Studying at Wesleyan has raised questions for me about the type of education people receive and the implications of that education. It seems that education, especially continuously reinforced education, determines how we view the world and especially our role in it. Not only the beliefs we have, but also the life aspirations we formulate, are predicated on what we are taught to regard as true, and even possible.

Individuals who come from impoverished backgrounds with little access to education and few stable role models tend to perceive their set of life choices as within a slim segment of options. They are often conditioned throughout their childhoods to believe that they can only attain what they see around them, for they may become unable to conceive of living a different type of life. While the professions to which these individuals aspire are not necessarily “lesser,” it is an unfortunate function of their education that they are unable to even conceive of alternatives among which they can consciously choose. The people who “get out” of the cycle of impoverishment seem to be the ones with a vision of the possible beyond what their harsh reality has taught them is possible.

The same concept applies to formulating a national hope. While logical, I was nevertheless struck when a friend told me that the Jamaican history students learn in high school centers around the country’s constant colonization. He explained to me that British influence in Jamaica is still incredibly strong—so much so that the entire Jamaican education system is controlled by British agencies. It is therefore not surprising that Jamaicans are forced to contextualize themselves within a British framework, understanding their position on the world stage as a nation that has been historically, and presently continues to be, denigrated and exploited by Western powers for the good of these nations’ own greater domestic development. The national psyche thus becomes one that comprises the duality of struggling for self-determination and being subjugated to the desires of external forces. Ironically, by being prohibited from controlling their own education system and only being allowed to teach a curriculum developed by their former colonial occupier, Jamaicans are compelled to reinforce the same historical injustices they had hoped independence would eliminate.

The historical educations different nations and monority groups receive are transmitted both formally at school through curriculum and informally at home through traditions. The topics covered in history classes in America are fairly standard and assert a similar narrative: the American Revolution was a pivotal success, the Civil War was ultimately necessary to build a stronger nation, and FDR and JFK were beloved leaders whose flaws we overlook for one prideful reason or another. We learn lessons from that history about the importance of the individual in society, the need for intervention in certain cases, the benefits and shortcomings of a free market economy—all, though contestable, provide us with a common worldview as Americans that we then assert internationally.

In contemplating the differences between people based on their national identities, I have begun to wonder about the concept of revisionist history—how societies both consciously and unconsciously reframe past events to assert certain lessons. Victors of war tend to depict themselves as moral and upstanding, at least to the extent that they were acting to promote national interests. Losers of war may play the sympathy card and demonstrate their inability to act due to external factors over which they had no substantial control, occasionally adding a promise of future retaliation to regain respect.

Such “factual” historical education, which in reality is subject to numerous biases, effectually shapes the outlook of citizens to frame certain concepts, such as the rights of individuals, women’s place in society, and the extent of a nation’s international power, thereby constructing boundaries around possible aspirations. If the hugely important consequence of a citizen’s outlook is so easily skewed from reality, I am left with the question of how to determine what we teach citizens in a society to produce a favorable national narrative.

We contextualize ourselves in the world based on the lessons we learn from our respective histories, which simultaneously create community through maintaining a shared past while differentiating us from others who are not part of “the group.” Therefore, we must be wary of the way in which we tell our national story to evoke the moral lessons that we believe should exist in our society so that they neither limit our conceivable individual life possibilities nor victimize those who do not fall neatly into our narrative.

Cassel is a member of the class of 2013.