Accessible Archives

Image
Image, Godey's Lady's Book, Accessible Archives
Annotation

These eight databases present more than 176,000 articles from 18th- and 19th-century newspapers, magazines, books, and genealogical records. Much of the material comes from Pennsylvania and other mid-Atlantic states.

Godey’s Lady’s Book (1830–1880), one of the most popular 19th-century publications, furnished middle- and upper-class American women with fiction, fashion illustrations, and editorials. The Pennsylvania Gazette (1728–1800), a Philadelphia newspaper, is described as the New York Times of the 18th century. The Civil War: A Newspaper Perspective includes major articles from the Charleston Mercury, the New York Herald, and the Richmond Enquirer. African-American Newspapers: The 19th Century includes runs from six newspapers published in New York, Washington, DC, and Toronto between 1827 and 1876. American County Histories to 1900 provides 60 volumes covering the local history of New Jersey, Delaware, and Pennsylvania. The Pennsylvania Genealogical Catalogue: Chester County 1809–1870 has been partially digitized, with 25,000 records available. The Pennsylvania Newspaper Record: Delaware County 1819–1870 addresses industrialization in a rural area settled by Quaker farmers.

Around the World in the 1890s: Photographs, 1894-1896

Image
Photo, North African man on horseback, W H Jackson, 1894, Around the World...
Annotation

This photograph archive contains more than 900 images made by American photographer William Henry Jackson (1843–1942) during his tour of North Africa, Asia, Russia, Australia, and Oceania from 1894 to 1896. The World's Transportation Commission, an organization formed to aid American business interests abroad, commissioned Jackson for this trip.

The photographs, originally exhibited in Chicago's Field Columbian Museum, focus on transportation systems, especially railroads, as well as tourist sites, indigenous life, wildlife, and locations of natural beauty. Nearly 687 of the images are from lantern slides, many of which were hand-colored. Many of the photographs appeared in Harper's Weekly. This collection is valuable for those interested in late 19th-century photography, colonialism, and industrialization.

The Auto Industry Goes to War

field_image
Sinclair gasoline ad, 1942, Did you say Walk?
Question

Did the U.S. manufacture of automobiles come to a halt during World War II?

Answer

Yes, it halted completely. No cars, commercial trucks, or auto parts were made from February 1942 to October 1945.

On January 1, 1942, all sales of cars, as well as the delivery of cars to customers who had previously contracted for them, were frozen by the government’s Office of Production Management. As a temporary measure, local rationing boards could issue permits allowing persons who had contracted for cars before January 1st to secure delivery.

President Roosevelt established the War Production Board on January 16, 1942. It superseded the Office of Production Management. The WPB regulated the industrial production and allocation of war materiel and fuel. That included coordinating heavy manufacturing, and the rationing of vital materials, such as metals, rubber, and oil. It also established wage and price controls.

All manufacturers ended their production of automobiles on February 22, 1942. The January 1942 production quota had been a little over 100,000 automobiles and light trucks. The units manufactured at the beginning of February would bring up the total number of vehicles in a newly established car stockpile to 520,000. These would be available during the duration of the war for rationed sales by auto dealers to purchasers deemed “essential drivers.”

Representatives from the auto industry formed the Automotive Council for War Production in April 1942, to facilitate the sharing of resources, expertise, and manpower in defense production contracting.

The auto industry retooled to manufacture tanks, trucks, jeeps, airplanes, bombs, torpedoes, steel helmets, and ammunition under massive contracts issued by the government. Beginning immediately after the production of automobiles ceased, entire factories were upended almost overnight. Huge manufacturing machines were jack hammered out of their foundations and new ones brought in to replace them. Conveyors were stripped away and rebuilt, electrical wires were bundled together and stored in the vast factory ceilings, half-finished parts were sent to steel mills to be re-melted, and even many of the dies that had been used in the fabrication of auto parts were sent to salvage.

The government’s Office of Price Administration imposed rationing of gasoline and tires and set a national speed limit of 35 mph.

By April 1944, only 30,000 new cars out of the initial stockpile were left. Almost all were 1942 models and customers required a permit to make the purchase. The Office of Price Administration set the price. The government contemplated rationing used car sales as well, but that was finally deemed unnecessary. The government estimated that about a million cars had been taken off the road by their owners, to reserve for their own use after the war.

In the autumn of 1944, looking then toward the end of the war, Ford, Chrysler, Nash, and Fisher Body of General Motors received authorization from the War Production Board to do preliminary work on experimental models of civilian passenger cars, on condition that it not interfere with war work and that employees so used be limited to planning engineers and technicians. Limits were also set on the amount of labor and materials the companies could divert to this.

During the war, the automobile and oil companies continued to advertise heavily to insure that the public did not forget their brand names. Companies also were proud to proclaim their patriotic role in war production, and their advertisements displayed the trucks, aircraft, and munitions that they were making to do their part in combat.

In addition, auto advertisements encouraged the public to patronize local auto dealers’ service departments so that car repairs could help extend the lives of the cars their customers had bought before the war. In the last couple of years of the war, the auto companies also used their advertisements to heighten public anticipation of the end of the war and the resumption of car and truck manufacturing, with advertising copy such as Ford’s “There’s a Ford in Your Future.”

Bibliography

John Alfred Heitmann, The Automobile and American Life. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2009. pp. 119-130.

James J. Flink, The Automobile Age. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1988. pp. 275-76.

Automobile Manufacturers Association, Freedom’s Arsenal: The Story of the Automotive Council for War Production. Detroit: Automobile Manufacturers Association, 1950.

Boston Harbor Islands Partnership [MA]

Description

The Boston Harbor Islands Partnership is an umbrella organization representing the public access islands of Boston Harbor. Islands suggested for U.S. history studies include Deer, Thompson, Spectacle, Georges, and Little Brewster Islands. Topics relevant to the islands include Native American and settler relations, the King Phillips War (1674-1676), seacoast and harbor defense, navigational and lighthouse history, and the industrialization of Boston.

The site offers Junior Ranger activities and a GPS-based self-guided tour. The website offers an interdisciplinary guide for teachers; lesson plans, which focus on civic action, maritime history, settlement, and the Native American experience; thematic information on Native American life, geology, the Civil War, the Revolutionary War, ecosystems, and science and technology; and a list of island suggestions according to educational theme. The partnership's other offerings include a video, for rent, on five local Native American tribes; the Harbor Connections educational program; and educator professional development programming.

Contradictions in John Fremont's Political Chart of the US (1856)

field_image
detail of Fremont's chart
Question

The question concerns John Frémont's Political Chart of the United States (1856). Typically, we think of the north as being more industrialized at this point and the south as more agricultural. Yet, under the heading of area on the right of this document the following information is included: No. of farms in slave states – 569,201; No. of farms in free states – 873,678.

That fact from a primary source contradicts what we typically think about the economy of the north and south in the antebellum era. Explain this contradiction. Where were all these farms in the north? Why were there more farms in the north? Was Mr. Frémont referring to small farms?

Answer

The period during which Frémont's chart appeared was one of rapid industrialization and urbanization in the Northeastern states. Economic historian Douglass C. North has identified the 1840s and early 1850s as the era in which "the pace of industrialization accelerated to the degree that the Northeast could unequivocally be called a manufacturing region."

In 1850, urban population in the Northeast accounted for 27 percent of the total population, while the South was only eight percent urban. During the next decade, the South remained predominately rural, with 10 percent of its population living in cities or towns in 1860, while the Northeast continued to urbanize at a swift pace, with an urban population that had grown to 36 percent. Despite the region's growth in industry and urban population, the Northeast retained a large rural population: 73 percent of its total population in 1850 and 64 percent in 1860. Yet, the size of the rural Northeastern population accounts only for part of the answer to the apparent contradiction stated in the question. The seeming paradox can be only resolved if we start by noting the exact language that was used in Frémont's chart.

Fremont's Language

The chart explicitly referred to "free states," not states in the North or Northeast. During this period, the number of farms in the developing area that we now call the Midwest—which with the exception of Missouri was composed solely of free state—increased at a faster pace than in any other region of the nation due to the increasing ability of persons of modest means to purchase newly available, relatively small plots of public land. These new farms tended more and more to be oriented to the market rather than to self-sufficiency. The concurrent rise in urban population in the Northeast was closely related to the growth of agriculture as a commercial enterprise in the Midwest. As cities grew, so did a demand for food that Midwestern farmers supplied. A closer look at the statistics and at the analyses of agricultural and economic historians will help make further sense of the situation.

The number of farms listed on Frémont's chart was derived from the 1850 census (with one small discrepancy—while the chart lists 873,678 farms in free states, the total calculated from the census actually comes to 873,608). According to census figures, New England states (Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut) accounted for 19 percent of the farms in free states, or 167,651 farms; Middle Atlantic free states (New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey) totaled 37 percent or 322,103 farms; and the Midwestern free states (Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Iowa) 44 percent or 382,982. (The census listed only 872 farms in California, the only state in the far west that had been admitted to the Union by that time.) New York led the free states in number of farms with 170,621. Ohio, the first Midwestern state to be settled, came in second with 143,807. Pennsylvania followed with 127,577, Indiana had 93,896, and Illinois 76,208. In the slave states, Virginia had the most farms with 77,013, followed by Kentucky with 74,777, Tennessee with 72,735, North Carolina with 56,963, Missouri with 54,458, and Georgia with 51,759.

The Business of Agriculture

During the decade of the 1850s, the total number of farms in the U.S. increased by 41 percent, from 1,442,908 to 2,030,785 farms. Nearly half of the new farms were located in the free states of the Midwest. In his classic work of U.S. agricultural history, The Farmer's Age: Agriculture, 1815–1860, Paul W. Gates stated that the "rush for the public domain" during the 1850s "surpassed anything in previous history." Gates attributed the rise in land sales to lower prices and to "[f]rantic railroad building, particularly in the upper Mississippi Valley; the great influx of Germans, Scandinavians, and Easterners into the West; and a new era of banking experiments which greatly increased available credit." Historians have identified this period as part of an "agricultural revolution" that eventually led to the passage of the Homestead Act of 1862, through which homesteading settlers could obtain 160 acres of public land free of charge.

The revolution, which encouraged land speculators in addition to settlers, marked a major shift in agricultural practice in the free states, as "by the 1850s, market-oriented agriculture was firmly established as the dominant approach, clearly distinguishable from the semisubsistence approach," according to agricultural historian Clarence H. Danhof. Economic historian Harold D. Woodman has characterized the "large class of property owners on western lands" during this period as consisting "neither of peasant proprietors nor of yeoman farmers but, rather, of businessmen on the make."

Land Sales

Two visions of the nation's future had dominated early legislative initiatives regarding land sales from the federal government, which under the Articles of Confederation had acquired all state-owned lands west of the Appalachians. Alexander Hamilton and his Federalist followers believed that prices for public land should be set at high levels both to benefit the U.S. treasury and to discourage agriculture in favor of manufacturing endeavors. In contrast, Thomas Jefferson and like-minded politicians, who envisioned a republic of yeoman family farmers, sought low prices for small lots of land that could be purchased on credit by people of average means.

Federalist policy prevailed in early land sales legislation; in 1790, the minimum cost for land purchased from the government was set at $1,280 and the minimum amount sold was set at 640 acres. Due to poor sales, later legislation gradually relaxed maximum and minimum terms, so that by 1820, the minimum price of an acre had dropped from a high of $2 to $1.25 and the minimum amount that could be sold was lowered to 80 acres. In 1832, this amount was reduced further to 40 acres, and by 1854, the minimum price for public land that had remained unsold for more than 30 years was lowered drastically to 12 ½ cents per acre.

The federal government sold nearly 50 million acres between 1850 and 1859. In free states, the number of farms increased by 44 percent to 1,255,518 farms, while those in the slave states increased by 36 percent to 775,267. Midwestern states experienced the highest growth rate in numbers of farms among all regions of the nation. Between 1850 and 1860, the number of farms in the New England states increased by 10 percent, with 16,291 new farms bringing the total to 183,942. Middle Atlantic states increased its number of farms by 18 percent with an additional 58,890 to total 380,993 farms.

Midwestern states (including Minnesota, which had become a state in 1858) increased their number of farms by 74 percent with an additional 283,079 farms to total 666,061, or 53 percent of free state farms. New York, Ohio, and Pennsylvania remained the states with the largest number of farms in the free states (196,990, 179,889, and 156,357, respectively), while Illinois had jumped to fourth place with 143,310 and Indiana increased to 131,826.

The far western states of California and Oregon (admitted to the Union in 1859) with 24,522 farms, accounted for 2 percent of the total number of farms in the free states. The number of farms in southern states in which public lands were sold increased dramatically: by 26 percent in Mississippi, 29 percent in Louisiana, 31 percent in Alabama, 53 percent in Florida, 70 percent in Missouri, 120 percent in Arkansas, and 252 percent in Texas. While the number of farms in the South grew at a greater rate than that of the Northeast, they increased by less than half the rate of Midwestern farms.

Size and Numbers

While the number of farms in the South was less than that of the Northeast and the Midwest combined, the size of farms in slave states was greater on average than those in free states. In 1850, the average-sized farm in the slave states was 318 acres; in the free states, the average size was 128 acres, or 40 percent of the size of an averaged-sized farm in the South. The average size of farms in both free and slave states remained near constant from 1850 to 1860. According to the 1860 census, an average-sized farm in the free states in 1860 was 125 acres, or 3 acres smaller than in 1850, while in the slave states the average acreage had increased from 318 to 319.

Frémont's Midwestern supporters, who put together the chart, were part of a growing movement of farmers who "broke politically with southern planters in the 1850s," according to agriculture and economics professor Willard W. Cochrane. These farmers, Cochrane has written, "came to resist the extension of slavery and the plantation system out of fear of competition from large plantation units based on slave labor with their small family-sized units." In order to survive during the transition to market-oriented farming, they allied themselves more with economic interests in the Northeast than with planters in the South. "The stage was thus set for the realignment of political power, the founding of the Republican party, and the eventual War between the States," Cochrane concluded.

For more information

A detailed copy of the chart, from the Chicago Historical Society, is online at the Lincoln at 200 website.

Bibliography

Agriculture of the United States in 1860: Compiled from the Original Returns of the Eighth Census., under the direction of the Secretary of Interior, by Joseph C. G. Kennedy, Superintendent of Census. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1864.

Jeremy Atack and Fred Bateman, To Their Own Soil: Agriculture in the Antebellum North. Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1987.

Jeremy Atack, Fred Bateman, and William N. Parker, "Northern Agriculture and the Westward Movement," in The Cambridge Economic History of the United States. Vol. II: The Long Nineteenth Century. Edited by Stanley L. Engerman and Robert E. Gallman. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Willard W. Cochrane, The Development of American Agriculture: A Historical Analysis. 2d Edition. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993.

Clarence H. Danhof, Change in Agriculture: The Northern United States, 1820–1870. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1969.

Robert E. Gallman, "Commodity Output, 1839–1899," in Trends in the American Economy in the Nineteenth Century. Edited by William N. Parker Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1960.

Paul W. Gates, The Farmer's Age: Agriculture, 1851–1860. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1960; reprint, Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1989.

Historical Statistics of the United States: Colonial Times to 1970, Bicentennial ed. Washington: U.S. Dept. of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, 1975.

Douglass C. North, The Economic Growth of the United States, 1790–1860. New York: W. W. Norton, 1966.

Harold D. Woodman, "Economy from 1815 to 1865," in Encyclopedia of American Economic History: Studies of the Principal Movements and Ideas. Edited by Glenn Porter. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1980.

Learning from Lesson Plans

Article Body

If there is one thing that we have learned from working with Teaching American History (TAH), it is that there is an abundance of information from which teachers can draw to create lesson plans. But, that does not mean that all teachers jump at the chance to craft new units, nor does it mean that such lessons are all equal. In this piece I will discuss the diverse outcomes of these processes through the examination of the work of teachers who will represent "types" that our TAH team has encountered repeatedly. They are (1) the eager, good, young teacher; (2) the engaged, creative, seasoned teacher; (3) the unchallenged veteran who eschews change; (4) the bored veteran who welcomes a challenge, and finally (5) the non-history teacher who uses new history content in impressive interdisciplinary ways.

While there are many teachers who fall outside of these profiles, or who straddle more than one, these categories will allow for a discussion of what you might encounter and how you can see the possibilities of each—and to try to use them to your grant's advantage. But this essay is not just about the content of lesson plans, though we all know that the content is the focus of our grants. This essay will look at the ways that being a successful history teacher also necessarily involves being an engaged teacher, and realizing that in these grants, putting teachers in the role of students can have brilliant consequences when mixed with new content.

There is an abundance of information from which teachers can draw to create lesson plans. But, that does not mean that all teachers jump at the chance.
Starting Strong

Teacher Number One (1) is a fifth-year middle school teacher in an urban fringe school district. He has a bachelor's degree in history and secondary education. He decided to participate in our TAH grant in its second year because he hoped to help his tech-savvy students make a stronger connection between today's technology and the machines of yesteryear. Teacher No. 1 crafted a well-organized, meticulously arranged unit plan that merged in-class work and homework assignments beautifully. He capitalized on sophisticated technology and clearly addressed national standards in both history and historical thinking.

The national standards addressed in the unit cover the factory system, urbanization, economic concepts in global contexts and how technology has changed people's lives. The primary objective of this unit was to compel students to understand the effects that technology and industrialization had on the lives of everyday people in Rhode Island. Ultimately, the teacher hopes that this unit will produce a discussion of how technology affects peoples' lives today.

The student work produced from Unit No. 1 was primarily journal-based and also asked students to fill in pre-made graphic organizers. All of this work was related to the textbook and an impressive PowerPoint presentation, created by Teacher No. 1, on the Industrial Revolution—with a viewer's guide to go along with it. Perhaps the most engaging activity in the unit was a mock town meeting at which students were assigned the roles of people who lived in the area when Samuel Slater was planning his mill in Pawtucket, RI in 1793. These roles included a fisherman, farmers, small mill owners, a local farming family, and a church group. Each group was given extensive background information and was guided through the process with fill-in-the-blank forms. (This works well at the middle school level, but one can see that it could be easily adapted to a high school classroom.) Lastly, the groups were given multiple primary documents to help their cases and prepare them for the unit's culminating activity: a visit to the Slater Mill Historic Site.

A Second Approach

Our second teacher is an 11th grade U.S. history teacher in the same district as our first. Although she has only been teaching for two more years than Teacher No. 1, teaching is a second career for her after receiving a bachelor's degree in public policy and a master's degree in education. While dedicated to her students, her reasoning behind signing up for our TAH course was that she wanted to keep up with the latest historiography and keep her teaching fresh. Even though at first this might appear to be the more selfish of the two responses to the question of why they wanted to learn more, I have come to believe that this is actually the educational equivalent of putting the oxygen mask on yourself first, and then helping others on the plane. She was not being selfish by focusing on her herself; she was recognizing that for the good of the students, she needs to stay up to date in the field.

. . . this is actually the educational equivalent of putting the oxygen mask on yourself first, and then helping others on the plane.

Teacher No. 2's unit plan was exhaustive and written in a wonderful tone that she chose, successfully, to be easily adaptable to other classrooms and other levels. It was well integrated into the overall college prep curriculum and took the students' graduation requirements into account. Moreover, Teacher No. 2 included all of the same technology as Teacher No. 1, as well as incorporating traditional, hands-on projects in engaging and effective ways.

Teacher No. 2's unit plan outlined an original goal to have the students read a monograph, often assigned at the college level, to better grasp the character of America at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. From the outset, therefore, Teacher No. 2 has engaged the ideas stressed in our institute and readings: that for our students to better relate to history, they should learn not to apply their own standards and ideologies to past actors, but instead learn about the philosophies of prior periods.

The teacher then guided her students through the traditional "Now and Then" essay, but with a twist: students were not asked to see the past in light of the present, but were urged to see each for its own merits, related, but not dichotomous. In a very fluid fashion, the unit covered the evolution of an agrarian society to an industrialized one, focusing on the need for workers in the 19th century, and moving up to related immigration issues today. The teacher used PowerPoint presentations to supplement her lectures, discussions, and activities, while the students used more traditional, yet still dynamic, hand-on processes, like essays, posters, and life-sized painted depictions of peoples from immigrant cultures.

Working Together

Both the units of Teachers Nos. 1 and 2 have much to offer students in the same content area, and represent teaching one time period and topic to diverse grade levels. But, what could these two unit plans gain from each other? And would these lessons be applicable to the other teacher's grade level? After reviewing countless units, I would suggest that even at the middle school level, students could handle more formal writing than is incorporated into the lessons in Unit No. 1. Although the students were producing journals and filling in blanks, the arguments that they crafted for their mock town meeting were done in groups. Individuals could have been asked to write their own arguments independently and start to learn the skill of developing a thesis and proving it in an historical essay.

Teachers have not just high expectations for their classes, but also for themselves. They instilled their own creativity into their lessons, lectures, and unit designs.

Similarly, while the high school students were asked to write both essays and create art-based projects, they could also have been asked to present their cases orally. Especially at the upper level, where writing and test-prep are so often the focus, it is just as important for students to get practice articulating themselves in speech—particularly on such hot topics as immigration. Remember, we are not just trying to prepare our students for tests or more schooling, but for a civic life in which each can feel comfortable participating in public discourse. Both of the aforementioned units have the potential, if used properly, to prepare students for success in both school and their communities.

The Uphill Climb

It is clear that both of the first two teachers have not just high expectations for their classes, but also for themselves. They instilled their own creativity into their lessons, lectures, and unit designs. Often history teachers have to retain their own expectations in the face of school administrations that have little time for the untested social studies, especially history. Our third teacher, who is part of a high-performing history department in an urban-fringe high school, seems to have allowed the lack of state focus on history to lower his own expectations. Quite shockingly, in this teacher's mandatory reflection piece, he admitted that this was the first lesson plan he had been asked to create in 20 years. And, after that statement, he added that he knew that it was not his best effort.

In this unit he borrows, frequently, from previously created materials. Borrowing, of course, is fine—in fact, we encourage taking from the excellent materials that are already out there. But, if you are going to borrow, you should make sure that you get the information correct and that you add to its quality, not detract from it. The unit produced by this educator gave students incorrect information about the slave trade, in particular the Triangular Trade (an important topic, especially in Rhode Island). The student work that said teacher submitted reflected this misinformation. Moreover, the students who produced factually specious (and sometimes outrageous) materials were not graded down for it. Despite feedback sessions with other teachers, opportunities for resubmission, and a chance to try again the next year, Teacher No. 3 decided to opt out of all future participation.

A Success Story

Not every teacher who confronts the difficult situation of realizing that he has produced sub-par materials, however, backs away from the challenge. In point of fact, one of our greatest TAH success stories is a history teacher in a low-performing urban district in which he often finds himself teaching ESL students and those with striking learning differences.

Teacher No. 4, also a veteran teacher, is popular with his students, and in the summer institute was enraptured with the new information he was learning. Yet, in the fall, when he turned in his unit plan, it was, in laymen's terms, a mess. It did not follow standards of any kind and sections were handwritten, not proofread, and did not build to any sort of culminating activity.

When confronted with the work of other teachers in his group, and with my comments as his professor, he seemed shocked and deeply saddened. This began an all-out onslaught to create a better unit and, to paraphrase his own words, to become a better teacher. He consulted with me and the Rhode Island Historical Society's TAH coordinator for materials and teaching strategies. He tried new, online resources. He ended up retooling his unit plan and resubmitting it. It was not perfect, but it was enough to take him from an F to a B. But more importantly than that, it reinvigorated his teaching just to have other people care about his work and expect more of him.

In the next year, the third and final of the grant, Teacher No. 4 was back with even greater energy to learn and perform. Unlike any of the other 40 teachers, he contacted me within a week of the institute to help plan a better unit. He had gotten one of the deepest messages of the TAH grant program: there are countless resources out there waiting to give you help—you just have to ask. No teacher can know everything, so when resources present themselves, grab them and use them.

. . . there are countless resources out there waiting to give you help—you just have to ask.

When Teacher No. 4 turned in his next lesson plan, it was excellent. In fact, he was the only teacher in his district to receive an A for the course. His new approach showed not only in the content, but also in his presentation. His work became a model for other teachers, as did his attitude—one that took sincere joy in the challenge of doing his job better. He expected more of himself and his students, and ultimately, it is his students who will reap the benefits. The difference between Teacher No. 3 and No. 4 is not that one is smarter than the other, but that one was open to the idea of change and that even though he knew a lot, he could know more. He also embraced the idea that if he was ever to have high expectations for his students, he could not avoid them for himself.

Cross Training

We have reviewed the effect of increasing expectations on teacher-created lesson plans for history. As we all know, however, our TAH grants benefit greatly from the participation of non-social studies teachers, as well. Within most of our grants, we have hosted ESL, special education, ELA, and elementary school teachers. Thus, the fifth teacher in this essay is an English/language arts teacher in an urban middle school.

Since history is not her main content area, she was given the leeway to create a unit that she hoped would develop students' reading, writing, thinking, and language skills using the writing of King, Dunbar, Angelou, Hughes, and Walker. The historical content of the unit is clear, and this literature teacher clearly benefited from a week of intensive history training. Her unit elegantly illustrated the fact that texts can be used to help understand history, just as history can be used to help understand a text—and that such work can be used to strengthen what are typically thought of as ELA skills: reading, writing persuasively, and oral argumentation.

I am left, as a historian, however, with many questions: if those are not the skills used by a historian, then what are? What is it that keeps our schools from allowing, even requiring, history teachers to foster these skills in history classes? How can a state create standards for history that do not include persuasive writing?

Lessons Learned

This is a brief essay, and certainly it is one that contains as many questions as answers. I hope, however, that it demonstrates the importance of a willingness for all of us to learn from each other and the wide resources that these grants afford us. Excellent high school and middle school units on the same topics can still learn from each other. Teachers who are finding it hard to get into a groove can succeed it they are willing to ask for help. And history teachers can most certainly learn from other disciplines to make their K–12 history classrooms more like their college counterparts. More than this, however, I hope this essay brings home the point that these institutes and seminars we hold, thanks to TAH funding, inform our teachers' lessons and classroom styles. This has a true, if unquantifiable, effect on our students.

Historic Speedwell [NJ]

Description

Historic Speedwell presents mid-19th-century life through the estate of Stephen Vail (1780-1864), proprietor of Speedwell Iron Works. The site highlight is the factory building where Alfred Vail (1807-1859) and Samuel F.B. Morse (1791-1872) completed and publicly demonstrated the electromagnetic telegraph in 1838. Other structures include an operational waterwheel; the Vail Home, furnished to an 1844 to 1864 appearance; 1849 carriage house; several residences; and a historic granary.

The site offers period rooms; traditional and interactive exhibits; guided tours of the factory building, Vail home, and Wheelhouse; hands-on workshops; Scout programs; and educational programs.

Innovation and Technology in the 19th Century

field_image
Genius of Electricity, statue by Evelyn Beatrice Longman
Question

How did innovation and technology change life in the 19th century?

Answer

There were two technological innovations that profoundly changed daily life in the 19th century. They were both “motive powers”: steam and electricity. According to some, the development and application of steam engines and electricity to various tasks such as transportation and the telegraph, affected human life by increasing and multiplying the mechanical power of human or animal strength or the power of simple tools.

Those who lived through these technological changes, felt them to be much more than technological innovations. To them, these technologies seemed to erase the primeval boundaries of human experience, and to usher in a kind of Millennial era, a New Age, in which humankind had definitively broken its chains and was able, as it became proverbial to say, to “annihilate time and space.” Even the most important inventions of the 19th century that were not simply applications of steam or electrical power, such as the recording technologies of the photograph and the phonograph, contributed to this because they made the past available to the present and the present to the future.
The 1850 song, “Uncle Sam’s Farm,” written by Jesse Hutchinson, Jr., of the Hutchinson Family Singers, captured this sense that a unique historical rupture had occurred as a result of scientific and social progress:

Our fathers gave us liberty, but little did they dream
The grand results that pour along this mighty age of steam;
For our mountains, lakes and rivers are all a blaze of fire,
And we send our news by lightning on the telegraphic wires.

Apart from the technological inventions themselves, daily life in the 19th century was profoundly changed by the innovation of reorganizing work as a mechanical process, with humans as part of that process. This meant, in part, dividing up the work involved in manufacturing so that each single workman performed only one stage in the manufacturing process, which was previously broken into sequential parts. Before, individual workers typically guided the entire process of manufacturing from start to finish.

This change in work was the division or specialization of labor, and this “rationalization” (as it was conceived to be) of the manufacturing process occurred in many industries before and even quite apart from the introduction of new and more powerful machines into the process. This was an essential element of the industrialization that advanced throughout the 19th century. It made possible the mass production of goods, but it also required the tight reorganization of workers into a “workforce” that could be orchestrated in various ways in order to increase manufacturing efficiency. Individuals experienced this reorganization as conflict: From the viewpoint of individual workers, it was felt as bringing good and bad changes to their daily lives.

On the one hand, it threatened the integrity of the family because people were drawn away from home to work in factories and in dense urban areas. It threatened their individual autonomy because they were no longer masters of the work of their hands, but rather more like cogs in a large machine performing a limited set of functions, and not responsible for the whole.

On the other hand, it made it possible for more and more people to enjoy goods that only the wealthy would have been able to afford in earlier times or goods that had never been available to anyone no matter how wealthy. The rationalization of the manufacturing process broadened their experiences through varied work, travel, and education that would have been impossible before.

For more information

J. D. Bernal, Science and Industry in the Nineteenth Century. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1970. First edition published 1953.

Thomas Parke Hughes, American Genesis: A History of the American Genius for Invention. New York: Penguin Books, 1989.

Jack Larkin, The Reshaping of Everyday Life: 1790-1840. New York: Harper Perennial, 1989. First edition published 1988.

Walter Licht, Industrializing America: The Nineteenth Century. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995.

Carroll Pursell, The Machine in America: A Social History of Technology. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995.

The Great Migration

Description

This iCue Mini-Documentary describes how, at the outbreak of World War I, industries in the north opened employment to African Americans. They left the south in record numbers for jobs in the north.

This feature is no longer available.