First-time teachers and first-time voters gearing up for the 2024 election may have only ever been exposed to toxic polarization — it’s their norm.
But for those of us who have been in the classroom for decades, teaching civics has changed dramatically. In the early 2000s, America was polarized, but teaching during a presidential campaign was thrilling. Yet, with the rise of social media, misinformation and disinformation, we fear that students this year will be denied the same opportunities to learn about democracy and acquire skills to constructively engage one another.
A typical classroom back then analyzed political cartoons and discussed candidates’ major policy stances. They listened to sound bites, compared speech rhetoric and reviewed the election process, from superdelegates to the Electoral College.
In most classrooms, no one told these students what to think or whom to vote for; helping prepare a thoughtful, curious and motivated generation of citizens to engage in the process was enough. It was nobody’s job to make them liberal or conservative.
By 2020, the classroom pulse could not have been more different. Teachers shared that they did not want to touch elections and electoral politics for fear of accusations of indoctrination, bias or unsafe learning environments. Ignoring the topic was not only easier than dealing with an irate parent, hostile administration or divisive school board — it was a means of survival.
Political polarization is not new; toxic polarization is. Eighty-four percent of Americans say political debate has become less respectful. Growing numbers have negative attitudes toward the opposing party, believing it “more closed-minded, dishonest, immoral and unintelligent than other Americans.”
The remedy — civil discourse — can be applied in the classroom and among the general public.
To begin, let’s stop defining civil discourse by where we see it lacking. Instead, we need a common language around what it means and its purpose. “Civil,” from the Latin civilis, means “relating to a society, pertaining to public life, relating to the civic order, befitting a citizen.” With such a definition, we’re reminded that it’s vital to a functioning democratic society, meant to benefit each citizen.
Second, we must come to terms with the fact that in a country of over 330 million people, we’re not all going to agree on even trivial things (say, ice cream flavors), let alone public policy or America’s future. And that’s normal.
Remember: Civility is not about being passive or even polite. It’s not about agreeing for the sake of agreement. It’s merely the avenue to navigate daunting topics that might otherwise feel hopeless, curating citizenship in deeper, more tangible ways and reminding us that we have more in common than we realize.
What’s often lacking are the right skills.
Good conversations don’t result from countering every statement your counterpart makes. They occur when all participants feel heard. You can practice this with “reflective listening” — repeating what you think you heard. When your partner begins to appreciate that you’re trying to understand them (with or without agreement), you build trust.
Finally, be curious and authentic. When you’ve built respect and trust, you can truly be honest about your perspective.
The more you listen, the more you’ll realize that contrary to the caricature of your fellow citizen presented on TV or social media, this person likely means well and is not an extremist.
In the classroom, civil discourse is simple: It looks like listening. Let’s start there and remember that it’s about our humanity, which is bigger than politics. Civil discourse is a mirror, reflecting our values back on ourselves. Little doses of courage make it possible.
And when we all feel like we’re walking on eggshells, a bit of courage will go a long way.
Lindsey Galvao is a former teacher and is a curriculum writer for the Civics Collection on PBS LearningMedia. Benjamin Klutsey is executive director of the Mercatus Center at George Mason University.
