Moving Beyond Name Games:
The Conservative Attack on the U.S. History Standards

Robert Cohen

Conservatives reacted with fury to the publication of the National Standards for United States History in the fall of 1994. Led by former National Endowment for the Humanities Chair Lynne V. Cheney, these critics accused the National Center for History in the Schools, which compiled the standards in conjunction with large groups of historians and social studies teachers, of "pursuing the revisionist agenda" and promoting a left-wing, politically correct version of the American past. To prove the standards' leftist slant, Cheney (soon followed by Charles Krauthammer and others on the right) counted the names it mentioned.1 She found that women and minorities were getting too much attention at the expense of great white men: Harriet Tubman was mentioned six times, while U.S. Grant was named only once and Robert E. Lee not at all. Cheney was also upset by the standards' jabs at conservative heroes. She worried that students might come away from the standards thinking that John D. Rockefeller was no angel, and pondering Tip O'Neill's characterization of Ronald Reagan as "a cheerleader for selfishness" (Cheney 1994).
Sharing Ms. Cheney's self-professed concern about fair and balanced history, I decided to adopt her methodology, but to apply it to a part of the American experience with which she seems unfamiliar: the history of the American Left. If the standards were as Left oriented as she thought, they were sure to give big play to the great men and women of the American Left.

Using Cheney's name-counting approach, I opened the standards chapter on the 1960s and searched for New Left leaders. But they were not there. No Mario Savio. No Tom Hayden. No Bernardine Dohrn. No Mark Rudd. No Bob Moses. SDS was not mentioned. Nor was its Port Huron Statement. No SNCC. The Free Speech Movement, the campus teach-ins against the Vietnam War, the Columbia student strike were not mentioned. When I turned to the section on the 1930s, I found the standards as skimpy with the major figures of the Old Left as they had been with the New Left. Communist Party (CP) leader Earl Browder and Socialist Party leader Norman Thomas never appear in the 1930s section.

Harry Bridges was not mentioned here. Nor was Paul Robeson. Angelo Herndon was the only Communist whose name appeared in the 1930s section, but the standards never even revealed that he was a Communist (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 187-98, 212-33).

Now, were I to follow Cheney's example, I'd take these data gathered on the basis of her sampling technique (name counting) and play politics with it. But instead of going to the Wall Street Journal, Crossfire, and Good Morning America, as Cheney did, with complaints about the standards' radicalism, I would have to turn her argument on its head by dubbing the standards anti-radical, and accuse their authors of being so conservative that they left the Left out of their guide for teaching American history. It is, of course,

absurd to argue that the standards are both radical, as Cheney's head count suggested, and anti-radical, as my count implied. Obviously, the problem here is with the crude methodology we both used to analyze the standards.

By being fixated on names and their frequency of citation, Cheney and I treated the book of U.S. History Standards as if it were a long list of hall of famers or a massive history text. But in fact, this much maligned book was meant to be neither such a list nor a comprehensive text. In the book's opening pages, the authors suggest that their history standards are intended to break with the hall of fame approach to history instruction, which puts students to sleep in classrooms dominated by the "passive absorption of facts, names, and dates." The goal was not regurgitation of lists of great men (of the left, right, or center), but rather effective history teaching and learning. The authors believed that if the standards were to move history teachers toward that goal, they should be intellectually demanding, reflect the best historical scholarship, and promote active questioning ... learning ... [and] historical thinking skills that enable students to evaluate evidence, develop comparative and causal analyses, interpret the historical record, and construct sound historical arguments and perspectives on which informed decisions on contemporary life can be based. (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 2-3)
This approach is obviously richer intellectually than a book of historical lists would be. Working teachers do not need such lists; they already have them in the form of fat and dull U.S. history textbooks that their school systems usually require them to use. Indeed, part of the problem with the name-counting critique that Cheney and I used is that it is more appropriate for the average U.S. history textbook of 500 pages or more (which can make a greater claim to comprehensiveness with respect to names and dates) than it is to this 245-page teaching guide (whose relative brevity admittedly makes it vulnerable to nit-picking name counters, but also more usable by working teachers in our social studies classes).2

The problem, however, is not just with name counting, but the mode of name counting that Cheney and I used. If we wanted to be fair to the authors of the standards, we should not have simply counted the names that appeared on each page. This book, after all, consists largely of historical questions, activities, and content goals. If we want to do an accurate and meaningful name count, then we obviously need to take into account the names of the historical figures students will have to learn in order to respond to the specific questions, activities, and learning goals that appear in the book. Once you use this more honest and accurate mode of standards name counting, you immediately see that Cheney and I distorted the standards book and understated its historical coverage in our cruder use of name counting. For example, by Cheney's count, Robert E. Lee got "zero mentions" in the standards (Cheney 1994). But when you read its Civil War section, you find the standards telling teachers that students should be able to ... demonstrate understanding of how the resources of the Union and the Confederacy affected the course of the war by: ... Evaluating how political, military, and diplomatic leadership affected the outcome of the war (Assess the importance of the individual in history).
The first example of student achievement that follows this learning goal has students "explain how the military leaders and resources of the Union and the Confederacy affected the course and outcome of the Civil War. Compare the population, armies, and leaders of the Confederacy with those of the Union ..." (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 124). No matter how bad your math, when you count the number of times students will have to learn about Robert E. Lee, based on these standards queries concerning Confederate military leadership, it does not add up to zero. By my count, when the material just cited and all of the other questions and activities in its Civil War section are reviewed, there are at least a dozen occasions where General Lee's name would almost certainly have to appear in the resulting class discussions or assignments (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 124-27). Similarly, when I used Cheney's mode of name counting, I led you to believe that the standards' coverage of the Old and New Left was, as Cheney might put it, zero. There were, I pointed out, zero mentions of Communist labor leader Harry Bridges and CP head Earl Browder. But if you look at the standards' section on the Great Depression, you find questions about the growth of the Communist Party and about the "role ... Communist party organizers play[ed] in organizing workers in the 1930s" that would lead to coverage of Browder's success in building the CP, Bridges's role in the San Francisco General strike, and Communist participation in the CIO's historic organizing drive nationally (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 196-98). And the questions and learning goals on the 1960s in the standards book would lead you to cover SNCC, the Free Speech Movement, and SDS and its leaders. And although this runs contrary to Cheney's charges of leftist political bias in the standards, none of these leftist topics receives the amount of coverage accorded to such conservative idols as Robert E. Lee (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 219-21).

Cheney's critique, however, does not rest entirely on its flawed numerical attack. In her Wall Street Journal article, she expressed concern with qualitative as well as quantitative failings of the standards book, and suggested that these, too, were political in nature. She detected a radical political bias in the standards' use of the Tip O'Neill quote characterizing former President Reagan as a "cheerleader for selfishness," and also suggested that the standards, in their neglect of the virtues of American statesmen, all but ignore "their spellbinding oratory" (Cheney 1994). Cheney fails to mention that O'Neill's negative quote about Reagan is followed by questions about whether the Speaker gave a "fair characterization" of Reagan. "Why or Why not?" (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 233). This section also includes a set of neutral goals and respectful questions about the Reagan Revolution and its impact, and covers the type of "spellbinding oratory" Cheney claims is missing: assigning students to analyze a Reagan inaugural address (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 231-33).

Like those cited above, Cheney's other major criticisms of the standards book collapse when judged on the basis of familiarity with the book itself. Her problem is that her motivation is political, but she wants to make it seem as if she is offering a fair-minded critique and calling for a balanced approach to the American past (Gamarekian 1991, C13, C18). Cheney's evidence cannot sustain her charge that the standards slight American political leadership or slander American capitalism. Those are phony arguments. The real problem Cheney has with the history teaching standards is that they are not sufficiently elitist and Eurocentric for her tastes, so that they foster a critical and multicultural approach to history that seems incompatible with conservative Republicanism. This is what makes the standards so alien and distasteful to Cheney and many of her fellow conservatives.

Although I do not share Cheney's misgivings about the historical approach taken in the standards book, I think her response to it is quite understandable. Great changes have been made in the historical profession's understanding of the American past over the last generation, due largely to the new social history and the wealth of innovative work in women's history, labor history, diplomatic history, American studies and cultural history, and African American and Native American history (Foner 1990, VII-290). It seems both logical and predictable that those from Cheney's generation of conservatives, whose historical education occurred (and whose historical consciousness formed) before all this new historiography appeared, would resent its incorporation into historical teaching.3 This resentment, however, is less generational than it is ideological and political. There are, after all, distinguished, greying historians who have been on the cutting edge of much of this new history for decades. But the political implications of a large part of this historiographical revolution are offensive to conservatives (no matter how old or young) because its studies have often brought out the neglected underside of the American past. When you study slavery, discrimination against women, the crushing of strikes, the Vietnam War and the American empire, and the displacement of Native Americans, as many of these new histories have, you are left with a more complex and critical rendering of the past-and one that is not conducive to the flag-waving nationalism so beloved by conservatives. This is what Cheney was referring to when she complained in her Wall Street Journal piece, "We are a better people than the National Standards indicate, and our children deserve to know it" (Cheney 1994).

Implicit in this complaint by Cheney is an assumption about the purpose of historical teaching. For Cheney, classroom history is less about the pursuit of truth than about inculcation of patriotism. She wants what she calls "a tone of affirmation" in such history (Cheney 1994). Flaws in our past can be part of the covered content, but only so long as this does not interfere with the primary task of history class, which is to reproduce in our children our pious assumptions about the basic goodness of our democratic republic. The problem with this is that honest and detailed study of such topics as the extermination of Native Americans cannot affirm Cheney's patriotic assumptions. Such chapters suggest that in the past Americans were at times a lesser people than Cheney would like us to remember-and that only by doing violence to American history will our children learn in class that Americans "are a better people than the National Standards indicate."4 Given the conflict between the politics of Cheney (and like-minded conservatives) and the political implications of much of the new history, some kind of explosion almost inevitably had to accompany the publication of the standards. The power of the explosion was also predictable, given the conservative national mood and the rising influence of right-wing politicians, talk radio hosts, and think tanks. In many ways it parallels the furor that accompanied the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum exhibit commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of America's atomic bombing of Japan. Conservative politicians and veterans groups pressed hard for censorship of the text of the exhibit because it-reflecting the historiographical debates over the bombings-raised questions about the necessity of dropping the bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (Linenthal 1995, 687-94). And given the rightward tilt in Washington, the result was the same: the Senate condemned the history standards and the Smithsonian dropped the text of the A-bomb exhibit.5

Although the assault on the U.S. History Standards was predictable, the authors of the standards could have cushioned themselves somewhat from such criticism and produced an even more useful and deeper book had they paid more attention to historiography and its divisions. In contrast to the standards' excellent coverage of debates among the contending factions in historical conflicts, the book is virtually mute when it comes to historiographical debate and the changing ways that historians have looked at key issues in the American past. Coverage of historiographical conflict and change was desperately needed in the standards book to enhance historical learning, add another dimension of exciting argumentation and debate, and better reflect the true diversity of the ways Americans (and historians) view the American past. Such coverage might also have defused some of the explosive attacks on the standards themselves.

Discussion of historiographical context would, for example, have strengthened the standards section on the earliest era in American history-which traces the "Beginnings" of that history up to 1620. In this section the authors did a masterful job of synthesizing much of the best new historical scholarship and its analytic frame for understanding this early period. They title this section "Three Worlds Meet," and speak of this period in terms of "the historical convergence of European, African, and Native American peoples, beginning in the late 15th century." The section then spends about as much time discussing African and Native American societies as it does the European. And then it takes a "hemispheric approach" to the European exploration and settlement of America, which relegates the English and their North American ventures to a secondary role (way behind Spain). "This broader context of American history avoids provincialism and drives home the point that the English, as latecomers to the Americas, were deeply affected by what had already occurred in vast regions of the hemisphere" (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 39). None of this will come as a surprise to historians of early America. But to conservatives and many educated by 1950s textbooks, this section does represent a sharp break with the traditional approach to this age of exploration and early settlement. Some discussion of the old historiography and its way of depicting this earlier period, along with a critique of them, were really needed here to explain and justify the relatively new approach to this period being offered in the standards.

What I have in mind here is coverage of the heroic, Eurocentric, and Anglo-American approach to this period, which I and millions of others learned in history classes of old. Brave explorers "discovered" the "New World." They and their heirs conquered the "wilderness," and were on an "errand into the wilderness" to bring the blessings of Christianity and western civilization from the Old World to the New. The authors of the standards erred in failing even to mention this old heroic approach. If teachers are to teach a different version of this era than they and their parents learned, they need to know why. Why not introduce this section by talking about how the pre-1620 years used to be taught-citing the most eloquent of the old historians? Then explain the shift from the old historiography, the Anglo-centric version, to the tri-cultural and hemispheric version. Here something should be said about the way that, some two decades ago, Francis Jennings and others prodded the historical profession to move beyond ethnocentric conceptions of early America. Jennings insisted that our history of this era had been polluted by the terminology, and bound by the parochialism, of the conquering peoples. If we could transcend such parochialism, we would more accurately grasp early American realities: that America was not a wilderness, but was inhabited by indigenous peoples; that it was not a virgin land, but a widowed land (whose Natives had been decimated by diseases due to European germs); that this was the story of the invasion of America (Jennings 1975, 3-176). I would then turn to an explanation of how and why Gary Nash and many other historians began in the 1970s to write college-level texts that explored this early period via the tri-cultural approach (European, African, Native American) used in the standards (Nash 1974). And then to keep things honest, there should be some discussion of why the new approach to early American history remains so controversial.6

The need for a discussion of this changing historiography should have been self-evident in the aftermath of the Columbus controversy of 1991-92. Conservative politicians and segments of the American public were outraged by all of the criticism of Columbus that accompanied the five-hundredth anniversary of his first voyage to America. Among those outraged was Lynne Cheney, who, as chair of the National Endowment for the Humanities in the Bush administration, cut off funds for a four part television series on Columbus-titled "1492: Clash of Visions"-because it drew on the critical historiography that challenged his heroic image (Gamarekian 1991, C13, C18).7 The authors of the standards should have known, then, that such new historical work needs to be explained and set into historiographical context, so that we understand both the heroic account and its flaws. Without such an explanation and context, the new images of this era are even more jarring than they might have otherwise been. And politically this might have made a difference, too, for it would lead to a more inclusive historical venture, which shows those schooled in the old approaches to history that we are not ignoring what they learned (since we will discuss it), but that we are led by the new scholarship to challenge and move beyond those approaches.

Historiographical context was needed in this and all the eras covered in the standards book to restore more of the controversy to this history. Indeed, for me, the one surprising and disappointing aspect of the standards book was the textbookish tone of its introductions to each era. And here I find myself again turning Cheney's argument upside down, finding the book not too revolutionary but too conventional. Like most textbooks, the standards assume a tone of celestial neutrality and give the impression that there is a consensus about the proper way to interpret the eras it depicts. For example, in the introduction to the section on the post-Civil War South, teachers are told that "balancing the success and failures of Reconstruction should test the abilities of all students. Too much stress on the unfinished agenda of the period can obscure the great changes actually wrought" (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 121). This bit of middle-of-the-road advice makes it sound as if there is one right way to view Reconstruction, when, in fact, some leading historians have argued in favor of the position the standards are here warning against. Those who criticize Reconstruction from the left contend that however exciting and inspiring the South's brief venture into interracial democracy might have been, it proved superficial and fleeting; that for the impoverished black population the refusal of Congress to address the land issue and move toward redistribution of wealth from former masters to former slaves was a failure far more enduring than any of Reconstruction's successes (Foner 1988, xxiii). Why not air this historiographical debate rather than make it sound as if there is none? This is a call not to replace the U.S. History Standards, but rather to include vibrant and debate-provoking historiographical introductions to them.

Regarding the usefulness of the standards themselves, the national debate orchestrated by Cheney has generated more heat than light, which is to be expected because it is driven by ideologues who seem out of touch with classroom realities. One wonders if the American Enterprise Institute talking heads, who have been so quick to denounce the history standards, ever see the inside of a public school classroom or talk with social studies teachers. I teach those teachers. Over the past year, I have had two groups of secondary and middle school social studies teachers (in my graduate course "Teaching U.S. History") read both the standards book and the articles by its detractors and supporters. Even conservatives among them have been impressed with the standards. In a number of cases, these teachers read Cheney's critique first and liked its conservative slant, but were then startled to find that after reading the standards, most, if not all, of her charges did not hold up. It is one of the few graduate school volumes that the teachers do not sell back to the bookstore at the end of the quarter. They keep the standards book because they know they can put it to use in the classes they teach. Indeed, on numerous occasions, teachers told me that almost immediately after reading the standards they used it as they formulated lesson plans.

Most of the teachers in my classes are pragmatic educators. They do not get paid by think-tanks to generate rhetoric. They want materials that will make them more effective teachers and-as they often put it-"help my kids" learn. Most have been impressed by the searching historical questions, innovative class activities, and meaningful learning goals that are at the heart of the standards book. The very thing that Cheney wants-comprehensive naming-is what they most want to get away from, because it is what makes so many of the texts they have to work with read like telephone books.

The most common form of praise for the standards book that I hear from my students is that it gets away from the dull memorization that they were burdened with in the history texts and classes of their youth. Typifying this response, one of my students contrasted the "thought provoking" history standards-with their stress on analyzing sources, discerning historical meaning, linking history and literature, and explaining historical conflict-with his own deadening "experiences in social studies in middle school."

We would open our textbook, read the assigned pages and answer the questions in the back of the chapter: who did this? Or when did this happen? I memorized the best I could to pass the final test and then cleared the board and started over the next chapter. This form of rote memorization that the critics [of the history standards] seem to want is excellent if we want to raise a population of "Jeopardy" champions. [But] if we want a challenging curriculum ... we need to adopt the new standards. (Graduate 1995, 3)
This is not to say, however, that the social studies teachers I work with are uncritical of the standards. They do have criticisms, but these tend to be practical and pedagogical rather than ideological. Their biggest concern with the standards has to do with their scope and ambitiousness. Although they all agreed with the need for lively historical readings-particularly novels, diaries, oral histories, and a variety of other primary sources-some felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of such readings asked about in the student achievement sections of the chapters. There were a variety of titles that many had never heard of, and concerns about the logistical problems involved in trying to assign them. Given the time constraints they were under as teachers, how could they sift through such a professorial-level reading list-particularly without an annotated bibliography? And how did the authors of the standards think that teachers working in communities and schools with small libraries and tight budgets were going to get access to the huge number of books alluded to in the standards or to obtain funds to photocopy excerpts from them for their students?

There were also concerns about whether time constraints in the academic year prevented the type of in-depth content coverage outlined in the standards. It was almost as if the questions in the book were too deep and demanding. One teacher told me that if he addressed half of the questions in the nineteenth century sections, it might take him until June to get up to the twentieth century.

Although this was not a common complaint, one of the most innovative social studies teachers in my class thought there needed to be more variety in the types of activities suggested in the standards book:

The constant use of one strategy renders that strategy ineffective. Writing a historical narrative with every standard covered can become more of a burden than an effective teaching strategy. There does not seem to be any consideration of special education, or low ability students. For these students, writing sometimes is a major task. Do they fall by the wayside?" (Graduate II 1995, 4)
In a less overheated political climate, it would be these criticisms and questions that would be at center stage rather than the corrosive, politically motivated attacks that have gotten so much play in the media and on Capitol Hill. If the voices of our teachers were heeded, we would work on fine tuning the standards and move expeditiously toward their implementation in the interests of enlivening the teaching of American history in our schools. But the overwhelming Senate vote against the standards, the Clinton Administration's refusal to embrace them, and the ongoing campaign of powerful conservatives to kill the standards suggest that bad politics will prevail over good pedagogy. In my own state, leading social studies administrators have been frightened away from the standards, due to the political furor orchestrated by the right. As is true with so many of our Washington-based cultural wars, this one is having a chilling effect on educational experimentation and progressive change. The shame of it is that innovative educators and classroom veterans who know what makes for good history teaching are losing out to ideologues and name counters, and so are our kids.8

Notes
1 Cheney was the most prominent conservative critic of the standards. But her tone was restrained compared to the right-wing talk show host Rush Limbaugh, who portrayed the standards as the outcome of a leftist plot and urged that they be "flushed down the toilet" (Wiener 1995, 9-10).

2 The 245 pages of standards are followed by a resource guide and an appendix listing contributors to the volume (National Center for History in the Schools 1994, 247-71).

3Anyone confused about why conservatives raised on the history texts of the 1950s would be upset by the more critical historical approaches incorporated into the standards has only to read Frances Fitzgerald's description of those texts and their superpatriotic messages:Those of us who grew up in the fifties believed in the permanence of our American history textbooks. To us children, those texts were the truth of things: they were American history. ... Inside their covers, America was perfect: the greatest nation in the world, and the embodiment of democracy, freedom, and technological progress.... To my generation-the children of the fifties-these texts appeared permanent because they were so self-contained. Their orthodoxy, it seemed, left no handholds for attack.... Who, after all, would dispute the wonders of technology or the superiority of the English colonists over the Spanish? Who would find fault with the pastorale of the West or the Old South? Who would question the anti-Communist crusade? There was, it seemed, no point in comparing these visions with reality, since they were the public truth and ... were-or so it seemed-the permanent expression of mass culture in America." (Fitzgerald 1979, 7, 10)

4 Fitzgerald, in her classic study of U.S. history textbooks, aptly notes the way that the Native American view of the past can undermine the conservatives' cherished belief in American progress and virtue: "If the texts were really to consider American history from the perspective of the American Indians, they would have to conclude that the continent had passed through almost five hundred years of unmitigated disaster, beginning with the epidemics spread by the Europeans and continuing through on most fronts today" (Fitzgerald 1979, 103).

5 On January 18, 1995, the Senate, by an astounding 99-1 margin, adopted a sense of the Senate resolution urging that the History Standards not be certified by the federal government, and that federal funds only be allocated for standards that stress the U.S. contribution "to the increase of freedom and prosperity throughout the world" (Wallace 1995, 27).6 For an example of the heated debates that continue to rage among historians of the early Native American experience, see Jennings 1995, 160-70.7Cheney defunded this film on Columbus despite the fact that the NEH advisory panel, composed of experts in the field, which normally shapes funding decisions, was enthusiastic about the film project. Indeed, five panel members gave the film "the highest recommendation." Cheney objected to the film makers' strong criticism of Columbus and their use of the word "genocide" in connection with his brutality toward indigenous New World peoples. Leading scholars accused Cheney of applying political criteria to judge a historical film project. And the film's producer complained of Cheney's "double standard": "It's O.K. to talk about the barbarism of the Indians, but not about the barbarism of the Europeans. That's a political bias ..." (Gamarekian 1991, C13, C18; Winkler 1991, A8).8 Shortly after the completion of this essay, the Council for Basic Education (CBE) announced that its independent (and politically diverse) panel of historians, teachers, and public figures had completed its analysis of the U.S. History Standards. The CBE panel gave a qualified endorsement to the standards, which it termed "a good beginning toward defining sound and challenging voluntary history standards." The panel did point out significant shortcomings in the standards (recommending eight types of revisions), and made a number of concessions to the standards' conservative detractors, in an apparent attempt to save the standards by staking out a political middle ground in this dispute. There are some valuable criticisms in the CBE document, and in the current political climate it is heartening to find an ideologically diverse panel defending the basic worth of the standards. However, in its eagerness to defuse the political furor, the CBE panel repeatedly called for the standards (the learning goals) to be presented "without teaching examples"-a recommendation that lacks historical merit, and that is both impractical and counterproductive in terms of pedagogy. The panel argued that the standards book should "delete the teaching examples," since these "examples do not always serve the standards well. In addition, with the deletion of the teaching examples, the problem of the absence or the presence of names is largely eliminated." Implicit in this recommendation is the assumption that there is indeed a "problem" with the "absence or the presence of names" of great historical figures in the standards, an assumption based largely on the erroneous Cheney critique. Moreover, it is absurd for the CBE to urge that a standards volume designed to improve the teaching of history should purge itself of the very teaching examples that will show teachers how to make such improvements and implement the standards. The teachers with whom I have worked view the examples (which were obviously written by some of our nation's most talented teachers) as the most exciting part of the standards volume-the one that is most practical and closest to their own work in drawing up lesson plans for their classes. Such deletions would leave us with a book of lists of standards, whose impact on actual teaching and classroom practice would be greatly reduced (Organization of American Historians 1995, 5).

References
Cheney, L.V. "The End of History." Wall Street Journal (October 20, 1994): A22.Fitzgerald, F. America Revised: History Schoolbooks in the Twentieth Century. New York: Random House, 1979.Foner, E., ed. The New American History. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990.---. Reconstruction: America's Unfinished Revolution, 1863-1877. New York: Harper and Row, 1988.Gamarekian. B. "Grants Rejected; Scholars Grumble." New York Times (April 10, 1991): C13, C18.Graduate Student Papers I and II, Social Studies Education 610, University of Georgia, Spring 1995.Jennings, F. "Which Way History? The History of a War and a War Against History." Pennsylvania History 62, no. 2 (Spring 1995): 160-70.---.The Invasion of America: Indians, Colonialism, and the Cant of Conquest. New York: Norton, 1976.Krauthammer, C. "History Hijacked." Washington Post (November 4, 1994): A25.Linenthal, E.T. "The A-Bomb Controversy at the National Air and Space Museum." The Historian 57, no. 4 (Summer 1995): 687-94.Nash, G. Red, White, and Black: The Peoples of Early America. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1974.National Center for History in the Schools. National Standards for United States History: Exploring the American Experience, Grades 5-12. Los Angeles: UCLA, 1994.Organization of American Historians. "Review Panels Find History Standards Worth Revising." Organization of American Historians Newsletter 23, no. 4 (November 1995): 5.Wallace, M. "The Battle of the Enola Gay." Radical Historians Newsletter, no. 72 (May 1995): 1-32.Wiener, J. "History Lesson." The New Republic 172, no. 4 (January 2, 1995): 9-11.Winkler, K. "Humanities Agency Caught in Controversy Over Columbus." Chronicle of Higher Education XXXVII, no. 26 (March 1991): A5, A8-9.

Robert Cohen is an Associate Professor of Social Science Education and an Adjunct Professor of History at the University of Georgia, Athens.