American History ain't what it used to be (a tragedy in three acts)

As they say in England, I was gobsmacked. Or as they say in the U.S., I was flabbergasted. Or as they said in earlier times, I was astounded.

'About what?' you might be asking (and if you're not, move along, please, and make room for the others).

I will tell you about what.

American History. More specifically, the apparent lack of teaching about American history in the schools of today.

What got me all worked up was an episode of Jeopardy! on the telly a couple of nights ago.

It was Teen Tournamemt week on Jeopardy! during which some very bright 16-to-18-year-year-old contestants work their way through a series of quarter-final games, semi-final games, and two days of final games until a winner emerges. It is important to be the winner, because the winner gets to take home $100,000 USD. As it says up there in the title of the post, this is a tragedy in three acts, so I'll give you three examples of what should be commonly known facts about which these bright teenagers didn't have a clue.

Act I. During a semi-final game, the contestants were Maya (a senior from Peachtree City, Georgia), Caleb (a sophomore from someplace I don't recall), and Joe, I think his name was (a senior from San Diego, California). All three of them were displaying their knowledge on a variety of subjects, handily offering up their answers, always in the form of a question, such as names of sitcoms (What is The Big Bang Theory? What is Friends?), hip-hop and rap artists (we won't even go there), and tidbits of science and other subjects (What is thermodynamics? What is synecdoche?). Their abject ignorance of American history didn't surface until someone chose that category.

One question had to do with the dispute between Britain and the United States over the boundary of the Oregon Territory in the nineteenth century. It was finally resolved peacefully by setting the border between the U.S. and Canada at the 49th parallel, but not before candidate for U.S. President James Knox Polk campaigned on his willingness to go to war with Britain over the boundary if necessary. I don't remember the exact wording of the question but it was something like "This or fight became a political slogan in a dispute during the 1840s over the northern border of the Oregon Territory". Silence. No one buzzed in. Finally, just before the time expired, the young man from San Diego buzzed in and said, almost asked, "Forty-four?" and Alex Trebek said, 'No'. As every red-blooded student of nineteenth-century goings on should know, the correct answer is "Fifty-four Forty" meaning 54 degrees, 40 minutes North latitude. The disputed area (the area between 49 degrees North latitude and 54° 40' North latitude) is now known, friends, as the Canadian province of British Columbia. All's well that ends well, as someone once said (William Shakespeare, 1604).

Okay, that one was fairly esoteric unless you are an American History nut like me. So I relegated it to minor status and continued watching the show. One of the contestants then correctly identified the person who said 'Give me liberty or give me death' with the answer 'Who is Patrick Henry?' and I felt that hope was not lost.

I was wrong.

Act II. A few minutes later, someone chose the last remaining question in the category of American History, and Alex Trebek read the revealed fact: This man hoped that America would always have a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

Easy peasy. The last line of the most famous speech in America's history, Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.

Silence. After a few seconds, Caleb buzzed in and said, 'Who is Thomas Jefferson?' When Alex said 'No', Joe from San Diego buzzed in and said, 'Who is Benjamin Franklin?'

Alex said 'No' again. Maya just stood there and never buzzed in at all.

Gobsmacked is too mild a term for how I felt. I found it very difficult to believe what I had just witnessed. These were not poor students, drop-out material. These were among the best and brightest our country has to offer. I was in shock. I was disillusioned. I was heartbroken. Not only was I gobsmacked, I felt like a resident of Pompeii on that day in 79AD when Mt. Vesuvius erupted.

Let us move on to Act III.

Act III. As luck would have it, the category of the Final Jeopardy question was the American Revolutionary Era, and the fact turned out to be this:

The Quakers turned her out in 1773 when she married an upholsterer and took over management of his business.

I solved it by examining the clue. The word Quakers fairly screams Pennsylvania (William Penn and all that). Upholsterers deal with the sewing of heavy cloth. The answer had to be Betsy Ross of Philadelphia (the largest city in Pennsylvania, the place where the Quakers lived), the woman who supposedly made the first American flag for General George Washington. I say supposedly because that seems to be a myth that has been debunked. Besides, what other prominent women of the American Revolutionary Era were there? Martha Washington's husband was not an upholsterer, nor was Abigail Adams's, nor was Dolly Madison's. Paul Revere was a silversmith, so his wife was off the list as well.

The familiar music played as the seconds ticked by, and soon it was time to reveal the answers. Caleb and Joe wrote nothing. When Alex Trebek said that Maya wrote the right answer, Betsy Ross, Maya exclaimed in disbelief, "I did??" and walked away as champion of the day, $25,000 richer.

Earlier in the week, in the same category, other teen contestants had not been able to identify American presidents from pictures of them, including Dwight Eisenhower, Harry Truman, Andrew Jackson, and Lyndon Johnson, although someone did correctly identify Franklin D. Roosevelt.

To put this post in perspective for readers in the British Isles and the British Commonwealth of Nations, it's unthinkable, rather like not knowing who Queen Victoria was.

What shall we say to these students?

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in themselves; it is in the American education system. Apparently the exposure of young minds to what went before has been deemed unimportant and unnecessary.

We may all live to regret that decision.

In which more things than you can shake a stick at are compared to Liberace's theme song

If you must blame this post on somebody, blame Hilltop Homesteader, the blogger who posts from the southwestern corner of the state of Washington, which is way up in the northwest corner of our lower 48 states.

[Editor's note to the geographically challenged: The United States is composed of 50 states and the District of Columbia. Two states, Alaska and Hawaii, do not share a border with any of the others but are separated from them by Canada and the Pacific Ocean, respectively. Alaskans refer to the contiguous states as "the lower 48" but Hawaiians refer to the same area as "the mainland" because they live on islands. In the non-contiguous virtual space known as Blogworld, Hilltop Homesteader lives somewhere between Snowbrush (in Oregon) and A Lady's Life (in British Columbia), much in the same way that Mars is somewhere between Earth and Jupiter. Here endeth today's geography moment. --RWP]

Where was I? Oh, yes.

Two posts ago, I compared Mrs. RWP's latest creation, a drawing of an owl made with colored pencils, to Liberace's theme song ("Owl Be Seeing You In All The Old Familiar Places"). One post ago, I compared the Exxon Valdez environmental accident to Liberace's theme song ("Oil Be Seeing You In All The Old Familiar Places"). In a comment, Hilltop Homesteader wrote (I'm paraphrasing) that your correspondent is full of it lately and now has her imagining what the next theme song for Liberace will actually be. She imagined a couple of possibilities, a Carpenter ("Awl Be Seeing You In All The Old Familiar Places") and a Seamstress ("I'll Be Sewing You In All The Old Familiar Places"). She ended by saying she would leave it up to me to decide who's next.

Hence, this post.

I could keep doling these out to you one post at a time, but I have thunk and thunk on what might ensue and I have decided that my readers would not take kindly to that possibility and my audience would shrink into nothingness, which it is always in danger of doing anyway. Therefore, I am going to present the possibilities to you all at one time and be done with them.

Here we go.

Betsy Ross creating the first American flag in 1776 and presenting it to General George Washington is like Liberace's theme song ("I'll Be Sewing You In All The Old Familiar Places"). Thanks again to Hilltop Homesteader.

Vail, Aspen, and Snowmass in Colorado; Park City in Utah; and Sun Valley in Idaho are like Liberace's theme song ("I'll Be Skiing You In All The Old Familiar Places").

Hound dogs chasing a raccoon are like Liberace's theme song ("I'll Be Treeing You In All The Old Familiar Places").

From the perspective of the fox, a fox hunt through the fields of Jolly Olde England is like Liberace's theme song ("I'll Be Fleeing You In All The Old Familiar Places").

A young man looking forward to winter so that he can write his name in the snow is like Liberace's theme song (I'll Be Peeing You In All The Old Familiar Places").

Bruce Jenner slowly transforming himself into Caitlyn Jenner is like Liberace's theme song (I'll Be She-ing You In All The Old Familiar Places").

It will be over soon.

When a large department store decides to host a "Meet the Celebrities" event and invites the shopping public to meet the stars of the motion picture Notting Hill and so many people show up that the crowd have to be divided into two queues and the department store erects two large signs at the entrance to assist the attendees, it is like Liberace's theme song because one sign says, "Aisle A: Seeing Julia" and the other sign says -- wait for it -- "Aisle B: Seeing Hugh"....

I must close now as the men in white coats are here.