Homeschooling in Parks

By: Catherine Mägi

From Books to Battlefields and Back Again: Homeschooling in Parks

Across the rain-pelted Malvern Hill battlefield, steam rose from the summer-baked earth, as if every ghost in Virginia’s blood-soaked soil was gathering to meet us. I eased my SUV into the National Park Service parking lot and peered through rain-streaked windows. My wipers were useless against the deluge.

“Are we there?” piped my 11-year-old from the backseat, setting down her favorite American Girl doll, who was currently dressed in a new gown from Colonial Williamsburg and helping complete a Richmond Battlefields Junior Ranger book.

Her 13-year-old sister had her nose to the window. “Is this our next stop?” 

“It’s raining very hard,” I began. “I don’t think—”

“There are signs!” cried the elder, who loved reading anything that could be read.

“There are cannons!” squealed the younger one.

“Girls,” I said, attempting firmness, “This is quite a storm. Maybe we should skip this—”

“WE NEED TO READ THE SIGNS!”

And in a rush of jackets found and sleeves stuffed and dolls settled and other little girl mews, the rear doors on either side of the SUV flung open and slammed shut, leaving me quite suddenly alone—shocked, but neither mad nor unamused.

I watched in wonder as off my girls flew, forgetting their shoes even, just flashes of pink rubber raincoats bobbing and sloshing across the Tidewater swamp-field. They paused to leap and dance and vie for reading of the wayside exhibits, then dashed away again. 

Shrieks of laughter rang back to me between the drumbeats of the rain. The wind carried notes of song.  The girls reached the Union defenses, where weathered-green guns sat silently in their solemn line. My daughters seized upon the cannon as old friends, miniature Molly Pitchers in pink, their little arms casting boldly about the barrels and pretending to load and fire. They spun and swung and tipped their heads to the sky, whooping into the wind.

“Mom, come on!” They hollered, running back toward me. “We’ve got to stop the rebels from taking this hill!”

Well, of course, there was only one thing to do. I stepped out of the car, accepted the instant soaking, and charged. 

Mother and daughters ran like warriors through the pelting rain, screaming battle cries as have not been heard in these parts for perhaps a century and a half, beating back our invisible foes.

Just another history class.

We were homeschoolers.

Living history

I understand that most history classes spend a week or two on the American Civil War. 

We dwelled here for six months.

We lived like nomads, traveling up and down the Eastern Theater of the war. Beginning with John Brown’s attack on Harpers Ferry, we followed in the footsteps of the armies, visiting battlefields, forts, national cemeteries, and museums. 

Some of our stops were famous: Manassas. Antietam. Gettysburg. Others, somewhat off the beaten track: the hidden earthworks remnant at Williamsburg. The ring of forts surrounding Washington, D.C. The remains of the USS Monitor. Gaines Mill. The Crater. The prison at Point Lookout. Winchester, Winchester, Winchester.

We followed, too, the paths of the enslaved and their quest for freedom, from Lumpkin’s Slave Jail in Richmond to the Underground Railroad Trail in the Quaker settlement of Sandy Spring, Maryland; from abolitionist Concord to the bloodied streets of Harpers Ferry; from “contraband” camps at Fortress Monroe to the Frederick Douglass home in Washington, DC. 

We also chased figures like Abraham Lincoln, wandering across the old frontier from his birthplace to Boyhood Home, to his law office, family residence, and final resting place.

Through all this, I found us crossing again and again through Harpers Ferry.

Confluence 

Harpers Ferry

“Does every story come through Harpers Ferry?”

My daughter asked this when we’d paused for lunch in the village, en route to Winchester. The Ferry had long been a favorite day trip for us, but only in our Civil War wanderings did we fully begin to see its role as a crossroads of so much history.

Indeed, Harpers Ferry itself could be a textbook. It was a veritable epicenter of the Civil War. Here is an essential piece of Antietam. Here is the gateway to the Shenandoah Valley campaigns. Here is the outer defense of Washington. Here is a safe space for refugees. Here is the story of civilian hardship under occupation, of hospitals, of prisons. Here is the largest US surrender of the century. Here are Lincoln, Grant, Sheridan, Jackson, Lee, Early, Mosby, and so many others. And here, of course, is the spark that starts it all: John Brown. 

Unwittingly, I had been teaching this story of Harpers Ferry to my children all along. But my children are the ones who ultimately taught it to me.

Junior Ranger programs formed a core experience for the family’s adventures. At Manassas, the youngest child took up the Junior Ranger challenge to draw the famous “Stonewall” Jackson statue in order to earn a badge.

On teaching

In the time of COVID-19, many are asking how to homeschool. I will let you in on an exciting and frightening secret: every child is different. There’s no magic cure-all. What worked for my kids may not work for yours, and that’s fine.

My family’s plan for history-focused education relied on a couple basic principles:

1. Children learn best when they are excited and passionate about a subject. Allowing history to be number one for my history-obsessed child encouraged additional interest in literature (reading relevant novels), art (trying craft techniques from the period), music (learning period instruments and popular songs) and even science (exploring inventions and medical and other advances). Don’t worry: we still studied math. We just didn’t stress about hitting algebra by 6th grade.
2. Experience is more powerful than textbooks. Yes, we had an academic spine of sorts, but walking, touching, listening to the land brought lessons alive.
3. By building positive memories in historic settings, we’re building a foundation for deeper conversations later. Children may not understand the full complexity of a historical event, and that’s ok. At 8, my daughter wanted to go to “The Place With The Big Rocks.” Now, as an adult, she knows she’s craving Gettysburg, and Devil’s Den, particularly. 
4. Support matters. It’s helpful to have a parenting partner, extended family member, or amazing friend who fully respects your homeschooling and can help walk dogs, take a little one to dance class, cook a meal, or otherwise be an extra set of hands when you need them - especially if you’re keen to hit the road as often as we did. Most of our outings were day trips, once or twice a week, but we did do strings of overnights with some regularity.

Graduation 

It's been years since our homeschool adventures. My children are now grown. But just as important, I have grown, too.

Every walk, every book, every site we explored in those magical years fed my soul deeply.  They moved me, shaped me, challenged me, changed me.

When homeschooling ended, I found I could no longer accept a “safe” courtroom career. I had broken the mold for my children, and I had also broken the mold for myself. Somewhere amidst Maryland Heights’ fortifications, or in the secret room of a safehouse, or perhaps running wild across that sodden battlefield of Malvern Hill, I remembered my own passion for history. I remembered that I’d wanted a Ph.D. I remembered that I’d wanted to study and research and write all the worlds of the past to life. 

In essence, I remembered myself. 

But that is another story.

***

Bio

Catherine Mägi (she/her) is an avid hiker, writer, and “recovering” attorney now pursuing her graduate degree in history. With Dennis Frye, she co-authored a comprehensive history of Harpers Ferry, Confluence: Harpers Ferry as Destiny. She lives in a lovingly restored Harpers Ferry armorers’ home, which inspires her daily with the Civil War history quite literally written on its walls.

*Images courtesy of the author, Catherine Mägi