“For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.” I was reminded yet again of the inherent wisdom of this maxim by H. L. Mencken as my team teacher and I taught our students about the conflict in Syria. Whether I was giving the students a presentation on the history of modern Syria or he was teaching the students about the war-making powers of the President, we endeavored to help our students see all sides of the issue so they could form their own opinions with as much information as possible. Specifics aside, we wanted them to see that in situations like these, there are neither good nor bad options; our choices exist on a spectrum, but there are no absolutes at either end to guide us.
More broadly, isn’t this what we as educators want to teach our students about life in general? All too often, adolescents in the peak years of their own ambiguity seek out simple dichotomies that enable them to find some comfort. Their bodies and lives may be in chaos, but they hope the world has an order that will allow them to choose between black and white, absolute good and undeniable evil. A desire for simplicity makes perfect sense, and we need to empathize with them as they go through this perfectly normal developmental phase.
However, we need to show them that this simplicity is an illusion. Life’s decisions are always very complicated, and the individuals whose actions and decisions they are studying, whether in the past or today, may all believe that they are right and the other side is wrong. As Abraham Lincoln said in his wondrous Second Inaugural Address, “Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered.” Our students need to understand that decision making may not be as easy as they initially thought. How can they know who to believe if both sides think their view is the morally correct one?
At the same time, we need to show our students that having a set of ethical principles can be beneficial in guiding their actions and decisions. We want them to define for themselves those things that are wrong and go beyond the pale of acceptability; and more importantly, we hope that they will know what doing good in their world looks like. Our job, at times, is to help them to construct their own compass that will guide them when they feel lost. They also need to learn that whatever path they take will offer new possibilities, but may also close the door on other options.
This is no easy task. Teaching life’s “complexity” takes time, energy, and patience. We have to encourage our students to do the hard work of realizing that the choices they and others make may not be obvious or correct, and that the consequences of their choices may not be readily apparent. This can frustrate and at times even infuriate students. However, in doing so we offer them the opportunity to mature and grow into their own sophistication. They begin to take themselves and their world more seriously when they comprehend that much of life exists in shades of grey.
In addition, we help them to develop a sense of caring for those people involved in the situations they are studying. The noted historian David McCullough discussed the need for readers of history to develop historical empathy -- this can only occur when students realize that the circumstances in which people in the past lived were just as complicated for those individuals as they are for us today.
McCullough said, “And we ought to be growing, encouraging, developing historians who have heart and empathy to put students in that place of those people before us who were just as human, just as real -- and maybe in some ways more real than we are. We’ve got to to teach history and nurture history and encourage history because it’s an antidote to the hubris of the present -- the idea that everything we have and everything we do and everything we think is the ultimate, the best.” Ideally, our students’ empathy for people from the past will also make them more compassionate towards those with whom they interact today.
Before morning meeting recently, I spoke with one of our students who has been following the Syrian conflict very closely. She’s been reading the optional articles we post on our website, listening to NPR, watching CNN, and talking about the events with family and friends. As we discussed that day’s news about the brutality of the rebels, which seemed to match the callousness of the government troops, she said, “...Every time I think I know what I believe, I learn something new that makes me reconsider.” I sympathized with her angst, but I was heartened to hear her willingness to question herself and to grapple with the difficulties inherent in this conflict. She’s growing as a student of international relations, but even more than learning facts, she’s becoming wise. As her teacher, I could ask for no more.
