting and questioning the ­prevailing imagery of African Americans expressed within White society. The tension between the representations of African Americans in White society and the counter re(-)presentation reproduced by African Americans can be present within almost all facets of society, including novels, plays, literature, and film – what Brown and Kraehe (2011) call the tropes of representation. For the purposes of this chapter, we define representations to mean a set of ideas and discourses that help to give meaning to people or a phenomenon. In addition, re(-)presentation entails the process by which old narratives are challenged and new meanings are established. Tropes of representation and re(-)presentation have played a key role in Black American political discourse about the Black community. Collectively these re(-)presentational efforts play out in multiple venues, often print sources: ­including literature and school textbooks but is perhaps most evident in concerns with how African Americans are represented in visual media. Targeting visual media for its representations of Blackness is not a haphazard undertaking when considering Gate’s keen insight about the reproducible nature of representations. As early as the turn of the twentieth century with the release of the film, The Birth of a Nation, Black activists challenged how visual media depicted blackness (Rhodes, 1993).What gets represented in visual cultural spaces is easily picked up and reproduced in and outside of the media space so it is strategic to target analyses of visual media because it touches the lives of many, as in

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the case of American cinema. Lawrence Reddick (1944) expressed concerns over Blacks in film: He is the clown, but seldom a magnificent clown; a buffon; the butt of jokes, not the projector of them, except against himself. He may be an entertainer or a servant, who will almost certainly exhibit some of the following qualities: ignorance, superstition, fear, servility, laziness, clumsiness, petty thievery, untruthfulness, credulity, immorality or irresponsibility with a predilection to eating fried chicken and sliced watermelon. (p. 369) Reddick’s summary of Blacks in film noted a time period where film reflected some of the most problematic racial depictions of Black people. While some aspects of this representation have mostly gone away in contemporary cinema, scholars have noted the durable and subtle ways African Americans are still racially depicted within film (Bogle, 2001; Guerrero, 1993). A consistent characterization of African Americans in film has been through the interpretations of American history or depiction of a time period, such as the antebellum America or within the Jim Crow Era. Nowhere has this received more attention than in Hollywood’s depiction of American chattel slavery. As scholars have expressed over time, the implications of these interpretations of history are great (Guerrero, 1993; Reddick, 1944). Historical interpretations on film offer curricular information that audiences would not otherwise have access to in their everyday lives. Therefore, film serves as a powerful medium of truth making that are oftentimes reflected in the broader society. For example, all through the first part of the twentieth century numerous films reproduced depictions of race and Black life that supported and sustained the existing ideologies of Jim Crow society. In other words, we are arguing that there has always been a clear connection between the prevailing ideologies of race and how these ideologies are picked up and defined in other genres of society such as American film (see Brown and Brown, 2015). So in thinking about the interpretation of the past in the visual cultural of film, this chapter explores how issues of race and American slavery are depicted in contemporary US cinema. Drawing from critical race theory and cultural memory we explore how American slavery and race are understood and conceptualized in prominent Hollywood films. Specifically, we focus on the pedagogical possibilities of understanding “race” across three Hollywood films: Amistad, Lincoln, and 12 Years a Slave. We choose these films because of their visibility as Hollywood films and the likelihood that teachers might use them in K-12 American history lessons (Stoddard and Marcus, 2006). Learning about “race” through American film aligns with the focus of this volume – teaching difficult history.We recognize that given the constraints in teaching difficult racial histories in K-12 settings, teachers must utilize multiple methods to help students understand the complexities of race and racism, most notably through the use of film in the classroom.

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In this chapter, we first give attention to the existing literature about the d­ epictions of race and African Americans within the topic of slavery in school curriculum. We draw from this literature to show the enduring issues of how slavery is depicted in school curriculum. We offer that American film is a form of curriculum where notions of history are portrayed with the intent of providing historical knowledge. We then explain the key theories that guided our analysis of each movie, including critical race theory and cultural memory. Our attention was focused on analyzing race in each film, focusing specifically on how African Americans and slavery was conceptualized. We conclude by offering summary thoughts from our findings and their implications to teaching and learning race and American chattel slavery through film.

Literature Review Critiquing and analyzing the historical depictions of African Americans in official curriculum can be traced to the early twentieth century (Brown, 2010; Brown and Brown, 2015). We situate this chapter in the literature of African-American curriculum because we see “film” as a form of curricular text. Much has been said about African Americans across the literature of visual cultural studies (Bogle, 2001; Guerrero, 1993). However, for our purposes we conceptualize “film” as a curriculum-type that can be used to teach and learn about African Americans similar to how textbooks and children literature convey meanings of race. A central concern among scholars of African-American curriculum and history is how society and students remember slavery as a manifestation of the past and present. In other words, as cultural memory scholars (Flores, 2002; Trouillot, 1995) note, history becomes deeply engulfed in the identities of those that receive and internalize historical knowledge. Part of the process of developing a revised cultural memory about African Americans historically has occurred through the teaching of difficult racial histories (e.g., slavery, Jim Crow). Carter G. Woodson and his colleagues at the Association of the Study of Negro Life and History (ASNLH) understood that the topic of slavery required a new conceptual understanding.The common depiction of slavery during that time that Woodson wrote was of benevolent slave masters and enslaved Africans as content and happy. Historian Lawrence Reddick (1934) found in his textbook analysis that much of the depictions of slavery took on a pro-Southern position that characterized African Americans as content with slavery. Through most of the twentieth century scholars of African-American curriculum have tried to make sense of how the institution of slavery is depicted (see Brown and Brown, 2015). For example, in 1969, James Banks found that school depictions of slavery still had the image of the happy slave. While between the 1980s and 1990s some of the old stereotypes of happy slaves and benevolent slaveholders were mostly absent from the contemporary texts, new issues of representation surfaced. For example, Brown and Brown (2010) found that despite the depictions of slavery as a violent and unjust

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set of experiences for African Americans, the portrayal of violence tended to focus on individuals (e.g., Bull Connor, Slave Masters) and not the institutional and structural contexts that were complicit with these histories. In our film analysis we paid close attention to how contemporary film adheres to the old depictions of chattel slavery and African Americans, as well as new kinds of imagery that go beyond the typical tropes of representation (Brown and Kraehe, 2011).

Theoretical Considerations In this chapter we draw from cultural memory and key constructs in critical race theory to examine difficult histories in popular Hollywood films for how they specifically present the narratives of slavery and race in the United States. These frameworks collectively provide a way to consider how the sociocultural knowledge of race and the cultural memory of slavery in the US travel across popular societal discourse. Film plays a powerful role in constructing memory of US history (Seixas, 1994; Stoddard and Marcus, 2010). This, along with the ­re-emerging global popularity of interrogating slavery in both scholarly discourse and in popular visual media text (Berlin, 2004; Chambers, 2013) make examinations of Hollywood film on slavery both timely and relevant.

Cultural Memory Scholars (Lowenthal, 1996; Trouillot, 1995) of history argue that the production of historical discourse in society helps to shape how one can make sense of social realities in the present. It also helps to engender a collective identity about groups’ and institutions’ relationships from the past to the present.This body of scholarship maintains that the making of historical memory is constructed by a confluence of actors, discourses, symbols, and representations that help to normalize meanings of the past and present. Making meaning about “race” and racism is inextricably tied to the teaching about the difficult racial histories of the United States which in turn can help students interpret issues of racial inequality in the present. In this sense, we argue that in conjunction with a multitude of discursive and material factors, American cinema has played an important role in the making of American slavery memory in the present. Yet, we contend that contingent on the time, location, and mechanisms of meaning-making employed; old and new tropes of representation emerge. We further acknowledge the work of African Diasporic memory scholars such as Michell Trouillot (1995) and Saidiya Hartman (2008) that realize historical representations of African Diasporic peoples are illusive and can never fully capture the essences of meanings and experiences in its totality.

Critical Race Theory Scholars have adopted critical race theory (CRT) in various disciplinary areas, including education, to explore the endemic nature of race and racism

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(Bell, 1992a; Ladson-Billings and Tate, 1995; Solórzano, 1997). The goal of CRT in education is to excavate how race operates in society and in education, both at the structural and local, everyday levels (Dixson and Rousseau, 2006). It recognizes race as a social construct that has meaningful material benefits that bolster and sustain Whiteness, White privilege, and systems of White supremacy. CRT emerged as a response to criticisms of critical legal studies, a theoretical approach that while concerned with how law itself helped to maintain societal inequity, failed to address how the construct of race and the practices of racism operated in these processes. This is accomplished through various strategies that include: (1) ­counter-narrative, an approach that calls attention to the voices of marginalized people of color by listening to how their own experiences, and the knowledge that emerges from them, illuminate and disrupt dominant narratives about race, racism, and racial progress in society and schools (Solórzano and Yosso, 2001); (2)  recognizing Whiteness as a form of property that offers to White persons and their interests various rights (Harris, 1993; Ladson-Billings and Tate, 1995;Vaught and Castagno, 2008; Buras, 2011;); and (3) the nature, paradox and limitations of interest-convergence (Bell, 1980; Donnor, 2005), or the strategy of addressing racial inequities in the context of remedies that serve and maintain dominant White interests; and (4) racial realism, a perspective that recognizes the endemic nature of racism in the US and the perpetual subordinate status consigned to people of color regardless of their possession of valued White forms of capital (Bell, 1992b). While CRT moves from a place of pessimism about the ability to ever extinguish racism from the US social landscape, it also seeks to inspire hope in the midst of the struggle for racial redress and equity (Bell, 1992a).

Examining Hollywood Histories In the section that follows, we present a discussion and analysis of three popular Hollywood films that depict slavery: Amistad (1997), Lincoln (2012), and 12 Years a Slave (2013). We selected these films to examine because they each enjoyed popularity in the mainstream US media. We reviewed the films by watching the narrative of slavery presented, as well as how race and racism was reflected in the story. We maintain that these three movies could help students to explore the following question: How is the history of American chattel slavery depicted in American motion pictures?

Amistad The movie Amistad was released in 1997 with a sense of optimism that the movie would challenge old stereotypes. The movie’s producer, Debbie Allen came across the story through her reading of some books and began to shop the movie to different studios, when Dreamworks and Stephen Spielberg decided to pickup the movie. The movie was based on a true story of the 1839 mutiny of enslaved

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Africans aboard the ship La Amistad. As the story was told, the enslaved men aboard the ship were able to take control of the ship, however, left alive two of the ship’s navigators to help sail the ship back to Africa. However, the Spanish navigators covertly steered the ship to the US Northeast, where it landed in Connecticut. From that point forward, an international battle emerged over ownership of the enslaved Africans aboard the ship. The case was deliberated in the Supreme Court in 1841 and it served as the central focus of the movie. In keeping with the theoretical tenets of CRT, our analysis found Whiteness as property, interest convergence and counter-narrative throughout the movie version of this story. Aside from the number of historical inaccuracies of this story, including where the ship landed or whether John Quincy Adams was tentative to work on the case and then later decided to join the case are important points to consider regarding the film. Elsewhere scholars have considered the historical merit of the film (Foner, 1998). In our case while recognizing these concerns, we argue that all movies in their fictional or historical manner provide students with historical meanings. While there are a number of historical inaccuracies, these do not take away from the pedagogical work of this (or any) movie. A key theme to emerge was the notion of Whiteness as property. From the moment the movie focuses on the enslaved Africans’ arrival into the US, the issue of ownership is illuminated. The question of whether they were the property of the Spanish navigators, the Spanish government or their own personhood, Africa was central to the case. A recurring idea that emerged during the court testimonies and in the discourse among men concerned with the case was the inherent right of White men to own and possess other human beings. However, the notion of Whiteness and possession was not located only in the domain of material ownership. It was enclosed in whom had the capital to deliberate over international affairs. Thus, those that had the right to deliberate over the case were mostly all White and men, whether they were engaging the question of ownership or discussing whether treaties were broken. Indeed, the question of ownership and freedom was enclosed in the fate of White men. In this context the Black body was in the full possession of the racial authority of Whiteness in freedom and/or in bondage. Also presented throughout the plot of the movie is the idea of interest ­convergence. Interest convergence occurs when White elites convene on the topic of racial remediation only when it can advance their own interests above the interest of Black freedom (Bell, 1980). This played out in at least three ways throughout the movie. Here we slightly extend the usage of interest convergence to show that the mere desire to engage this case called on multiple interests to convene beyond the ­fundamental issue of Black freedom or bondage. This first played out in one of the first court scenes where the political and economic interests of the US government, the anti-slavery movement, the US naval officers, the Spanish Government and Spanish navigators, and the issue of African freedom conjoined. In this scene, several government officials come

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rushing into the court room waving documents of authority and speaking on the behalf of government authorities, arguing whether the Black people in question were someone’s possession or free to return home. First, while the British government defended the issue of freedom for the Africans, it was only a matter of law and treaties and not the fundamental issue of freedom in of itself. This freedom was also integrally connected to the US government’s power to define international law. In this context the stoic-faced government authorities expressed in sober ways the terms of which freedom and property were defined. The other space where the idea of interest convergence came through was with the US government’s political interest in the case. It was clear from the moment the case was brought to the then-President Martin Van Buren by his Secretary of State John Forsyth that his interests in this case were directly tied to his political interests in getting reelected.Van Buren did not want to lose the good favor of the powerful political bloc of southern White supporters of slavery.The third and final space where interest converge surfaced was when it became apparent to the composite fictional character, Theodore Joadson, a Black Abolitionalist who realized that his White Abolitionist colleague Lewis Tappan was more willing to martyrize the Africans in death to advance the anti-slavery movement than to protect the welfare of the Black people on La Amistad. The third and final construct of CRT to emerge in this movie was the notion of counter-narrative. As it has been well documented, little of the discourse around the issue of US chattel slavery focuses on the ways enslaved Africans resisted the institution of slavery (Brown and Brown, 2010). In the opening scene, one sees in riveting fashion, the resilience and strength of Joseph Cinque to overcome the condition of bondage. He is shown picking away in a furious and steadfast manner to pull apart a nail that he used to free himself from his shackles. Then in what some may say is the most violently striking imagery of a slave revolt on the Hollywood screen to date, Cinque and the African men go in a fury, killing their captors and overtaking the boat to reclaim their freedom. Yet, even beyond this scene another counter-narrative emerges: the depiction of a thoughtful and intellectual Joseph Cinque asking questions and pursuing answers regarding his case (even though historian Eric Foner [1998] argues that there is little historical evidence that Cinque engaged in such inquiries). The point is that we know that enslaved and free Blacks have always petitioned for their own freedom (Gates, 1988). To portray a Black man seeking to redress his condition of bondage is hardly fiction and serves as a powerful counter-narrative to longstanding tropes of Black acquiescence to enslavement. Overall, we found Amistad in its whole and parts as illustrative of both old and new tropes about the historical meanings of American chattel slavery. For example, there are several characters reminiscent of the archetype “White savior” such as John Quincy Adams, Roger Sherman Baldwin, and the British government that were positioned as exerting agency in a way that ultimately saved the day for the captured Africans. Even within this subtle characterization of White savior-hood,

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the agency of White men presented only part of the composite story of Cinque and his comrades’ journey back home. This was not central to the story’s resolution. The narratives of resistance portrayed Amistad are important because Black resistance in slavery is rarely accounted for in this manner in American cinema and popular culture as a whole.

Lincoln The film Lincoln explores the events leading up to the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment that ended slavery in the United States. The story of this process is shrouded in political machinations, yet paradoxically for morally just ends. As the film’s title indicates, President Lincoln is recognized as the key, emblematic figure in this narrative.Visually the film offers a Lincoln that is physically underwhelming and at times awkward, yet also intelligent, politically shrewd, and morally virtuous. These visual moves in the film reinforce the existing dominant framing of Lincoln as the Great Emancipator and White benefactor for Black freedom.Yet it also presents the events leading up to the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment as politically complicated and tenuous. These challenges were punctuated by Lincoln’s intriguing persona and political commitments that teetered between ambivalence, thoughtful consideration of, and passion toward ending slavery. The film opens with a scene from the Civil War. Lincoln is on the battlefield talking to Union soldiers, several of whom are Black. While this exchange conveyed the reticence Lincoln had in assuring the Black soldier that he would have a job at the conclusion of the war, it also framed Lincoln as awe-inspiring. This clearly makes sense, as Lincoln was the president and the commander-in-chief of the armed forces.Yet, the visual placement of Lincoln, towering above the soldiers and them gazing up at him, harkens to longstanding images of Lincoln as an advocate for race equality and the unifier of the country. Lincoln as White savior is a key theme of the film, where Whiteness operates as a clear form of valued property. White people dominate the screen. They are the key actors in the ensuing drama that unfolds around the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment. Curiously, no Black characters play a role in this challenging work. For example, Hughey (2013) noted that only four Black characters figure in the film. With the exception of one, Lydia Smith the housekeeper to Senator Thaddeus Stevens that was also rumored to be his lover and life partner, all of the Black characters were hired help in the White House. There was no mention of the countless Black people that played a firsthand role in the Abolitionist movement, including Fredrick Douglass, the formerly enslaved Black man that rose to prominence in the Abolitionist movement and had a relationship with Lincoln. Whiteness, linked with interest convergence, defined the terms by which the Thirteenth Amendment was eventually passed. A key concern among the political actors, including Lincoln himself was ending the war. The question that continued to emerge was if the war could end without legally ending slavery. This

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was debated fiercely in Lincoln’s inner circle and the film brilliantly conveys the political maneuvering that accompanied the eventual passage of the amendment. Several scenes depict Lincoln discussing the necessity to pass the amendment, specifically in relation to ending the war. An example of this takes place early in the film when Lincoln and his Secretary of State Charles Seward take a meeting with citizens, Mr. and Mrs. Jolly. Mrs. Jolly was asked if she supported ending slavery. She immediately stated, “Yes, I want to end the war.” Here the audience is made aware of the presumed inevitable relationship between ending the war and ending slavery. Ending slavery was simply an act that was recognized by many as necessary not on moral grounds but in order to bring about national peace.When asking Mrs. Jolly if she would end slavery even if ceasing the war could occur with passage of the Thirteenth Amendment she shifted the question to her husband’s wishes, stating: “If that was how it was, no more war and all, I reckon Mr. Jolly would much prefer not to have Congress pass the amendment.” This, ultimately was because of what the “Niggers,” presumably would do. She went on to note concerning her husband that “[i]f he don’t have to let some Alabama coons come up to Missouri, steal his chickens and his job, he’d much prefer that.” Other scenes in the film offer evidence of Lincoln’s cabinet members persuading him to delay trying to pass the amendment until later when there might be more support for the law. These were generally met with consternation from Lincoln who was portrayed as headstrong in his insistence that the amendment be passed before the cessation of the war. This positioning of Lincoln as both shrewd and morally convicted complicates the idea that Lincoln solely acted from a place of political strategy. It also further inscribes him as a morally just leader for racial equality.This, along with the various scenes where Lincoln appears troubled by slavery – including several instances when his youngest son is looking at photographic plates of enslaved Blacks or posing questions directly to Lincoln about the institution of slavery, and Lincoln is visually ill at ease. Thus, while the film is clear to point out that political interests converged to mark the necessity to end slavery, it equally positions Lincoln as genuinely desirous that slavery end, prior to the end of the war. What the film conveys is less the tension Lincoln felt regarding the need to end slavery – something documented in the archive (see the primary source documents in the activity, “What Did Lincoln believe?”; see https://www.learner.org/ workshops/primarysources/emancipation/activities01.html) and rather the political engine that made the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment possible. Lincoln maintains his role as the awkward yet moral, race leader even as those presumably more radical than him (e.g.,Thaddeus Stevens and his inner circle), get positioned as willing to silence their beliefs in Black racial equality in order to achieve politically correct ends. A powerful scene in the film revolves around the appeal made to Thaddeus Stevens to not express support for the Thirteenth Amendment on the basis of achieving Black racial equality. In the end, he verbally supports it for legal equality only, sealing in place that racial equality for most (but not Lincoln) was fully vested in White interest convergence.

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The strength of Lincoln resides in its careful presentation of the political p­ rocesses behind the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment, even as it is silent on the role of Black people in these events. Additionally, traditional tropes found in narratives about slavery operate somewhat with the most prominent residing in Lincoln himself (and to some extent, Thaddeus Stevens as well) as the benevolent White savior and protector of racial equality. While given only one scene in the film, the audience also sees Stevens’ biracial mistress, Lydia Smith, lounging in bed with him as he tells her about the passage of the amendment. Smith clearly harkens back to the category of the tragic mulatto but her story or place in Steven’s life does not figure prominently in the film so it is a more muted presentation.

12 Years a Slave In 2014, director Steve McQueen released the film 12 Years a Slave that chronicled the tumultuous narrative of Solomon Northrup, a free Black man that was tricked and sold into slavery.The film won numerous awards in the United States, including the Academy Award for Best Picture. Northrup spent 12 years enslaved in Louisiana where he became intimately acquainted with an unfamiliar social reality. The raw, visceral presentation of the institution of slavery was captured through the deepening consciousness of Northrup as a Black man bound with no rights to which the White people around him had to respect. This perspective was both disconcerting and strange as Northrup was a talented and sought-after violinist. He resided in Saratoga, New York, with his wife and children and by all accounts, enjoyed a comfortable life. Visually the film begins with a series of scenes that alternate between the linear narrative of events that took place in Northrup’s eventual enslavement and those that illuminated his former life as a free Black man.The scenes are brief and often are presented abruptly, moving between time and space, as if reflecting the flashes of remembrances experienced by Northrup himself. These shifts eventually give way to a more temporally stable, linear narrative that focuses on the 12 years Northrup spent in slavery. The story, as it is autobiographical, is told from the point of view of Northrup. The uniqueness of this first person perspective, from the standpoint of the enslaved, does not go unnoticed. Across the film the audience witnesses the racial transformation of Northrup from a free Black man whom from what is presented in the film, does not appear to hold a strong or even marginal Black racial identity, to one that is clearly cognizant of his race positionality. The idea of enslavement and the community of enslaved Black people that surround Northrup serve as a visual juxtaposition in the film. Early in his enslavement Northrup is often alone and appears distant from the others on the plantation. He is unaware of their rituals as reflected in his inability to sing Negro spirituals or partake in activities that the others do in order to pass the time away or to develop a spiritual center in the midst of oppressive conditions. Yet this changes when Northrup is asked to assist in burying a Black

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man that died while working in the fields. As the film closes in on the scene the viewer observes a contemplating Northrup making the decision to begin singing with his fellow enslaved compatriots. This, along with one of the most visually violent scenes in the film where Northrup is forced to whip the back of a fellow enslaved woman, signals his recognition as a Black man whose fate and identity is connected to his fellow enslaved counterparts. Northrup spends 12 years in slavery before he is able to go back to his home in New York. The film portrays this process as integrally linked to Whiteness, in this case, finding a White person Northrup could trust to inform his family and friends back home of his illegal bondage. When considering the framework of critical race theory, 12 Years a Slave illustrates the power of Whiteness as property with the recognition of privilege and benefits that Whiteness bestowed on those that held it. It also points to the limited racial realism that Northrup possessed that inevitably played a role in his experiences. The very fact of slavery’s existence and its reliance on Black people speaks directly to the property value associated with White identity. This, of course, was complicated by Northrup’s existence himself: he was a free Black man, living in a time where pervasive Blackness was directly related to the institution of slavery.Yet Northrup’s status as a free man linked him to Whiteness in a way that allowed him the naïve lack of recognition that he was, in fact, Black. His refined ways of life, including his ability to play classical violin added further evidence of the White capital that benefited Northrup, but that in the end could not protect him from his racial identity. In fact what saved him was an appeal to Whiteness as reflected in his choice of a sympathetic,White confessor and the state laws that deemed Northrup’s bondage illegal. That Northrup possessed ways of being and knowledge associated with White capital was also illustrative in his ability to read and solve complex problems, along with the knowledge he held about various aspects of carpentry and so-called civilized activities valued by elite Whites. This knowledge, while at times helpful – for example, the favor Northrup gained from several White owners, but simultaneously made him a target – for example, the fear and insecurity Northrup engendered among some Whites, including the plantation owner Epps and other lower-level White plantation workers. The possession of White capital both privileged and disadvantaged Northrup for paradoxically the same reasons. The knowledge and forms of being associated with Whiteness that Northrup possessed allowed him an elevated place above Black people that were enslaved.Yet his Whiteness was negotiable in proximity to Whites whose White property defined the terms of rights to use and to enjoy and the right to exclude. Aside from its astute portrayal of the complexities of race and racial identity, the film also provides a counter-narrative to traditional stories often told about race and slavery, both in film and in other curricula texts. These counter-narratives reflect alternative stories to the traditional or one-dimensional depictions of race and slavery during the antebellum era. As pointed out previously, race operated in decidedly different ways depending on one’s social class and region. In the film

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the story of slavery is not presented as a monolithic either, where all of the Whites that owned or benefited from the labor of enslaved Black people were wealthy. For example, Northrup’s narrative presents slavery as a violent and complex institution. All Black people were not enslaved and even in the South where slavery reigned, Black people occupied liminal spaces and White people labored alongside enslaved Blacks. An example of this was found in the character of Mistress Harriet Shaw. Mistress Shaw was an enslaved Black woman who had an openly sexual relationship with a White male farmer. It was not clear if other enslaved people were a part of the household, but Mistress Shaw was clearly positioned as a powerful, prominent figure in the home and with the White male owner. This narrative of race, gender, and sexuality makes more complex traditional narratives of slavery concerning the relationship between Black women and White men in the South. Along this vein, Northrup’s narrative also disrupts dominant stories of labor on plantations in the South as well. Northrup did not work solely on one plantation, but instead was leased out for hire. He worked in two different locations where one of the owners was benevolent and protective of Northrup when he angered one of the White overseers (Stoddard and Marcus, 2010). The second owner was forbidding and psychologically unstable, often doling out cruel punishments based on his emotional moods and insecurities. This presentation of the good/ bad White plantation owner harkens to a longstanding binary representation often presented of slavery. This relationship relies on the existence of the evil, demonic White slave owner or a benevolent, kind White one that presumably defined one’s experience in slavery. In this way racism becomes relegated to micro, individual level behaviors between people rather than woven into the structures and institutional practices that reified, supported, and reinforced White supremacy. Brown and Brown (2010) referred to this positioning of race and racism in US historical narratives as “bad men doing bad things” (p. 60). While the film positioned White planters in this simple binary, it also complicated the role of the traditional benevolent, White savior. This was illuminated in the example of Northrup’s first White owner that struggled with the immorality of certain normalized practices in the institution of slavery (e.g., separating enslaved mothers from their children; extreme violence inflicted on enslaved people) but because economic interests chose to tolerate, rather than transgress them. Additionally, the White man that made it possible for Northrup to return to his old life did so from a seemingly dispassionate and fearful place. He knew that it was dangerous for him to share the information, yet this was reflected visually in the film without much fanfare or special attention.

Conclusion We acknowledge that although movie depictions of slavery have some level of noted historically inaccuracies, they can still provide different contexts for

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understanding US chattel slavery. This certainly was the case for the movies we analyzed in this chapter. Each of the movies were able to provide important depictions about slavery but none of the movies were able to capture the full comprehensive and complex historical meanings of US slavery. The incompleteness of these movies is their inability to account for the durable structural and discursive frameworks of “race” that operated in the institution of slavery. Thus these movies, in their entirety, help to sustain a cultural memory of slavery as solely as a cultural phenomenon of the past that had no long-term implications of racial inequality in the present. We doubt however, whether any movie depiction could effectively tell the story of US slavery in all of its complexity and context. We argue then that these movies, while providing neither perfect nor complete re/(-)presentations, still offer a myriad of learning opportunities about slavery and race in the United States. Our findings from our analysis of the three films illuminate the emergence of different CRT constructs, as well as the varied kinds of race understanding one can gain from observing these movies. The notion of Whiteness as property, counter-narrative, and interest convergence played out in different ways across each movie. However, despite similar constructs, there are differing notions of understandings about race one might acquire about the institution of slavery across the films. For example, in Amistad one can examine how a slave revolt might have played out on a slave ship going across the Middle Passage. One can also begin to understand the economic and cultural meanings of the notion of “chattel” and property in relation to Black racialized bodies. Additionally, one can gain insight into illusive meanings of “freedom” as reflected through the tumultuous journey of Solomon Northrup in 12 Years a Slave. With this one can also understand the economic context of slave labor and the micro-context of power relations within a southern plantation. In Lincoln, an observer can come to learn about the pathways to Emancipation, as well as the complex ways that the issue of freedom was entangled by the politics of war and regionalism. Collectively all of the films provide an important yet cursory glance into the different ways chattel slavery was conceptualized in the United States during the nineteenth century. This leads us to our final point in this chapter: What should teachers do with these movies? When using these films we offer that one keep the following question in mind: How do slave-themed films in their whole or parts depict the topic of slavery as a structural and institutional phenomenon? In keeping with the existing literature on using film in the classroom (Stoddard and Marcus, 2010) we argue that the use of movies must be pedagogical. To simply push play and let students passively watch a time period movie without pausing and raising questions is pedagogically dangerous. It is important to note that not all students will come to understand the topic of race and racism in these movies in the same manner. Therefore, the pedagogical potential of movies rests on their ability to set the context of the history of slavery or provide an illustration of aspects of slavery that a teacher might want to pursue. This requires teachers’ decision-making on what

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to use as a clip. From what we observed when viewing each of the movies, this process would not require showing graphically difficult scenes (i.e., cursing, rape, and violence) to teach students about race and racism through America’s racial history. As our analysis of the three films illustrated, there are powerful scenes that students can watch in order to engage in active questioning and classroom deliberation. We would suggest this is the most useful way to use these films in the classroom. In showing students scenes of court interactions, the drama of violence on slave ships and plantations, teachers can invite students to consider what the film maker is attempting to convey and the historical lessons they learn as a consequence. Students can then consider the extent to which what they observed in the film is consistent with or departs from what they have studied about race and the institution of slavery.The point here is that despite some of the limitations found in these movies, the visual imagery can provide a stunning and powerful pedagogical bridge to further support students’ understanding of chattel slavery in the United States. In conclusion, we argue that the movies we examined can serve as a powerful tool to scaffold students’ understanding of race and slavery. They also collectively present a narrative for understanding the formation of slavery and the role of race across specific cases, contexts, and time periods in US history. Film then, as a medium, offers a useful pedagogical tool for students to gain a glimpse into the realities of slavery and race in the United States.

References Banks, J. (1969). A content analysis of the Black American in textbooks. Social Education, 33, 954–957. Bell, D. A. (1980). Brown v. Board of Education and the interest-convergence dilemma. Harvard Law Review, 93(3), 518–533. Bell, D. A. (1992a). Faces at the Bottom of the Well:The Permanence of Racism. New York: Basic Books. Bell, D. A. (1992b). Racial realism. Connecticut Law Review, 24(2), 363–379. Berlin, I. (2004). American slavery in history and memory and the search for social justice. The Journal of American History, 90(4), 1251–1268. Bogle, D. (2001). Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies, and Bucks: An Interpretive History of Blacks in American Films (4th ed.). New York: Continuum. Brown, A. L. (2010). Counter-memory and race: An examination of African American scholars’ challenges to early 20th century K-12 historical discourses. Journal of Negro Education, 79 (1), 54–65. Brown, A. L. and Brown, K. D. (2010). Strange fruit indeed: Interrogating contemporary textbook representations of racial violence towards African Americans. Teachers College Record, 112(1), 31–67. Brown, A. L. and Brown, K. (2015). The more things change, the more they stay the same: Excavating race and Enduring Racisms in U.S. curriculum. National Society for the Study of Education, 114(2), 103–130.

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Brown, K. D. and Kraehe A. (2011). Sociocultural knowledge and visual Re (-) ­presentations of Black Masculinity and Community: Reading the wire for critical multicultural teacher education. Race, Ethnicity and Education, 14(1), 73–89. Buras, K. (2011). Race, charter schools, and conscious capitalism: On the spatial politics of whiteness as property (and the unconscionable assault on black New Orleans). Harvard Educational Review, 81(2), 296–331. Chambers, E. (2013). Remembering the crack of the whip: African-Caribbean artists in the UK visualize slavery. Slavery & Abolition, 34(2), 293–307. Dixson, A. D. and Rousseau, C. (Eds.). (2006). Critical Race Theory in Education: All God’s Children Got a Song. New York: Routledge. Donnor, J. K. (2005). African-American football student athletes in major college sports. Race Ethnicity and Education, 8(1), 45–67. Flores, R. R. (2002). Remembering the Alamo: Memory, Modernity, and the Master Symbol (1st ed.). Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Foner, E. (March 1998). The Amistad case in Fact of History Matters. Retrieved from http:// historymatters.gmu.edu/d/74. Gates, H. L. (1988). The trope of the new Negro and the reconstruction of the image of the Black. Representations, 24, 129–155. Guerrero, E. (1993). Framing Blackness. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Harris, C. I. (1993). Whiteness as Property. Harvard Law Review, 106(8), 1710–1791. Hartman, S. (2008).Venus in two acts. Small Axe, 12(2), 1–14. Hughey, M. W. (2013). Film review: Slavery, emancipation, and the great white benefactor: A review of Lincoln and Django Unchained. Humanity & Society, 37(4), 351–353. Ladson-Billings, G. and Tate, W. F., IV. (1995). Toward a critical race theory of education. Teachers College Record, 97(1), 47–68. Lowenthal, D. (1996). The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History. New York: Free Press. Reddick, L. (1934). Racial attitudes in American history textbooks of the south. The Journal of Negro History, 19(3) 225–265. Reddick, L. D. (1944). Educational programs for the improvement of race relations: Motion pictures radio, the press, and libraries. The Journal of Negro Education, 13(3), 367–389. Rhodes, J. (1993). The visibility of race and media history. Critical Studies in Mass Communication, 10(2), 184–191. Seixas, P. (1994). Confronting the moral frames of popular film: Young people respond to historical revisionism. American Journal of Education, 102(3), 262–285. Solórzano, D. G. (1997). Images and words that wound: Critical race theory, racial stereotyping, and teacher education. Teacher Education Quarterly, 3, 5–19. Solórzano, D. G. and Yosso,T. J. (2001). From racial stereotyping and deficit discourse toward a critical race theory in teacher education. Multicultural Education, 9(1), 2–8. Stoddard, J. D. and Marcus, A. S. (2006).The burden of historical representation: Race, freedom and “educational” Hollywood film. Film & History, 36(1), 26–35. Stoddard, J. D. and Marcus, A. S. (2010). More than “showing what happened”: Exploring the potential of teaching history with film. The High School Journal, 93(2), 83–90. Trouillot, M. (1995). Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Vaught, S. E. and Castagno, A. E. (2008). “I don’t think I’m a racist”: Critical Race Theory, teacher attitudes, and structural racism. Race Ethnicity and Education, 11(2), 95–113.

10 Classroom as Memory Workspace The Educational and Empathetic Potentials of 12 Years a Slave and Ask a Slave Matthew R. Cook and Derek H. Alderman

… It [film] makes it real … it isn’t a myth, it’s a reality. And with that comes one’s own response, and with that comes empathy, with that comes understanding. – Steve McQueen, director of 12 Years a Slave (United Nations, 2014, 10:00–10:46 minutes)

Introduction Following the lead of John Wills (2005, p. 128), we advocate for a critical p­ edagogy that transforms classrooms into a “workspace” for “critically examining and complicating collective memory and privileged traditions of remembering” (p. 128). In this chapter, we outline a pedagogical framework for using filmic representations to teach about historical realities of plantation slavery and challenge a tradition of ignoring, trivializing, or romanticizing the struggles of enslaved communities. We examine the film 12 Years a Slave (2013) and online comedy series Ask a Slave (2013) as part of the newest chapter in a long history of slavery c­ ounter-narratives that challenge what is often a “whitewashed,” sanitized repetition of the United States’ dark past.These filmic counter-narratives draw attention to chattel slavery’s complexity and brutality in their own unique ways, using different representational strategies ranging from violence to humor. Collectively, these media challenge racially charged (and sometimes racist-inspired) narratives of the enslaved as a ubiquitous group without agency and personality. We draw upon our classroom experiences as geographers of the African American experience to discuss how media portrayals of slavery can help students develop more nuanced and responsible understanding of a historically difficult topic. Both authors have experience using the Academy-award-winning film and the online humor series in higher education settings, and share a pedagogical praxis incorporating film to help

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students come to a more nuanced understanding of slavery, racism, and sexism.We contend that engaging college and high school students with difficult histories and geographies can transform classrooms into memory workspaces (Wills, 2005) designed to better prepare students to be analytically minded in their everyday encounters with cultural and historical landscapes and – drawing upon the quote from Steve McQueen above – culturally sensitive, empathetic citizens. Much like Marcus and Mills discuss regarding the Holocaust in Chapter 11, we see slavery as one of history’s quintessential “difficult” topics. Many of the hallmarks of difficult histories (to which we would add geographies) are found in the American slavery system: discussing and including chattel slavery in the classroom involves addressing the sheer trauma, violence, and brutality that took place under the global Transatlantic Slave Trade for more than four hundred years. Drawing upon Till’s (2012) notion that commemorating difficult histories as part of broader processes of public memory is difficult work, addressing trauma, violence, and brutality causes teachers to have to balance the desire to teach students understandable and accurate histories and geographies with the inclusion of c­ ontent, which has the potential to be traumatic in its own right for students at various age levels. As numerous authors in this volume discuss, incorporating graphic content in the classroom also raises concerns over whether that content is actually beneficial to students or simply inappropriate “shock value.” However, noting that “without controversy, there is no democracy,” Hess (2011, p. 69) says that educators must not shy away from introducing controversial historical topics in social, ideological, religious, and historical realms into the classroom. In her research on teachers who incorporate controversial issues, Hess observed that students improve interpersonal skills and increase tolerance of other viewpoints, especially in classrooms where teachers establish a climate of respect for all students. Finally, teaching the history of the American chattel slavery system firmly qualifies as difficult because of its historical and geographical complexity. The scope of historical and geographical research on slavery is incredibly vast – spanning the gamut of first person historical accounts, the role of slavery in shaping the American political economy, and the outcomes of slavery, including its effects on race relations in the present. Slavery brings a range of moral, intellectual, and emotional issues into the classroom through which teachers must be prepared to help students work. Over the last few years, we have incorporated 12 Years a Slave and Ask a Slave into our pedagogical praxis to engage with historical geographies of slavery and examine critical representations of African enslavement within contemporary public understandings of the antebellum plantation landscape. As geographers, we are particularly interested in the processes of how certain histories become “naturalized” in everyday landscapes and public memory, and engage in a public pedagogy that seeks to destabilize such representations. In the case of slavery, we find that whitewashed historical narratives are not merely about telling a benign, mythic version of the past that paints the southern planter class in a heroic light, but they have also empowered white elites to control African-American lives and

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continue to shape social relations in the present (Wacquant, 2002). We argue that a more historically accurate public pedagogy of slavery can help challenge contemporary issues of racism and sexism. We believe this pedagogy could include many films that present students with different perspectives on slavery. Presenting these varied perspectives helps students work through a number of binaries that challenge white-centric versions of American history that have tended to marginalize the enslaved. These binaries include: violent vs. humorous depictions; male vs. female perspectives; “Deep South” vs. East Coast geographical settings; antebellum vs. colonial time periods; actual historical narratives (found in 12 Years) vs. satirical fiction (the premise for Ask a Slave); and, finally, the depiction of the “faithful slave” in all its various guises, including the imagery of the desexualized “mammy” character vs. portrayals of the enslaved community as possessing agency and intellect. In Clinging to Mammy: The Faithful Slave in Twentieth-Century America, McElya (2007) argues that although the mammy figure – the stereotyped nanny or basic housekeeper figure found throughout much Southern fiction, lore, and pro-“Lost Cause” mythology – bears “little resemblance to actual enslaved women … she is the most visible character in the myth of the faithful slave” (p. 4). McElya explains that mammy figures were a key part of pro-slavery southerners’ reaction to the publication of slave narratives by former slaves and abolitionists because mammies supposedly demonstrated that slavery was benign, necessary as part of Southern paternalism, and appreciated by the enslaved. Mammies were also “useful” in early, pro-slavery fiction to contrast black and white women’s womanhood (McElya, 2007, p. 7). The mammy archetype is presented as desexualized (usually older women of “wide girth”), having sharp maternal instincts and “down home” commonsense despite little formal education. When considered alongside the supposedly “pure image” of the lithe white mistress, pro-slavery authors used the mammy narrative to counter abolitionists’ accusations of slavery involving forced sexual relations between black women and their owners or other white men (McElya, 2007). The mammy figure has been reproduced in just about every possible medium, from the “Aunt Jemima” trademark to salt and peppershakers to perhaps the most famous examples in film such as Jennie Lee in D.W. Griffith’s (1915) The Birth of a Nation and Hattie McDaniel’s Academy Award-winning portrayal in Gone with the Wind (1939). Rather than explicate how each binary could be examined using 12 Years and Ask a Slave, we focus on the use of film to challenge students’ ­understandings of race and gender roles through the faithful slave “mammy” stereotype. Specifically, students will (a) gain nuanced knowledge about the history of slavery (e.g., that slavery differed across geographical settings and in different historical periods); (b) be equipped to question why there has been a lack of education on slavery in the classroom; (c) recognize the multiple systems of oppression foundational to slavery, including racism, patriarchy, and sexism; and (d) advance their capacities to engage in historical empathy. Our pedagogy is informed by critical education

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studies, geographies of memory, and critical race theory. In this c­ hapter, we first outline the relevant literature and briefly describe 12 Years and Ask a Slave. Next, we explain our pedagogical framework and ways to incorporate Ask a Slave and 12 Years into the classroom. Then, we share sample lessons for using these two media to challenge the “mammy” stereotype as a classroom memory workspace. Finally, we conclude with thoughts on the intersection of film and critical pedagogy in challenging racism, sexism, and the widespread ignorance of slavery.

Toward an Anti-Racist, Anti-Sexist Pedagogy Critical Education Studies As noted above, our pedagogical approach to teaching difficult histories and geographies is inspired by and in response to the work of John S. Wills. Wills (2005) is noteworthy for his research on how schools act as institutional sites that promote particular versions of history through acts of remembrance and forgetting. Wills examines curricula and classroom approaches used by two ­second-grade teachers to teach the annual US holiday celebrating Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday and how observances of “MLK Day” are occasions to commemorate many historical events, people, and ideas. Wills notes that classrooms are key spaces of mnemonic socialization: the creation and maintenance of social memory. Importantly, he argues that teachers promote certain historical narratives at the expense of others, even at the earliest levels of formal education. Despite their second grade students’ desires and attempts to bring in outside knowledge to better understand King’s life, the teachers in Wills’ study went to great lengths to represent King in such a way that exclusively fit their school’s theme of peaceful conflict resolution. “[T]his provided an interpretive framework with which to represent King as a man who understood that social change could be achieved when people worked together to resolve conflict peacefully” (Wills, 2005, p. 124), rather than, for example, a framework that addressed why whites carried out violence and racial discrimination against African Americans in the first place. Wills also found that students drew upon everyday cultural resources including film in their formation of social memory regarding King's legacy. This has important implications for bringing film into classrooms where it can be used to either promote or critique different commemorative narratives, as we discuss further in our memory workspace using 12 Years a Slave and Ask a Slave. These ideas are also explored in Chapter 13, which looks at the film Precious Knowledge and the struggle over which narratives are included in curriculum in New Mexico and the importance of including students’ everyday cultural resources. Wills’ (2005) research echoes earlier work by Leib (1998) that also addresses bringing difficult or controversial topics into the classroom. In undergraduate and graduate classes, Leib used controversial debates over flying and displaying the Confederate battle flag in southern states to teach the cultural and political

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geographic topic of iconography. Addressing the risks of teaching controversial topics, Leib (1998) acknowledged the potential for discussions to either invigorate or disrupt his classrooms through students’ impassioned responses. Although Leib (1998) examined several strategies for how to approach teaching about controversial issues, he ultimately concludes that there is “no perfect solution” for teaching every issue (p. 230). This is important to bear in mind when teaching about the US chattel slavery system because students will have different levels of interest in and emotional responses to slavery. Another thread of critical education literature that we draw upon is research on educators’ role in creating and developing students' ability to engage in empathy. Different academic disciplines approach “empathy” with somewhat varied definitions, but we draw upon the notion of historical empathy, which distinguishes between empathy and sympathy. Empathy requires identification with other people’s conditions and being able to engage in historical thinking to see how past peoples perceived society, formed opinions, and acted upon their values and beliefs (Barton, 2006). Sympathy, in contrast, involves emotions such as compassion and desires to aid someone rather than identify with their perspectives (Moyn, 2006).Yilmaz (2007) adds that empathy is a skill students can develop to “re-enact the thought of a historical agent in one’s mind” (p. 331). However, it requires that students must know many historical facts, be able to access and analyze historical sources, balance the demands of imaginative thinking and critical investigation of material, suspend their own worldviews, and then examine and (ideally) appreciate past peoples’ historical perspectives in an intelligent fashion (Yilmaz, 2007).

Geographies of Memory Second in our approach to incorporating film into the classroom, the geographies of memory literature remind us that it is important to teach students that slavery not only had a history but also geography. Geographers have taken interest in studying the commemoration and memorialization of historic events since the “cultural turn” of the 1970s, and they study public memory from many angles. Johnson and Pratt (2009) argue that memory is “an inherently geographical activity: places store and evoke personal and collective memories, … and memories shape imaginative geographies and material geographies of home, neighborhood, city, nation, and empire” (p. 453). Much research on public memory focuses on material outcomes of commemorative practices, the growth of the heritage industry, and common responses to commemorative landscapes of violence and trauma (e.g., Lowenthal, 1996; Foote, 2003; Tyner, Alvarez, and Colucci, 2012). Many geographers also study commemorative practices – the actions and place-making processes that lead to construction of monuments, memorials, and other physical commemorative forms – and the political contestations that nearly always surround these processes (Alderman, 2002; Dwyer, 2002; Alderman, 2015). Other

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scholars have focused on questions of semiotics and monumental iconography (Harvey, 1979; Atkinson and Cosgrove, 1998), and on authenticity and the ways in which geography shapes people’s perceptions of a site’s historical a­ uthenticity (DeLyser, 1999; King, 2006). More recently, geographers have studied power and agency in public memory, for example studying state-sponsored memorial ­districts (Till, 2005) or individuals’ agency to shape memorial landscapes (Cook and van Riemsdijk, 2014). Recent work by Till (2012) reminds us that memory is work – often difficult.We agree with Till (2012) that although difficult histories are painful to commemorate, “to make repressed stories more tangible … groups and individuals may establish places of memory at historic sites of cultural trauma to reclaim national pasts and imagine more just futures [emphasis added]” (p. 7). However, in light of McDowell and Braniff ’s (2014) observations that some commemorative actions can amount to symbolic violence in situations of conflict – effectively hindering peace or reconciliation processes – we recognize that social memories of difficult histories must be approached carefully and responsibly, particularly in the classroom.

Critical Race Theory The third strand of literature informing our pedagogical strategy comes from critical race theory (CRT). Although it began in the 1970s in law and critical legal studies, CRT is incorporated into a number of academic disciplines whose scholars not only study but also work to transform relationships among and between race, power, and liberal concepts such as equality theory, rationalism, and even legal reasoning (see Chapters 7 and 13 in this volume). CRT also incorporates feminist concepts, most notable forms of domination – including but not limited to patriarchy and racism – that largely hinge upon invisible patterns, habits, and power relationships (Delgado and Stefancic, 2001). Fredrickson (2002) reminds us that racism not only comprises overt hostilities and negative actions against an “Other,” but also often includes a brutal antipathy of one group toward another. Critical Race scholars are also often adamant in discussing the dangers of empathy. Delgado and Stefancic (2001) for example, argue that a major fallacy surrounds the belief that increased empathetic capacity will lead to improved race relations or interpersonal understanding, and this “empathic fallacy” occurs whenever people think that a narrative can be changed simply offering a “better” one and relying on “the reader’s or listener’s empathy [to] quickly and reliably take over. Unfortunately, however, empathy is in shorter supply than we think” (p. 28). Applied to our pedagogy, Delgado and Stefancic’s theory might lead one to believe that there is no point in using film in the classroom to teach difficult histories and geographies. Although we agree with Delgado and Stefancic’s (2001) ultimate point about the empathic fallacy – that solidarity with oppressed groups is more impactful in the long term – we do still find value in empathy, particularly if working through and teaching about empathetic concepts can lead students to

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have greater empathetic “supply” than Delgado and Stefancic find. Further, we believe that solidarity with the experiences of the enslaved is only strengthened if it begins with an empathetic identification with the historical experiences of others. Beyond our consideration of empathic fallacy, we also draw upon CRT understandings of revisionist history and the importance of narrative analysis. As Delgado and Stefancic (2001) summarize, “Revisionist history reexamines America’s historical record, replacing comforting majoritarian interpretations of events with ones that square more accurately with minorities’ experiences” (p. 20). We find value in reviewing US history with an eye toward unsettling comfortable historiographies of racism, sexism, and slavery. The premise behind CRT scholars’ emphasis on narratives is that any given society’s racial structures make it difficult for the dominant racial group to understand other racial groups’ lived and felt experiences – nonwhites, in the American context (Delgado, 1989). The goal of using narratives and storytelling is to “understand what life is like for others, and invite the reader into a new and unfamiliar world” (Delgado and Stefancic, 2001, p. 41). Stories give voice to voiceless, suppressed minorities and call attention to or name discriminatory practices, thus helping people to dismantle those practices. We find narratives and storytelling – as they pertain to the filmic representations of slavery in complete fiction (Ask a Slave) and based on reality (12 Years) – to be extremely useful in our work toward anti-racist pedagogy. In the next section, we introduce 12Years a Slave and Ask a Slave and place them in context of the broader history of film about slavery.

Multi-Filmic Approach to Slavery Education Both 12 Years a Slave and Ask a Slave come fairly close on the heels of Lincoln (2012), a film that prioritizes slavery by focusing on Lincoln’s efforts to pass the 13th Amendment, and Django Unchained (2012), which deals fictitiously with more violent aspects of slavery and racism. With Lincoln and Django and the two media we discuss, the period from 2012 to 2013 can be seen as a turning point in the history of filmic representations of slavery. Indeed, the renewed interest of Hollywood depicting slavery has now spread to television series such as AMC Network’s TURN: Washington’s Spies, WGN America’s Underground, Black Entertainment Television’s slavery-themed, time-travel web series Send Me, and History Channel’s 2016 remake of Roots. Of these media representations, the powerful drama and achievements of 12 Years a Slave – including winning Best Picture, Best Supporting Actress (by Lupita Nyong'o), and Best Adapted Screenplay among nine total nominations at the 2014 Academy Awards – have brought slavery back to the national consciousness in the most dramatic fashion. According to online Box Office Mojo (2015), 12 Years a Slave costs $20 million to produce and grossed approximately $188 million at the box office, though nearly

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70 percent of its gross sales came from foreign (non–US) markets, a statistic very telling of the US political environment. The United Nations hailed 12 Years a Slave and director Steve McQueen as groundbreaking, screening the film as a part of its 2014 commemorative activities on the International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of Slavery and the Transatlantic Slave Trade. 12 Years is a somber portrayal of the life of Solomon Northup, based on Northup’s autobiographical accounts of his kidnapping in Washington, DC, and 12 years of enslaved labor in antebellum Louisiana. Although slavery has been presented in media representations through miniseries like Roots (1977) and less publicized foreign films like Sankofa (1993) and El Otro Francisco (1974, produced in Cuba), Hollywood films have rarely talked about slavery, though Glory (1989) and Amistad (1997) are notable exceptions. Steve McQueen noted in a panel discussion before screening 12 Years at the United Nations that he counted about 20 films (ever) that confront American slavery, not counting films that talk around slavery like The Birth of a Nation (1915) and Gone with the Wind (1939).The power of blockbuster films like 12 Years a Slave comes through their ability to challenge many myths and narratives that prevail about slavery, such as those parroted by many plantation museums. Many scholars have researched and written extensively about how these myths symbolically annihilate or marginalize the enslaved from the plantation (Eichstedt and Small, 2002; Modlin, 2008; Alderman and Campbell, 2008; Carter, Butler, and Alderman, 2014; Hanna, 2016; Potter, 2016). By presenting historical accounts based on Northup’s autobiography – with some Hollywood embellishment – to American and international audiences, 12 Years a Slave counters a number of myths identified by these scholars. These include beliefs that slavery was only important vis-à-vis the Civil War, that it was rare or did not exist in the Northern United States, that slavery occurred primarily in rural geographic settings, and that little is known about the enslaved – or conversely, that history points to enslaved “servants” being well treated or considered as family. In contrast to 12 Years, the online humor series Ask a Slave is written, directed, and produced by up-and-coming actress Azie Dungey, who worked at Mount Vernon in 2010 as an interpretive guide portraying a house slave for Martha Washington. Dungey channels this character into “Lizzie Mae” in the show, responding to and critiquing actual questions and comments that visitors posed to her on tours. The series includes two seasons with six episodes each and a “Christmas Special,” with a total running time just under 57 minutes. Although Ask a Slave has not experienced the same degree of fame or widespread consumption as 12 Years it addresses slavery in unconventional, humorous ways and in short installments (average episode length is 4.5 minutes), making the series relatively easy to incorporate into the classroom. As an online video series and accompanying website, Ask a Slave challenges the ignorance expressed by many plantation visitors using humor and satire.

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Our analysis of actual visitors’ comments and questions incorporated into Ask a Slave revealed three categories of ignorance: (1) freedom of choice for slaves on plantations, (2) historical/geographical inaccuracy or confusion, and (3) the kind master/faithful slave trope. Visitors falsely thinking slaves had much freedom on the plantation occurred most frequently.Visitor questions included: “What’s your favorite part of the plantation?” “Where do slave children go to school?” “Why not just leave to go to Massachusetts and go to school?” (Lizzie Mae responds, “How am I going to get to Massachusetts? Sprout wings and fly?”) “What do you use to make your skin look so good?” “Do you play chess?” These questions trivialize slaves’ lived experiences and seem to result from a whitewashed education about the harsh realities of chattel slavery. The second category focuses on inaccuracies and confusion over the historical period, reflecting poorly on visitors’ knowledge of American history and geography. Questions included: “What if Mary Washington wants a cup of tea in the middle of the night?” (Response: “Well, I don’t know any Mary Washington, but Martha Washington …”) “Why don’t you take the Underground Railroad?” “What does George Washington think of Abraham Lincoln freeing all his slaves?” (Response: “I don’t know an Abraham Lincoln, but he better not try to free another man’s slaves unless he’s tryin’ to get shot in the head.”) The third category of insulting questions and comments comes from a common motif among whites that slave owners and masters were generally kind toward slaves, and slaves in return were faithful and dependent upon their owners. These questions and comments included: “How did you get to be the housemaid (note the terminology) for such a distinguished founding father?” “Didn’t Washington free his slaves after he died?” “I bet the Washingtons are really nice to you—they seem really nice.” (Response: “They always give me a biscuit on my birthday …”) “If you really think about it honestly, slavery isn’t that bad.” (Lizzie Mae starts cursing in response.) Dungey challenges these ignorances by answering questions in such a way as to illustrate their absurdity, which she would never have been allowed to do in

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character at Mount Vernon. Take again the question of how she came to be the Washington’s housemaid: Lizzie Mae: Did I read the advertisement in the newspaper? Why yes. [Sarcasm] It said, “WANTED: One house maid. No pay. Preferably mulatto, saucy with breedin’ hips. Must work 18 hours a day, seven days a week, no holidays. [Fake excitement] But, you get to wear a pretty dress, and if you’re lucky, you just might carry some famous white man’s bastard child!” [Satire and exaggeration] So you better believe I read that, and I ran right over and said, “Sign me up!” Humor is a natural fit for the way Dungey builds her counter-narrative to many Americans’ understanding of slavery, though using humor has many advantages and disadvantages. By producing high quality videos with humor, Dungey diffuses underlying racial tension while making a coherent argument about the state of race relations and history education. Dungey also vents frustration from her time at MountVernon in a productive way – challenging and reflecting on what has and has not changed between the eighteenth and twenty-first centuries.The biggest potential disadvantage stems from some people’s beliefs that humor and satire should not make light of difficult or traumatic situations. This argument is frequently raised in response to Holocaust and Third Reich humor by those who view such topics as sacred and therefore “untouchable” for comedic value. For example, Life is Beautiful is loved by some but maligned by others for treating the Holocaust with humor. Further, humor and satire in the way Ask a Slave depicts plantation tourists as naïve or uneducated may also alienate or anger some audience members.

Memory Workspace: Challenging the “Mammy” Figure Using Film In this section, we present a sample lesson plan for employing filmic representations of slavery in a classroom memory workspace to teach the difficult historical geographies of slavery, challenging misconceptions and lack of knowledge about the American slavery system. Specifically, we provide guidelines to help teachers discuss the roles of race and gender under slavery, looking closest at the racist nature of “faithful slave” narratives and their dominant figure, the mammy. We present here an approach to teaching a three-day unit on slavery for high school and college students. We envision the material outlined here finding a home in undergraduate classes, but it could be suitably adapted to use in high school classes by monitoring the graphic content shown and limiting discussion to age-­appropriate topics that may deal less with violence and sexuality. High school teachers may find it beneficial to spend more than three days on this unit. By adding at least two days to this outline, we envision teachers introducing a greater depth of historical content and context.

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Challenging the “mammy” figure using Ask a Slave may seem like a fairly clear connection: “Lizzie Mae” – played by the strong, smart, witty Azie Dungey – easily challenges notions of enslaved women as docile, loving caretakers for their white owners. 12 Years a Slave, on the other hand, might seem to some to be a stretch for this analysis, given that the film’s main protagonist is Chiwetel Ejiofor’s “Solomon.” However, when one considers the portrayal of enslaved women in 12 Years – most notably Lupita N’yongo’s Academy Award-winning performance of “Patsey,” but also Adepero Oduye’s “Eliza” and Alfre Woodard’s “Harriet” – the film gives a more complex and politically and emotionally conflicted portrayal of gender and racial roles under slavery.These representations provide greater insight into the lives of enslaved women and – in keeping with Miles’s (2015) findings that white women were incredibly violent toward enslaved women – challenge the image of the iconic image of the “southern Belle.” In the rest of this section, we outline our memory workspace (consisting of 50-minute instructional periods across three days).

Day 1 Bearing in mind advice from the critical pedagogy literature (Yilmaz, 2007), we recommend starting the slavery unit with an introduction to slavery’s historical– geographical context, defining key concepts like racism, patriarchy, and sexism (if not previously covered in the course), and introducing primary and secondary sources before engaging in deeper study.This could take the form of an introduction to the Transatlantic Slave Trade or particular elements of the American chattel slavery system and should introduce students to primary sources such as Solomon Northup’s autobiography, other slave narratives such as Confessions of Nat Turner (Styron, 1967) and Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (Douglass, 1845), and secondary sources, particularly McElya (2007).1 Using primary and secondary sources is important in light of Hansen’s (1996) critique of Hollywood blockbuster films’ role as a dominant form of commemoration at the expense of other media.We recommend assigning college students reading sections from 12 Years a Slave2 and McElya’s (2007) introduction on the “faithful slave” myth and/or chapters 1, 3, and 4, which deal with the “Aunt Jemima” figure, the ­mammy’s motherly role, and attempts to commemorate mammies through various monument projects. High school teachers may consider assigning parts of 12 Years a Slave or other first person slavery narratives. For the remainder of class, teachers should introduce the culminating memory workspace project: an in-class town-hall discussion. Break the class into small groups3 and assign each group a character or historical figure whose viewpoint students will represent during the discussion. The exact list of characters to assign is up to teachers, but we recommend including several of the following: President Washington and Lizzie Mae from Ask a Slave; Solomon, Patsey, Mr. and Mrs. Epps

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from 12 Years; and possibly other enslaved characters or historical figures with differing perspectives such as Solomon’s family or characters played by Benedict Cumberbatch (slave owner William Ford) or Brad Pitt (a Canadian abolitionist named Bass). Have students use the remaining time to formulate ideas on who their character is, how they relate to other characters, and what positions they take on various issues pertaining to slavery, race, and gender, particularly the role of mammies. Advise students they will have additional time in the next class to develop their positions but may need to meet outside of class to be fully prepared. Teachers can wrap up the class by questioning students on the key themes of the historical/ geographical context of slavery and on the importance of first-person narratives.

Day 2 Building upon the first day’s introductory lecture, teachers will use day 2 to delve deeper into the power of filmic representations of slavery. We recommend showing three episodes from the first season of Ask a Slave: Episode 1, which introduces Lizzie Mae and the show’s format; Episode 3, which features some of the most outrageous questions; and Episode 6, which features interactions between Lizzie Mae and her son, Jimmy.4 These clips portray many characteristics of enslaved women – some true, some exaggerated for comedic effect – that stand in stark contrast to the mammy figure. Foremost among these is that Lizzie Mae – despite being the “personal house maid” – clearly bears no love or affection for President and Lady Washington or their children (she refers to them as “brats”). Azie Dungey qua Lizzie Mae is also young (she claims to be 28, making her “116 in slave years!”), smart and eloquent (as opposed to the clichéd folksy or uneducated mammy), and attractive (versus desexualized or exaggeratedly/overtly large in size). Her interactions with her own son in Episode 6 reveal her love, at times exasperated, for her own children (again, over that of the master’s family), their relationship with indentured servants, and that Jimmy, age 9, has been taught (by whom is unspecified) to read although he is not supposed to be educated. To contrast Ask a Slave with selections from 12 Years a Slave, we recommend beginning with the scene in which Mr. Ford buys Solomon and Eliza, an enslaved woman who submitted to her former master’s sexual advances to improve life for her and her children but nonetheless end up for sale after the master’s death (clip runs from the 29:32 mark through 32:06). This scene shows Eliza being separated from her children at auction, which might be difficult for some students to watch but reiterates the film’s emotional power. Follow up this scene with the interaction between Eliza and Solomon – called Platt during his enslavement – in which Eliza continues to mourn the loss of her children (play from the 40:00 mark through 41:50). Conclude the section on Eliza with the flashback scene (begins with a voiceover at 44:00 through 45:04) in which Eliza tells Solomon about her relatively privileged life as her previous master’s mistress. These scenes

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provide stark contrast to mammy figures and their relationship to white male owners, giving an example of coercive situations in which many enslaved women were forced to choose between the ever-present risk of rape as a field or house slave vs. being “willing” mistresses for their owners in hopes of an easier life. To contrast Eliza’s experiences as a black mistress, we next turn to Patsey, whom Solomon meets after being given by Mr. Ford to Mr. Epps to repay a debt. The first scene shows Patsey still in her relative innocence as the plantation’s most valuable cotton picker, when Epps calls her “the queen of the fields” and turns his lecherous attention toward her (55:42 to 59:34). Immediately thereafter, the film further develops Epps’ character as he drunkenly wakes his slaves in the middle of the night and brings them into the Big House to dance for his amusement while a disturbed Mrs. Epps watches. It is during this scene (through 1:01:46) that Master Epps’s lust for Patsey become too much for Mrs. Epps to bear. She reacts by throwing a heavy cognac bottle directly into Patsey’s face before commanding Epps to sell Patsey and threatening to leave if he does not. Epps warns his wife not to set herself up against Patsey and states that he would rid himself of Mrs. Epps before he would sell Patsey. Epps relationship with Patsey becomes increasingly violent and sexual throughout the film, to the point where Patsey asks Solomon to take her life “out of kindness.” However, these first two scenes should give students an idea of Patsey’s suffering and also provide another perspective on enslaved women that contrasts the characters of Eliza and Mistress Harriet Shaw (a former enslaved woman who becomes the “freed” wife of a plantation owner, but nevertheless wishes worse than “the curse of the Pharaohs … [on] the plantation class”) and Lizzie Mae from Ask a Slave. Patsey represents one of the most common lived experiences that enslaved women faced as a constant target for the master’s (or other white males’) affections. To reiterate McElya (2007), much of the Southern literature in the faithful slave genre responds to abolitionists’ accusations of the plantation class’s sexual depravity. Livesey (2014, n.p.) argues Patsey’s situation is among the worst horrors of domestic life under slavery: “the master sexually assaults her and the white mistress, instead of sympathising with her plight, subjects her to psychological and physical abuse.” After showing these clips (about 25 minutes) and helping students think through how the clips tie into their assigned readings, have students get back into their groups for any remaining time. Instruct students to discuss how the various clips impact their ideas from the first class on how to represent their character, and be sure to mingle through the classroom to address groups’ questions and concerns. Teachers can end class by asking students how gender and race are represented in the different film clips, and how the two media contrast both with each other and with students’ previous understandings of slavery. Teachers should also ask if there are any lingering questions about the town hall discussion for the last class.

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Day 3 The entire class on day 3 will be used for the town hall.To help students ­understand the expectations for the discussion, we recommend teachers establish and provide students a rubric in advance. Based on the critical pedagogy literature discussed above, we believe a rubric for a workspace like this should include evaluations for content knowledge, role portrayal, and effectiveness as a discussion participant, which includes not engaging in personal attacks and being able to disagree while thinking rather than without thinking in a reactionary way. Although the exact town hall format is ultimately up to teachers, they might start by asking each group to introduce their character and the character’s perspectives on slavery. Then, either naturally or with prompting from teachers, the groups could begin to interact with other groups’ positions while still “in character,” asking questions about other characters’ perspectives or historical experiences. We recommend teachers have a class handout of prompting questions to keep the discussion moving. These could include: What might happen if __________________________? (Here, teachers might create hypothetical situations involving characters and ask students to respond. For example: 1. What if Lizzie Mae decided to run away – how would she survive? How would people respond? 2. What if Solomon had never been rescued? How might his ­relationship to Epps and Patsey evolved over time? These types of questions require students to draw upon the recently learned historical knowledge of slavery and build their creative thinking.) How might your character feel about and react to _______________________? (Insert events from 12 Years a Slave and Ask a Slave, such as the interactions between Lizzie Mae and her son, Jimmy; the relationship between Eliza, Solomon, and Mr. Ford after Eliza is separated from her child; or the lecherous relationship between Mr. Epps and Patsey. Be sure to have groups representing characters from both media speculate on how the two might interact.) Finally, a logical conclusion to the town hall would be to come together after breaking character to continue to discuss what students learned from the week’s memory workspace. Teachers will likely want to recap main findings and educational outcomes, asking students what they have learned and how their perspectives may have changed throughout the week. We also suggest that teachers give a written assignment for students to “debrief ” and reflect on their essential understandings. This assignment could ask students to list key characteristics or draw contrasts between the mammy stereotype and the women of the two

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filmic representations and should ask students to reflect on how the non-mammy ­characters make them feel about and identify with the race and gender differently than before the lesson.

Conclusion: Using Film and Critical Pedagogy to Combat Racism and Sexism Wacquant (2002) argues that US white elites have historically employed many institutions to define and control African American lives. The first of these was slavery, followed by Jim Crow laws designed to enforce segregation in the US South and its contemporary in Northern industrial cities, ghettoization of African Americans who moved during the Great Migration. Under both systems, slavery’s legacies and impacts were manifold, most notably in the continued extraction of labor from, social ostracizing of, and open acceptance of violence toward black bodies (Wacquant, 2002). Jim Crow, seen as a modified extension of slavery, took on a social potency all its own as former slaves remained largely suppressed by whites who used the legal system and extra-judicial violence against anyone who dared to challenge the social order. The impacts of segregation, although legally struck down during the Civil Rights Movement, are still felt today as blacks are overwhelmingly more likely than whites to face poverty, insecurity of housing tenure, lack access to quality housing, and be incarcerated (Delgado and Stefancic, 2001; Wacquant, 2002; Gilmore, 2007). This demonstrates the overt power that white privilege and patriarchy still carry today and says much about how potent slavery still is to modern racism and sexism. Although a weeklong workspace on a difficult topic like slavery can be ­taxing on teachers in terms of time and energy invested and the potential for great emotional toll, we find that critical pedagogy engaging with difficult histories like slavery can help students develop a empathetically aware and nuanced understanding of the experiences of “Others” (see Chapter 2). Despite the risks inherent in engaging with the violence and trauma of slavery and the potential difficulties of engaging with satire in Ask a Slave, we believe the rewards outweigh the risks if properly managed. First, students can gain a desperately needed critical ­perspective on chattel slavery, which, as Wacquant (2002) and other scholars not-so-subtly claim, is strongly tied to white supremacy and racism prevalent in modern America. Evaluating students through daily in-class questions, written assessments, and the culminating town hall, teachers can help students realize the limits of their prior knowledge and alternate conceptions on slavery and inspire students to apply these lessons to other difficult histories. Second, students can realize the limits of their own historical empathy and improve their empathetic capacity by actively engaging with the perspectives of historical figures like enslaved women, thus working to counter the findings of Brooks (2009) and Delgado and Stefancic (2001) that people have less empathetic capacity than scholars tend to think. Finally, despite the risk of sounding overly optimistic, we

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believe that educational experiences like those outlined here have great potential to teach students to be better-engaged members of society and equip them to fight racism, sexism, and other forms of oppression.

Notes 1 For a primer on teaching slavery in the US from a critical perspective, please contact the authors or see Franklin (2000 [1947]). 2 Available for free online at docsouth.unc.edu/fpn/northup/northup.html. 3 To better work toward the educational outcomes, especially building empathy skills and identifying with different viewpoints, instructors will likely want to determine these groups in advance to ensure groups are diverse/not self-segregated. 4 Episodes are available at www.askaslave.com.

References Alderman, D. H. (2002). Street names as Memorial Arenas: The Reputational Politics of Commemorating Martin Luther King Jr. in a Georgia County. Historical Geography, 20, 99–120. Alderman, D. H. (2015). Naming streets, doing justice? Politics of remembering, forgetting, and finding surrogates for African American slavery heritage. In S, Choo (Ed.), Geographical Names as Cultural Heritage (pp. 193–228). Seoul, Korea: Kyung Hee University Press. Alderman, D. H. and Campbell, R. M. (2008). Symbolic excavation and the artifact politics of remembering slavery in the American South: Observations from Walterboro, South Carolina. Southeastern Geographer, 48(3), 338–355. Atkinson, D. and Cosgrove, D. E. (1998). Urban rhetoric and embodied identities: City, nation, and empire at the Vittorio Emanuele II Monument in Rome, 1870–1945. Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 88(1), 28–49. Barton, K. C. (2006). History, humanistic education, and participatory democracy. In R. W. Sandwell (Ed.), To the Past: History Education, Public Memory, and Citizenship in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Box Office Mojo. (2015, December 11). 12 Years a Slave. Retrieved from www .­boxofficemojo.com/movies/?id=twelveyearsaslave.htm. Brooks, S. (2009). Historical empathy in the social studies classroom: A review of the ­literature. Journal of Social Studies Research, 33(2), 213–234. Carter, P., Butler, D. L., and Alderman, D. H. (2014). The house that story built: The place of slavery in plantation museum narratives. The Professional Geographer, 66(4), 547–557. Cook, M. R. and van Riemsdijk, M. (2014). Agents of memorialization: Gunter Demnig’s Stolpersteine and the individual (re-)creation of a Holocaust landscape in Berlin. Journal of Historical Geography, 43(1), 138–147. Delgado, R. (1989). Storytelling for oppositionists and others: A plea for narrative. Michigan Law Review, 87, 2411–2441. Delgado, R. and Stefancic, J. (2001). Critical Race Theory: An Introduction. New York: New York University Press. DeLyser, D. (1999). Authenticity on the ground: Engaging the past in a California Ghost Town. Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 89(4), 602–632.

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Douglass, F. (1845). The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave. Boston: Anti-Slavery Office. Dwyer, O. J. (2002). Location, politics, and the production of civil rights memorial landscapes. Urban Geography, 23(1), 31–56. Eichstedt, J. L. and Small, S. (2002). Representations of Slavery: Race and Ideology in Southern Plantation Museums. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Foote, K. (2003). Shadowed Ground: America’s Landscapes of Violence and Tragedy. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Franklin, J. H. (2000 [1947]). From Slavery to Freedom: A History of Negro Americans. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. Fredrickson, G. M. (2002). Racism: A Short History. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Gilmore, R. W. (2007). Golden Gulag: Prisons, Surplus, Crisis, and Opposition in Globalizing California. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Hanna, S. P. (2016). Placing the enslaved at Oak Alley Plantation: Narratives, spatial c­ ontexts, and the limits of surrogation. Journal of Heritage Tourism, 11(3), 219–234. Hansen, M. B. (1996). Schindler’s List is not Shoah: The second commandment, popular modernism, and public memory. Critical Inquiry, 22(Winter), 292–312. Harvey, D. (1979). Monument and myth. Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 69(3), 362–381. Hess, D. (2011). Discussions that drive democracy. Educational Leadership, 69(1), 69–73. Johnson, N., and Pratt, G. (2009). Memory. In D. Gregory, R. Johnston, G. Pratt, M. J.Watts, and S. Whatmore (Eds.), The Dictionary of Human Geography (pp. 133–134). West Sussex UK: Wiley-Blackwell. King, S. A. (2006). Memory, mythmaking, and museums: Constructive authenticity and the primitive blues subject. Southern Communication Journal, 71(3), 235–250. Leib, J. I. (1998). Teaching controversial topics: Iconography and the confederate battle flag in the South. Journal of Geography, 97(4–5), 229–240. Livesey, A. (2014). A life more terrible: The women of 12 Years a Slave. Retrieved from (January 5, 2014) www.theconversation.com/a-life-more-terrible-the-women-of12-years-a-slave-21936. Lowenthal, D. (1996). Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History. New York: Free Press McDowell, S., and Braniff, M. (2014). Commemoration as Conflict: Space, Memory and Identity in Peace Processes. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. McElya, M. (2007). Clinging to Mammy: The Faithful Slave in Twentieth-Century America. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Miles, T. (2015). Tales from the Haunted South: Dark Tourism and Memories of Slavery from the Civil War Era. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Modlin, E. A. (2008).Tales Told on the Tour: Mythic Representations of Slavery by Docents at North Carolina Plantation Museums. Southeastern Geographer, 48(3), 265–287. Moyn, S. (2006). Empathy in history, empathizing with humanity. History and Theory, 45, 297–415. Potter, A. E. (2016). She goes into character as the lady of the house: Tour guides, performance, and the Southern plantation. Journal of Heritage Tourism, 11(3), 250–261. Styron, W. (1967). The Confessions of Nat Turner. New York: Random House. Till, K. (2005). The New Berlin: Memory, Politics, Place. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.

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Till, K. (2012). Wounded cities: Memory-work and a place-based ethics of care. Political Geography, 31(1), 3–14. Tyner, J. A., Alvarez, G. B., and Colucci, A. R. (2012). Memory and the everyday landscape of violence in post-genocide Cambodia. Social & Cultural Geography, 13(8), 853–871. United Nations. (2014, February 26). Steve McQueen, film director at panel discussion about his film ’12 Years a Slave’ as part of the 2014 Slavery Remembrance Commemoration. Remember Slavery—Remembrance of the Victims of Slavery and the Transatlantic Slave Trade. Retrieved from http://webtv.un.org/search/steve-mcqueen-film-directorat-­panel-discussion-about-his-film-12-years-a-slave-as-part-of-the-2014-slaveryremembrance-commemoration/3263174963001?term=steve Mcqueen - full-text. Wacquant, L. (2002). From Slavery to Mass Incarceration. New Left Review, 13 (January–February). Wills, J. (2005). ‘Some people even died’: Martin Luther King, Jr, the civil rights movement and the politics of remembrance in elementary classrooms. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 18(1), 109–131. Yilmaz, K. (2007). Historical empathy and its implications for classroom practices in schools. History Teacher, 40(3), 331–337.

11 Teaching Difficult History with Film Multiple Perspectives on the Holocaust Alan S. Marcus and Gary D. Mills

Introduction The Holocaust is the most widely studied human rights/genocide in American schools (Totten, 2012). It is also a required topic at Key Stage 3 (pupils aged 11–14) in the National Curriculum in England (Department for Education, 2013 History National Curriculum, p. 4). Although the goals, settings, and methods vary greatly from school to school, since the 1970s Holocaust education has played an important role in the secondary curriculum in both the United States and England. There are many factors cited as causing a rise in the prominence of Holocaust education including The Eichmann trial, Israel’s wars with its neighbors, and groups of educators and activists promoting discussion (Totten, 2012). Perhaps, as significant was the release of the 1978 television mini-series Holocaust.While criticized by some historians, the series was a catalyst for discussion and inquiry. Many years later, the film Schindler’s List (1993) encouraged another wave of interest in the Holocaust and provided teachers with a potentially powerful teaching tool. Since 1990, film makers have provided educators with a wide range of Holocaust films ranging from Europa Europa (1990) to The Pianist (2002) to Defiance (2008). While the Holocaust as a topic is deeply embedded in the US and British curriculum, the Holocaust triggers no shortage of pedagogical challenges. Using feature films as one tool within Holocaust education adds to these challenges, but more importantly presents significant opportunities to engage students with an effective and impactful experience. This chapter examines how feature films provide secondary teachers and ­students with opportunities to explore the Holocaust from under-represented perspectives, including non-US/non-UK national viewpoints as well as those from other groups often omitted from the typical curricular narrative. In the

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United States, the Holocaust is traditionally taught from an American point of view while marginalizing other national perspectives (e.g., Czech, Russian, or German). The use of films in teaching about the Holocaust in both England and the US often draws on Schindler’s List, The Pianist, and/or The Boy in the Striped Pajamas – three of the most used films by British (Pettigrew et al., 2009) and American (Gudgel, 2015) teachers. Holocaust education is also often narrow in its coverage with a focus on victims and perpetrators more than on other groups such as resisters, collaborators, rescuers, survivors, bystanders, and liberators. Films can engage students in broader narratives to include the new, and often overlapping, perspectives providing a more complex, yet realistic, portrait of the Holocaust. We discuss how the use of films by teachers provides the opportunity to engage students in understanding these international and marginalized perspectives, within the context of exploring the Holocaust as “difficult” history. Our emphasis is on the importance of the medium of feature films combined with the power of studying multiple points of view. For example, The Counterfeiters (2007) presents a perspective of resisters. Europa, Europa (1990) adds German and Soviet perspectives as well as those of survivors, collaborators, liberators, and bystanders. Amen (2002) is told from a German point of view and complicates the roles of collaborator, resister, and perpetrator. These films go beyond the perspectives of victim and perpetrator and are also outside of the American or British narrative. We discuss and evaluate these and other films for their ability to teach the difficult past of the Holocaust. We focus on feature films because of the power of their narratives, their ability to promote historical empathy, the wide variety of films available, and the potential difficultly in using these types of film. While documentary films are certainly an excellent source for teaching about the Holocaust, as are many other types of sources, they are beyond the scope of what we can do here. We start with a discussion of what makes the Holocaust so difficult to teach and then follow with specific examples of films that work well for teaching the Holocaust as difficult history.

Why Is the Holocaust Difficult to Teach? The Holocaust is particularly challenging to teach due to the trauma experienced by those involved, the potential graphic content both visually and in text, the complexity and scope of the event, the broad range – and quality of – teaching resources, and due to the widely varying goals teachers have for teaching the Holocaust. Understanding these challenges is especially important in being able to use film effectively as a teaching tool. By carefully considering these burdens, teachers can choose appropriate goals and better use films as a means to ameliorate these difficulties.

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Traumatic for Those Involved and Those Studying It One of the most obvious difficulties with teaching the Holocaust is the death and agonizing of millions of people. The sheer number of people killed and suffering along with the brutal methods used (killing squads, death camps, work camps, medical experiments, etc.) challenge teachers who want to help students understand the past, but to do so in a way that does not require students to “experience” the suffering. As Elie Wiesel (1978) asks, “How do you teach events that defy knowledge, experiences that go beyond imagination? How do you tell children, big and small, that society could lose its mind and start murdering its own soul and its own future?” (pp. 266–267). Students cannot fully understand the Holocaust without learning about the trauma involved. This trauma is not limited to traditional “victims” but also includes resisters, survivors, bystanders, and others. While it is important that students understand the scale of the Holocaust, Lindquist warns us that too much emphasis on numbers, such as six million Jewish people murdered, results in the learner being distanced from the history and that we also need to humanize the past. Films provide a way to bring the past alive (Marcus et al., 2010) and in particular to humanize the Holocaust. However, they also exacerbate the power of trauma thus creating a dilemma for teachers – and for administrators and senior managers who worry about student and parent reactions.

Graphic Content Related to the issue of the trauma faced by those who experienced the Holocaust is the potentially graphic nature of teaching materials and of Holocaust resources in general (e.g., descriptions of torture, depicting of killing). This is also raised as an important issue in Chapter 3 on human rights education.There is much debate about what age levels are appropriate for experiencing graphic content and what type of content is necessary for meeting curricular goals. Whether – and how much – graphic content to use is very context specific and depends on a teacher’s goals, the maturity and background of the students, school policies, and other resources being used, among many factors. The challenge of graphic content is exceptionally relevant for using film given the medium’s ability to present a narrative through a combined visual and audio narrative that includes special effects to bring the past alive. As with the issue of trauma, some argue that to truly understand the Holocaust there is going to be some graphic content. Others worry that graphic content is used simply for the shock value rather than to legitimately understand the past, and that this shock value is inappropriate. Teaching with graphic content requires respect for and sensitivity to the students, but also for the victims of the Holocaust who did not give permission for teachers to show images of their naked or dead bodies (Salmons, 2003). Salmons cautions that graphic content can cause stress and embarrassment and perhaps

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even lead to inappropriate reactions from students. We must avoid what Mitoma in the human rights education chapter refers to as a secondary trauma (see also Alsup, 2003).

Complexity and Scope Studying the Holocaust presents an incredible range of topics and morally intricate issues. Its scope is vast – from the number of people encompassed by the event and the variety of capacities of those involved such as collaborators, bystanders, resisters, rescuers, and so on, to the geographic area covered, and the incredible diversity of personal experiences such as participating in the kindertransport, liberating concentration camps, being a member of the Sonderkommandos, and living in the Warsaw Ghetto. The Holocaust also requires significant historical context to understand the how and why that includes not just the rise of the Nazis in Germany and the propaganda machine, but also the anti-Semitic policies for hundreds of years prior to the twentieth century, including those in the United States, in Britain, and in Europe more broadly. The Holocaust evokes complex moral issues. It is difficult for students intellectually and emotionally to understand what happened and particularly the idea that a modern society and state could systematically attempt to wipe an entire group of people from existence. These difficult moral topics can also be controversial through issues such as trying to compare genocides, examining Christian roots in anti-Semitism and the Catholic Church’s response to the Holocaust, exploring how allied countries mostly ignored the plight of the Jewish people, and also in dealing with the issue of Holocaust denial. Moreover, these are just a few examples. Perhaps, overarching this is the Holocaust’s ability to teach us about being human, but through that exposing many human flaws while also celebrating human triumph. It may be that the Holocaust offers…“maybe the most important moral lessons we stand to learn as human beings” (Schweber and Findling, 2007, p. 1).

Persistence of Misconceptions and Inaccuracies As the number of educators writing curriculum and teaching about the Holocaust has grown so has the presence of misconceptions and inaccuracies (Totten and Riley, 2005). Many scholars called out Holocaust education as miseducative, though there are also many excellent examples of effective Holocaust education. Lindquist (2006) sees more recent pedagogical problems as an emphasis on numbers instead of the human story (e.g., 6 million), an over-representation of Anne Frank, and a lack of contextual background provided to students, among other issues. Another criticism around misconceptions points to attempts to compare the Holocaust to other genocides or difficult periods in history. These critics suggest

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that the Holocaust needs to be considered unique in its own right and that ­specific comparisons are inaccurate, misleading, and harmful for understanding the Holocaust (Lipstadt, 1995). This can be particularly evident when a teacher’s primary goal is about preparing citizens and/or teaching moral values.

Range of Materials Available The Holocaust can be difficult to teach because there is such a wide range of materials available both in terms of sheer numbers as well as in terms of perspectives and the nature of the material. The Holocaust is a well-documented event both in terms of official documents and more personal documents such as diaries and testimonies. Ironically, most secondary textbooks devote very little space to the Holocaust. Potential teaching materials include written documents, photos, videos, and films. There are also numerous memorials and museums – dozens in the US alone including 20 museums. All of these materials complicate the work of teachers requiring a large investment of time and the pressure of choosing the most effective materials given a teacher’s goals. These decisions become even more stressful when teachers do not have adequate background knowledge from which to judge the documents.

Widely Varying Goals A final challenge when teaching the Holocaust is determining the best goals for students. We ask Holocaust education to do many things ranging from teaching the actual historical content to preventing future genocide. Educators clash most often on the goals of teaching the “content” such as the how and why vs. teaching the Holocaust with broader moral aims – though these do not have to be mutually exclusive. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum advocates a focus more on the content of the Holocaust while the organization Facing History and Ourselves favors more concentration on the moral lessons of the Holocaust (Shoemaker, 2003). This is not to suggest that these two organizations are at odds with each other. In fact, they do have areas of agreement; however, they just take different views of the core purpose of Holocaust education. The approaches by these two organizations have had an enormous influence on Holocaust education in the US and reflect two of the major approaches taken by teachers. The content approach emphasizes the “why” and “how” historical questions more than the moral ones (Kinloch, 1998). This is not an either–or decision for teachers, as any study of the moral issues must also cover content. But one major criticism of a focus on moral issues is that the real historical questions never get adequate examination and students leave with little depth of understanding about the Holocaust. Some educators advocate “…to separate out the history of the Holocaust from the lessons of that history…” to prevent taking thorny historical issues as a means to explore universal moral lessons or what one experienced museum educator

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said is the difference between “teaching and preaching” (Salmons, 2003, p. 141). Moreover, Lindquist (2011), while supporting a moral imperative to teaching the Holocaust, also recognizes that: “In Holocaust education, however, cognitive aspects of the teaching/learning situation are matched and often superseded by affective, and possibly intrusive, elements” (p. 28). Those advocating goals that draw on the moral dimensions of the Holocaust cite the opportunity to build a more tolerant society (Salmons, 2003), address what it means to be human (Lindquist, 2011), and maintain our democracies (Salmons, 2003), among other rationales. Clearly teachers’ goals can draw on both the history content and the moral dimensions of the Holocaust, but this tension cautions educators that it could be easy to focus on one and neglect the other. Any goals must assume that students will acquire foundational knowledge of the people, events, geography, and historical context of the Holocaust. Another goal at the core of Holocaust education is fostering historical empathy. Empathy, as both caring and perspective recognition (Barton and Levstik, 2004), is especially promoted by film through its powerful audio–visual medium and carefully constructed narratives. Holocaust film encourages empathy as a result of the compelling stories and heart-wrenching consequences that are shown on screen and by positioning their audiences to particular viewpoints as witnesses and/or participants in events. Or, a film may provide the audience perspectives that challenge or provide depth to previously accepted historical accounts. Holocaust films can enhance the perspective recognition from the points of view of people who had various roles in the Holocaust (e.g., resister, rescuer, and bystander) as well as multiple international perspectives. Another important goal for Holocaust education is drawing connections between the past and today. Those who promote a focus on moral issues of the Holocaust might argue that it is through the study of the Holocaust that we can not only understand our world today but also make it a better place.This does not mean judging those in the past through our own world view, but that the lessons of the Holocaust are disregarded at great risk (Karn, 2012). One of the dangers of making past–present connections is trying to compare past conditions or actions by people to today and to ourselves. While it might be fair to consider similarities and differences over time, students in particular are prone to presentism (Wineburg, 2001) – the imposing of today’s values and norms on people’s actions and beliefs in the past. Salmons (2003) sees Holocaust education as providing lessons that can inspire students to act toward a more fair and tolerant society. Finally, Holocaust education can promote global citizenship development. Recently, citizenship is seen by many as being more global in nature given the way the modern world is connected economically, environmentally, technologically, and politically. The flow of goods, popular culture, information, pollution, and people no longer allows countries to be isolationist, thus populations around the world are intricately interconnected. Holocaust education can support students to acquire the disposition, knowledge, and skills to be global citizens focused

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on social justice, which also includes the goals mentioned above of developing ­historical empathy and connecting the past and present.

Why Use Non-American/Non-British Films to Teach the Holocaust? Along with firsthand accounts, films are the most commonly used source for teaching about the Holocaust. One study in the US found that 69% of teachers report using film to teach about the Holocaust (Donnelly, 2006) while another study documented that 420 teachers surveyed across the US used a total of 230 different films when teaching the Holocaust, with Schindler’s List being shown most frequently (Gudgel, 2015). In England, a study conducted by the Holocaust Education Development Programme (HEDP) also found significant reliance on film as a Holocaust teaching source and revealed that Schindler’s List was the number one most used resource for teaching the Holocaust in the classroom (Pettigrew et al., 2009, p. 43). The Boy in the Striped Pajamas was also found to be frequently used by teachers (Pettigrew et al., 2009; Gudgel, 2015). Gray also highlighted the potential impact of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas and revealed that among 13–14 years old in England over 75% of a sample of nearly 300 students had read the book or watched the film (Gray, 2015, pp. 170–176).We find the use of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas particularly problematic and will discuss this in-depth later. As teachers, we are also aware that for many pupils films about the Holocaust, watched either in the cinema or at home, will be the first contact that they might have with the topic. The range of films is now extensive, and therefore their importance in teaching about the Holocaust has grown significantly. Familiarity with these films for teachers is now essential and it is crucial that very careful pedagogical thinking is employed if the power of this genre in the classroom is to be realized. There are perhaps a series of key benefits that films bring to teaching about the Holocaust. Emotional engagement can be immense, though how to harness these benefits in appropriate ways can be a significant challenge. Being able to shape and use this emotional engagement to examine wider historical implications, the devastating effect on individuals, families, and communities, and developing engagement with human rights and genocide prevention, require high levels of teaching skills. Perspectives of the victims, resistors, rescuers, collaborators, perpetrators, bystanders, and upstanders are all presented in films and can be used to explore the psychology and behaviors of individuals as well as the nature of the Nazi regime and the era of World War II. Films also help build context both in terms of the historical dimensions and geographical settings of the Holocaust. Whilst we would want pupils to engage with the idea and processes of historical re-creation, actually developing a mental image of a ghetto, a camp, a cattle wagon, a gas chamber might help to build a framework of reference for developing their study of the Holocaust. For all of these reasons – we need to “use videos liberally” when teaching the Holocaust (Glanz, 1999, p. 555).

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Non-American/non-British films in particular prompt students to explore global perspectives on the past and present, to evaluate less familiar sources of evidence, and to recognize alternative and competing interpretations of the Holocaust. The American film industry is the dominant creator and distributor of movies in the world. While many other countries have healthy film industries, Hollywood still sets the standard in terms of film budgets, star power, revenue generated, and marketing. American films are also widely seen around the world. Thus, when we speak of non-American/non-British films, we mean films that are drawn from a variety of nations and national perspectives and whose viewing and use in the US and UK is often limited. A study of the Holocaust exclusively from a US point of view is particularly problematic in that the Holocaust is an international event that primarily occurred in the geographical, political, and military sphere of non-American actors and can only be fully understood in this context. As described earlier, one of the key challenges to teaching the Holocaust includes its complexity and scope. Teaching with non-American/non-British films adds an important dimension that expands the scope of Holocaust perspectives while providing opportunities to unpack the Holocaust’s complexity. Part of exploring new perspectives is to enhance students’ ability to be more global citizens – to have horizons beyond their national boundaries and cultural dimensions. Non-American/non-British films do this by promoting an understanding of global agency as complex and not isolationist. The inclusion of more global perspectives helps to prepare students for life in a globally interconnected society. When included alongside American and British perspectives, they provide a richer historical context and promote a more ethnorelative worldview. An ethnorelative worldview is one that allows for “the experience of one’s own beliefs and behaviors as just one organization of reality among many viable possibilities” (Bennett, 2004, p. 62). The ethnorelative developmental stages are “ways of seeking cultural difference, …” including “…accepting its importance and adapting perspective to take it into account…” (2004, p. 63). Seeking and understanding difference is a core notion underpinning successful participation in a globalized world.

Multiple Perspectives of the Holocaust Nothing can truly represent the Holocaust. The way these events destroyed families, eliminated villages, and upended civilization is in many ways beyond comprehension.Yet teachers must not surrender to the seemingly impossible. Among many sources that provide some insight into the Holocaust such as memoirs, survivor testimony, government documents, photos, and so on, film is one of the most engaging, and as discussed earlier, one of the most used sources. A study of teachers in England found that 76% report using feature films to teach the Holocaust, second only to documentary film used by 81% of teachers (Pettigrew et al., 2009).

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Which films can best represent the Holocaust? Since its release in 1993 Schindler’s List is a film commonly used by teachers during units on the Holocaust. One study in the US shows Schindler’s List is the most used film. In the United States, 26% of teachers polled use the film – the next closet film is The Pianist at 11% (Gudgel, 2015). A similar study reports that Schindler’s List is the most used Holocaust film in England (Pettigrew et al., 2009). Much to our dismay, teachers are also using The Boy in the Striped Pajamas (2008) in large numbers. In the United States, it is the third most used feature film (almost 10% of teachers) (Gudgel, 2015) while in England it is also a popular film for teaching the Holocaust (Pettigrew et al., 2009). Furthermore, in England, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas was reported to have been viewed by 90% of year 12 students. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is full of flaws that make it a dangerous film to use for educational purpose (Marcus, 2017). Based on fictional literature, it is historically inaccurate, narrow in perspectives presented, and misleading – for example, the quick death shown from the Zyklon B gas, which is inaccurate, and the frequent meetings between the film’s two main characters, which is not at all realistic (Cesarani, 2008). The film is more likely to promote students’ misunderstandings of the Holocaust, including misrepresentations of Holocaust victims, perpetrators, bystanders, and collaborators (Marcus, 2017). The late British ­historian David Cesarani says that the film is unrealistic because it justifies the assertion by Germans after the war that they did not know about what happened to the Jews. While Schindler’s List and The Boy in the Striped Pajamas are two of the most common films used in the US and England, it is less common to find a secondary teacher using a non-American/non-British feature film about the Holocaust. Among films with a more global perspective, The Pianist is the most widely shown. A teachers’ selection of which films to show in class is just as important as how they use the films. When choosing a film to teach about the Holocaust, Marcus (2017) advocates that teachers consider how well a film meets the objectives of the class, the complexity of a film’s overall historical narrative, a film’s ability to develop historical empathy – especially the perspectives included and ignored, the historical accuracy of a film, the degree to which fictional elements misrepresent the history presented, and the potential historical distortion of a film based on political, social, and ideological values reflected, among other criteria. Using these criteria as a starting point, combined with the potential advantages of using non-American/non-British films, here we present several films that can serve as interesting documents for secondary students learning about the Holocaust. We also add an element important for secondary students – will the film engage secondary students? Will they relate to the narrative? Is the style of filmmaking attractive? There are many interesting films that might do well when evaluated for how they address complexity, develop empathy, adhere to the historical record, and so on, but they may not be appropriate for secondary students

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or serve as effective learning tools. Each of the films presented, if used effectively, is a good source to employ with secondary students. To some degree, they each address the various purposes of Holocaust education we discussed earlier.

Europa Europa Released in 1990, Europa Europa follows Solomon (Solly) Perel, a German Jewish teenager who gets separated from his family at the beginning of the Nazi reign of terror. Solly hides his identity to survive by pretending to be an Aryan German. His wartime experiences include fleeing from Germany to Poland, hiding in a Soviet Union orphanage until the Germans invade, serving in the German army after being captured, and enrolling (not by choice) in a Hitler Youth school. The film includes a handful of battle scenes, but primarily depicts everyday events and life as the Nazis consolidate power in Germany and then take over Eastern Europe. The film is a true story based on Solly’s autobiography and it won a Golden Globe Award for best foreign language film. It is a joint French–Polish–German film production. Europa Europa depicts mostly real people and events with historical documentation to support the core narrative, thus is relatively r­eliable for historical accuracy, though of course subjective for its point of view. Like any film about true events, it has its share of invented dialogue and d­ ramatized scenes for audience appeal, but that does not take away from the overall narrative nor the learning potential for students. Students relate well to Europa Europa because of its teenage protagonist and the sophistication of filmmaking. Students are also drawn to the film because of the struggles for identity of the main character, something young people often experience themselves. The film recreates the feel of the past by depicting the daily struggle to survive in multiple locations in Europe during the war – all of this without American perspectives or biases. Solly is a multi-dimensional character who struggles with his identity as he learns to be different people in different situations, all as a way to survive. The film begins in Germany just before his Bar Mitzvah, but soon his family flees to Poland. In a Soviet orphanage, he starts to embrace communism, but quickly professes to be an Aryan when captured by the Germans. He hides his identity as a Jew while in the army and fights the Soviets, confused about what he is fighting for. As a war hero, he was sent to a Hitler Youth School where he not only hides his identity – literally, as he cannot be seen naked since he is the only circumcised male – but also he pretends to support Hitler and the Nazi cause. At the same time, he forms friendships and even a romantic relationship allowing him to be an adolescent, but one who holds deep secrets. At each stage, he comes close to emotionally breaking down. Europa Europa provides opportunities to develop historical empathy by portraying multiple German perspectives. There is the traditional perpetrator role throughout the film in the form of the military, and Solly’s classmates and teachers at the Hitler youth school, though there are minimal references

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to concentration camps. The film does not take on the mass murder of victims though Solly does lose his family. Solly can be placed in the role of a victim as well as a resister. One could argue he is also a collaborator and a perpetrator – even though he was forced into these roles to survive. A perspective often missing from Holocaust films is that of Germans as rescuers or resisters. In two powerful cases in the film, Solly is discovered but then protected by Germans. In one case, a fellow soldier who is gay attempts to seduce Solly. Because of his love for Solly, he does not betray him. In another instance, he is confronted by the mother of his girlfriend who also keeps his secret. A Soviet perspective is also included during the time that Solly spends at a Soviet orphanage. The Communists are not shown in the most positive light, which is not surprising for a 1990 partially Polish film. Europa Europa provides a uniquely non-American/non-British point of view as a French–Polish–German production and with a Polish director and European actors. The film addresses the complexity of the Holocaust through the moral dilemmas and struggles of many characters. Solly’s fellow soldier hid his own secret of being gay and also protected Solly, all while fighting for the Fuhrer. Solly’s girlfriend became pregnant (while cheating on Solly because Solly refused to have sex since it would give him away) in order to offer her baby to Hitler and the Third Reich. Moreover, Solly faced some of the biggest dilemmas as he not only hid a significant part of his identity, but he then struggled throughout the film with who he was and the moral dilemmas of what he had to do for survival. Perhaps, not unlike Jews who worked as police in the Ghettos or as Kapos in various camps, Solly’s survival depended on him performing duties that hurt others, violated his moral code, and left emotional scars. These moral dilemmas in the film are likely to stimulate student questions and promote inquiry. Europa Europa is potentially engaging for students, is historically reliable, recreates a feel for the past, helps to bring out the complexity of the Holocaust, develops historical empathy through multiple perspectives, supports inquiry, and promotes global citizenship. The film offers an important resource for teaching about the difficult past of the Holocaust.

The Pianist The Pianist (2002), a joint French, Polish, German, and British production, is also based on a true story, that of Polish pianist Wladyslaw Szpilman. Szpilman first experiences the hardships imposed on Polish Jews by the Nazis and eventually hides in the ruins of Warsaw in order to escape deportation and death. He is reliant on the Polish resistance as well as a sympathetic German Offiicer for survival. The film won the Academy Awards for Best Actor and Best Director. Like Europa Europa, The Pianist relies heavily on the historical record including survivor testimony to provide a relatively historically accurate account and depict real people and events. At the same time, the director, Roman Polanski, is a Polish Jew and

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Holocaust survivor and his own experiences certainly influence the film. While for some Polanski’s perspective is a source of bias, it adds a legitimacy and authenticity unique to a survivor. Like Europa Europa, The Pianist offers a multi-national view of the past providing students with another lens through which to view the Holocaust. The Pianist recreates the feel of the past through its depiction of Warsaw during WWII including life in the Ghettos, life outside of the Ghetto walls, and the destruction of much of the city. There is a brief depiction of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, which while not extensive, provides a great entry point that can be expanded with the use of other sources and introduces an element of resistance. While many Holocaust films focus more on life in Ghettos and concentration camps, The Pianist also provides insight into the destruction of Warsaw, representing the fate of many cities and towns in Europe. The Pianist is also a wonderful film for developing empathy. Similar to aspects of Schindler’s List and Europa Europa, this film can develop empathy through the struggles of the main character and through the complication of roles of the Polish and German characters. Szpilman is a multi-dimensional character who is seen as suffering physically and emotionally. Starting out as a popular and successful musician, eventually he is barely able to meet his basic physical and human needs. His music, or in some cases the memory of his music, is what motivates him to stay alive after his professional and personal life are upended by the Nazis. He is no longer able to play the piano, he is separated from his family, and he is confined to a small apartment while hiding. The film painfully depicts the anguish of being alone, the physical survival to have enough food, and the mental toll of living in constant fear. There are also numerous characters who represent other perspectives and who symbolize the complexity of the Holocaust. The film gives extensive agency to victims, perpetrators, survivors, resisters, collaborators, and rescuers. These characters include a Jew who works for the Germans as a police officer within the Jewish community, non-Jewish Polish citizens who help Szpilman and participate in the Polish resistance, Polish citizens who are with the resistance but also commit selfish acts not in the best interests of Szpilman or the resistance, and a German officer who discovers Szpilman in hiding but does not turn him in. Instead the officer, who is a huge fan of classical music, provides food and protection for Szpilman.

Amen Amen (2002) is a mix of “based on true story” and fiction. The main character and the key events are grounded in the experiences of the real life of Waffen SS Lieutenant and chemist Kurt Gerstein. Gerstein invented the Zyklon B pellets to disinfect soldiers’ drinking water. Eventually, he uncovers the use of the pellets to create gas as part of mass murder. He is opposed to the German extermination policy and sets out to slow down the pellet’s use to little avail. As part of his

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efforts, he enlists the support of a priest (a fictional character created to represent his ­contacts with the Catholic Church more broadly) to convince the Pope to condemn the ­killings. Amen is a French, German, and Romanian film that won an Academy Award for Best Screenplay and is based on a 1963 play. Gerstein’s main views and actions are largely well represented. There are numerous written documents to support the primary narrative. He is depicted as loving Germany and his family while being a devout Christian. He eventually learns to loathe the Nazis and their practices. Riccardo the priest is fictional, which adds value to the narrative but detracts from the accuracy of the film. However, there is still great value to using this film. Students will likely feel for Gerstein as he battles to be true to his family, serve as an SS officer who does not believe in the cause, and not betray his values. The film does not do as much to recreate the feel of the past beyond the typical film devices like accurate uniforms and good sets/location. It is not a film to teach about the camps, understand the perspectives or experiences of victims, or even explore the typical experience for one of the Nazi’s targets. However, the film is excellent for exposing students to two important ideas. First, it complicates the notion of all Nazis as bad. The SS in particular are portrayed as monsters and in many cases rightly so. But in this case, the film offers a true story about someone who tried to resist from the inside. This helps to humanize Germans in a way that makes the Holocaust more understandable because not all Germans are evil perpetrators. Second, the film deals with the controversial role of the Catholic Church. Often criticized for inaction and lacking moral courage, the film’s portrayal of the Catholic Church illuminates important circumstances that are often ignored and are likely to raise many questions from students. Like many of these films, these perspectives and narratives are rarely included in secondary school textbooks or curriculum, or in American films. Amen chooses to focus on a more narrow aspect of the Holocaust, so needs to be used in conjunction with other films/sources, but is still a valuable resource.

The Counterfeiters The Counterfeiters (2007) is a true story about Jewish prisoners that provides a narrow, but incredibly rich exposure to previously unexplored narratives.The film tells the story of a group of counterfeiting experts and those with skills that support counterfeiting who are forced by the Nazis to counterfeit the British Pound and American dollar, or be killed. Operation Bernhard, as it was called, is considered the largest counterfeiting operation in history and the original plan was to hurt the British and US economies by flooding the markets with currency. The Counterfeiters won the Oscar for best foreign language film. The main characters are based on real people faced with complicated moral dilemmas. The Counterfeiters is an Austrian–German film that partially fictionalizes Operation Bernhard. The primary character is Jewish counterfeiter, Salomon

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“Sally” Sorowitsch, based on a real person with a slightly changed name. He is arrested, and, in order to live, assists with Operation Bernhard located at the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Another real life character is Adolf Burger who was also forced to work on the operations. The film is based on his memoir. To help authenticate past events, Burger was consulted on the writing and production of the film. The Counterfeiters is another film with the potential to develop empathy and the understanding of multiple perspectives by telling the story of events that are not well known outside of the circle of Holocaust experts. The film presents the dilemmas of those forced into labor and, in this case, a group of men who lived a non-traditional existence in a concentration because they were provided better food and facilities in exchange for their work as counterfeiters. The film also addresses the reality that not all prisoners got along or supported each other, thus, presenting a truer and more complicated picture of life in camps. For example, Sally and Burger disagree on how to approach the work. Sally does not rush but ultimately does the work to survive. Burger wants to sabotage the work so they are not helping the Nazis, but at the risk that all of them could be killed. Interestingly, the filmmakers decided to tell the story from Sally’s point of view even though Burger’s documentation provides most of their evidence. Overall, the most significant issue presented in this film revolves around the decisions prisoners had to make to either die, or survive but provide aid to the Nazis in counterfeiting money. Like Amen, The Counterfeiters offers a multi-national perspective but chooses a narrow focus. Still, there are many opportunities for students to develop skills by analyzing the film as both a primary and a secondary source.

The Grey Zone and Son of Saul In 2001, The Grey Zone was released. It narrates the experiences of a group of Jewish Sonderkommando (special unit) in the Auschwitz concentration camp in October 1944. In 2015, Son of Saul was released, chronicling the Jewish Sonderkommando in the Auschwitz concentration camp during the same period in October 1944. These are the first two films to directly tackle the torturous lives of the Sonderkommando. The Grey Zone is an American film, which here we have paired with Son of Saul, a Hungarian film. Though our focus is primarily on non-American/non-British film, these two movies offer different perspectives of similar events, and, when taken together, they help to emphasize how different points of view provide a fuller picture of past events. Although there is a western influence in The Grey Zone, there is nothing about the Americans in the film, as the entire focus is on Eastern European people and events.The Sonderkommando were prisoners forced to assist the camp’s guards in exterminating their fellow prisoners.This included preparing victims for the gas chambers, removing the bodies, and placing the bodies in the crematorium ovens. Similar to The Counterfeiters,

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main characters are forced into labor and have to decide to cooperate and thus aid the Nazis, or face death. The Grey Zone is based primarily on the book Auschwitz: A Doctor's Eyewitness Account written by Dr Miklós Nyiszli. Dr Nyiszli was a Hungarian Jew chosen by Josef Mengele to be the head of pathology at Auschwitz. He observed and was involved in the work of the Sonderkommando and, in light of these experiences, provides a powerful and disturbing account of their work and his relationship with them. Told through the eyes of the Sonderkommando, the film also includes the point of view of the Nazi commander and Dr Nyiszli. The Grey Zone recreates the feel of the past and uses historical documents to ground its narrative. While many specific storylines are fictional, the roles of the Sonderkommando, the dilemmas they face, some of the characters, and their eventual resistance via an uprising are all based on the historical record. One important decision by the filmmakers is to use Dr Nyiszli’s account but to change the perspective of the protagonist to that of the Sonderkommando. Other filmmaker choices contribute to the films ability to recreate the feel of the past for students. As part of recreating the film, the film makers built a 90% scale model of the Birkenau camp in Bulgaria based on the actual architectural plans. The director also specifically did not want the more polished look of Schindler’s List favoring a rough feel using handheld cameras to bring viewers back to the past. Perhaps, more than anything else, the film puts the complexity of the Holocaust front and center clearly developing empathy and thus likely to cause viewers to ask many difficult, and not easily answered, questions. The Grey Zone won the 2002 National Board of Review Freedom of Expression Award. The film has a number of important perspectives that provide students with multiple opportunities to develop empathy and to explore the complexity of the Holocaust. The Sondercommandos are placed in the difficult situation of choosing to do this work or death. Even for those who buy extra time to live and get well fed, the daily ethnical morass of their work was a physical and psychological demon. In one particularly powerful scene, which provides much for students to discuss, Hungarian Jews are being told to take off their clothes so they can take a shower to be clean. A middle-aged man confronts the Sondercommandos rightly sensing they are being sent to their deaths. “I can’t believe these are Jews doing this” the man yells, calling the Sondercommandos liars for saying they would be okay. “You’re dead already,” he tells them. The film also shows women as playing key roles in the resistance adding the often absent women’s point of view. The Grey Zone also addresses the role of resistance providing students with a better understanding of how victims were not just passively led to their deaths. In addition to the basic role of the Sondercommandos, other dilemmas raised by the film include the women resisters decision to risk the lives of all others in their unit if they are caught as well as the role of Dr Nyiszli whose decision to agree to help Mengele extends his life but also saves his wife and child who end up surviving the war in real life. Like The Counterfeiters, the Jewish prisoners are not shown as

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one entity. If one of our goals is to promote citizens who can deliberate about the common good this film is a great asset. Yet this film offers even more as a teaching tool. While many films imply the gassing and burning of victims, it is usually from a safe distance and there is more of a focus on killing with guns. In this film guns are mainly absent, but the film directly takes on the systematic murder by showing the use of Zyklon B and the placing of bodies in ovens. Son of Saul won the Grand Prix at the 2015 Cannes Film and won both the Golden Globe Award and Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. Like The Grey Zone, it takes place in October, 1944, in Auschwitz and focuses on the struggles of a Hungarian–Jewish Sonderkommando member as well as the October 7 uprising. The main character Saul is a Sonderkommando, and attempts to give a proper burial to a boy he believes is his son. Directed by László Nemes, the film also relies on Dr Nyiszli’s perspective of using his book but in addition incorporates evidence gathered from the Scrolls of Auschwitz. These scrolls are documents that include journals and other writings of the Sonderkommando buried at the camp and discovered in various locations between 1945 and 1980. These resources help to recreate the feel of the past. One of the unique aspects of the film is its style. The camera is always near Saul and maintains a tight depth of focus offering a unique point of view. This film brings up many of the same issues as The Grey Zone including what one will do to stay alive, the complicated and wrenching dilemmas of the Sondercommando, and the acts of resistance. But it does this from a Hungarian point of view providing another angle of analysis for students.

Honorable Mention There are many other excellent films for teaching about various aspects of the Holocaust but our space is limited. These honorable mention films are also all fictional accounts, but here are a few others to consider. Train of Life (1998) is a tragicomedy similar to Life is Beautiful (1997), which uses humor as a vehicle to present the Holocaust. The film is a joint effort by the film industries in France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Israel and Romania, and is made in French. It tells the story of an eastern European Jewish shtetel’s plan to escape the Holocaust by buying a train and “deporting” themselves with the end destination being Palestine. Another film that provides a unique perspective as well as a great primary source is The Bridge (1959). A German film, which tells the story of German boys who have to defend a bridge in their hometown late in the war. This insight into the German perspective is also a reflection of the war’s impact and the German views during the cold war. Although this chapter emphasizes non-American films, Schindler’s List (1993) is still one of the most powerful films and a tremendous classroom resource, which we highly recommend.

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Conclusion The Holocaust is difficult to teach due to graphic content, trauma experienced by people in the past, the variety of available resources, multiple aims, and the complexity and scope of the events. These challenges require a thoughtful and well-planned approach to Holocaust curriculum and daily plans as well as significant background knowledge. Films offer a powerful and potentially effective tool for teaching the difficult history of the Holocaust. In particular, film provides teachers with two ways to include multiple and underrepresented perspectives. First, teachers can use non-American/non-British films to provide more global perspectives. Second, films illustrate the experiences of multiple actors beyond the typical perpetrator and victim perspectives most often presented in classrooms. These varied experiences shown in film are a more realistic portrayal of the complexity of the Holocaust. These intricate narratives serve to complicate, not simplify, the Holocaust in a way that introduces important moral dilemmas and humanizes the Holocaust. The films suggested in this chapter provide multiple international perspectives as well as the perspectives of groups and individuals often underrepresenting when secondary students study the Holocaust. If used well, these films can promote the goals of developing empathy, making past–present connections, and developing global citizens. However, a strong foundation in background content knowledge is critical to meet any of the goals. As educators, we aim to help our students “understand” the past, to make the past come alive, and to provide our students with skills that will help them be capable adults. It is not clear that one can truly understand the Holocaust or that making it come alive for students is appropriate. However, films, more than many sources, offer moments of understanding and glimpses that bring the past to light for students.With survivors soon unable to tell their stories directly, teachers must find other ways to educate our youth.

References Alsup, J. (2003). A pedagogy of trauma (or a Crisis of Cynicism): Teaching, writing, and the Holocaust. In M. Bernard-Donals and R. Glejzer (Eds.), Witnessing the Disaster: Essays on the Representation and the Holocaust (pp.75–89). Madison,WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Barton, K. C. and Levstik, L. S. (2004). Teaching History for the Common Good. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Bennett, M. J. (2004). Becoming interculturally competent. In J. Wurzel (Ed.), Toward Multiculturalism: A Reader in Multicultural Education (pp. 62–77). Newton, MA: Intercultural Resource Corporation. Cesarani, D. (October 2008). Striped pajamas. Literary Review. 359. Department for Education (2013), National curriculum in England: History programme of study – key stage 3. (Ref: DFE-00194-2013).

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Donnelly, M. B. (2006) Educating students about the Holocaust: A survey of teaching ­practices. Social Education, 70(1), 51–54. Glanz, J. (1999). Ten suggestions for teaching the Holocaust. The History Teacher, 32(4), 547–565. Gray, M. (2015). Teaching the Holocaust: Practical Approaches for Ages 11–18. London: Routledge. Gudgel, M. (2015). A mixed-methods study of the use of film by American Secondary School Educators in teaching about the Holocaust. Dissertation, Regent University. Karn, A. (2012). Toward a philosophy of Holocaust education: Teaching values without imposing agendas. The History Teacher, 45(2), 221–240. Kinloch, N. (1998). Learning about the Holocaust: moral or historical question? Teaching History, 93, 44–46. Lindquist, D. (2006). Guidelines for teaching the Holocaust: Avoiding common pedagogical errors. The Social Studies, 97(5), 215–221. Lindquist, D. (2011). Meeting a moral imperative: A rationale for teaching the Holocaust. The Clearing House, 84, 26–30. Lipstadt, D. E. (1995). Not facing history. The New Republic, 29, 26–29. Marcus, A. S., Metzger, S., Paxton and, R., Stoddard, J. D. (2010). Teaching History with Film: Strategies for Secondary Social Studies. New York: Routledge. Marcus, A. S. (May/June 2017). Teaching the Holocaust through film. Social Education, 81(3), 172–176. Pettigrew, A., Foster, S., Howson, J., Salmons, P., Lenga, R. A., and Andrews, K. (2009). Teaching about the Holocaust in English Secondary Schools: An Empirical Study of National Trends, Perspectives and Practice. London: Centre for Holocaust Education. Salmons, P. (2003). Teaching or Preaching? The Holocaust and intercultural education in the UK. Intercultural Education, 14(2), 139–149. Schweber, S. and Findling, D. (2007). Teaching the Holocaust. Los Angeles, CA: Torah Aura Productions. Shoemaker, R. (2003) Teaching the Holocaust in America’s schools: Some considerations for teachers. Intercultural Education, 14(2), 191–199. Totten, S. (2012). Holocaust education. In S. Totten and J. E. Pedersen (Eds.), Education about Social Issues in the 20th and 21st Century (pp. 223–250). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing. Totten, S. and Riley, K. L. (2005).Authentic pedagogy. Theory and Research in Social Education, 33(1), 120–141. Wiesel, E. (1978). Then and now: The experiences of a teacher. Social Education, 42(4), 266–271. Wineburg, S. (2001). Historical Thinking and Other Unnatural Acts: Charting the Future of Teaching the Past. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.

Part V

Difficult Histories from the Margins in Curriculum and Teacher Education

12 Questioning “Normal” Actively Undoing Dis/ability Stereotypes through Teaching a Critical Analysis of Films David J. Connor

The issue is not what causes disability but the reaction to it. —Marta Russell (1998, p. 16)

Introduction In this chapter, I share my thoughts, experiences, and practices as a c­ areer-long critical educator who has sought to disrupt pervasive and highly limited ­ ­deficit-based understandings of disability that permeate all aspects of society – ­including our schools and universities. First, I explain why my work is framed within Disability Studies in Education (DSE), a theoretical lens through which disability is centered as a natural part of human variation, and not something that needs to be fixed, cured, or remediated (Connor et al., 2008). Second, I ­discuss the highly problematic and insufficiently theorized concept of “normal,” as well as its impact upon all citizens, particularly those who fall outside of its fluctuating, socially inscribed boundaries.Third, informed by the work Safran’s (1998a, 1998b) categorical representations of disability in films, I make a case for analyzing both mainstream movies and lesser-known documentaries to challenge the majority of disability portrayals. Most of these portrayals that circulate tend to reinforce fears and/or erroneous beliefs held by able-bodied people about the disabled, although some have evolved in a more positive direction in the recent past (Connor and Bejoian, 2006). Fourth, I describe ways in which I have used films in teacher education classes throughout my career to teach about disability as integral to larger social justice issues and part of the Civil Rights Movement. In doing so, I seek to challenge limited understandings of disability by the perpetuation of damaging stereotypes, along with providing ways to rethink and reframe disability as a

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natural occurrence. In other words, disability is simply seen as part of humanity writ large. Finally, I encourage educators to utilize films as a pedagogical tool to engage students around the topic of physical, emotional, cognitive, and sensory human differences.

Why Is Disability Difficult to Teach? Disability is difficult to teach because is it can make people – both teachers and students – feel uncomfortable for a wide variety of reasons, including: the lingering taboo of it being impolite to talk about disabilities, the stigma still attached to people with disabilities and their families, the continued segregation of many disabled people in institutions and “special” schools, widespread general misunderstandings of disability, conceptions of disability as having an affiliation to pity and charity, concerns of not being “politically correct” in a changing landscape of terminology, the possible insensitive response toward disability issues by adolescents, the potential awkwardness of having students with disabilities in the room when teaching about it, the erroneous assumption that all things pertaining to disability and education should be relegated to special education, and the failure to see disability in political terms akin to race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, and so on. It has also been argued that people have a deeply rooted fear about becoming disabled in some shape or form and correlating it with pain, while also associating it with the inevitability of old age (Shivers, 2011). Regardless of disability type – be it physical, sensory, cognitive, or mental – it is surprising how beginning conversations with similar lines of inquiry about each leads coalesce around the concept of “normalcy.” As I will discuss later in this chapter, all disabilities are synonymous in people’s consciousness with abnormality, something that I believe needs troubling and reframing.

Interpreting “Difficult History”: Deliberately Troubling the Concept of Normal Unlike most other chapters in this textbook, the concept of disability is not tied to an era, a war, a social institution, or a race that is accorded a slot in the curriculum and has films that show a period of history, armed conflict, or the lives of racial or ethnic groups at various historical points. Disability is, rather, omnipresent throughout all of history, stretching into the present day, replete with problematic assumptions and representations that portray disabled people in both subtle and blatant ways as less than human. The many films mentioned throughout this chapter are included to provide a healthy sense of dissonance within the reader, because the subject of disability, once we begin to analyze film, is actually pervasive. We must pause to think: How can so much about disability exist in films yet so little about it is explicitly taught? It is a widely held belief among many scholars that disability history, in fact, has yet to be told both fully and accurately

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(Burch and Rembis, 2014; Longmore and Umansky, 2001; Russell, 1998; Stiker, 1999). Bearing these points in mind, I conceptualize teaching the difficult history of disability by using films across time and space, including popular, documentary, and historical accounts, to consider disability as a political issue, related to the larger historical issue of civil rights and equal representation. Reclaiming the history of disability has been an important strand throughout the field of Disability Studies (DS). In her influential article, Disability History: Why We Need Another Other, Catherine Kudlick (2003) asks, “What does it mean to be human? How can we respond ethically to difference? What is the value of a human life? Who decides these questions, and what do the answers reveal?” (p.  764). She argues for the concept of disability to be understood “not as an isolated, individual medical pathology but instead as a key defining social category on a par with race, class, and gender” (p. 764). Allowing disability to be seen as a social category – and not a medicalized phenomenon “owned” by the ­individual – opens up doors for analyzing social relations of power that are related to issues of equity and social justice. Disability also becomes of interest to everybody, as DS “challenges long-held perceptions that relegate it to the unglamorous backwaters primarily of interest to people in rehabilitation, special education, and other applied professional fields” (Kudlick, 2003, p. 765). Indeed, as Simi Linton (1998) noted “… the term disability is a lynchpin in a complex web of social ideals, institutional structures, and government policies” (p. 10). In brief, the interdisciplinary field of DS looks at disability as primarily a social construction that had evolved in particular cultures in a specific time and place in history. DS does not deny physical, emotional, cognitive, and sensory differences, but is more concerned with society’s response to them.These examples of differences among bodies are conceived of as impairments, and – in an illuminating twist of meaning  – people with impairments are made disabled by societal practices, such as inaccessible environments and ableist attitudes that prevent them from participating in all aspects of society enjoyed by able-bodied people. Akin to the analogies of race and racism, and gender and sexism, the term ableism conveys the belief that disabled people are inferior to those without disabilities. Ableist discrimination can take many forms, including expressions of hatred or disgust, prohibition from entering public and private spaces, rejections from employment and housing, and institutionalized practices such as providing benefits but prohibiting or limiting work opportunities.

Using a Disability Studies in Education Framework Disability Studies in Education has grown as part of Disability Studies’ vibrant interdisciplinary community of scholars who actively resist the immediate relegation of all things paired as “disabled” and “education” to special education. Instead of being restrained by the pseudo-scientific foundations of special education with its highly limited conceptualizations of disability as deficit framed,

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DSE  encourages a pluralism of perspectives that share the common interest of being grounded in social, cultural, historical, and political understandings of ­disability (Connor et al., 2008; Gallagher, 2011). A core interest of scholars working within DS in general and DSE in particular is the creation of disability by default, through the simultaneous creation of normalcy. Lennard Davis (1995) crafted a compelling argument charting the rise of statistics in mid-nineteenth century Germany and Britain to determining “average citizens” in order to better plan for governmental needs of war and goals for the national workplace. As Baglieri et al. (2011) note, “The drive for increased efficiency within expanding nation states spawned the idea of further developing robust, ‘healthy,’ normal bodies as desired citizens equipped to fight abroad or serve ever-growing industries, both related to Western expansionism of the world” (p. 2131). Thus, average citizens became desirable citizens, and those who were sub-par became undesirable citizens. At the same time, the science of eugenics (“well bred” people) developed within Britain, Germany, and the United States within cultural climates that sought superiority over rival nations. As this science grew, it manifested itself in the extreme example where people with disabilities were the first group of undesirable citizens the Nazis attempted to systematically eradicated (Mitchell and Snyder, 2002). What is being called attention to in DSE is the very notion of normalcy, how it gets constructed, and the reification of bodily differences that fall outside of its realm. It is clear that the normative expectations placed upon all bodies within society separate them into one of two binaric categories: able-bodied/disabled, normal/abnormal, average/not average, desirable/undesirable, and in education – general/special. Schooling practices contain a very strong pull toward a normative center, “Like gravity itself, the force exists despite being invisible” (Baglieri et al., 2011, p. 2136). By focusing on the general concept of where normalcy comes from, and how it is used, we can begin to see how, among many other things, it is a mechanism to oppress groups of people who do not “fit” the picture of being a complete human being. As Russell (1998) writes, “The danger of the ‘normal’ construct is that it serves to make disabled people seem less than human” (p. 17). As educators, we can unpack the concepts of (ab)normalcy when analyzing representations of disability in film, and facilitate the cultural work of re-envisioning what has been deemed unnatural and abnormal as quite the reverse. In sum, casting a critical eye on portrayals of disability in film is crucial to reframing the discourses of deficit over time and space.

Mixed Messages: Hollywood’s Fascination with Disabled Characters Films strive to “mirror” the real world, albeit dramatically, and in doing so inform the viewer about all aspects of human experience, including disability.

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As  Safran  (1998b) asserts, “For many citizens [including students] with limited exposure to individuals with specific impairments, film, regardless of its accuracy, serves as a major information source on the very nature of disabilities” (p. 227). Beth Haller (2010) echoes these sentiments, arguing “… that most non-disabled people still learn about disability issues through the media, rather than through interactions with people with disabilities” (p. iv). This form of “knowing about disability,” however, is usually inaccurate and misleading, likely constructed by non-disabled people (including writers, producers, directors, and actors) who imagine the psychological, social, emotional, and material consequences of the disability. Disability is present in every film. If it is not obviously so, its very absence is worth noting as we do not live in a disability-free world. A pattern I have noticed over the years is the prevalence of actors who are nominated for an Academy Award if they have played a disabled person. In reviewing best actor and actress Oscar winners over a 30-year period (1985–2014), 40% (12/30) of both male and females in a lead role played characters with disabilities, whereas disability prevalence has been estimated to be 18% of the general population (Disabled in Action of Metropolitan New York, n.d.). Of the five nominees each year, 19% (28/150) of lead females played a disabled character, and 22% (33/150) of males played a disabled character.These statistics indicate a much higher likelihood of winning if an actor plays a disabled character. Of note is that annual Oscars reach a national audience of over 40 million people and a global audience of several hundred million – who all “learn” something about a disability when the actor’s role is spotlighted. It is safe to say that many actors are attracted to the challenge of a high-profile “juicy” role such as Al Pacino’s blind Lieutenant Colonel Frank Slade in Scent of a Woman (1992) or Hilary Swank’s quadriplegic Maggie Fitzgerald in Million Dollar Baby (2004). However, compelling such performances may be, we still must ask how accurate and realistic are they? In taking a critical look beyond the surface glamor, both characters grapple with suicide, with one succumbing. What does this say about disability – better off dead than living a life with a d­ isability? In addition, the types of disability portrayed reveals that some are featured much more than others. For example, Safran (1998a) noted that the likelihood of disabilities portrayed is: (1) psychiatric/mental, 53.8%; (2) physical, 19.2%; (3) ­sensory, 15.4%; (4) mental retardation (now termed intellectual disability or I.D.), 7.7%; and (5) autism (4%). Interestingly, these figures do not reflect the largest categories in schools, with learning disabilities and speech and language impairments representing 35% and 21%, respectively, of all students identified as disabled (National Center for Education Statistics, 2016). These statistics raise several points, including how the word disability is generalized unquestioningly and used as a “catch all” for many different bodily conditions or manifestations. The types of disability featured in mainstream films, therefore, (1) do not accurately represent (or “­mirror”) the disabled population in schools and (2) skewers disability portrayals

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to be those of pathology and forms of mental illness. The latter point is evident in performances by Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs (1991), Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets (1997), Forest Whitaker in The Last King of Scotland (2006), Kathy Bates in Misery (1990), Jessica Lange in Blue Sky (1994), Nicole Kidman in The Hours (2002), Charleze Theron in Monster (2004), Natalie Portman in Black Swan (2010), Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence in Silver Linings Playbook (2012), and Cate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine (2013). As entertaining as these films are, Safran (1998b) notes that, “Unfortunately, the high frequency of psychiatric disabilities, the rare appearance of children and youth, as well as the absence of some disabilities (i.e., I.D.), indicate a failure to accurately reflect the special education population”1 (p. 236). In contrast to this negative portrayal of people with (largely mental) disabilities as sub-humans, attempts at positive portrayals that make individuals into super-­ humans are also unrealistic and equally problematic. Real characters such as Selma Hayek’s artist Frida Kahlo (2002), Jamie Fox’s musician Ray Charles  (2004), Jeffrey Rush’s pianist David Helfgott (1996), Colin Firth’s King George VI (2010), Matthew McConaughey’s AIDS-activist Ron Woodruff (2013), and Eddye Redmayne’s scientist Stephen Hawkings (2014), along with fictional characters such as Tom Hank’s Forrest Gump (1994), portray what have been termed as “super crips,” disabled characters who have amazing talents and achieve greatness despite the odds stacked against them. While such extraordinary characters are inspirational, they are far from typical and tend to obscure (in the mind of the viewer) the everyday struggles of ordinary people with disabilities. The limited portrayals of people with disabilities on one hand as pathological, evil, sinister, criminal (and therefore feared), or on the other hand as a super crip, overachiever (and therefore admired), appear as extreme points of an imagined spectrum that is both inaccurate and misleading. Scholars interested in disability and films have pointed out the overwhelmingly negative associations with disability portrayals (Haller, 2010; Hayes and Black, 2003; Norden, 1994), with very few actors with disabilities in actual parts. How might we, then, as educators, respond to the challenge of rethinking and reframing disability in our teaching?

(In)Accuracies of Portraying Disability Whether we are watching the latest Hollywood blockbuster in 3D on a giant screen, settling into an art house to view an independent film, squinting to see a selection on a 6˝ × 4˝ screen in the back of an airplane seat, or relaxing in front of television – we can always ask the question: To what degree is disability accurately portrayed in this film? In a previous work, my colleague and I noted that “Within contemporary society, disability – unlike race, gender, sexual orientation, or age – is still somewhat of a free-for-all; a repository of bad associations and images; and a concept that people routinely look down on, devalue, and ridicule” (Connor and Bejoian, 2006, p. 52).The first sentence of No Pity: People with Disabilities Forging a New Civil Rights Movement reads, “Nondisabled Americans do not understand disabled ones”

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(Shapiro, 1993, p. 3). This is a sweeping statement that often serves as a springboard for conversation in my graduate education classes.What it tends to do is open up the larger topic of to what degree can a non-minority member understand a minority member’s perspective of, and lived experiences within, society in general? As it turns out, Shapiro’s comment is fairly accurate. Most able-bodied people tend not to be conscious of their privilege until they lose their status either temporarily (e.g., a broken foot, a stroke) or permanently (e.g., hearing loss, traumatic brain injury). Being able-bodied means people do not usually think about accessible transportation, restaurants and bars, public spaces, and employment options, as the world has been configured with them in mind. Likewise, the accuracy of disability portrayals on screen is not usually perceived by non-disabled and disabled people alike. As Davis (2005) asserts, “You know there is something wrong when 100 of the major film critics in the U.S. say that Clint Eastwood’s film Million Dollar Baby is a great film and every disability scholar and activist rails against the movie” (in Haller, 2010, p. 176). In other words, as audiences came to see the unequivocal misery and descent into suicidal tendencies of the hitherto feisty heroine, paraplegic and quadriplegic protesters of the activist group Not Dead Yet challenged the film’s message outside. The trouble is, as Haller (2010) notes, “… that most non-disabled people still learn about disability issues through the media, rather than through interactions with people with disabilities” (p. iv). It is clear that misrepresentation creates misunderstanding, and most portrayals of disability that circulate tend to reinforce the fears or erroneous beliefs held by able-bodied people. What can be done about this problem? In order to critique with a view to creating socially just changes, it is necessary to recognize and name the patterns of (mis)representation throughout films. Although some progress has been made, authentic representations of disability are still rare. According to Safran (1998a), there are nine disability archetypes that should be kept in mind when observing films that feature a disabled character: (1) villain, for example, Captain Hook (1991); monster, for example, The Hunch Back of Notre Dame (1996); (2) seeker of revenge, for example, Moby Dick (1956); (3) bitter or nasty, for example, Passion Fish (1992); (5) object of pity, for e­ xample, Born on the 4th of July (1989); (6) perpetually infantilized, for example, Austin Powers (1997); (7) in possession of special powers, for example, Don’t Look Now (1973); (8) ­suicidal, for example, The Sea Inside/Mar Adentro (2004); or (9) inspirational, for example, The Miracle Worker (1962). As indicated by these archetypes, depictions are usually negative and largely inaccurate, with disability used as a plot device rather than portraying an authentic experience (Mitchell and Snyder, 2000).To contrast with Safran’s list, I optimistically add the everyday and therefore “no big deal” portrayal of disability, as can be seen in, for example, The Station Agent (2003), Rory O’Shea Was Here (2004), and My Left Foot (1989). Because movies are a source of knowledge, I encourage teachers and students alike to become a “Disability Movie Critic,” someone who analyzes characters with disabilities to see in what ways they reinforce or resist stereotypes. Guided by Safran’s (2000) Using Movies to Teach Students About Disabilities,

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positive  ­ representations include the disabled person: (1) having a complex ­personality that includes a full range of emotions; (2) interacting with others as an equal; (3) participating in society, for example, has a job; (4) having a role as an “extra” who happens to have a disability; (5) portraying an ordinary person without superhuman abilities; (6) providing insight into societal barriers; and (7) showing participation in a loving relationship, expressing typical sexual needs. Conversely, negative representations that reinforce stereotypes include the disabled person is: (1) pathetic and invokes pity; (2) a defenseless victim, the object of violence; (3)  evil or sinister; (4) in possession of superhuman characteristics; (5) derided, invoking laughter; (6) a burden to parents, partner, or society; (7) non-sexual; and (8) separated or segregated from “mainstream” society. Assessing the accuracy of disability portrayals helps to see ways in which film contributes toward either challenging or reinforcing damaging and inaccurate stereotypes.The goal is to become aware of more accurate balanced, nuanced, and three-dimensional portrayals of disabilities, wherein the protagonist is seen as fully human. Still, scholars who examine disability in film call our attention to how a degree of unease and pity still lingers. Hayes and Black (2003) link the issues of confinement, hope of rehabilitation, impossibility of rehabilitation, and reconciliation of confinement in films such as My Left Foot (1989), Girl Interrupted (1999), Of Mice and Men (1992), Benny and Joon (1993), To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), Sybil  (1993), and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975). Likewise Black and Pretes (2007) conclude, “… progress has been made with respect to no longer portraying characters with physical disabilities as comic figures or beasts; but the theme of pity is still present” (p. 80). The existence of pity that may reside in the mind of non-disabled viewers is in opposition to the No Pity title of Shapiro’s book describing the disability rights movement. Repeatedly, disabled people convey that they do not want pity; they want parity – through access to all aspects of life (Fleischer and Zames, 2011). It, therefore, becomes imperative to shift the lens to counter widespread misinformed, inaccurate, and limited conceptualizations of disability that indicate there is something wrong with the individual. Instead, by calling attention to the social, cultural, historical, and political aspects of disability as a phenomenon existing in a particular time, place, and context, DS focuses on societal practices that actively enable or disable people – through institutional structures, legislation, cultural norms and values, historical beliefs, and personal interactions.

Using Films in Teacher Education I have always used films in teacher education classes throughout my career to teach about disability as an integral to broader social justice issues of access and equity, and an integral part of the Civil Rights Movement. I have done this for a number of reasons, including: (1) illustrating ableist stereotypes and assumptions; (2) calling attention to what is right before our eyes yet rarely recognized, that is, the inaccuracy of disability portrayals in mainstream cinema; (3) providing alternative

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portrayals in the form of documentary films; and (4) challenging future teachers across content areas to re-think the source of their knowledge and how that source has influenced their historical and current thinking about disability writ large and within their future classroom in terms of how they teach and what they teach. These points guide the questions posed and the creation of pedagogical activities to develop greater student awareness of these issues. In the following sections, I outline some topics and resources as examples of teaching about disability in ways that seek to subvert the neat and tidy narratives portrayed in educational textbooks. It is much more valuable to have educators grapple with their values and beliefs as they examine where their knowledge about disability comes from, and the discourses that have shaped it.

The Civil Rights Movement The Civil Rights Movement, begun by African Americans in the 1940s and 1950s, set a precedent for other groups who organized to seek equal rights to be guaranteed and encoded within the law. In the 1960s, women, and then gays and lesbians, pushed a patriarchal and heteronormative society to take note of the issues they raised. After that, people with disabilities began to combine what had been disparate efforts for progress, and forged a movement that resulted in protection within the law, greater visibility, increased participation in all aspects of society, and more awareness in general of disability related issues. Fleischer and Zames (2011) connected the major topics in a powerful narrative, including: pitiful portrayals of “wheelchair bound” children; alternative ways of functioning such as seeing by touch and hearing by sign; deinstitutionalization and independent living; the groundbreaking disability rights legislation’ section 504; the struggle for change in the courts and in the streets; The Americans with Disabilities Act; access to jobs and health care; not-dead-yet activists and physician assisted suicide; disability and technology; disabled veterans and their rights; education and the Least Restrictive Environment, and; identity and culture. In teaching the Disability Rights Movement in general, the documentary film Lives Worth Living (2011) captures historical footage of how disparate groups built alliances that resulted in what is considered by some to be the farthest reaching civil rights laws. The documentary exemplifies the need to reclaim disability history as most students are unaware of the number of citizens involved and the situations they face that able-bodied people do not have to think about. Questions to be asked can include the following: What are some of the images of or statements about people with disabilities in the film that resonate with you the most? Why? (e.g., people climbing out of their wheelchairs and pulling themselves up the steps of Capital Hill to protest its inaccessibility, both literally and metaphorically). In current times, Are people with disabilities still considered a sub-class? Why or why not? What are some examples of problems that ­people with disabilities can encounter in schools, buildings, communities, and the ­workplace? Can you share examples of these experiences people with disabilities

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that you know, such as family members? Why did forced sterilization of people with disabilities take place, and what are some ethical considerations with which you agree or disagree? What is the historic relationship between disability and exclusion? Where has this been manifest in the past and where does it still occur in our present day? What have been some examples of progress since this documentary footage took place?

Feature Films Showing a short clip from a full-length movie serves to examine the accuracy of disability portrayals in both college and middle and high school classrooms. Five  minutes of Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman (1992) or the student cafeteria scene in Mean Girls (2004) gives rise to discussions about using humor to maintain stereotypes. However, having discussed Safran’s (1998b) categories, and using the lens of DS/DSE to critique and counteract the messages that saturate our culture, I ask students to choose a film to analyze. The film can be a “classic” movie, a TV movie, a contemporary film being shown at the cinema, or a personal favorite that will now be re-watched with a critical lens. The format of the assignment is simple. Students are instructed to note the full title of the film, its year of release, and respond to: (a) In what ways are disabled bodies represented? How is this contrasted with notions of normalcy? (b) What are the messages these representations send to society at large? (c) What are questions and thoughts that you have in relation to the film? I have found that having been introduced to a different way of “seeing” disability in class, student commentaries are insightful and their questions are thoughtful. Furthermore, when students discuss their papers during class in groups of four, larger issues are raised and deepen conversations about major themes. An observation that becomes apparent, for example, is the sense of containment that pervades many disability narratives in the media. Forms of containment include institutions (Rainman), hidden rooms ( Jane Eyre) and out-of-reach bell towers (Hunchback), rural homes (Whatever Happened to Gilbert Grape?), or on the fringes of society (Radio). As previously mentioned, disability is linked to a desirable death (Million Dollar Baby, The Sea Inside, suicidal Dan in Forrest Gump). Students are genuinely shocked that separating, hiding, or killing people seem to be stock societal responses to disability. As we relate these issues to education, they are clearly links to stigmatization, outcast status, self-contained classes, separate schools, institutions, and prisons. Commonplace enforced practices such as the medical profession’s pressurizing pregnant mothers into amniocentesis as a means to “prevent” the birth of disabled children are looked at in a different light. Table 12.1 provides a more detailed sample of possible mainstream films to ­utilize in class, along with potential sample questions. Note that many of these questions are somewhat interchangeable regardless of the type of disability ­(sensory, physical, mental, and cognitive).

Questioning “Normal”  209 TABLE 12.1  Examples of mainstream films featuring disability

Type of disability and title of film

Description/issues to explore

Questions to ask

Sensory Ray (2014)

The biographical story of musician Ray Charles (Jamie Foxx) is narrated though flashbacks.

• Why did Ray’s mother want him to be as independent as possible? • What are some ways that Ray adapted to the world? • In what ways can drug addiction be understood as a disability? Is it fair to do so? Why or why not? • How do sighted audiences perceive blind singers such as Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Andrea Bocelli, and Diane Schuur? What information are these perceptions based upon?

Physical The Theory of Everything (2014)

Biopic of Stephen Hawkins, arguably he is the most brilliant man of our time. After developing a debilitating illness in his early 20s, Stephen’s soaring career is juxtaposed with his weakening body. He strives to have a relatively “normal” family life, including a wife and children.

• How is Stephen’s shift from “normal” to disabled portrayed? How do characters respond? What emotions does the audience feel? • In what ways does Stephen defy the odds? • What are some things that surprised you about Stephen’s experiences as a disabled man? Why? • Is the portrayal authentic or does it hold up the “super crip” trope? How? • Does this portrayal reinforce or challenge stereotypes? • Should an actor with disabilities have played this role? Debate why or why not.

Cognitive Radio (2003).

A local high school coach notices students bullying and verbally abusing a quiet man who lives nearby. Taking the man under his wing, the coach goes against the grain of small town thinking, including “Radio,” the developmentally delayed man, into all aspects of the community.

• What is the relationship between people with cognitive disabilities and homelessness? • In what ways are disabled people the recipient of abusive behaviors from peers and community members? • Why do you think the coach took Radio under his wing? • Why is the principle of inclusion important in this story? • What may be some problematic aspects of this portrayal of disability? How authentic did you find it? Why?

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Documentaries It may sound like stating the obvious, but the most accurate portrayals of d­ isability are not in fictional stories or even dramatization of actual people’s lives. They are in documentaries. In Table 12.2, I briefly describe some that I have utilized over the years, why I have found them to be valuable, and some of the questions asked. TABLE 12.2  Examples of documentary films featuring disability

Title of film

Description/issues to explore

Questions to ask

Titicut Follies (1967)

Stark yet fascinating film of life inside an asylum for those deemed “criminally insane” in the 1960s. The documentary shows unfiltered footage of “inmates” subjected to insults and various humiliations within dehumanizing conditions – and the people who are charged to take care of them.

• Why does society have separate place for people with disabilities? • How were the people portrayed treated? • What was (un)surprising to you in the film? • What was the scene that made an impression upon you the most? Why? • What connections can you make between the people with mental disabilities then and now?

When Billy Broke His Head and Other Tales of Wonder (1995)

An award-winning journalist (Billy Golfus) who experiences a head injury travels across the United States to meet a variety of people with disabilities, chronicling their activism. He reveals many the ways in which disabled people are inaccurately portrayed in cultural representations and fight to be included in society.

• How does Billy’s accident radicalize his perspective of disability? • What were some of the general things he began to notice about disability after his accident? • Of the disability activists he profiles, which one stayed with you the most? Why? • What are some cultural representations of disability in your favorite films and TV shows? Are they “fair” and accurate – or unfair and inaccurate?

Liebe Perla (1999)

This film depicts a moving account of a relationship between two people of short stature. One is a traveling musician imprisoned in Nazi Germany and the other is a contemporary researcher and filmmaker.

• In what ways is the history of disabled/little people parallel to other victims of the Nazi Holocaust? • Compare and contrast the lives of Perla and the filmmaker, in terms of how their societies responded to little people. • Discuss Perla’s perspective of her life as a Holocaust survivor.

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Title of film

Description/issues to explore

Questions to ask

Sound and Fury (2000)

The film chronicles several families with deaf members who are divided by the availability of cochlear implants. It illuminates the ethical and political dilemmas of surgery on infants, toddlers, and children.

• What are the arguments for and against cochlear implants? • Explain why many members of the Deaf community reject the premise of Cochlear implants. • Is Deaf culture (mis)represented as separatist?

Ennis’s Gift (2000)

This film pays homage to Ennis Cosby, the murdered son of comedian Bill Cosby. Ennis had dyslexia and his struggles in school influenced Cosby to highlight the issue by having his TV son have dyslexia too – raising the issue on national television.

• Should non-disabled people “out” disabled people if they are role models? Why or why not? • What in the words of Danny Glover, Bruce Jenner, Lindsay Wagner, James Earl Jones, and Henry Winkler was most insightful, unusual, interesting? • How do people talking about what their learning differences are help us better understand what they are?

Including Samuel (2009)

Journalist Dan Habib chronicles his own family’s response to having a child with cerebral palsy and their desire to have Samuel fully included in all aspects life – particularly school.

• What is the process of Samuels’ father and mother becoming politicized about disability? What were some of the things they noticed about society after having a son with a disability? • Which of the featured stories was most insightful for you, and why?

Who Cares About Kelsey? (2012)

This film focuses on a young woman who has been identified as having an emotional disturbance. Following Kelsey through the day at home and at school reveals multiple aspects of a “problem” student.

• What do you consider Kelsey’s “unacceptable behaviors”? • How might you talk with her to work on them? • What may be some of the triggers for these behaviors? • What are coping mechanisms that you have for difficult or challenging situations?

Ir a la Escuela/ Going to School (2001)

In contrasts to the middleclass and largely EuropeanAmerican families featured in Including Samuel (2009),

• In what ways does social class manifest in the story of a family that has a child with a disability? (continued)

212  David J. Connor TABLE 12.2  Examples of documentary films featuring disability (continued )

Title of film

Description/issues to explore

Questions to ask

this documentary highlights the lived experiences of Latino/a families in Los Angeles who have children with various disabilities.

• What does the film tell us about parental advocacy? • What does this real-life story tellus about including a child with multiple and severe disabilities? • In what ways can a parent actively participate in the Individualized Education Program (IEP) process to support her child?

A World Without Bodies (2002)

The filmmakers David Mitchell and Sharon Snyder trace the rise of eugenic ideology and document the social and medical regimes of Nazi Germany that justified the removal of a quarter of a million people with disabilities to concentration camps.

• What ideas in the Eugenics Movement in Germany (along with ideas developed in UK and USA) led up to the imprisonmentand execution of three hundred thousand people with disabilities? • What were some ideas that the filmmakers emphasized? • In what ways might this film be considered an example of reclaiming disability history?

Disability Takes on the Arts (2004)

Film focuses on visual artists and writers who argue they were profoundly influenced by their disability in their creative process – laying claim to the shaping influence of disability on great works of art.

• In what ways does disability inform, or influence, art? • What is the relationship of having a certain “condition” or type of bodily impairment and its influence on the creative process? • How do Riva Lehrer’s works challenge the viewer to (re)think disability?

Murderball (2005)

This Oscar-nominated film chronicles how a wheelchair-using team of rugby players roll their way to the world championships.

• What is the relationship between disability, sports, and bodies? • In what ways do the players challenge and/or reinforce gender stereotypes? • What are the pros and cons of having a “Special Olympics”?

Questioning “Normal”  213

Title of film

Description/issues to explore

Questions to ask

I Can’t Do This, But I Can Do That (2010)

Documentary featuring portraits of children with a variety of “learning differences” (rather than labeled disabilities), to show ways in which schooling can inhibit a child’s ability.

• In what ways can children/youth with learning differences inform educators and parents about how they best learn? • How can teachers create classrooms that employ Universal Design for Learning (UDL) to incorporate the learning profiles of the children featured?

Journey Into Dyslexia (2011)

This film takes a look at dyslexia from a student’s point of view. The result is a powerful narrative of struggles in school that profoundly impact a student’s identity, including the emotional toll of ongoing frustration.

• How do student perceptions and understanding of their abilities differ from “textbook explanations”? • In what ways can educators utilize the information shared? • In what ways do some school practices and policies serve todisable students with dyslexia? • What is the social, emotional, academic impact of dyslexia?

Wretches and Jabberers (2011)

This film documents the journey of two men with autism as they travel on a trip around the world to challenge and change attitudes about disability and intelligence. Seeking to redefine the face of autism the two men travel to Japan, Finland, and Sri Lanka.

• In what ways is autism viewed differently among cultures around the world? • How do people with autism contribute to society? What do they help us come to know about human differences? • In what ways do the two featured men challenge stereotypes or ableist assumptions of non-disabled people? • Why should we presume competency in others?

Invitation to Dance (2014)

In this film Simi Linton narrates her life story and interest in dance, and features a host of dancers with disabilities in dance troupes across the country.

• How can dance be used as a way to inform us about possibilities, both literally and metaphorically, of human bodies and how we interact with each other? • What is the benefit of viewingourselves as interdependentbeings rather than independent?

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Hosting or Attending Film Festivals In addition to considering documentaries to screen in classes, universities have the opportunity to host annual or “one off ” film festivals that are dedicated to issues of dis/ability and human differences. In one example, Syracuse University’s Annual International Film Festival, they have a strand called “Imaging Disability in Film” (http://news.syr.edu/disabilities-3/). At the 2015 event, three full-length films were shown: Invitation to Dance (2014), previously described above; Raising Renne about a sister who takes care of her intellectually disabled sibling (2011); and Ocean Heaven about a single parent raising his child with autism (2010). There are also organizations independent of educational institutions that are dedicated to portrayals of disability, such as the ReelAbilities: Disabilities Film Festival, initiated in 2007 (http://www.reelabilities.org/), held in over a dozen venues around the country. Another worthy example is Sprout, a New York City non-profit o ­ rganization dedicated to developing and supporting innovative programs for individuals with intellectual disabilities.These organizations offer grassroots, authentic depictions of true human variation that is characterized as natural and normal. Many of their selections are available from the filmmakers or via clips on YouTube. DSE scholars have done some work about how films can be used in K-12 classes (see, e.g., Connor and Bejoian, 2006; Maples, Ardnt, and White, 2010). However, much has yet to be explored in many disciplines. For example, in Social Studies, how might war be taught through representations of disabilities? Returning ­veterans? The Holocaust? Historical forms of torture? In English Language Arts, how can disabled characters be analyzed for three dimensionality rather than being a plot device? In Civics, how might the rights of people with disabilities be debated, including the right to life of people with Down Syndrome? In Science, how can discussions be cultivated about the use of technology to preserve lives in fragile states – from premature births to natural death in old age? Attention to all of these issues can be secured with a strategic film clip from a mainstream movie or documentary. The issues raised are major ones – life and death, love and fear, belonging and rejection – appropriate for secondary (and college) students. Teachers can create a film festival that can be embedded into consecutive or alternating lessons through the week, via an after-school film club, or on a weekend – opening it to the larger community.When linking this idea to teaching difficult history for education majors within universities, one suggestion is to have a film festival that focuses on What Does it Mean to Be Human? Rethinking Dis/Ability History across Time and Space that would be of interest to all teachers and teacher educators, including those in general and special education, along with those in other disciplines such as the Humanities. Culling from some of the films listed above, a sample of a film festival utilizing mainstream pictures may look like Table 12.3. Likewise, a festival focused on documentaries could look like Table 12.4. All films provide opportunities for viewers to be challenged and engage with their own knowledge of disability, especially when individuals or groups of people

Questioning “Normal”  215 TABLE 12.3  Sample selection of mainstream films for film festival

Order of screening

Film

Purpose

1

My Left Foot (1989)

To explore how some people with disabilities with multiple impairments (cerebral palsy, no speech) often appear to non-disabled people.

2

Gattica (1997)

To debate the ethics of trying to create a world without people with disabilities.

3

Frida (2002)

To rethink the human condition in terms of how experiencing impairment influences the creative process.

4

Born on the 4th of July (1989)

To contemplate ways in which the disabling experience can radicalize ordinary (read: patriotic) citizens into rethinking the priorities of governmental policies.

5

Elephant Man (1980)

To compare and contrast previous and contemporary times in thinking about disability and human differences.

TABLE 12.4  Sample selection of documentary films for film festival

Order of screening

Film

Purpose

1

Titicut Follies (1967)

To explore ways in which people with disabilities were treated in institutions.

2

Liebe Perla (1999)

To analyze ways in which people with various body types understand themselves in contrast to perceptions by “able-bodied” people.

3

A World Without Bodies (2002)

A prototype for rethinking both familiar and less-familiar histories from the point of view of contemporary disabled people reflecting upon their state-murdered counterparts.

4

Wretches and Jabberers (2011)

To contemplate ways in which people with specific differences (e.g., those considered having autism) can inform “non-disabled” people about ways of looking at the world.

5

Invitation to Dance (2014)

To see ways in which people with disabilities contribute to our expansion of knowledge in their (re)interpretation of what constitutes our existing knowledge about a certain discipline, in this case dance.

with disabilities share information that contradicts misinformation, myths, and inaccuracies about life as a person deemed disabled because they deviate from the norms that have been created. Students can be encouraged to think of the implications of when one group of people is determined by another, subsequent degrees

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of (mis)information, and the need to critique all historical and ­contemporary sources of knowledge with view to validating them for accuracy.

Conclusion: Toward Increasing the Use of Film as a Pedagogical Tool to Teach Disability in K-12 Classes In this chapter, I have outlined the value of using a DSE framework to analyze portrayals of disability in film. By troubling the basic concept of normalcy, I have sought to illustrate the overwhelmingly limited, inaccurate and damaging depictions of disabled characters in mainstream films, as well as guiding educators to the documentaries that tend to reflect lived reality over fictionalized accounts. I close by urging us all to contemplate ways in which we better utilize film as a resource to teach about disability as diversity within K-12 classes. Eli Clare takes on the issue directly urging, “... the dominant story about disability should be about ableism, not the inspirational supercrip crap, the believe-it-or-not disability story” (Clare, 1991, p. 2 cited in in Arndt, White, and Chervenak, 2010). How might we move in this direction, away from misinformation, fearful or admirable stereotypes, of ignoring things or sweeping difficult issues under the carpet? Lalvani et al. (2015) challenge all educators to confront their dysconsciousness about disability. Used by King (1991) in relation to racial awareness, wherein majority group members experience dysconsciousness as a form of “limited and distorted understandings … [that] make it difficult for them to act in favor of a truly equitable education” (p. 134), Lalvani et al. urge ableism and other discriminatory ideological systems to be faced and engaged with. In addition, by actively challenging the related concepts of “disability” and “normalcy,”Valle and Connor (2011) acknowledge that discomfort can be a productive site for learning, and believe that educators can do the following: actively talk about disability; break silence around disability; speak to associations of shame and disability; work toward dispelling discomfort; teach the principle of diversity as the basis of community; unpack and challenge disability-­related language (e.g., “that’s retarded”); be mindful of disability representations being included in representations of ­diversity; teach about self-­advocacy; develop projects to examine and counter stereotypes; and infuse Disability Studies into the K-12 curriculum, as exemplified by Syracuse University’s resources for teachers (http://thechp.syr.edu/resources/ disability-studies/). Above all, I believe educators (K-16) who are grounded in and guided by social justice issues should confront ableism in its many forms. Safran (1998b) has ­developed suggestions for considering and choosing movies that would focus ­student conversations on people with disabilities (PWD). These s­uggestions include the following: (1) being mindful of the rating for sex and violence; (2)  preferably having disabled actors or those who research the part well; (3) PWD participating as full participants in their communities; (4) developing

Questioning “Normal”  217

complexity of PWDs personalities; (5) verifying the accuracy of portrayal of PWD; (6) identifying disability issues such as inclusion, community integration, and independent living are integrated into setting/plot; and (7) avoiding sensational and stereotypic versions of PWD. In closing, when contemplating the topic of the difficult history of people with disabilities, I agree with Maples, Ardnt, and White (2010) who state, “If stereotypical representations of characters with disabilities are not identified and challenged, another generation of people may hold on to outdated and unhealthy assumptions about real people with disabilities” (p. 77). As you have seen in this chapter, there is a lot of work to be done.

Note 1 Given the progress of the inclusive education movement, the notion of a “special ­education population” now seems slightly archaic, and not compatible with a DS ­perspective of education that challenges the inauthenticity of two “types” of people— the disabled and the nondisabled.

References Arndt, K., White, J. M., and Chervenack, A. (2010). “Gotta go now”: Rethinking the use of The Mighty and Simon Birch in the middle school classroom. Disability Studies Quarterly, 30(1). Available at http://dsq-sds.org/article/view/1014/1227. Baglieri, S., Bejoian, L., Broderick, A., Connor, D. J., and Valle, J. W. (2011). [Re]claiming “inclusive education” toward cohesion in educational reform: Disability studies u ­ nravels the myth of the normal child. Teachers College Record, 113(10), 2122–2154. Black, R. S. and Pretes, L. (2007).Victims and victors: Representation of physical disability on the silver screen. Research and Practice for Persons with Severe Disabilities, 32(1), 66–83. Burch, S. and Rembis, M. (Eds.) (2014). Disability Histories. Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press. Clare, E. (1991). Exile and Pride: Disability, Queerness, and Liberation. Cambridge, MA: South End Press. Connor, D. J. and Bejoian, L. (2006). Pigs, pirates, and pills: Using film to teach the social context of disability. Teaching Exceptional Children, 39(2), 52–60. Connor, D. J., Gabel, S. L., Gallagher, D., and Morton, M. (2008). Disability studies and inclusive education–Implication for theory, research, and practice: Guest editor’s introduction. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 12(5–6), 441–457. Davis, L. (1995). Enforcing Normalcy: Disability, Deafness and the Body. London:Verso. Davis, L. (2005). Why disability studies matters. Inside Higher Ed. https://www.insidehighered.com/views/2005/02/21/why-disability-studies-matters. Disabled in Action of Metropolitan New York. (n.d.). Facts about disability in the U.S. population. Retrieved from http://www.disabledinaction.org/census_stats.html Fleischer, D. and Zames, F. (2011). The Disability Rights Movement: From Charity to Confrontation. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Gallagher, D. J. (2011). Educational researchers and the making of normal people. In C. Dudley-Marling and A Gurn (Eds.), The Myth of the Normal Curve (pp. 25–38). New York: Peter Lang.

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Haller, B. (2010). Representing Disability in an Ableist World. Louisville, KY: Advocado Press. Hayes, M.T., and Black, R. S. (2003).Troubling signs: Disability, Hollywood movies and the construction of a discourse of pity. Disability Studies Quarterly, 23(2), 114–132. King, J. E. (1991). Dysconscious racism: Ideology, identity, and the miseducation of teachers. Journal of Negro Education, 60(2), 133–146. Kudlick, C. J. (2003). Disability history: Why we need another ‘other.’ American Historical Review, 108, 763–793. Lalvani, P., Broderick,A., Fine, M., Jacobowitz,T., and Michelli, N. (2015).Teacher e­ ducation, InExclusion, and the implicit ideology of Separate but Equal: An invitation to dialogue. Journal of Education, Citizenship and Social Justice. doi: 10.1177/1746197915583935. Linton, S. (1998). Claiming Disability. New York: New York University Press. Longmore, P. K., and Umansky, L. (Eds.). (2001). The New Disability History: American Perspectives. New York: New York University Press. Maples, J., Arndt, K., and White, J. M. (2010). Re-seeing The Mighty: Critically examining one film’s representations of disability in the English classroom. English Journal, 100(2), 77–85. Mitchell, D. T., and Snyder, S. L. (Eds.). (2000). Narrative Prosthesis: Disability and the Dependencies of Discourse. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. National Center for Education Statistics. (2016). Children and youth with disabilities. In The condition of education 2016. Retrieved from http://nces.ed.gov/programs/coe/­ indicator_cgg.asp. Norden, M. F. (1994). The Cinema of Isolation: A History of Physical Disability in the Movies. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. ReelAbilities.org (n.d.) ReelAbilities NY film festival announces its 2015 line-up. http:// www.reelabilities.org/news/view/reelabilities-ny-disabilities-film-festival-announcesits-2015-line-up. Russell, M. (1998). Beyond Ramps: Disability at the End of the Social Contract. Monroe, ME: Common Courage Press. Shivers, S. (2011). The Silvering Screen: Old Age and Disability in Cinema. Toronto, Canada: University of Toronto Press. Safran, S. P. (1998a). The first century of disability portrayal in film: An analysis of the ­literature. Journal of Special Education, 31(4), 467–479. Safran, S. P. (1998b). Disability portrayal in film: Reflecting the past, directing the future. Exceptional Children, 64(2), 227–238. Safran, S. P. (2000). Using movies to teach students about disabilities. Teaching Exceptional Children, 32(3), 44–47. Shapiro, J. P. (1993). No Pity: People with Disabilities Forging a New Civil Rights Movement. New York: Random House. Stiker, H. J. (1999). A History of Disability. Ann Arbor: Love Publishing House. Valle, J., and Connor, D. J. (2010). Rethinking Disability: A Disability Studies Guide to Inclusive Practices. New York: McGraw-Hill.

13 Invoking Precious Knowledge with Teacher Candidates to Reclaim the Past, Reassess the Present, and Revolutionize Future Practice Mark Kohan and Emilie M. Camp

Introduction What counts as knowledge in public schools has been contested since their inception. However, reform efforts in recent decades have sought additional ­ control over students’, teachers’, and communities’ ways of knowing, acting, and speaking through compliance and commodification models of governance and evaluation (Ladson-Billings, 1995, 2009; Loewen, 2007; Sensoy and DiAngelo, 2012). The continuing struggle for the students and community served by the Mexican American Studies (MAS) program (Cammarota and Romero, 2014) in Tucson, Arizona, is a reminder that the struggles for educational equity and ­justice are located within sociopolitical contexts that demand our attention, investigation, and advocacy. By engaging in an examination of the first K-12 ethnic ­studies program and its ultimate outlawing by state officials chronicled in the film, Precious Knowledge, educators and students are able to engage in critical dialogue that fosters interest in and understanding of the relationship of history, culture, and politics to American public education. It also illustrates many ways in which histories, cultures, and languages have been and continue to be marginalized or silenced.The film offers not only opportunities to study and identify the sociopolitical nature of knowledge, curriculum, and context, but also engenders empathy and action from those who teach culturally and linguistically diverse students (Carberry, 2014; Parkhouse, 2015; Ortega, 2014). As the population of culturally and linguistically diverse US public school students increases, the demographics of the teaching population have remained largely unchanged:White, middle class, and monolingual (Banks, 2016).Teacher education programs must play a role in uncovering the legacy of oppression in education policy and curriculum and look to re-imagine how schooling can honor the histories, cultures, and languages students embody, embrace, and enact every day.

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This chapter describes how two teacher educators have used the difficult history represented in Precious Knowledge as an opening to critical conversations around issues of the history of racism in public education. It then advocates for the role of sociopolitically conscious film as a central feature in teacher education programs and their relational commitments with school-community partners.

Critical Frames for Teaching, Learning, and Leading with Film From critical multicultural perspectives, we conceptualize difficult history as a ­history that claims space and place in schools and other institutional settings because it calls into question dominant or “master” historical narratives. It does so by problematizing histories focused largely on the power, decisions, and changes of White men that traditionally deny or denigrate other his/her/stories in those settings.Within American public education, difficult histories can take the form of ethnic, transnational, regional, local, community, and/or personal his/her/stories, and serve as an important site for inquiry. They force a conversation with dominant historical narratives as well as the social, political, and economic structures that support them. Difficult histories do this by implicitly or explicitly identifying, critiquing, and disrupting nationalist and capitalist agendas, including who those agendas have served over time and how.This includes dismantling curricula based on heroes and holidays and that sanctions Manifest Destiny, Westward Expansion, and the Protestant work ethic as legitimate rationales for the dominance of White patriarchy, colonialism, and supremacy in American society. Difficult histories are difficult precisely because educational, political, and business establishments are forced to concede power, space, and control in what knowledge is valued, how it is constructed, and who else has a voice in crafting public spaces, policies, and practices. We also mean the histories of peoples not represented, represented through tokenism, or represented within a binary construct of narratives of Western civilization (e.g., good versus evil, the haves versus the have nots, the godly versus the pagan or godless, etc.). Difficult history humanizes people struggling for survival, power, and equality and asserts the importance of sociopolitical contexts in shaping those struggles. It is through the representation of and commitment to difficult histories that educational and ­public spaces become culturally sustaining, civically situated, and contextually considerate. Without the embrace of difficult histories, there cannot be recognition of the sociopolitical context of schooling, teaching, or learning and there cannot be a truly “public” education. By extension, there cannot be public schools that support the health, healing, and evolution of a democratic republic.

The Film Precious Knowledge explores the last years (2008–2009) of Raza Studies/MAS program at Tucson High School in Arizona as well as the past and recent history

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of the school-community organizing in Tucson. It chronicles the stories of the students and teachers associated with the program as well as educational leaders and policymakers and their perspectives on then Arizona House Bill 2281 (now A.R.S. § 15–112) designed to ban the MAS program. The success of the program is highlighted in both traditional and non-traditional measures: (1) with 93% of MAS students graduating, compared to the national rate among Mexican Americans at 48%, and (2) with many school-community events and personal testimonies of students and their families relating significant change in school and civic engagement. Going beyond statistics and testimony, the film shows MAS examples of culturally sustaining pedagogy and social justice education through two teachers’ classrooms, highlighting the first time in the US that ethnic studies had been attempted systematically in a K-12 setting (i.e., besides Western European ethnic studies). While the teachers come from similar stances and draw on resources that include the use of Indigenous and Latinx concepts, iconography, texts, and understandings of the world (and people’s place in it), they encourage their students to question dominant forms of knowledge in different ways through their content areas – English and Civics/Government – and in accordance with their own lived experiences and passions. The film implicates Arizona policymakers, most notably consecutive Superintendents of Public Instruction, Tom Horne and John Hupenthal, in their refusal to acknowledge or attend to both educational research and the voices of professional teachers, their students, and community stakeholders. Because the teachers invoke the arts and histories of Indigenous and Chican@ peoples, however, their pedagogical activities were labeled “anti-American” by policy makers and local media outlets, sending the message that if it cannot be created, controlled, or commodified by White people then it is against the “classic American values” that John Hupenthal implies are at the heart of public education in Arizona. The film ends with the intensifying media campaigns and fear fueling anti-­ immigrant legislation in Arizona, including the outlawing of the MAS program despite protests and marches from the students, teachers, and community members. A quote on social change by Cesar Chavez is displayed just before the ­credits roll. The filmmakers make a link to the MAS curriculum on their official website. It provides teaching and activism resources sponsored by TeacherActivist Groups.org, which locates Precious Knowledge’s purpose as not one of merely documentarian research, but also one of advocacy and organizing.

The Role of Precious Knowledge in Classrooms Because the film both chronicles and promotes difficult history, it is particularly useful for public education stakeholders. It highlights marginalized perspectives on education and challenges dominant historical and political narratives in America as well as ways of knowing and learning in schools. Its recentness only adds to the urgency and applicability of considering what schooling, teaching, and learning

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can look like when it is culturally sustaining (Paris, 2012), civically situated, and contextually considerate (Milner, 2010). From offering historically marginalized perspectives and questions from diverse peoples of the Americas, such as alternative readings of the “Founding Fathers,” the meaning of Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” speech, and the reasons for the Civil Rights Movement, the film offers teacher education students more critical and rigorous opportunities to locate social engineering and their place in it. Considering the importance of both spiraling and permeable curricula, we contend that the film can be used in a range of educational settings. For example, Parkhouse’s study (2015) illuminated how showing the film in social studies methods courses facilitated opportunities to delve more deeply into social action and social movements. Building on such work, we suggest that when viewed within introductory multicultural education or foundations courses Precious Knowledge can provide opportunities to develop a sociopolitical consciousness in pre-service teachers of all content areas. Because of its ability to invoke empathy (Picower, 2012; Marcus et al., 2010) and historical contexts of oppression to social justice education, teacher candidates can move through their program with these supporting their repertoires of practice (Gutiérrez and Rogoff, 2003). Additionally, the film offers a powerful professional development and inquiry tool for teacher educators and practicing teachers as they enter into or refine equity and social justice trajectories in their ­classrooms and communities. Further, Precious Knowledge has been used as a school– ­community–university organizing tool for a student-led organization focused on creating a pipeline for students of color into education fields, as well as for a ­non-profit that supports undocumented students and their educational attainment.

The Role of Precious Knowledge in Teacher Education: A Case Study In his book, Between the World and Me, Ta Nehisi Coates (2015) contends that “[t]he [American] Dream thrives on generalization, on limiting the number of possible questions, on privileging immediate answers. The Dream is the enemy of all art, courageous thinking, and honest writing” (p. 50). His work reflects a commitment to multiple ways of knowing, being, and acting beyond those in the academy, reminding us to consider the arts-based research and philosophic contributions of a wide range or cultural workers and artists. Precious Knowledge ­represents one such contribution that provides pedagogical opportunities for analysis and exploration through critical multicultural educational perspectives by educators committed to equity and social justice. In the sections that ­follow, we discuss our pedagogical approaches to using the film and its implications for both teacher candidates and teacher education programs. Specifically we examine how Precious Knowledge and other socio-politically conscious education films introduce teacher candidates to how they can reclaim, reimagine, and

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reassess curriculum and teach in ways that affirm American pluralism and difficult ­histories (e.g., Loewen, 2007; Takaki, 2008; Zinn, 2005). This is in an ongoing commitment to educate all students – especially those who are culturally and linguistically diverse and subsequently minoritized by our current systems – to prepare them for both personal and professional possibilities and democratic and global citizenship (Banks, 2016).

Sociopolitical and Cultural Considerations and Frameworks To situate pedagogical moves with the film, we first attend to sociopolitical and cultural frameworks that redirect the focus of educational issues. For instance, we reframe the achievement gap and its focus on educational outcomes by focusing on the opportunity gap, revealing the inequitable structures and inputs of the educational system (Milner, 2010, pp. 7–8). The critical areas of Milner’s (2010) opportunity gap framework (pp. 13–15) require teacher candidates and teacher educators to attend to the racial, cultural, and class-based realities of students, teachers, families, and communities. Another important way that opportunity gaps can be addressed is through culturally sustaining pedagogy (CSP). CSP provides a powerful alternative to the “evermore explicit deficit perspectives, polices, and pedagogies … [with] the quite explicit goal of creating a monocultural and monolingual society based on White, middle-class norms of language and cultural being” (Paris, 2012, p. 95). CSP explicitly requires supporting multilingualism and multiculturalism in both practice and perspective for students and teachers and satisfies the racial, cultural, and contextual demands of applying opportunity gap perspectives to schooling, teaching, and learning. It also adds focused attention to language plurality and perception. According to Paris (2012), CSP “seeks to perpetuate and foster – to sustain – linguistic, literate, and cultural pluralism as part of the democratic project of schooling” (p. 95). A key element of CSP is developed from one of LadsonBillings’ (2006) three elements of culturally relevant pedagogy – sociopolitical (or critical) consciousness – which is of particular interest because it insists on contextually situated nature of living, growing, and learning. In locating the ends of social justice education, Bree Picower (2012) explains that because teaching from a social justice perspective “is a political act situated in cultural, racial, economic, political tensions,” then “educators … must have a political analysis of how inequality, oppression, and power operate as a starting place for social justice teaching” (p. 4). This sees the role of the teacher to identify and eliminate disparities and oppression in order to achieve a more democratic society (Picower, 2012) and implies both Ladson-Billings’ notion of sociopolitical consciousness and the ability to identify colorblind, meritocratic, deficit, and culturally dominant or oppressive mind-sets and actions in schools and society (Milner, 2010).

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Building on such insights Coates reminds us that American social, political, and economic institutions depend on and demand known commodities. They have a history of commodifying people and things in order to own or control them. It is at the heart of many of our policies, practices, and the policing – or assessment – of them. In the process of commodification, we compartmentalize, capture, and reduce what is and could be and make what has to be. It is the capitalist machine behind the myth of the American Dream and what drives education policies like those confronting the MAS students and teachers What has to be is in the interests of a capitalism that has its roots in the slave trade and current forms in neoliberalism – those people, privatization forces, and structures – demanding an austere or high-stakes brand of accountability and standardization for the accumulation of wealth and cultural dominion (Sleeter, 2008, 2013). The continued privatization of public education disproportionately ­positions and elevates the wants, comforts, and beliefs of White people in ­boardrooms over those of diverse students and teachers in classrooms. If public education stakeholders spanning classrooms, boardrooms, and the community do not work actively against the commodification of curriculum, teaching, and assessment, the opportunity gap will continue to grow. Through the commodification of public schooling, teacher and student actions become rote, even scripted; this in turn, erodes the profession of teaching, the art of teaching, and the relationships teaching depends on and develops for multidirectional learning and civic participation. This is a daily reality in US schools, particularly for culturally and linguistically diverse students. It is within this context, where violence, aggression, and control are inflicted on our students, teachers, and communities with such great regularity that it is normalized that exploring difficult history through film yields important opportunities to locate and interrogate our positions as public education ­stakeholders. Given the disproportionate number and intensity of these attacks on people of color, Precious Knowledge makes plain the horrors of current subjugation in American public education and invites viewers into “something murkier and unknown.”

Locating Ourselves – Paths and Positions By interrogating and attending to our own identities and cultural positions (Milner, 2007, 2015), we assert the subjective interpretations and biases inherent in all educational research and assessment (Cochran-Smith and Lytle, 2009), and respect the multiple readings and interests that participants bring with them into these experiences of historical representation. This is parallel to the writing of our colleagues in Chapter 7 who also engage in the important act of sharing their identities and its relationship to their work. Likewise, we find it imperative to locate the passion, power, and privilege we bring to this work, and offer our own stories to students as examples of how educators come to situate themselves within a praxis and reflexivity necessary for social justice teaching.

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Mark My own path to this work is as the only child of a Christian mother and Jewish father, who were both university administrators. I grew up in the rural and economically depressed outskirts of a college town in Appalachia. The center of family life, however, was in Cincinnati, Ohio, where we traveled to regularly to maintain a close connection with extended family. Because some of my family are Black and multiracial, I also learned about how race, racism, and racial battle fatigue impacted what was possible in many spheres of Ohio from an early age. College came as a welcome relief from the relative isolation I felt growing up. I chose the University of Arizona in Tucson, Arizona, in part because of its reflection and embrace of American pluralism in ways I did not see as possible elsewhere at the time. My friends there were from all over the Southwest and Mexico, and I learned much from them, as well as from my studies in Anthropology and Humanities, where Kiowa author, N. Scott Momaday, Dr Donna Swain, and other faculty urged us to question our world through the oral tradition, cultural lenses, and the arts, and where travels to Egypt and Mexico were made possible. My time at the University of Arizona gave me entrée into new possible worlds and taught me how to negotiate them with my lived experience, not in spite of it. It held me accountable for my position in society in ways that no standardized test ever could. As a White male, I saw the sustained opportunities I have had through systems of White supremacy and patriarchy. Prior to living in the Southwest, my world revolved around White male heroes paraded and applauded consistently in school, religious services, film, media, sports, money, and product branding. My time in Tucson helped me push behind and beyond that conditioning, while not eschewing my past or feeling guilty for it. Instead, I came to understand it as a lever for learning and change. After graduation I moved back to Appalachia where I became a high school English teacher – the most applied opportunity I could find to be a cultural worker, broker, and translator. I taught at a public alternative high school in West Virginia, just a few hours drive from where I grew up. When my wife was offered a post-doctoral fellowship at the University of Cincinnati, we moved again and I began my doctoral studies where I was able to work with a public high school that one of my cousins had attended. I worked with students and teachers there to develop an afterschool literacy and leadership community. The community grew and became a catalyst for equity and social justice organizing among like-minded individuals and institutions throughout the region. In this process, I met Emilie who introduced me to Precious Knowledge the year it was released. Currently, I teach at a large public university in the Northeast, where some of the highest achievement gaps in the country exist. As I locate my social identities, educational history and trajectories with my students, I pair those lived experiences and their storying with examples of difficult histories that illuminate what non-White curriculum, teaching, knowledge, and evaluation can look like. This leads us to Precious Knowledge.

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Emilie I once described myself as “vanilla” in referring to my White, middle-class upbringing. I was raised in a Northern Kentucky suburb of Cincinnati. Raised by two working parents, I attended a top ranked public school district, excelled in school, and rarely questioned the authority of schooling. During my final semester at a small liberal arts college, I took a sociology class on US/Mexico Border Studies. I spent a week in El Paso, Texas, and Juarez, Mexico. The “moment” that hooked me happened in a bilingual school. How had I spent nearly four years as an education major without having considered students whose first language wasn’t English? I decided to pursue a master’s in bilingual education. From that border experience, my astonishment of how such a small river could be exploited to reduce humans to objects of a twisted political notion of “border security,” pointed me in a new direction as a teacher committed to social justice. Teaching in a high poverty urban district continued to lay the groundwork for my interest in diversity and social justice. When I started my master’s program at the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP), I had taught kindergarten for two years, but had not yet considered its relationship to social justice. I had professors who helped me contextualize my teaching within a framework of critical pedagogy.They helped me see past the “differences” between my students and me, and understand how such differences reveal unearned privilege, and the complexities of dealing with these issues in a politically charged profession. My travels to Southern Mexico were also significant to my development. I spent part of three consecutive summers in Oaxaca prior to beginning my master’s program. Submersing myself in a foreign culture and language, forming friendships, and visiting places of sacred Indigenous history were powerful markers of my appreciation for the diversity of the human experience. After completing my master’s, I taught Spanish in grades K-5. No Child Left Behind was unfolding as the law of the land, and while I was insulated from its reach as a “special area” teacher, I was suddenly breathing the heavy air of stress induced by standardized tests, accountability, administrative surveillance, and an unapologetic factory-like structure to the school day. I spent my planning periods reading articles on anything related to education, schooling, and social justice. Soon, I set my sights on New Mexico State’s PhD program in critical pedagogy. As a doctoral student, I found my niche in education, welcoming the mentorship from my professors and partners in my assistantship in a university–school partnership called “Project MOVEMOS” (O’Donnell and Gallegos, 2006). I loved it! It kept me “grounded” in the world of public schooling and served as professional development that allowed me to “try out” teaching in higher education. I returned home to write my dissertation and begin my position at UC. I met Mark, learning I had a colleague who shared my enthusiasm for the “borderlands.” If the two of us, from this “vanilla” region of the US, could be so moved by our “borderlands” experiences, then so too could our students. Precious Knowledge has

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served as a catalyst for our students’ awakening to the commitment of learning and teaching difficult histories.

Relocating with Others – Pedagogical Movements with Students and Film Precious Knowledge offers focused time and attention with the experiences of many school and community members occupying various positions in the Tucson Unified School District (TUSD), as well as state policymakers. TUSD is a majority Latinx/Chican@ district, the second largest in the state of Arizona; both the city and the school district have a history of civil rights activism.This is juxtaposed with a state that has a long history of White domination and oppression of Brown and Black bodies and minds. Through individual and collective moments with educators, students, and their families in the film, examples for reclaiming and reimagining schooling, teaching, and learning – what they could look like, sound like, and value – stand in sharp contrast to a state and country intensely focused on claiming its commitments to freedom while actively working against it for particular groups of people. As TUSD educators invoke “precious knowledge” of cultures, language, and histories present in the Americas long before they held that name (or Western civilization drew lines and laid claim to the lands therein), the threat of equity-oriented change becomes too much for state and school board policymakers to bear. The supposed simple truths they espouse to live by and govern with are made murky and multifaceted as American Dream propaganda and policy decisions are exposed as severely lacking both in evidence and logic. As teacher educators, we teach the multicultural or “diversity” foundations courses within the teacher education programs at our respective universities; both large, research universities located in the Midwest and Northeast. Our students are primarily White and middle class. Often, beneath the surface of their enthusiasm for teaching exists unexamined privilege, political apathy, and deficit orientations toward people of color, and toward minoritized groups in general (Sensoy and DiAngelo, 2012; Valencia, 1997). Like Picower (2012), we also find that our students unconsciously resort to “tools of whiteness” to justify such privilege, inaction, and stereotyping the “other.” Milner (2010) places the onus on us as teacher educators to craft experiences of self and social discovery in pursuit of teacher candidates’ sociopolitical consciousness (Ladson-Billings, 2006). We understand that assuming our students will latch on to the same interests that have driven us to pursue work in social justice education is misguided. After all, the foundation courses we teach in diversity address a wide swath of topics that can resonate with students by applying lenses of race, class, language, gender, ethnicity, and so on, to the work of teachers, schools, and education policy. While Precious Knowledge certainly highlights one specific story within a ­specific cultural context, we employ the film not only to introduce the context of oppression of Latinx youth and the cruelty of white-washed, English-only education

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policy, but apply those concepts of oppression, White supremacy, and xenophobia to the broader aims of the course. Through the film and the difficult history it invokes, we leverage our passion for the borderlands to gain entry to our students’ starting points for considering the significance of developing a sociopolitical consciousness across educational contexts. At the heart of this work is the recognition that we are all historical beings, as Baldwin and Mead (1974) make clear: “If history were past, history wouldn’t matter. History is the present … you and I are history. We carry our history. We act our history” (p. 25).

Reclaiming the Past On the first day of class, we ask students to identify the books, films, music, and shows that meant the most to them growing up and why. This gives us a tangible starting place for discussions around locating cultural norms. We too share some of our favorite movies as children and young adults that were part of a Hollywood curriculum of White savior films (Hughey, 2014); we share the way they both impacted our reading of the world, and where and why our views began to change. Following this, we ask our students to brainstorm and record everything they know, or think they know, about the Southwest United States. Common responses tend to focus on the arid climate, basic demography, and language. Other responses, although less frequent, acknowledge immigration as relevant to that region and basic history related to the US/Mexico War in the nineteenth century. It is rare for students to express understanding of the cultural and political complexities of the Southwest and its people; that in 1846 the “border” crossed people and not the other way around is a foreign concept to our students; that Latinx students are obstructed from learning about the Indigenous beauty of their ancestry or the unique influence of the Spanish in violently shaping the course of the Southwest identity; that Latinxs and Chican@s played a substantial role in promoting civil rights, and continue to do so, is not typically a part of our students’ consciousness. On one memorable occasion, a student offered, “What do I know about the Southwest? John Wayne and Billy the Kid.” Such examples that rely on White male icons representing an expansive region with many peoples, histories, and perspectives, are commonplace each semester. However, Precious Knowledge, and geographical history activities (e.g., Thornton, 2013), offer considerable insight and new knowledge for our students to consider difficult history and then apply to the larger back-drop of social justice education.

Reassessing the Present Because the majority of our students come from White, middle-class backgrounds, where schooling “worked” for most of them, the curriculum and pedagogy they encountered seemed “commonsense” (Kumashiro, 2004). They saw themselves in the curriculum, their teachers came from similar backgrounds, and their parents

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often held the cultural and social capital to ensure their needs were met in schools (Persell, 2010).These experiences form their “tools of whiteness” (Picower, 2012), making it difficult for them to empathize with students of color whose histories and identities are marginalized and often erased from curriculum and teaching (Bell, 2010). A significant goal is for students to develop an empathy that halts the tools of whiteness they use to construct deficit-oriented explanations of why students of color “fail” at school (Picower, 2012,Valencia, 1997). Precious Knowledge exposes the institutional forces at work that undermine the opportunity for Latinx students to experience culturally sustaining pedagogy (Parkhouse, 2015). Not only do the teachers of MAS explicitly engage their students in critical examination of these structures, and consequently engage our students as they watch, the opponents of MAS are depicted to expose their role in these structures as well. In effect, we use this film to help our students begin to detect the ways in which a White, meritocratic school policy framework undermines the sociopolitical contexts of students of color, perpetuating the opportunity gap (Milner, 2010). The film introduces a difficult history for students to begin to reconsider the role of language, culture, politics, race and racism, xenophobia, power, and White privilege in American society. Using Socratic discussions, journaling, and ­student-directed “chalk talks,” where important quotes, questions, and associations are identified and posted, we engage in intentional, reflective discussions. We also ask questions to link the specific contexts of cultural and political oppression featured in the film with the broader spectrum of systems of oppression in US schooling. Through these discussions, we offer clarifications, and examine reflex rebuttals rooted in mere ­“opinion” through a critical theoretical lens (Sensoy and DiAngelo, 2012). In our experience, students often appear stunned at the trauma inflicted on MAS students portrayed in the film. Yet, when we facilitate focused reflection through follow up assignments such as a racial or cultural autobiography and critical analysis of a current issue in education policy, students begin to make connections between broader forms of institutional oppression and the specific context featured in the film. Reaching beyond the sociopolitical identities of our students, we also ask them to examine the role of the teacher as they see it play out in the film. In posing this question, we ask students to interrogate what teachers do beyond the formal curriculum. Students are asked to consider the purposes for schooling reflected in the teachers’ justice-oriented citizenship (Westheimer and Kahne, 2004) in both their own actions and what they aim to cultivate in the students in the MAS program. In so doing, students begin to wrestle with the challenges of engaging in the intellectual inquiry of the profession (Bradshaw, 2014). What stands out in these assignments and discussions is students’ admiration for the pedagogy they witness in the film and also, an empathy that was not present prior to the film. Their tools of whiteness begin to diminish as the empathy turns upside down the “common sense” approach to considering the role of curriculum and teachers (Kumashiro, 2004; Camp and Oesterreich, 2010).

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Revolutionize Future Practice For most teacher candidates, Precious Knowledge and our respective theoretically informed “diversity” courses, are the first opportunity to see what ethnic studies and culturally sustaining pedagogies can look like in K-12 classrooms. The MAS teachers present models for what teaching, learning, and leading from those commitments means. Their use of culturally sustaining pedagogy, through such texts as the bilingual poem, “In Lak’ech” (Valdez, 1990) that Mr Acosta uses to foster an affirming classroom community, can be considered a call to action for teachers and teacher educators alike because it spans traditional borders of language, national identity, and ethnic history. Using a role-play activity of the many people and groups involved in the MAS controversy, as well as reflective and advocacy writing activities, developed by Teacher Activist Groups (2012, pp. 8–14), we support students in deepening their empathy for all stakeholders involved and expand the kinds of civically engaged activities that offer examples of multicultural and community-based approaches to teaching and learning. These in turn, support subsequent student-led discussions, debates, artistic renderings with “gallery walk and talks,” and other “play spaces” in which our students present, such as workshops or mini-conferences with campus and/or with school–community partners. This way teacher candidates are not only able to identify practices they saw promoting new kinds of learning and community in the film, but get experience proposing, developing, and attempting to enact new multicultural practices with sociopolitical positioning in mind. In this process, teacher candidates learn how to make explicit their positionality to their students and colleagues. At the same time, they are challenged to provide similar and sustained opportunities for their students or colleagues to re-evaluate and locate themselves through an evolving sociopolitical consciousness. There is mutual renewal here for teacher educators as well as we are reminded of or learn something new from the experimentation and social innovation of our students.

Limitations of the Film Precious Knowledge, we contend, challenges the “dominant master narrative” and can be read as offering a “new totalizing counter-narrative” through its depiction of who is in the right and who is in the wrong (Barone, 2006, p. 222). While the film offers important ways into locating the sociopolitical nature of public education and new possible ways of conceiving of teaching and learning, it does so in clear opposition to the dominant political power structure. There is no attempt to humanize policymakers, such as Tom Horne and John Hupenthal, rather an unflinching commitment to hold them accountable for making decisions from on high, away from any sustained commitment to seeing or hearing the realities of the MAS program for students and teachers. Where or how could their views

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be read as part of faith, spiritual, and/or patriotic commitments based on where they come from? A role-play activity (e.g.,Teacher Activist Group, 2012, pp. 8–14) is useful in providing an opportunity to consider these beliefs and where they come from. Also, how else could the film have offered more than a good versus evil binary? With this unapologetic partisan angle of the film, we do take the opportunity to facilitate discussion with our students about the diverse and dynamic nature of knowledge itself.While students often plea for “unbiased” teaching resources, they do so with an assumption that their prior learning through K-12 schooling was just that: neutral (Sensoy and DiAngelo, 2012). This sense of curricular neutrality masks the difficult histories that are, at best, shoved to the margins of textbooks (Bell, 2010). A goal of our courses is to develop a critical consciousness within our students that teaching is always a political act (Nieto, 2000; Picower, 2012). In this light, we are candid in presenting Precious Knowledge as a counter-narrative and example of what Barone (2006) describes as “outlaw art,” rather than apologize for it. Bell’s (2010) “Storytelling Project Model” provides language for students to use when examining their previously held assumptions or critiquing the onesided focus of the film. Applying Bell’s (2010) model to the film, we offer students an opportunity to examine it as a “resistance story.” As a counter to “stock stories” that “are a set of standard, typical, or familiar stories held in reserve to explain racial dynamics in ways that support the status quo” (p. 29), resistance stories “draw from a cultural/historical repository of narratives by and about people and groups who have challenged racism and injustice; stories that we can learn from and build on to challenge stock stories that we encounter today” (p. 61). Through Bell’s model and the lens of difficult history, students begin to understand that the arguments of MAS opponents are a part of the dominant cultural narrative, saturating their own collective consciousness as members of the dominant culture. Thus, the one-sided nature of the film may be considered a limitation for portraying the opponents in such a harsh light as to exclude the possibility that they are motivated not by malice, but by deeply held beliefs about patriotism and American identity. Yet, the opponents’ arguments are the “stock story,” and we contend that exposing our students to a difficult history in the form of a “resistance story” significantly deepens their sociopolitical consciousness of the historical legacy of racism in Latinx communities.

The Role of Sociopolitically Conscious Films in White-dominated Spaces: Implications and Possibilities for Teacher Educators and Secondary Social Studies Teachers Teacher Educators While foundations courses in multicultural education can be overwhelming to teacher educators and students alike with a host of pressing topics to be addressed

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sociopolitically conscious films bring those topics together and to life through concrete experiences with the voices, faces, minds and bodies, struggling against inequity, discrimination, and oppression. Also, by placing the ethnic histories and identities of its students and community at the center of learning, the MAS program made the study of the self, other, and society the curriculum by which academic content was realized.Teacher educators in foundations courses can leverage its success (Cammrota and Romero, 2014) to begin unraveling the strands of deficit thinking of people of color (Valencia, 1997). Students can then begin to re-imagine curriculum as culturally sustaining rather than “neutral” and stagnant. In this sense, the film is an invitation to teacher candidates and public education stakeholders to consider new ways of schooling and teaching. One of the ways to sustain and deepen inquiry and organizing commitments across organizations for sociopolitical consciousness and educational change is through shared film screenings. By pairing films or supporting a film series in teacher education and school-community spaces, “documentary and dialogue” sessions can support public education stakeholders in identifying and addressing the sociopolitical contexts in which we live and learn. Films such as Color of Fear, Stolen Education, We Still Live Here, Dying to Live, The E Word, Defies Measurement, and Tested highlight opportunity gaps and attend to both difficult history and Barone’s (2006) conceptions of arts-based research, including the outlaw art, as well as offer new possibilities for shared professional development, educational leadership (broadly defined), and advocacy or activism. This includes the idea that teacher education programs should consider supporting the development of sociopolitically conscious films of their own where teacher education students attend to school-community partner voices, realities, and needs through video advocacy projects. A pre-teaching critical service learning course has been developed to do just that in partnership with the human rights video training nonprofit, witness.

Secondary Social Studies Teachers Precious Knowledge offers an opportunity for middle and high school students to pull the thread of the past into the present. Agarwal-Rangnath (2013) offers inviting teaching methods to support students in making such relevant connections in social studies classrooms. Further, proponents of democratic education assert that a necessary condition for developing social justice-oriented citizens (Westheimer and Kahne, 2004) is a curriculum that matters to young people and allows them to practice democracy authentically (Bradshaw, 2014; Stitzlein, 2011). Engaging students in a Socratic Seminar (Tredway, 1995) centered on a fundamental question elicited from the film can deepen student thinking about the historical connections to the lives of their contemporaries. Guiding questions such as, whose stories matter in history, what defines citizenship, who is responsible for racial

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and economic inequality, are young people citizens, are just a few of many questions to enter into the Socratic method of discussion. Structured Academic Controversy, another discussion method (Rossi, 2006) also aligns well, positioning students to further research and endorse a particular perspective from the film. Such a discussion method also can help to address the one-sided nature of the documentary by requiring deeper research and discussion of the opponents of the MAS program. These discussion methods, rooted in the cultivation of democratic citizenship, used in tandem with a story of young people engaged in a participatory, social justice orientation to such citizenship, sets the stage for students to make relevant connections between the difficult histories of the past and continued struggles in oppressed communities. Perspective-taking is another significant element of social studies instruction, particularly when examining difficult and marginalized histories (AgarwalRangnath, 2013). Enlivening the classroom with methods such as role play (Bigelow, 2006) and process drama (Rosler, 2010; Schneider, Crumpler, and Rogers, 2006), places students in the “shoes” of historical figures and/or contemporaries. Through such methods, students are tasked with becoming deeply familiar with and connected to people relevant to the context they have studied. Creating roles and scenarios based off the multiple people and perspectives featured in films lets students dive deep into one of them, leverage what they learn from the film, and make authentic and realistic connections to the broader concepts of history, culture, social justice, and citizenship, as they interact in a hypothetical setting established by the teacher. Teachers can play a key role in guiding and processing key concepts and issues at multiple points during the activity. The poignant reflections by Carberry (2014) and Ortega (2014) of students (and teacher) from an Oakland, California, high school standing in solidarity with the MAS students and teachers stand as an example of integrating social studies and language arts into a current issue with the historical backdrop threaded throughout. Socratic seminar, graphic organizers, NPR (National Public Radio) interviews, direct communication with people in Tucson, and a youth leadership conference presentation, all point to the art of teaching difficult histories through the context of a current event with direct connections to students’ lived experiences. It is a “unit” crafted in response to the questions most pertinent to these particular students, a brilliant display of the craft of teaching that weaves traditional academic standards into a complex issue that cultivates a social justice orientation to citizenship and learning in young people. It is our profound hope that by invoking Precious Knowledge, more teacher education programs will include films on difficult or marginalized histories in order to problematize what has been, is, and could be in schools and society. Even more importantly are the ways that “precious knowledge” is shared, advocated for, and attended to in policy and practice. Without inquiry, group, and educational partnership development across traditional borders and roles, there can be no mechanism for sociopolitical consciousness to spread, spur, and sustain educational

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change. Critically conscious films documenting and advocating difficult history become powerful tools in initiating and promoting their development.

Acknowledgments We would like to thank Dr Cara Bernard, Dr Alan Marcus, and Dr David Hicks for their substantive feedback and suggestions.

References Agarwal-Rangnath, R. (2013). Social Studies, Literacy, and Social Justice in the Common Core classroom. New York: Teachers College Press. Arizona House Bill (2010). Prohibited courses and classes; enforcement. 15 Ariz. Stat. Rev. § 1–15–112. Baldwin, J. and Mead, M. (1974). A Rap on Race. New York: Laurel. Banks, J. A. (2016). Cultural Diversity and Education: Foundations, Curriculum, and Teaching. New York: Routledge. Barone, T. (2006). Making educational history: Qualitative inquiry, artistry, & the public interest. In G. Ladson-Billings and W.F. Tate (Eds.), Education Research in the Public Interest: Social Justice, Action, & Policy. New York: Teachers College Press. Bell, L. A. (2010). Storytelling for Social Justice: Connecting Narrative and the Arts in Antiracist Teaching. New York: Routledge. Bigelow, B. (2006). The Line between Us: Teaching about the Border and Mexican Immigration. Milwaukee: Rethinking Schools. Bradshaw, R. (2014). Democratic teaching: An incomplete job description. Democracy and Education, 22(2), 1–5. Cammarota, J. and Romero, A. (Eds.). (2014). Raza Studies: The Public Option for Education Revolution. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Camp, E. M. and Oesterreich, H. A. (2010). Uncommon teaching in commonsense times: A case study of a critical multicultural educator. Multicultural Education, 17(2), 20–26. Carberry, D. (2014). Precious knowledge: Teaching solidarity with Tucson. In W. Au (Ed.), Rethinking Multicultural Education: Teaching for Racial and Cultural Justice. New York: Teachers College Press. Coates, T. (2015). Between the World and Me. New York: Spiegel & Grau. Cochran-Smith, M. and Lytle, S. (2009). Inquiry as Stance: Practitioner Research for the Next Generation. New York: Teachers College Press. Gutiérrez, K., and Rogoff, B. (2003). Cultural ways of learning. Educational Researcher, 35(5), 19–25. Hughey, M. (2014). The White Savior Film: Content, Critics, and Consumption. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press. Kumashiro, K. K. (2004). Against Common Sense: Teaching and Learning Toward Social Justice. New York: RoutledgeFalmer. Ladson-Billings, G. (1995). Toward a theory of culturally relevant pedagogy. American Educational Research Journal, 32(3), 465–491. Ladson-Billings, G. (2006).Yes, but how do we do it? In J. Landsman and C.W. Lewis (Eds.), White Teachers/Diverse Classrooms: A Guide to Building Inclusive Schools, Promoting High Expectations, and Eliminating Racism (pp. 29–42). Sterling,VA: Stylus.

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Ladson-Billings, G. (2009). The Dreamkeepers: Successful Teachers of African American Children (2nd ed.) San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Loewen, J. W. (2007). Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong (2nd ed.). New York: Simon & Schuster. Marcus, A. S., Metzger, S. A., Paxton, R. J., and Stoddard, J. D. (2010). Teaching History with Film: Strategies for Secondary Social Studies. New York: Routledge. Milner, H. R. (2007). Race, culture, and researcher positionality: Working through dangers seen, unseen, and unforeseen. Educational Researcher, 36(7), 388–400. Milner, H. R. (2010). Start Where You Are, But Don’t Stay There. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press. Milner, H. R. (2015). Rac(e)ing to Class: Confronting Poverty and Race in Schools and Classrooms. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press. Nieto, S. (2000). Affirming Diversity: The Sociopolitical Context of Multicultural Education (3rd ed.). New York: Longman. O’Donnell, J. and Gallegos, R. (2006). Project MOVEMOS: A university–public school collaboration. Action in Teacher Education, 27(4), 12–22. Ortega, M. I. (2014). Your struggle is my struggle. In W. Au (Ed.), Rethinking Multicultural Education:Teaching for Racial and Cultural Justice. New York: Teachers College Press. Paris, D. (2012). Culturally sustaining pedagogy: A needed change in stance, terminology, and practice. Educational Researcher, 41(3), 93–97. Parkhouse, H. (2015). Presenting precious knowledge: Using film to model culturally sustaining pedagogy and youth civic activism for social studies teachers. The New Educator, 11(3), 204–226. Persell, C. H. (2010). Social class and educational equity. In J. A. Banks and C. A. McGee Banks (Eds.), Multicultural Education: Issues and Perspectives (7th ed., pp. 85–106). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Picower, B. (2012). Practice What You Teach: Social Justice Education in the Classroom and in the Streets. New York: Routledge. Rosler, B. (2010). Process drama in one fifth-grade social studies class. The Social Studies, 99(6), 265–272. Rossi, J. A. (2006). The dialogue of democracy. Social Studies, 97(3), 112–120. Schneider, J. J., Crumpler, T. P., and Rogers, T. (Eds.) (2006). Process Drama and Multiple Literacies: Addressing Social, Cultural, and Ethical Awareness. Portsmouth: Heinemann. Sensoy, Ö. and DiAngelo, R. (2012). Is Everyone Really Equal? An Introduction to Key Concepts in Social Justice Education. New York: Teachers College Press. Sleeter, C. (2008). Equity, democracy, and neoliberal assaults on teacher education. Teaching and Teacher Education, 24, 1947–1957. Sleeter, C. (2013). Power,Teaching, and Teacher Education. New York: Peter Lang. Stitzlein, S. M. (2011). Democratic education in an era of town hall protests. Theory and Research in Education, 9(1), 73–86. Takaki, R. (2008). A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America. New York: Back Bay Books. Teacher Activist Groups. (2012). No history is illegal: A campaign to save our schools. Retrieved from www.teacheractivistgroups.org/tucson. Thornton, S. J. (2013). Borderlands of the southwest: An exercise in geographical history. Social Education, 77(1), 19–22. Tredway, L. (1995). Socratic seminar: Engaging students in intellectual inquiry. Educational Leadership, 53(1), 26–29.

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Valdez, L. (1990). Early Works: Actos, Bernabe, and Pensamiento Serpentino. Houtson: Arte Publico. Valencia, R. R. (1997). Conceptualizing the notion of deficit thinking. In R. R. Valencia (Ed.), The Evolution of Deficit Thinking: Educational Thought and Practice (pp. 1–12). London: RoutledgeFalmer. Westheimer, J. and Kahne, J. (2004). Educating the “good” citizen: Political decisions and pedagogical goals. Political Science and Politics, 37(2), 241–247. Zinn, H. (2005). A People’s History of the United States. New York: HarperCollins.

14 Finally “Seeing” a Queer Past The Importance of Film in Teaching LGBTQ American History Sharon Ullman

Introduction If, as a culture war heats up again in the United States, teaching the history of sexuality broadly construed has become increasingly fraught, teaching LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual,Transgender, Queer) American history prior to the c­ ollege level – and often even there – can feel like a veritable battlefield. The idea that secondary school students should learn the history of LGBTQ citizens along with their studies of “other” minority groups in the U.S. is only now beginning to register among many educators. Teachers must also recognize that they have ­students in their classes who see themselves as members of the LGBTQ community or may have parents or family members who do as well. Those students have felt shunned and dismissed by a curriculum that has heretofore refused to incorporate them in any way and seems to have considered them and their families as invisible in American society and history. Given the relatively recent nature of the attempts to enter this history into the secondary level curriculum, teachers have a golden opportunity to help shape the direction of a new and critical conversation. It is precisely this “cusp” reality that makes the teaching of LGBTQ American history especially difficult. The subject itself remains a source of controversy to many who persist in their homophobia and transphobia.The very act of acknowledging and ratifying the history of those Americans who understood themselves to be drawn to same-sex sexual practice and/or to gender non-conformity seems new and daring to many. Yet, as with so many earlier interventions into the American history canon, the act of acknowledging and validating a deep and shared past reinforces the essential human and civil rights of groups previously marginalized and disenfranchised in American society. As difficult as the moment

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may be, creating a space for LGBTQ history in the American history curriculum carries both a pedagogical and a moral imperative.

Representing the History of LGBTQ Citizens as Difficult and Challenging History The history of LGBTQ citizens in the United States mirrors that of many groups whose first notice under American law denied certain individuals access to civil rights or legal protection. Over time and under the pressure of extensive activism, civil rights and full citizenship came to be extended via, initially, local legislation and ultimately by Supreme Court decision. Religious and civil law going back to the original colonial settlement outlawed same-sex sexual practice. It would be poor history to refer to those individuals convicted of sodomy, for example, in the eighteenth century, as gay men or homosexuals. The construction of such an identity over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, a process still argued about by historians, is actually an excellent pedagogical space for teachers to engage students on the question of evolving and culturally contingent operations of gender, family, and sexuality in the developing modern American capitalist state (see, e.g., Chauncey, 2004; D’Emilio and Freedman, 2012). Similarly, living as the gender one was not assigned at birth – a historical phenomenon that has been seen in every society and culture – was, in the same period, often outlawed at worst and a subject of excited “freak show” curiosity at best, if discovered (Stryker, 2008; Sears, 2014). Both same-sex sexual practice and presenting oneself as the gender not assigned at birth came, in the mid to late twentieth century, to be sites of major political activism designed to overturn such legal sanctions (Stein, 2012). That legal reversal has now been successfully accomplished to an extensive degree. The Supreme Court’s Lawrence decision in 2003 (Lawrence v Texas, 2003) verified the full constitutional rights for citizens who engaged in adult consensual same-sex sexual practice, a precedent that ultimately led to the 2015 Obergefell decision (Obergefell v. Hodges, 2015) supporting marriage equality for all citizens. While transgender citizens, particularly transgender individuals of color, continue to face brutal and often fatal bigotry, laws outlawing what used to be called “cross dressing” have fallen in recent years and the civil rights afforded transgender individuals are beginning to be recognized in some arenas (National Center for Transgender Rights, n.d., “Know Your Rights” page). However, these victories remain very recent and are still highly contested, as well as deeply contentious. As a result, teaching LGBTQ American history also offers real opportunities for our students to be “in on” a fast moving story. Because the history of the struggle for African American or women’s rights is often taught as “settled” history, instead of seeing these intense struggles for a place at the American table as an exciting and tense process, students tend to see a dewy past, the end result set from the outset. They often approach these earlier fascinating histories as one might a

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desiccated fly, long trapped in amber. However, when studying LGBTQ history, students have front row seat on history in the making.They see an ongoing struggle between contending forces, with the stakes as high as can be imagined and the outcome profoundly uncertain. This history reflects their world and their values coming to the fore. LGBTQ history is a story our students are eager to learn. Film is a complex medium for this task because movies have often been responsible for helping transmit some of the worst homophobia and transphobia that suffuses the culture (Barrios, 2002; Russo, 1987; Steiner, Fejes, and Petrich, 1993) (see also Chapter 12). In this way, the situation resembles what one might face if attempting to illustrate American racial history using only films released prior to 1955. They could be an important tool revealing racism as an historical artifact and help explain how racism was cemented through popular culture, but might have limited use beyond that. Therefore, only recently, LGBTQ citizens have seen themselves reflected in film and popular culture as anything more than despised and contemptible figures; pitiable at best, psychopathic at worst.Teaching LGBTQ history is difficult; teaching that history with film can often make it seem even more challenging. Film presents a second, even more direct, problem for educators. There is significant squeamishness over presenting any sexuality visually in the classroom and that sensibility is exacerbated when homosexuality is the sexuality under discussion. “Graphic content” is, of course, an issue well past the classroom. Filmmakers themselves often resist showing two individuals of the same gender engaging in sex or even expressing physical affection. This makes “representing” queerness a special problem. Some filmmakers seem to consider it easier to show gender non-­ conformity because the transgender experience is often – and ­problematically – presented in desexualized fashion. Transgender individuals tend to be signaled primarily through clothing and gender performance behavioral cues. Because heterosexuality is presumed – as well as normalized – a cisgender male and cisgender female (“cisgender” refers to someone who self identifies as the gender to which they were assigned at birth) kissing, holding hands, or even just standing next to each other – with proper romantic musical cues – will signal “­sexuality” in a film without showing any graphic sexual content to students. But two men or two  women – cisgender or transgender – simply standing together needs either extensive contextualization or direct representation to “reveal” their queer ­sexuality. It is this kind of overt visual presentation at which school boards tend to balk. As one might imagine, LGBTQ activists remain deeply frustrated by the endless procession of chaste and sexless LGBTQ relationships depicted in visual culture. These so called “tasteful” images actually reinforce homophobia because they rely on the assumption that any reference to homosexuality has to be “not seen” in order to be “appropriate.” No one stops students from watching romantic movies with cisgendered men and women holding hands or kissing, after all. This “x-rated” presumption undergirding any visual representation of queer romance limits what kind of film can be shown at what level. As a consequence,

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simply insisting on the propriety of showing queer romance to students at all can itself be understood as a pedagogical and transformative act. Yet there are potentially rich rewards if we navigate the popular culture shoals creatively. For students today, visual representations of queer life have become a much more familiar sight, one that raises their comfort level often past that of their teachers, parents, school board members, state assembly representatives, and textbook publishers. They look primarily to online content, whether via ­streaming video – more often serialized and “reality” TV programming than traditional Hollywood cinema – as well as self-generated disaggregated imagery via platforms such as YouTube. Here, they find a world of queer friendly visual culture whose vitality has finally, rather Foucault like, created a reverse discourse that has impacted mainstream film and popular culture and produced a more welcoming film environment for LGBTQ stories. Along with the recent intensified success of LGBTQ political and legal activism for civil rights, genuinely “seeing” LGBTQ citizens in the fullness of their personhood, while yet a work in progress, is one that increasingly appeals to our students. They hunger for this knowledge and are particularly well prepared to receive it in visual form.

Intervening in the Existing Curriculum Those attempting to teach LGBTQ history through film often meet resistance from local school boards and state legislatures. Unlike other “difficult” topics such as the history of racism, slavery, or the Holocaust –topics which have fought their way into the curriculum over the past 45 years and have a toehold (even if often a contentious one, as this volume well documents) – LGBTQ history has no such place.The first struggle for most public school educators interested in teaching this history is at a higher level than the classroom. Moreover, for most therefore, well above their pay grade.Yet the work of LGBTQ historians and pedagogical activists, who have been pressing this point for several years, is beginning to bear fruit. For example, in 2012, the state of California passed Senate Bill 48 – The Fair, Accurate, Inclusive, and Respectful (FAIR) Education Act – which was specifically designed to address the absence of LGBTQ citizens, as well as citizens with disabilities, from the K-12 history curriculum in California public schools. In response, the Committee on Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender History (connected to the American Historical Association) studied the question of how to properly implement the Act’s provisions. Led by historians who have spent a generation documenting LGBTQ American history, the Committee issued its own series of complex recommendations for addressing this history at all levels of the K-12 curriculum. Instead of simply adding a sprinkling of noteworthy names from a poorly contextualized past, the committee argued that a proper retelling of history also requires a transformational approach that incorporates what scholars of the past now understand about the profound

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influence and change over time of sexuality as a field of social power and meaning making (related to gender, race, and other aspects of difference). LGBT history is central to this. Students can only truly understand families, communities, social practices, and politics, for example, by understanding how they shaped and were shaped by same-sex relations and gender diversity – and how this changed over time. (Romesburg, Rupp, and ­ Donahue, 2014, p. 6) The Committee made key recommendations based on the existing state Social Science and History curricular framework at each level to effectively and appropriately incorporate LGBTQ history. In July 2016, their recommendations were adopted by the California State Board of Education, making California the first state in the country to mandate the inclusion of LGBTQ American history in the K-12 grades. This decision made national headlines and put California front and center in the move to incorporate LGBTQ history. These Social Science History revised standards may well serve as the model for school districts around the country in years to come. The introduction of LGBTQ history into the curriculum may require special attention since students can feel uncertain as to what response is expected of them. They are commonly faced with a vulgar homophobic and transphobic street and locker room verbal culture. Unused to taking LGBTQ lives and history seriously or equal to other histories they have been taught to respect, it may take work to move past some initial discomfort.To a degree, this situation will ease the more this history is taught and the wider the exposure – a point being made by the California efforts. In many ways, teaching LGBTQ history is no different in this regard to the early years teaching, for example, African American history or women’s history. White students had to be taught to understand that the history of minorities in the United States is American history. Moreover, everyone had to come to understand that women’s history was “as important” as that of men. Teachers can call upon the same skills and techniques to bring LGBTQ history to today’s students. Helping them see the essential humanity of LGBTQ citizens in the past goes a long way to preparing them to recognize this history as part of the broad American tapestry. American Studies scholar Alison Landsberg (2004) originated the influential concept prosthetic memory which posits that visual culture helps build an empathetic bridge between the viewer and those perceived as “other” by implanting a cultural memory that all can share. Students watch films about the Holocaust or slavery and react emotionally to these painful human experiences in ways that make them feel connected to the history and help them take ownership of it.This principle is easily expanded to LGBTQ history. Because our students are such avid consumers of visual culture, films focused on LGBTQ subjects hold special promise in helping move students to acknowledge and accept LGBTQ history as their own, regardless of their individual contexts.

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Films to Consider Numerous documentaries on LGBTQ history and life are available to and ­appropriate for classroom use. Just to list a handful: the academy award winning The Times of Harvey Milk (1984); Before Stonewall (1984); Paris is Burning (1990), the classic, albeit controversial, film documenting queer “ballroom culture” in 1980s NYC; Last Call at Maud’s (1993) on the history of a lesbian bar in San Francisco; Coming Out Under Fire (1994) retelling the history of gay men and lesbians in the military during WWII; Southern Comfort (2001) depicting the final year in the life of a transgender man dying of cancer in the rural south; Brother Outsider:The Life of Bayard Rustin (2003) focusing on the special struggle this Civil Rights Movement hero had as an out gay man in the movement; the Emmy award winning documentary Screaming Queens: The Riot at Compton’s Cafeteria (2005) revealing the previously little known story of the first collective resistance to state violence against queer citizens when transgender citizens rose up against police oppression in 1966 San Francisco; Edie and Thea: A Very Long Engagement (2010) telling the story of the lesbian couple whose attempt to marry would ultimately help lead to the Supreme Court decision creating marriage equality, and Stonewall Uprising (2010) laying out the famed 1969 riot in Greenwich Village. Narrative mainstream films that specifically focus on LGBTQ subjects in the past are much more limited. This reflects the general homophobia in the culture and the resistance to offering LGBTQ subjects public visual space in the American panorama.Yet such stories have begun to appear in recent years. The history of the American west makes a prominent appearance in the new history standards in California for obvious reasons, but that history is – or should be – equally important throughout the country.Therefore, much of the American mythology of nation is based in this troubled history of western expansion across the continent. The interventions brought about by a properly taught diverse ­history of the west, including racial and gender diversity reveals a more complex understanding of who “we” are as a nation. Films such as The Ballad of Little Jo (1993) depicting a woman who lives as a man in a mining town in the late nineteenth century west and ultimately finds common cause with a persecuted Chinese immigrant speak to a rarely told western history filled with racial and gender strictures insisted upon by many and resisted by some. Ahead of its time in depicting a woman who “passed” as male, a not uncommon occurrence in the American frontier, this thoughtful meditation on race, gender, and class in the west offers a genuine alternate vision to what many students imagine is a settled past. Several recent Hollywood films effectively demonstrate the tragic impacts of homophobia and transphobia. Brokeback Mountain (2005), for example, is the critically acclaimed film about two young men working in the American west of the 1960s who fall in love with each other while herding sheep together one summer. This Oscar nominated film also recasts the American west and clearly

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depicts the long term cost of homophobia as it reveals the closet that obstructs their relationship and ultimately destroys both their lives. It is an effective tool for demonstrating that particular hard reality in the history of gay men’s lives and can operate to tell other new stories about the queer past. Brokeback Mountain, set in the 1960s and 1970s in the west, called upon mainstream audiences to see homosexuality where they had not previously imagined it. The film intervened in heterosexist myths about the west and problematized the images of not only a strong silent “cowboy masculinity” but also the homoeroticism of the male buddy film. Brokeback Mountain was admired by many, but also widely criticized on precisely the latter grounds. For some, the idea of “gay cowboys” – as the film was derisively characterized – undercut too many assumptions about the kind of heterosexual masculinity that forms the unspoken basis for much of America’s historical national self-image (Rich, 2007; Piontek, 2012). Films like Brokeback Mountain visually cement queer stories that mainstream history has denied even existed and cast a challenge as to how we might read many images of the past. Using such films in the classroom carries a complex and subtle power. They provide the opening for multiple conversations with students, both about LGBTQ history itself as well as the kinds of often unspoken historical assumptions about gender and sexuality that we carry with us when we think about history. “Seeing” LGBTQ citizens in a variety of locations, both now and in the past, offers a particularly vivid and important corrective to the vast emptiness of a vacant history. Our students expect to “see” LGBTQ citizens “today.” They have had no reason to “see” them “yesterday.” Film helps them overcome that expectation gap.Visuality is particularly imperative to this history because so little of LGBTQ life has been represented in traditional popular culture. While this absence has been changing in the past few years, publicly circulating images of LGBTQ daily life still remain rare as compared to the constant barrage of media representation and reinforcement of heterosexual life and community. Noted director GusVan Sant celebrated the moving story of the first openly gay elected public official in San Francisco, Supervisor Harvey Milk, in the Academy Award winning film, Milk (2008). Nominated for eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, it ultimately won for Best Screenplay and for Sean Penn’s sensitive and nuanced performance as the tragically doomed Harvey Milk, who was assassinated in 1978. Harvey Milk’s story had already received Academy Award level treatment in the 1984 documentary, The Times of Harvey Milk, which won that year’s award for Best Documentary. The pairing of the two films, one fiction, one “officially” non-fiction, can provide students the opportunity to not only learn more about an important history but also to compare the operations of narrative cinema versus the documentary form in presenting specific histories. A documentary presents itself as “fact” while a Hollywood biopic insists on a notion of a deeper “truth” unburdened by ­historical specifics and guided by principles of narrative drive (a plot that carries the viewers, a romance, a conflict that must be resolved by the final

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act, etc.). Students can be asked to gauge the plusses and minuses of these two approaches in “reaching” audiences. Does the narrative drive engage emotions in a way that makes the history more accessible? Students can be asked to research the history presented in both films through primary source material and compare the “­stories” about Harvey Milk presented by each film. For example, the 1984 documentary focused extensively on the activist community that Milk helped animate.While one of his former lovers was interviewed, the “story” outlined by the documentary is an extensively political one. The narrative Hollywood film certainly addressed the rise of lesbian and gay politics in 1970s San Francisco, but framed Milk much more personally. His relationships with various partners and his internal personal crises were used by Van Sant to draw the audience in and make Milk a “relatable” figure to those outside of LGBTQ community. In another example, both films “smoothed over” areas in Milk’s life the filmmakers worried might alienate mainstream audiences. Milk was, for example, deeply immersed in the sexual culture for which 1970s – in both the heterosexual and homosexual communities – is well known.Yet neither film accurately depicted this (Erhart, 2011). This reticence reflects a conflicted reaction to the sexual values in this time period, another historical issue one might discuss with students in higher grades. In the post-AIDS universe, gay men from this era have been historically tagged with the pejorative label of “promiscuity.” Such a narrow assessment reveals a highly selective historical revisionism. Many prefer to forget, for example, the 1970s herpes panic in the heterosexual community along with Hollywood hits like Looking For Mr. Goodbar (1977). Also nominated for numerous film awards, Goodbar reinforced a sense of hysteria over heterosexual female sexual agency in the aftermath of second wave feminism and angrily depicted a growing heterosexual “hook-up” culture that elevated so called “casual” sex. The highly praised film, The Ice Storm (1997) similarly portrayed a morally bankrupt “swinger” culture among upper middle class heterosexual couples in the same period. Supposed sexual “permissiveness” was an across the board 1970s cultural phenomena. Indeed, many people perceived the open presence of lesbian and gay sexuality, in any form, to be the reflection of that “breakdown” in sexual values. Both films about Harvey Milk rewrite this history. The 1984 documentary does so by not discussing Milk’s private life to any great degree; the 2008 Hollywood version did so by depicting him only in two consecutive ­monogamous ­relationships. Does this matter? Yes.These interpretations fundamentally revise the understanding many gay men had of themselves in the period and do so in a way the films believe will create greater sympathy for their protagonists. By making that narrative choice, they reinforce a particular judgment that these earlier values are problematic. And, of course, the history is simply wrong. These are important issues of fact selection and embedded moral assessments that can be raised with students.

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Regardless, modern audiences tend to watch both films through the prism of the AIDS epidemic, which first came to notice in the early 1980s and eventually engulfed many communities and nations around the world, becoming the worst global pandemic since the 1918 flu epidemic.This context can provide an important lens for students and help initiate that conversation. When the 1984 Milk documentary was made, the filmmakers were obviously very conscious of AIDS but it had yet to become the destroyer of worlds that followed on the film’s release. Conversely, the entire 2008 film is shadowed by our knowledge of the coming epidemic. Milk’s death in this film, although a political assassination, stands in for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of gay men to come. Several interlocutors in the 1984 documentary, who are presented as characters in the 2008 film, were long dead from AIDS by the second film. In particular, Scott Smith, one of Harvey Milk’s lovers, interviewed at length in the documentary and presented as Milk’s most significant partner (played by James Franco) in the 2008 film, died in 1995. Despite being set several years before the 1980 first public mention of the disease that would eventually come to be known as AIDS, the 2008 film directly links itself symbolically to the epidemic by centering a major subplot on a street kid Harvey Milk takes under his wing and transforms into a political activist, Cleve Jones. The real Jones would go on to co-found the San Francisco AIDS Foundation in 1983 and, most famously, begin the project that came to be known as the AIDS Quilt, in 1985. This quilt is the single most resonant symbol of the epidemic in the United States. The two films provide teachers the opportunity to discuss the impact of subsequent events on our understanding of the past. Understanding the context of the AIDS epidemic shapes not only how we see this pivotal moment in LGBTQ history, but in the case of the 2008 film Milk, helps us analyze how film incorporates a troubled future into the depiction of a painful past.We can ask students to imagine what other ways filmmaker Gus Van Sant might have told his 2008 story had there been no AIDS epidemic. What alternate history of this nascent political community might have occurred after Milk’s death had the epidemic not arisen? Using the 1984 documentary and readings about the 1970s post-­Stonewall LGBTQ political activism, students can imagine possible other trajectories. Counterfactual historical exercises can help reveal underlying issues and trends that get subsumed and ignored by the dominance of particular events. One specific example that might spark discussion could be the struggle over the Briggs Initiative (Proposition 6) – a 1978 ballot proposition that would have banned the hiring of lesbian and gay teachers in California public schools. Both films address this battle and reveal a growing political movement that gained significant s­ympathy and support among varied communities across the state during the course of the campaign to defeat Proposition 6. Interestingly, the documentary accurately notes the significance of both Harvey Milk and lesbian rhetoric professor and author Sally Gearhart in directing this effort. The 2008 Milk shows similar scenes to those in the documentary but erases Gearhart’s presence. Why did Dustin Black

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(the screenwriter) and director Van Sant make that n ­ arrative choice? What impact does that difference have on our understanding of this period in LGBTQ history? How much did the AIDS epidemic so reshape the landscape of LGBTQ history that all stories told today about this moment become primarily a foreshadowing of what was to come, even though, for anyone who lived their lives then, our past was an inconceivable future. The history of the AIDS epidemic is a vital story to teach students and one for which film provides excellent support. While an important story to tell, it is imperative that the LGBTQ history our students learn not be reduced to a single story about the AIDS epidemic. For too long in the past 30 years, the association between gay men and AIDS was so absolute that often no other element of the complex and multi-varied history experienced by LGBTQ citizens was ever presented.Yet, it remains the case that because AIDS impacted so many members of the creative arts community, numerous artistic representations did emerge from this crisis. Moreover, because the epidemic is both recent and ongoing, the specific, intensely difficult, history of AIDS in many ways best exemplifies the power of film to illuminate the past and especially engage our students. It is helpful to start off any discussion of AIDS by asking students what they know about the disease and its history in the U.S. Several years ago, I discovered that many students knew almost nothing about this history. They thought of AIDS as a manageable disease that mostly impacted those in foreign countries. They were unaware of the years when the government refused to fund research or even mention the disease out loud. They were shocked to read about the bigotry faced by people with AIDS. This reaction is itself a reflection of the extraordinary success activists fighting both the disease and government indifference had on the society during the height of the epidemic. Our students do not know that story either. Working off such knowledge gaps is both a challenge and an opportunity. One can frame the films (or film clips) presented as a history of both a disease and a resistant mainstream society coming to terms with a tragedy it did not want to recognize. The films document and in some cases helped propel the transition from ignorance and fear to acceptance and engagement. The most famous Hollywood narrative cinema examples directly addressing the AIDS epidemic all received much praise upon release and provide our students a powerful tour through evolving popular understandings of the disease and its impact. Television broached the topic before mainstream cinema with An Early Frost (1985), a TV movie starring Gena Rowlands and Ben Gazzara as the white middle class parents of a gay man, played by Aiden Quinn, who reveals his diagnosis. As the star power of Rowlands and Gazzara (versus the then unknown Quinn) make clear, the film is about the reaction of the heterosexual parents and family. Although a sensitive and supportive portrayal, the gay man with AIDS, while the object of the film’s attention, is not the focus of the film itself. Still, this TV movie helped pave the way for sympathetic portrayals of individuals and families addressing the growing epidemic.

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Shot in 1984 but not released until 1986, the first theatrical film to deal with AIDS was Parting Glances (1986), which introduced the actor Steve Buscemi. An  independent production, Parting Glances, the only film from director Bill Sherwood who died in 1990, is an unsentimental, quiet slice of life movie that takes it c­ haracters seriously as real people. AIDS is present, but is not the only topic of cinematic conversation. As such it remains a groundbreaking film that well depicts white gay male life and community in New York City as the ­epidemic dawned. Two well-known films about AIDS from the era that remain useful for ­classroom conversation are Longtime Companion (1989) and Philadelphia (1993). Both have strengths and weaknesses as conveyors of this history and both can provide thoughtful provocation in the classroom. The title, Longtime Companion, alludes to the common euphemism newspaper obituaries used when referring to the life partner of the deceased individual being profiled. Focusing on a group of white gay friends who spent each summer on Fire Island, the film tracked the early years of the epidemic as it swept away one member of their community after another. The movie reveals the extraordinary love and compassion (the title later of a play similarly dealing with the devastation wrought by AIDS on a group of gay men) those “Longtime Companions” and the community that surrounded them exhibited in caring for each other at a moment when the heterosexual society at large pilloried them and refused to help. Actor Bruce Davison won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his heartbreaking portrayal of one such caregiver whose partner slowly dies over the course of this heartfelt film. The survivors in the group move from grief to political action as the epidemic becomes the center of their lives. I often show Longtime Companion to my classes and students are very mixed in their responses. While they react to the sense of tragedy well evoked by the conventions of Hollywood melodrama which helps them “get” how desperate the situation was for gay men in the first decade of the epidemic, they also raise concerns over the fact that all the characters are white and upper or middle class. The film seems less interested in the wider universe of the AIDS epidemic; one, for example, that would make the disease a leading cause of death for African Americans, a direction that was already clear by the time the film was made. I encourage my students to watch the film in critical context, remaining aware of its limitations in terms of class and race, but to allow themselves to access its successful presentation of one community’s growing panic and despair. Longtime Companion, regardless of its real faults and limitations, can provide an important emotional window onto what it may have “felt” like for many in those early days. Jonathan Demme’s Oscar winning Philadelphia is the film most people think of when they recall AIDS themed movies from the period. Tom Hanks won a Best Actor Oscar for his sensitive portrayal of a lawyer who sues for discrimination after he is fired from his Philadelphia law firm when the partners realize he has AIDS. Based on a real case, the film’s protagonist is, as with An Early Frost, not actually the

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dying gay man. It is, instead, the heterosexual lawyer played by Denzel Washington who stands in for a presumed mainstream straight audience. Washington’s character moves from homophobic resistance to supportive alliance with the Hanks’ character and his extended family by the movie’s end. While Hanks’ exceptional performance dominates the film, the movie’s true goal is to persuade the audience, via the transformation experienced by Denzel Washington’s character, to care about those dying of AIDS and to see them as part of the wider American family. Admired by mainstream audiences, Philadelphia received significant criticism in the LGBTQ community, which felt that its focus on AIDS phobia in the heterosexual community had the effect of erasing and stereotyping the gay men who should have been at the heart of the film. Nevertheless, it remains a popular film with many and, used carefully, provides the opportunity to document the national panic many heterosexuals felt during the height of the epidemic and some of the ways they directed that fear against gay men. It also gives the class the chance to discuss the power of film to intervene in a national dialogue. Along with other similar films aimed squarely at heterosexual audiences, Philadelphia helped reshape the national mood from one of fear to sympathy. In the past few years, a spate of excellent documentaries has emerged that tell the history of LGBTQ activism during the epidemic. These films have become invaluable to those teaching this history. Three stand out in this regard: We Were Here (2011), How to Survive a Plague (2012) and United in Anger: A History of ACT UP (2012). All three films focus on how those who lived with AIDS fought against not only the disease, but also the homophobia that led to bureaucratic and medical research inertia. Each approaches the story from a different perspective; together they create a mosaic narrative of the local and national response to AIDS. Although incomplete to be sure, these films are a good start on what will eventually become a more richly filled out history. We Were Here tells the story of the epidemic in San Francisco. Looking primarily at the personal and emotional impact of AIDS, it is a moving testament to love and loss and the power of a community to rally to care for each other. How to Survive a Plague chronicles the AIDS activists who educated themselves on the science of AIDS in order to demand greater medical research and access to treatment. The film tells the story of the complex struggle to forge a successful partnership between those activists in the street and the medical professionals upon whom their lives depended. The formation of ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power) in New  York  City and its extraordinarily successful direct actions to call attention to the ignored epidemic during the 1980s is the subject of United in Anger: A History of ACT UP. The documentary was produced by Sarah Schulman and Jim Hubbard, who were deeply involved in AIDS activism and ACT UP in the period and who together cofounded the AIDS Oral History Project, an indispensible archive to maintain the memory of this terrible epidemic. United in Anger is the film to which my students respond with the most excitement. Drawn from videos made at the time specifically to document ACT UP, United in Anger has

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a raw intensity that makes the viewer feel like they were really there. Watching meetings packed with hundreds of activists trying to build coalitions through consensus gives students a window on how activism in a crisis works in “real time.”The film presents famed actions directed at Wall Street, drug manufacturers, the FDA, and the Catholic Church as they occurred. United in Anger makes a point to focus on the role women and people of color had in ACT UP and spends time detailing the wide array of health care, race, and poverty related issues that original ACT UP members saw as fundamentally linked to their overall struggle. ACT UP eventually split as some members decided to focus exclusively on AIDS medical research and treatment – the story directly told in How to Survive a Plague. In fact, pairing these two specific documentaries is both an interesting way to show multiple sides of the same historical movement and a strong lesson in how a particular history can be told from competing points of view. I show both How to Survive a Plague and United in Anger and ask students to identify the argument each film makes about the history of AIDS activism and to contrast the two stories – which often had overlapping events and “characters” – being told in each film. Students today, in the era of #BlackLivesMatter, are enthralled to see the earlier moment of engaged intersectional activism presented by United in Anger; a vital and impactful history about which they have heretofore never heard a single word. Mainstream cinema is a white, male-dominated medium and the developing cinematic interest in the historical experiences of white gay men, although revolutionary in one aspect, otherwise simply reinforces that reality. For those attempting to use film to help students visualize the hidden histories of lesbians, queers of color, and transgender individuals, there has been precious little from Hollywood to offer. The Ballad of Little Jo, discussed above, can work to help students see the embedded historic nature of gender fluidity. Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001), the film version of the 1998 off Broadway musical hit, tells the story of an East German gender queer who has a less than successful sex change operation (the “angry inch” of the title and the name of Hedwig’s backup band) in order to marry an American soldier and escape to the west. Once in the United States, Hedwig is abandoned and becomes a punk rock singer. The film follows her on tour and takes the viewer on a raucous musical journey through various gender and sexuality communities. Well received when it came out, Hedwig and the Angry Inch has a cult following and older students may well have seen it and know the songs, á la The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) (which also has a certain pedagogical value by this point in terms of defining not only the cultural moment when that film came out, but also in revealing how much our sexual culture has changed. Considered perverse in 1975 for its depictions of cross-dressing and homosexuality, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is the quintessential cult film, beloved across the generations, today). The tragic history of transphobia has been depicted in several films, most ­dramatically in Boys Don’t Cry (1999). Hilary Swank won a Best Actress Oscar for portraying a real individual, Brandon Teena, a transgender man in Nebraska who

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was raped and murdered by two men in 1993. Two other people in the house in which Teena was living were murdered as well. This could be a difficult film to use in class, even though Teena is thoughtfully presented as a deeply sympathetic character. The depiction of the rape is brutal and the overall violence, both verbal and physical, directed at him could be difficult for students to handle.Yet, in some contexts, this is an important film to use. Just as students steel themselves to watch the painful documentary images from the Holocaust or the recent films that insist on depicting slavery in all its genuine cruelty (12 Years a Slave [2013]; Birth of a Nation [2016]), it may well be time that students understand that the kind of “casual” homophobia and transphobia that suffuses their schoolyards and social media platforms can carry real and agonizing consequences. Director Cheryl Dunye’s groundbreaking narrative film The Watermelon Woman (1996) took on the erasure of queer women of color in both culture and cinema. Dunye herself played a modern black lesbian searching for this lost past. The film traces her character’s struggle to learn more about an African-American actress from the 1930s known in film credits only as The Watermelon Woman. As Dunye’s character unearths her, the filmmaker constructs a complex archive and reveals a racially charged queer history.This film has explicit sexual content and is a thoughtful meditation on what it means to look for a history no one intends you to find. Dee Rees’ widely praised Pariah (2011) explores the life of a 17-year-old African-American woman coming to terms with her sexuality and rejected by her family for being a lesbian. A hard story for students because it is set in the very recent past, it nevertheless offers a complex and honest look at one young woman’s search for self. Director Todd Haynes’ Carol (2015), based on the 1953 novel, The Price of Salt, by famed mystery writer Patricia Highsmith (writing under the nom de plume “Claire Morgan”) depicts the relationship between a wealthy white married woman and the young white shop clerk with whom she falls in love. Also sexually explicit, the story addresses the nature of 1950s homophobia and the danger of the closet as the protagonist’s enraged husband successfully fights for custody of the couple’s daughter. Both the book and the film upend standard tropes for the consequences faced by queer couples since the lovers remain together and happy, even though the road has been difficult. Haynes’ film brilliantly captures the virulent homophobia of the era and the enforced public silences that characterized queer relationships in the 1950s. This is a topic he explored as well in an earlier film, Far from Heaven (2002), which looked at a closeted, white, married gay man. It too does a good job in helping students recognize the presence of queer subjects in an era in which they were unrepresentable in public space. Director Ang Lee of Brokeback Mountain fame (he also directed The Ice Storm) first came to notice over 20 years earlier with The Wedding Banquet (1993), a film about a gay Chinese immigrant who arranges a fake marriage to satisfy his parents and, of course, chaos ensues. Documentarian Arthur Dong has noted the limited portrayal of queer Asian Americans in his documentary Hollywood Chinese (2007) and finding representations of queer Asian Americans remains difficult.

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If the list of mainstream narrative films about queer people of color seems short, it is. There are more independent films, but they are often hard to find and their distribution sometimes curtailed. Commentators point to the streaming programming currently found on alternate platforms such as Amazon and Netflix and note shows like Orange is the New Black or Transparent to identify more fully fleshed out images of lesbian and transgender characters. Orange is the New Black does have an admirable casting diversity and Transparent, which focuses on the transition of an older Jewish man from male to female along with his family’s reaction, is smart in its discussion of transgender issues. But the fact that Orange is the New Black is set in a women’s prison and that the lead actor in Transparent is a cisgendered white man is a reminder that the variety of queer imagery in popular media available for teaching purposes remains, as yet, limited. New work is ongoing however. Educators interested in information on new films made by and about queer people of color have the opportunity to provide their students access to exciting and original films from a younger generation of filmmakers rightly furious over being left out. Organizations like the Queer Women of Color Film Festival (http://www.qwocmap.org/festival2016/) and MIXNYC: NY Queer Experimental Film Festival (http://mixnyc.org/) are among a growing queer creative network that provides support for emerging queer artists of color.

Conclusion I noted above that our students probably have never heard of ACT UP. In truth, almost any LGBTQ history our students learn will be history about which they know nothing. While many elements of American history live in popular myth and memory – reaching our students in some fashion through visual culture almost by osmosis – the same cannot be said for LGBTQ history. The difficulty in teaching this history comes from the deep and abiding hatred still faced by LGBTQ citizens today despite – or perhaps because of – the growing civil right gains of the past few years. The horrific targeted mass shooting at a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida, in January 2016 – the single most deadly mass murder in U.S. history – with 49 killed and another 53 wounded – is, tragically, the worst, but only one of many hate crimes directed at the LGBTQ community. According to FBI statistics, LGBTQ citizens are “already the most likely targets of hate crimes in America…. twice as likely to be targeted as African Americans, and the rate of hate crimes against them has surpassed that of crimes against Jews” (Park and Mykhyalyshyn, 2016, p. A12).This situation is compounded by growing legislative efforts around the country to allow those with religious objections to same sex practice and/or gender non-conforming individuals the right to discriminate against LGBTQ citizens, regardless of constitutional protections. Some states have gone so far as to legislate gender policing at public bathrooms as a method to deny the human rights of transgender citizens. The difficulty in teaching LGBTQ history is both conceptual and actual. It lies not only in the boundaries of classroom content construction but also in the

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angry streets and halls of state and local legislatures. It is in both arenas that the battle can be fought and won. Doing so in the classroom will help expand the universe of possibility in the political arena. This is precisely what those who aggressively resist the inclusion of LGBTQ history in the curriculum fear, but it is what also makes this moment so hopeful. There is excellent work to yet be done.

References Barrios, R. (2002). Screened Out: Playing Gay in Hollywood from Edison to Stonewall. New York: Routledge. Chauncey, G. (2004). Why Marriage: The History Shaping Today’s Debate Over Gay Equality. Cambridge, MA: Basic Books. D’Emilio, J. and Freedman, E. B. (2012). Intimate Matters: A History of Sexuality in America (3rd ed.). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Erhart, J. (2011).The naked community organizer: Politics and reflexivity in Gus Van Sant’s Milk. a/b: Auto/Biography Studies, 26(1), 156–170. Landsberg, A. (2004). Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of Mass Culture. New York: Columbia University Press. Lawrence v.Texas, 539 US 558 (2003). Morgan, C. (1953). The Price of Salt. New York, NY: Bantam Books. National Center for Transgender Equality (n.d) Know your rights. Retrieved from http:// www.transequality.org/know-your-rights Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 US (2015). Park, H. and Mykhyalyshyn, I. (June 2016). Hate crimes now directed at L.G.B.T. people the most. New York Times, p. A12. Piontek,T. (2012).Tears for queers:Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, Hollywood, and American attitudes toward homosexuality. The Journal of American Culture, 35(2), 123–134. Rich, B. R. (2007). Brokering Brokeback: Jokes, backlashes, and other anxieties. Film Quarterly, 60(3), 44–48. Romesburg, D., Rupp, L. J., and Donahue, D. M. (Eds.). (August 2014). Making the Framework FAIR: California History-Social Science Framework Proposed LGBT Revisions Related to the FAIR Education Act. San Francisco, CA: Committee on Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender History. Retrieved from http://clgbthistory.org/wpcontent/uploads/2010/09/Making-the-Framework-FAIR-FINAL.pdf. Russo,V. (1987). The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies. New York: Harper Collins. Sears, C. (2014). Arresting Dress: Cross-Dressing, Law, and Fascination in Nineteenth-Century San Francisco. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Stein, M. (2012). Rethinking the Gay and Lesbian Movement. New York: Routledge. Steiner, L., Fejes, F., and Petrich, K. (1993). Invisibility, homophobia and heterosexism: Lesbians, gays and the media. Critical Studies in Mass Communication, 10(4), 395–422. Retrieved from http://doi.org/10.1080/15295039309366878. Stryker, S. (2008). Transgender History. Berkeley, CA: Seal Press.

Index

Abbottabad, Pakistan 76 Abu-Assad, Hany 63 Abu Ghraib 47, 75, 79–82 Act of Killing,The (2012) 47 ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power) 248–51 African-American history 3, 23, 145–8, 160–3, 250–1; see also slavery, Civil Rights Movement AIDS epidemic 244–9 Al-Bashir, Omar 45 Alexie, Sherman 110, 118 Allen, Debbie 149 All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) 71 Amen (2002) 179, 189–91 American History X (1998) 90–1 Amistad (1997) 3, 7, 13, 146, 149, 151–2, 157, 167 And Along Come Tourists (Am Ende kommen Touristen) (2007) 95 Arna’s Chidlren (2004) 50 As Good as It Gets (1997) 204 Ask a Slave (2013) 160–3, 166–7, 169–74 audience reception: and consciousness 60–1; and collective memory 65–67 Austin Powers (1997) 205 autoethnography 109–12, 120–2; as model of film analysis pedagogy 110–113 Avatar (2009) 107 Ayers, E. 33

The Baader Meinhof Complex (2008) 7, 92 The Ballad of Little Jo (1993) 242, 249 Balogh, B. 33 Barack Obama Academy for International Studies, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 126 Bates, Kathy 204 Before Stonewall (1984) 242 Belzberg, Edet 47 Ben X (2007) 91 Benny and Joon (1993) 206 Bethlehem (2013) (Israeli-Palestinian conflict) 60, 62–3, 69 Bieber, Justin 51 Biermann, Wolf 100 Bigelow, Kathryn 76–7 Birth of a Nation (1915) 11, 23, 162, 167, 250 The Birth of a Nation (2016) 145 Black Box BRD (2001) 91 Black, Duncan 245 Black Swan (2010) 204 Blackfeet Community College (BCC) 113, 115–6 Blackfeet Indian Reservation 113 Blanchett, Cate 204 Blue Jasmine (2013) 204 Blue Sky (1994) 204 Boal, Marc 76 Bologna, Italy 114 Bolton, John 46 Born on the 4th of July (1989) 205, 215

254 Index

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas (2008) 13, 179, 184, 186 Boys Don’t Cry (1999) 249 Brecht, Bertolt 50 The Bridge (1959) 96, 193 British Film Institute 103 Brokeback Mountain (2005) 242–3, 250, 252 Brother Outsider:The Life of Bayard Rustin (2003) 242 Buckley, Jeff 95 Buerk, Michael 48 Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung (Federal Agency for Civic Education, Germany) (Bpb) 89 burden of historical representation 3 Burnad, Emad 64, 65 Burns, Ken 116 Buscemi, Steve 247 Califano, Jr., J. 33 Captain Hook (1991) 205 Carol (2015) 250 Castle in the Sky (1986) 92 Charles, Ray 209 Charlie Wilson’s War (2007) 76 Chastain, Jessica 76 Chea, Nuon 52 civil rights 201, 204, 227–8, 237–8, 240 Civil Rights Movement (US) 10–11, 28–33, 125, 136, 174, 199, 206–7, 222, 242 The Civil War (1990) 116 Coexist (2014) 47 College Ready 129–33 Color of Fear (1994) 232 Columbia University, Teachers College, New York, New York 129 Coming Out Under Fire (1994) 242 community-centered storywork 107–109, 112, 115, 117, 122; for creating counternarratives 113; as a model for youth filmmaking 116–22 The Congress (2013) (Israeli-Palestinian conflict) 60, 65–7 Cooper, Bradley 204 Corsetti, Damien 47 Cosby, Bill 211; son, Ennis 211 The Counterfeiters (2007) 179, 190–2 The Court (2013) 45 critical pedagogy 163–4; 220; in teacher education 230–3; using film as part of 222–7; youth filmmaking as 109, 113–119

critical race theory (CRT) 13, 146–51, 155, 157–8, 163–6; and counternarratives 151, 155, 157; and interest convergence 151–2, 157; Whiteness as property 155, 157 cultural memory 146–8 culturally sustaining/revitalizing pedagogy 107–8, 112–3, 117–120, 221–2, 229–232 Cumberbatch, Benedict 171 Curtis, Edward S. 116 Dances with Wolves (1990) 3, 107 Danniel, Danniel 50 Darwin’s Nightmare (2004) 49–50, 54 Davison, Bruce 247 Dawnland (forthcoming) 50 Defiance (2008) 178 Defies Measurement (2014) 32 Demme, Jonathan 247 difficult history: and affect 5, 18–19; as civic education 90; conceptually difficult history 19–20; and curriculum 6–7, 58, 240–1; definitions 4–9, 18–20, 41–2, 107–8; as difficult historical realities 126; and film 9–10; PalestinianIsraeli conflict as 58–60; and teachers 8; and trauma 5–6, 41–2 difficult knowledge 3, 6, 125 Dirty Pretty Things (2002) 49 disability: Disability Studies in Education 200; for engaging in difficult history 200–2; in film 202–3, 208–13; representations of 204–5; in teacher education 206–7 Disability Takes on the Arts (2004) 212 Distant Lights (2003) 91 Django Unchained (2012) 166 Do the Right Thing (1989) 90–1, 105 Dong, Arthur 250 Don’t Look Now (1973) 205 Dowd, M. 33 Dungey, Azie 167, 171 Dunye, Cheryl 250 Duquesne University, School of Education, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 126, 133 DuVernay, Ava 30–2, 125 Dying to Live 232 The E Word (2015) 232 An Early Frost (1985) 246–47 East Germany 95–102 Eastwood, Clint 205

Index  255

Edie and Thea: A Very Long Engagement (2010) 242 The Edukators (Die fetten Jahre sind vorbei) (2004) 95 Ejiofor, Chiwetel 49, 170 El Otro Francisco (1974) 167 Elephant Man (1980) 215 Enemies of the People (2009) 52 Ennis’s Gift (2000) 211 epistemology 8–9, 11, 17, 64–5, 72–3, 75, 79–80, 83, 88, 107 Erin Brokovich (2000) 91, 92 Europa Europa (1990) 178–9, 187–9 Eyre, Chris 110, 118 Falck, Marianne 96 Far from Heaven (2002) 250 Ferguson, Missouri 90, 135 Film Education UK 104 filmhefte (film booklets) 89, 92–5 Firth, Colin 204 Five Broken Cameras (2012) 60, 64–5, 68 Flaherty, Robert J. 116 The Fog of War (2003) 79 Folman, Ari 60, 65–6 Forrest Gump (1994) 208 Fox, Jamie 204 Fox, Josh 53 Franco, James 245 Frida (2002) 215 The Friend (2003) 91 Fruitvale Station (2013) 133 Fuchs, Jürgen 100 Gaslands (2010) 53 The Gatekeepers (2012) 64 Gattica (1997) 215 Gaza Strip 58–9 Gazzara, Ben 246 Gedenkstätte Normannenstraße 101 genocide 45–7, 52–4, 59, 90, 106, 109, 111, 120–2, 178, 181–2 geographies of memory 164–5 Ghosts of Abu Ghraib (2007) 76 Girl Interrupted (1999) 206 Glory (1987) 3, 7, 167 Glover, Danny 211 Golan Heights 58–9 Golfus, Billy 210 Gone with the Wind (1939) 162, 167 Good Bye, Lenin! (2003) 91–2, 105 Good Hair (2009) 133 Goodbye Bafana (2007) 91

Grbavica (2006) 91 The Grey Zone (2001) 191–3 Griffith, D. W. 23, 162 Guantanamo Bay 75, 103 Guggenheim, David 53 Habib, Dan 211 Habib, Samuel 211 Hanks, Tom 204, 247–248 The Harvest/La Cosecha (2010) 53 Hawking, Stephen 209 Hayek, Salma 204 Haynes, Todd 250 He Named Me Malala (2015) 53 Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001) 249 Highsmith, Patricia; nom de plume, Claire Morgan 250 historical empathy 5, 7, 19–20, 118, 162–4, 179, 183–4, 186–92, 194; and critical race theory 165, 174–5; with present day implications 40, 43–4, 48–50; in relation to film characters 100–2; in social justice context 59–60, 64; in teacher education 219, 222, 229–30 historical thinking 13, 107–9, 119–22, 164; see also historical empathy Hohenschönhausen 101 Hollywood Chinese (2007) 250 Holocaust 3, 7, 13, 18, 41, 49, 74, 92, 96, 103, 161, 169, 214, 250; as difficult history 179–82, 240–1; in European films 187–93; in US and British film 184–5 Honecker, Erich 101 Hopkins, Anthony 204 Horman, Ed 48 Horne, Tom 221, 230 The Hours (2002) 204 How to Survive a Plague (2012) 248–9 Hubbard, Jim 248 Huey, Aaron 116 human rights education 40–1; and film 43–7, 76, 180–1; teaching human rights standards 48–53 The Hunch Back of Notre Dame (1996) 205 Hupenthal, John 221, 230 The Hurt Locker (2008) 76 I Can’t Do This, But I Can Do That (2010) 213 The Ice Storm (1997) 244, 250 In the Valley of Ellah (2007) 76 In This World (2002) 91

256 Index

Including Samuel (2009) 211 Indigenous 11, 42, 50, 106–23, 221, 226, 228 Invitation to Dance (2014) 213–15 Ir a la Escuela/Going to School (2001) 211 Israeli-Palestinian conflict 5, 12, 19, 52, 57–69 Jahresbericht 92, 105 Jane Eyre (2011) 208 Jenner, Bruce 211 JFK (1991) 23 Jones, James Earl 211 Joseph, P. 33 Journey into Dyslexia (2011) 213 Kidman, Nicole 204 The Kingdom (2007) 76 KONY 2012 (2012) 51–2, 55 Kroko (2003) 91 La Haine (1995) 90–1 Lange, Jessica 204 Last Call at Maud’s (1993) 242 The Last King of Scotland (2006) 204 The Last of the Mohicans (1992) 110, 111 Latinx/Chican@ 221, 227–31 Lauren, Paul Gordon 43 The Law in These Parts (2011) (IsraeliPalestinian conflict) 60, 63–5, 68 Lawrence, Jennifer 204 Lee, Ang 250 The Legend of Rita (Die Stille nach dem Schuss) (2000) 97 Lehrer, Riva 212 Lemkin, Raphael 47, 52 Lemmon, Jack 48 LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer) 207, 237; representations in history 240; represented as difficult history 238–9; and Holocaust 188 Liebe Perla (1999) 210, 215 Life is Beautiful (1997) 169, 193 Lincoln (2012) 13, 146, 149, 152, 154, 157, 159, 166 Linton, Simi 213 The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen, 2006) (East/West Germany) 47, 55, 89–92, 95–8, 100, 101, 103–4 Lives Worth Living (2011) 207 Livingston, Jennie 50

Longtime Companion (1989) 247 Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977) 244 Lubanga, Thomas 45 MacArthur, J. 33 Mann, Michael 110 The Matrix (1999) 67 Mazo, Adam 47, 50 McConaughey, Matthew 204 McDaniel, Hattie 162 McQueen, Steve 5, 154, 161, 167 Mean Girls (2004) 208 memory workspaces 161, 169–74 Mer-Khamis, Juliano 50 A Mighty Heart (2007) 76 Milk (2008) 243, 245, 252 Million Dollar Baby (2004) 203, 205, 208 The Miracle Worker (1962) 205 Misery (1990) 204 Miss Representation (2011) 53 Missing (1982) 48 Mitchell, David 212 Miyazaki, Hayao 92 Moby Dick (1956) 205 Momaday, N. Scott 225 Monster (2004) 204 Montana State University (MSU) 13, 113, 115–116 Moolaade (2004) 91 Morris, Errol 47 Munich (2005) 72, 85 Murderball (2005) 212 My Left Foot (1989) 205–6, 215 Nanook of the North (1922) 116 The Nasty Girl (Das schreckliche Madchen) (1990) 91 Native Appropriations (blog) 112 Naureckas, J. 33 Nazareth College, Rochester, New York 126, 128, 132 Nemes, László 193 Never Mind the Wall (Wie Feuer und Flamme) (2001) 91 New Mexico State University 226 Newsom, Jennifer Siebel 53 Nicholson, Jack 204 Nyiszli, Miklós 192 Nyong’o, Lupita 166, 170 Ocampo, Luis Moreno 45 Ocean Heaven (2010) 214 Oduye, Adepero, 170

Index  257

Of Mice and Men (1992) 206 Omar (2013) (Israeli-Palestinian conflict) 60, 62–4 One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) 206 Onuf, P. 33 Oppenheimer, Joshua 47 Orange is the New Black (TV) 251 Ovitz, Perla 210 Oyate.org 112

Rock, Chris 133 The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) 249 Romano, Robin 53 Roots (1977) 7 Rory O’Shea Was Here (2004) 205 Rosenstraße (2003) 91 Rousseau, Jacques 43 Rowlands, Gena 246 Rush, Geoffrey 204 Russell, Jason 51

Pacino, Al 203, 208 Paradise Now (2005) 63 Pariah (2011) 250 Paris is Burning (1990) 50, 242 Parting Glances (1986) 247 Passion Fish (1992) 205 Pender-Cudlip, Ben 50 Penn, Sean 243 Philadelphia (1993) 247–8 The Pianist (2002) 13, 178–9, 186, 188–9 Piikani (Blackfeet) 109, 113, 115, 117, 120, 123 Pine Ridge Reservation 116 Pitt, Brad 171 Pocahontas (1995) 107 Polanski, Roman 188–9 Portman, Natalie 204 Pot, Pol 52 Powwow Highway (1989) 110 Precious Knowledge (2011) 9, 14, 163, 219, 220–2, 225–8, 230–5 The Princess Bride (1987) 67 The Promise (Das Versprechen) (1995) 97 The Prosecutor (2010) 45

Saint John Fisher College, Rochester, New York 126, 128 Sambath, Thet 52 Sankofa (1993) 167 Scent of a Woman (1992) 203, 208 Schindler’s List (1993) 13, 104, 178–9, 184, 186, 189, 192–3 Schulman, Sarah 248 Screaming Queens:The Riot at Compton’s Cafeteria (2005) 242 The Sea Inside/Mar Adentro (2004) 205, 208 Selma (2014) 10–1, 28–33, 35–6, 125 September 11, 2001 74, 77 Sherwood, Bill 247 The Silence of the Lambs (1991) 204 Silver Linings Playbook (2012) 204 Simon, David 50 Slavery: as difficult history 5–6, 11–13, 241, 250; and representations of 145–158; 160–176 Smoke Signals (1998) 11, 110–12, 118–19, 124 Snyder, Sharon 212 Son of Saul (2015) 191, 193 Sophie Scholl (2005) 91–2, 94, 105 Sound and Fury (2000) 211 Southern Comfort (2001) 242 Spartacus 72 Spielberg, Steven 166, 149 Standard Operating Procedure (2008) (torture) 47, 75–6, 79–81, 83–6 The Station Agent (2003) 205 Stolen Education (2013) 232 Stone, Oliver 23 Stonewall Uprising (2010) 242 student voice 53, 127, 133 Summer Storm (2004) 91 Swain, Donna 225 Swank, Hillary 203, 249 Sybil (1993) 206 Syracuse University 214, 216

Quinn, Aiden 246 Radio (2003) 208–9 Rainman (1988) 208 Raising Renne (2011) 214 Ray (2014) 209 The Reckoning (2009) 45–6, 56 The Red Cockatoo (Der rote Kakadu) (2006) 97 Redmayne, Eddie 204 Rees, Dee 250 Rendition (2007) 76 representation, issues of: in film, 71 The Revenant (2015) 107 Richardson, Samuel 43 Roberts, Julia 92

258 Index

Tautou, Audrey 49 Taxi to the Dark Side (2007) 46–7, 76, 86 TeacherActivistGroups.org 221, 230–1 teacher education 119–20, 206, 214, 219–23, 230–1 Teaching and Learning Institute, East High School, Rochester, New York 126, 129, 132 Tested (2015) 232 The Theory of Everything (2014) 209 Theron, Charlize 204 The Times of Harvey Milk (1984) 242–43 Titicut Follies (1967) 210, 215 To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) 206 torture as difficult history 41, 46–7, 73–8, 82–4 Tough Enough (2006) 91 Train of Life (1998) 193 Transparent (TV) 251 trauma 4–6, 19, 66, 72, 90, 106, 109, 112, 120, 122, 125–6, 161, 164–5, 169, 179–80; as a result of viewing (secondary trauma) 40, 161, 180–1 The Truman Show (1998) 67 Trust 350 (2013) 53 Tucson High School, Arizona 220–1 Turtles Can Fly (2004) 91 Twelve Years a Slave (2013) 5, 11–13, 146, 149, 154–5, 157, 160–1, 163, 166, 167, 170–1, 173, 175–7, 250 The Undocumented (2014) 50 United in Anger: A History of ACT UP (2012) 248–9 Universal Declaration of Human Rights 39, 45, 48 University of Arizona, Tucson 225 University of California, Santa Barbara 114 University of Cincinnati (UC) 225–6 University of Rochester, Rochester, New York 140 University of Texas, El Paso (UTEP) 226 The Unknown Known (2013) 79 Updegrove, M. 33

Van Sant, Gus 243, 245 Vietnam War 7 Vondonnersmark, Florian Henckel 47, 96, 100 Wack, Jonathan 110 Wagner, Lindsay 211 Waltz with Bashir (2008) (Israeli-Palestinian conflict) 60, 65–7 Washington, Denzel 248 Watchers of the Sky (2014) 47 The Watermelon Woman (1996) 250 We Feed the World (2005) 91–2 We Still Live Here (2010) 232 We Were Here (2011) 248 Webb, Paul 125 The Wedding Banquet (1993) 250 West Bank, Gaza 58–9, 63 Whatever Happened to Gilbert Grape (1993) 208 When Billy Broke His Head and Other Tales of Wonder (1995) 210 Whitaker, Forest 204 The White Ribbon (Das weiße Band) (2009) 95 Who Cares About Kelsey? (2012) 211 Wicki, Bernhard 96 Wilbur, Matika 116 Williams, Marco 50 Willman, Kathrin 89, 92–93 Wind River Reservation 110 Winfrey, Oprah 51 Winkler, Henry 211 Wood, G. 33 Woodard, Alfre 170 The Wire (2002–2008) 50 A World Without Bodies (2002) 215 Wretches and Jabberers (2011) 213, 215 Wright, Robin 66–7 Yared, Gabriel 99 youth participatory action research 132–8; and filmmaking 127; and situated identities 128; and youth voice 127 Zero Dark Thirty (2012) (torture) 10, 75–7, 83–6 Zyklon B 186, 189, 193