Teaching controversies have history of their own

In 1974 I was a first-year law student when my father's textbooks were "burned and banned" in Charleston, W. Va. No student ever read a single page. It was part of the beginning battle in the culture war that continues to this day, about whether "American exceptionalism" is what we should teach our kids.

A local school board member in Charleston, Alice Moore, thought the books "un-American and anti-Christian" because they incorporated "ghetto-dialect," included stories written by Black authors and didn't inculcate Christian values.

The books were a grade school reading series called "Communicating" and published by D.C. Heath and Company to replace the lily-white "Dick, Jane, Sally & Spot" era textbooks many schools in America were still using despite the integration of public schools.

I was born in 1950 while Dad was driving a taxi and studying for his master's degree in linguistics at the University of Chicago. He had wanted to be a teacher, but his mild stuttering problem made that difficult, so he aspired instead to be a writer, and ended up becoming a grade-school textbook writer and editor.

Readers of my age — whether they grew up in the East, West, South or Midwest — may have learned English using Science Research Associates' (SRA) individualized learning program. That was my dad's work!

In the late 1960s, the U.S. Department of Education changed curriculum guidelines to encourage more multiculturalism in schools. That's when D.C. Heath and Co. approached my dad about authoring a new multicultural grade-school reading program. For three years Dad poured his life into "Communicating," and in 1973 the D.C. Heath sales force headed out across the country to make sales.

The schoolteachers in West Virginia were the first in the nation to select the series written by John Dawkins. The school board for Kanawha County (Charleston) initially went along with the teachers' selection. But on the board was the wife of an Evangelical preacher, Alice Moore.

She got a petition signed by 12,000 voters and enlisted the Evangelical community. She rallied the United Mine Workers to go on a sympathy strike. The KKK joined in her protests carrying Nazi swastikas, chanting "Get the N***** books out!" She deftly stoked the class divide and the urban/rural divide, calling fellow school board members "elitists."

A UPS driver attempting to deliver the books was driven out of town at gunpoint. Parents refused to send their kids to school. One school was dynamited. A bomb was planted at a school board member's home.

Shootings happened, prompting one student to tell the Charleston Daily Mail, "They're shooting people because they don't want to see violence in the books."

Yes, the books had supporters — Dad showed me a photo of over 1,000 marchers holding signs saying things like "Mountaineers are always free, schools used to be." Walter Cronkite did a "60 Minutes" special about the textbook controversy.

But the D.C. Heath sales force reported "Communicating" was dead on arrival. They wouldn't be able to sell another single book.

I had to tell him, "I see no legal remedy. The First Amendment right of free speech protects ignorant speech as well as enlightened speech."

Criminal charges were brought against the dynamiters and bomb planters. Some convictions resulted. Charges of attempting to contribute to the delinquency of minors were dropped against school officials who had been in favor of the books. Alice Moore was never charged with conspiracy — she might have started it all, but she was never connected to the violence.

I am retelling this story because it may contain some lessons for today. My father's aim was to keep America great. The books required grade school students to think. They neither condoned nor condemned racism, neither condemned nor condoned American exceptionalism, but instead posited open-ended questions for class discussion believing the cause and effect of history is essential to critical thinking.

My father believed classroom discussions should connect to students' actual lives, that students should explore questions from their own life perspective, with no right or wrong answers. Dad believed all lives should be included.

Sometimes, out of something bad, something good comes. My younger siblings, still living at home, reported that Dad was hurt and angry. But somehow, perhaps due to the trauma, Dad's stuttering suddenly went away. He began a long career as a teacher — his original dream — teaching remedial English at the local community college to immigrant students. He taught until age 90, and lived to be 92.

Is this a necessary transparency bill or a political bill? Minnesota already has a law that allows parents access to the classroom and to learning what's being taught.

As a former legislator, I encourage a robust and honest debate about this bill.

Republicans — do we really need it? Or is it just an attempt to stoke fear among parents that what their children learn in school might be dangerous to them?

Democrats — do we need it? Don't be baited into opposing transparency.

Both parties — consider what the authors of the Texas legislation had to say about their bill: "We oppose the teaching of Higher Order Thinking Skills … critical thinking skills and similar programs … which focus on behavior modification and have the purpose of challenging the student's fixed beliefs and undermining parental authority."