At the ripe old age of five, our children are asked to stand in front of a flag, hand over their heart, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance like tiny congressional people in Velcro strap shoes. And if you grew up in a religious school like I did? You probably tossed in a pledge to the Bible to keep you from sinning against—“God’s Holy Word.” Because nothing says grace like spiritual surveillance.
As a teacher, I had parents offended that I didn’t have a flag in my classroom. Others were genuinely appalled when we missed a day of “allegiance”. It’s wild, really—this ritual training in how to perform patriotism, and long before they even understand what justice is. Or for some, even before they know how to tie their shoes.
I remember memorizing state birds, mottos, and flowers before I knew there were five oceans. (Yes, five.) In Idaho, we were still being told there were four. Apparently “Southern” was too spicy for Idaho. We stopped at four oceans—just like God intended.
I didn’t mean to start with Mesopotamia before ‘Murica this year. But alphabetically, it checks out. I’m kidding. Also, I cringed writing that.
Actually, it began as one of those dreaded homeschool moments where the kids ask a question: “Can we learn about ancient gods?” And now I’m suddenly tasked with building a curriculum in real time. Which has felt like riding a bike that I am still assembling—while also being asked to perform in a parade.
And so we did. I won’t lie—Ms. Macumber struggled a bit, letting go of the expectations surrounding “Social Studies Standards.” But the kids? They have loved it. They reenacted Gilgamesh with Play doh and turned Brawl Stars characters into Babylonian deities. I was explaining Hammurabi while Googling “What is a ziggurat again?” under the table.
(Also, let’s just be honest, Brad Pitt in Troy is objectively more appealing than Paul Revere clopping through Boston yelling about lanterns. I said it.)
Now, as the year comes to a close, I see it clearly—this wasn’t a detour at all. It was a stroke of accidental genius. Gilgamesh before George.
Instead of teaching from a self centered, star spangled lens, we opened with a bit of global perspective.
We are learning that power existed long before America. That wisdom and culture didn’t begin with Washington. They’ve heard the stories, wrestled with the struggles, and traced the legacies of ancient civilizations. We’ve honored the full arc of human history—we’ve learned from:
China – walls and paper.
Egypt – myths and mummification.
Mesopotamia – laws and legends.
Greece – questions and ideas.
Rome – roads and rule.
India – math and meaning
And perhaps, they can understand something most kids don’t until much later: that the Constitution didn’t appear out of thin air. It’s part of a long lineage—codes carved by kings, debated by councils, passed down through the generations.
When America’s story is taught as a chapter, not the book, I think it becomes more meaningful not less.
And maybe, just maybe, they won’t grow up seeing “the other” as foreign, dangerous, or strange. They’ll see pharaohs, poets, emperors, and inventors—people who made choices and told stories, just like we do.
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