D.C. Teacher Lifts History Out of the Dustbin

At the District's Deal Junior High School, Cynthia Mostoller talks with students Genevieve Allen, left, and Giang Nguyen. (Marvin Joseph -- The Washington Post)

First in a series of occasional articles highlighting the philosophies and techniques of innovative teachers.

Walk into Cynthia Mostoller's eighth-grade classroom and leave behind traditional notions of how U.S. history is taught.

Instead of burying their heads in textbooks, her students at Deal Junior High School in Northwest Washington use primary sources in their research and get to know professional historians. They sing "Yankee Doodle" and other tunes of Americana. They design Revolutionary War-era newspapers and hold birthday parties for important but overlooked women.

Mostoller's philosophy, for those concerned that she might sacrifice content in her zeal to bring history alive, is that students are best able to learn the critical facts and concepts when they're active participants.

"You want a teacher who makes learning interesting, or you fall asleep," said Adam Jennison, 13, one of her students. "Nobody would ever fall asleep in here."

During 17 years at Deal, Mostoller has become a national leader in history education. She trains other teachers and uses a curriculum she created to present U.S. history from Colonial times through 1900. Most important to her, the personal connections she has made in Washington -- with influential scholars, not to mention a few presidents -- create rare opportunities for her students.

Last week, for example, some of her students led the Pledge of Allegiance at the National Archives when President Bush dedicated the renovated rotunda that displays the Declaration of Independence, Constitution and Bill of Rights.

Previously, members of her class were chosen to help the National Park Service create an exhibit that remains on display at the King Center in Atlanta. When a National Archives historian listened for the first time to tapes from the Nixon White House, two Deal students were with him. In 1991, President George H.W. Bush chose her classroom to announce an education initiative, and Mostoller and her students were occasional guests at the Clinton White House.

"Mostoller makes learning history fun, and in the process has helped to forever change the lives of students," said Cathy Gorn, executive director of National History Day, an annual education program that, along with the History Channel, honored her with its 2003 Outstanding History Educator Award.

Not bad for a onetime farm wife who didn't think she would attend college.

Mostoller's evolution to powerhouse in a troubled urban school system is an unlikely story. Born on a farm in Ohio, she graduated from high school and soon married, spending her days shopping and cooking for farmhands. In a grocery store one day, she spotted an advertisement for the University of Akron and decided to give it a try.

She waited tables for seven years to put herself through college, graduating with a degree in history and then pursuing graduate studies. She came to Washington in 1985 for a nuclear disarmament project and asked about teaching in the D.C. school system. As she was packing to go home, Reginald Moss, principal of Deal then and now, called her two days before classes were to begin; a history teacher had died and the job was hers.

She has been there ever since, "as Empress of Room 112."

"I felt like Cinderella," said Mostoller, 49. "And I've felt that way ever since."

She begins each year with the goal of instilling a basic understanding of why history matters. At first, some students say they don't get it, but over time she transfers to them her belief that understanding the past is essential to the future. She then moves on to explaining the historian's tools.

In recent classes, students have learned about the use of primary and secondary sources in research, how to handle artifacts and how to think like historians. Teams of students inspected personal objects that Deal staff members had contributed and then recorded data and drew conclusions about their ownership. It wasn't easy. Joanne Padilla, 13, pulled out a Girl Scout sash and declared, "So it's a girl." Moments later, she pulled out a Cub Scout sash from the same collection and said, "Never mind."

The larger lesson, students said, was that exploring history is akin to detective work and the analytical thinking skills involved can be applied throughout life.

"She's so lively and interesting," said Charlotte Bush, 13. "She's bouncing around saying, 'I don't care about Ben and Jen, I love history,' and somehow, she gets you interested in things you don't think you are interested in. . . . I think that's kind of great." Mostoller had, in fact, told students that their interest in Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez's engagement showed that they had an interest in other people's lives and that they could transfer that interest to important historical figures.

When she makes a lesson plan for the year, mapping out daily and long-term assignments, Mostoller works backward from where the class is supposed to be at the end. Though many teachers don't get through the curriculum, Mostoller said she always does, no matter what intrudes. (Last year, she had to contend with the distractions of the sniper shootings, Code Orange terrorism warnings and winter snowstorms.) "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't," she said.

For all of her national recognition, Mostoller said that what drives her are the students and her own thirst for learning. Every year, she takes history classes (always enlightening, she said) and educational methods classes (rarely so, she lamented).

Her determination to make history a key part of education at Deal comes at a time when many social studies programs are being cut across the country because of financial woes and the Bush administration's emphasis on math and reading.

She is not a fan of some key elements of education reform: She's lukewarm about using the Internet in history studies and is skeptical about buzzwords such as "standards" and "critical thinking," saying they "are words that make it look like we are specialists but don't mean anything to the kids."

The idea of a high-stakes test determining a student's unit grade is anathema to her. In one 40-day unit, her students receive as many as 35 grades on projects, papers, tests and other assignments -- what she calls an authentic portfolio of work.

If her credentials as an innovator need any burnishing, consider this: In July, she was invited to take part in a conference panel -- with two historians -- to discuss advancing history education. The sponsor was the Education Department's Office of Innovation and Improvement.