I’m not sure how old I was when I learned that April showers bring May flowers.
I’m reasonably certain, however, that the first time someone asked me, “What do May flowers bring?” was when I was in the first or second grade. That question was no doubt printed in the “Weekly Reader” our teacher thrust in front of us periodically; probably once a week, given the publication’s title.
The amusing yet subtly informative answer to the “May flowers” brain teaser was. of course, that Mayflowers brought Pilgrims. What made this outwardly weak riddle’s answer nominally humorous was the presumption that those reading it knew what the Mayflower was.
However, today that lame line might be even less funny than it used to be. That’s because, sadly, not many current seven-year-olds know the Mayflower was the ship that brought 102 passengers and 30 crew members seeking separation from the Church of England across the Atlantic Ocean in 1620. That means they’re also ignorant of the fact that once those brave, God-fearing people arrived here, they immediately befriended everyone they encountered. They subsequently farmed numerous crops successfully, ultimately sharing their bounteous harvest with Chief Squanto and his tribe at the first Thanksgiving, a community feast where Indians brought the corn and generous Pilgrims supplied everything else.
Later on descendants of those Pilgrims built up the underutilized land, manufactured many new things, and gladly shared all they produced fairly and equitably with future generations of North America’s native peoples. They did this in spite of the backward and occasionally savage ways of the Indians. Fortunately those with Pilgrim lineage, with the help of other selfless Caucasians, were able to civilize their scantily-clad, uncultured neighbors by teaching them to speak English, eradicating any and all vestiges of their primordial, bestial antecedents, and, most importantly, converting them to Christianity.
For educators like me and others who notice such things, the lack of knowledge regarding American history among our nation’s youngest citizens is alarming. The arrival of the fourth month of the year, and with it the memory of the “What do May flowers bring?” conundrum, is what brings my attention to what I see as an existential threat to our country’s culture.
By the time we were seven years old elementary schoolers of my vintage knew about George Washington refusing to lie about chopping down the cherry tree, Abraham Lincoln writing and delivering the Gettysburg Address solely because he knew how evil the institution of slavery was, and the brave General Custer meeting his heroic end at the hands of a band of bloodthirsty primitives who ambushed him and his courageous men at Little Big Horn.
Today’s kids have, I’m afraid, no clue about any of that. Maybe it’s the ongoing aftereffects of the Covid pandemic. Then again, it could be the shortening of attention spans triggered by the ubiquity and availability of hand-held electronic devices in America today. It’s also possible that because so much information (not all of which is true) is so easily accessible, the nation has been inundated by a tidal wave of societal incuriosity, leading to the ongoing surge of cultural ignorance.
The truth is it doesn’t matter who or what is responsible for the alarming decline in historical literacy. America’s got a problem, and the sooner it gets acknowledged, the sooner it’ll get dealt with appropriately.
It’s a shame how few kids understand American history the way my generation did back when we were elementary schoolers. If things don’t improve soon, it won’t be long before no one will remember to celebrate Labor Day on the 4th of July.
Andy YoungReturn to main page
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