By: Robert Jowaiszas
A Satire on how an old school teacher would teach today’s students history
Back in the day, the history teacher walked into class with a piece of chalk, a textbook older than the students’ parents, and the quiet confidence of someone who believed dates mattered.
Now? Same teacher. Same attitude. Very different battlefield.
Mr. Donnelly stands at the front of the classroom, squinting at a room full of glowing screens.
“Alright, class,” he says, tapping the smartboard like it personally offended him. “Today we’re covering the American Revolution. You may have heard of it… it’s what allowed you to complain about homework freely.”
Half the class doesn’t look up.
He sighs. “Fine. Let’s try this your way. Imagine American Revolution… but it’s a group chat.”
A few heads rise. Progress.
“King George sends a message: ‘You all owe me taxes.’
Colonists reply: ‘Seen.’
Then someone from Boston goes, ‘Nah.’”
A student in the back raises a hand. “Was that like… a protest?”
Mr. Donnelly pauses. “Yes. A protest. Involving tea. Lots of tea. No influencers, no hashtags. Just cold harbor water and poor decision-making.”
Another student: “Is there a video of it?”
“No,” he says, slowly. “There is not a video. There is… a painting. Which, for your purposes, is the 18th-century version of Instagram.”
He clicks the screen. Nothing happens.
He hits it again. Still nothing.
“In my day,” he mutters, “if the board didn’t work, you hit it once and it respected you.”
A student offers help. “Did you try turning it off and on?”
Mr. Donnelly stares into the distance, briefly considering retirement.
“Let’s move on,” he says. “Who can tell me why the colonists were upset?”
A student confidently answers, “Because Britain was, like, controlling their narrative?”
He blinks. “They were controlling… their taxes.”
“Right, but also their narrative,” the student insists.
Mr. Donnelly nods slowly. “Sure. Let’s go with that. King George—early content moderator.”
He tries again.
“Picture this: no phones, no Wi-Fi, no Google. If you wanted information, you had to read… a book.”
Gasps ripple through the room.
“A whole book?” someone whispers.
“Yes. Beginning, middle, end. No skipping to the summary. No ‘just give me the bullet points.’”
A student raises a hand. “Can you just, like, summarize the Revolution in 10 seconds?”
Mr. Donnelly doesn’t miss a beat.
“Britain taxed. Colonists complained. Things escalated. We won. You’re welcome.”
The class nods. That, they understand.
He leans against his desk.
“You know, history isn’t just something to scroll past. It’s people—real people—making decisions without knowing how it would turn out.”
A student looks up. “So… like posting something and not knowing if you’ll get canceled?”
Mr. Donnelly points. “Exactly. Except the consequences were slightly more… permanent.”
The bell rings.
Students pack up instantly, like a fire drill.
“Read chapter five!” he calls out.
One student pauses. “Is there a podcast version?”
Mr. Donnelly exhales.
“Of course there is,” he says. “There’s always a podcast.”
He sits down, looks at the silent smartboard, and mutters:
“Next week… the Civil War. Maybe I’ll tell them it’s a sequel.”