historic procrastination

So for the holidays, I set myself a goal. It wasn't a lofty goal, and I even started on it before the holidays started. I borrowed three textbooks from the UBC library and set out on *drumroll* ... teaching myself Canadian history. That's right, loyal followers: I, Jennifer Moule, do not know ANY Canadian history.

Well, that's not true. Before the break, 'Tale taught me that John A. MacDonald was our first prime minister. So I know that.

I'm not even joking.

Also, are you supposed to capitalize "Prime Minister"?

My history allergy started in middle school. We had social studies on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and I really freaking hated it. Not that I didn't hate everything about middle school, and not that there were different intimidating cool kids in that particular class, but there was just something about it that I needed to escape. So every Tuesday and Thursday at lunch I would call my mom so I could go home. When that didn't work - although it usually did - Caitlin and I would sit at the very front of the class and push our desks together, even though the teacher kept telling us we couldn't. And, of course, we did not learn any social studies - especially not history.

In high school then, I of course entered with zero understanding of history when I had to take both civics and history in grade 10. I got a 60 in the former and a 56 in the latter, and I'm pretty sure I carried it over too. The last time I can remember participating actively in some sort of historical learning was when, in grade 5, I (but mostly my mom) made a model version of Lake Champlain (which I have since visited in a motorboat with Patrick, a bunch of high kids, and a dog) where I displayed native people coming to fight Samuel de Champlain... or something. (Yes, these are the racist inaccuracies your kids are learning in elementary school).

Fast-forward to Graduate School. While I have since survived academia without any historic knowledge, it is quickly becoming my achilles heel in higher-higher-education. Once you get to the big leagues, apparently, your grade 10 background in history becomes necessary, and you should probably know anything about Canada and what got us to this point. In small group discussions about the contextual reasons for particular historical phenomena that is relevant today, an intelligent person should not answer with "well... maybe there was like... a war? At that time?" (Even though that ended up being a valid point, I probably should know when the wars are). This is why I embarked on that journey.

Of course, however, we do know that history repeats itself. Only four chapters total, out of three books, have been read. My mom suggested I get a children's book on history, so maybe that's the smarter route.

My life is sad.