The International Journal of Museum Management and Curatorsh$ (1989), 8,357-368

Learning History in Museums

DAVID ANDERSON

All museums, no matter what their subject, are museums of history. They are, therefore, agents for the education of visitors about the nature of history as a form of knowledge, as well as being interpreters of the historical significance of their own particular collections.

As individuals, and as members of society, we all need to be capable of thinking historically if we are to address the issues that confront us in our daily lives. History asks us to put ourselves in the place of other human beings, and by doing so to define our own values and beliefs. It enables us to think critically and independently and to make informed judgements. It encourages us to question and to evaluate conflicting interpretations on the basis of evidence. It helps us to identify bias when dealing with controversial and politically sensitive issues. It is the destroyer of myths. In the words of a recent Department of Education and Science (United Kingdom) publication, ‘Thinking historically is not only one manifestation of an open society, it is also one of the guarantors of its continued existence’.’ However, in order to think historically, it is necessary to develop, at some level, an appreciation of the process of historical inquiry, together with certain important concepts and skills. These can provide a framework for discussion of the possible role of museums in developing historical awareness in visitors.

They are summarized here.* There must be an appreciation of the process by which history is produced. The

subject matter of history-the human past-is infinite in extent and has no accepted body of facts or agreed laws. When choosing to study an aspect of the past each historian brings to the task his or her own values and theory of history, and the resulting interpretation is subjective and may conflict with other interpretations. On the other hand, the historical method-the procedure used by historians to evaluate and interpret evidence-is, or should be, objective. There is ultimately no way to arbitrate between conflicting theories of history, but any historical interpretation can be judged on the objectivity with which historical procedures have been carried out.

There must also be an understanding of certain basic historical concepts. First, an awareness of the nature of historical evidence and of the incompleteness and diversity of the human record; that the historical judgements and interpretations which are based on this evidence are as a result necessarily provisional; also that primary sources should not be studied in isolation but in association with secondary sources containing the interpretations of professional historians. Second, historical thinking requires an appreciation of similarity and difference, and of change and continuity over time; that change is not constant; and that it can be progressive in some respects and regressive in others. Third, an understanding of cause and motivation: that causes are the product of historical thinking and interpretation, and do not exist independently in the historical record; and that events in history have multiple related causes. Fourth, an understanding of the concept of empathy: that historians in attempting to reconstruct the past try to

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358 Learning History in Museums

reconstruct not only the externals of life and behaviour but also the thoughts, feelings, motives, values and attitudes of people in the past; that empathizing is not the same as sympathizing with the people who are studied.

A variety of skills are also required for historical thinking to take place: skills in chronology, including the ability to sequence artefacts and events; the ability to use historical terms and ideas; the ability to ask historical questions; the use and analysis of evidence, including the ability to compare sources, to recognize gaps or bias in evidence; skills of empathy, using historical imagination disciplined by evidence; the ability to make deductions, inferences and to form hypotheses, recognizing the kind of evidence necessary to support or test these; the ability to make judgements, clearly distinguishing whether these are made with reference to the beliefs and values of the period under study or to the historian’s own point of view; and, finally, skills of synthesis and communication of historical themes and ideas to make a credible narrative.

This approach to the learning of history has already been developed into a coherent strategy for secondary age pupils in the United Kingdom in the 1970s by the Schools Council History Project, and is now well established in many schools.3 Recent work in primary schools has successfully extended the methodology to younger children4

Museums should not ignore this development. There is no reason in principle to believe that they could not devise appropriate strategies to promote the learning of the process of history by visitors of all ages (not only children) in an informal museum setting. In the United States at least two institutions-the National Museum of American History in Washington and the Indianapolis Children’s Museum-have established interactive history centres. Neither project, it seems, was concerned primarily with testing the development of historical thinking in the way outlined above, although both are of interest for their use of interactive techniques in historical galleries. The Mysteries in History Gallery at Indianapolis Children’s Museum encouraged visitors to be ‘Pathfinders’ by using five types of clue: archaeological clues, written clues, visual clues, spoken clues and personal history clues, all in a series of mini-environments depicting selected aspects of life in the state of Indiana. By engaging in the various activities, visitors would, it was hoped, understand the message of the exhibition ‘Clues in objects and the surrounding environment allow one to discover information about the past’.5

In 1988 the National Maritime Museum, with the generous financial support of the Friends of the Museum and in collaboration with staff and students of Goldsmiths’ College, University of London, established two temporary interactive history centres on an experimental basis, both associated with major exhibitions. The first was Avmuda Discovery, which opened in July 1988 and is now closed. The second is Bounty Dircoveuy, which opened as part of the exhibition on the Mutiny on the Bowzty, in April 1989. These two centres were consciously established to test some strategies for promo- ting historical learning, Armada Discovery in a small room separate from the rest of the exhibition, and Bounty Discovery in a larger gallery as an integral part of the exhibition.

Armada Discovery was designed for children aged 3-8 years and their parents. This age group was chosen partly because their needs are rarely addressed by museums, but particularly because the area would provide an alternative for families who did not want to bring small children on a tour of a blockbuster exhibition. The activities were housed in a room approximately 7 metres wide by 12 metres long. They introduced children to the Spanish Armada through the story of the Gran Grifon, the flagship of the hulks of the Armada, which was wrecked on Fair Isle, off the northern coast of Scotland, in September 1588. Children visiting the area were booked in for sessions lasting 30 to 40 minutes, run at frequent intervals throughout the day, every day of the week, over the

DAVID ANDERSON 359

In Armada Discovery at the National Maritime Museum, London, which opened in July 1988, parents were usually as interested as the children in exploring the reconstructed section of a Spanish ship.

An interpreter discussing artefacts with a family in the Captain’s cabin re- constructed in Armada Discovery.

five weeks of the school summer holidays. It was visited by a total of 5000 children and adults during this period.

Children entered to find the room in darkness except for a rocky corner in which they sat to hear the story of the ship, as told to them by one of the two interpreters. At the point in the story when the ship reached Fair Isle and the crew escaped from the ship onto the rocks, the lights went up to reveal a lo-metre-long reconstruction of part of the upper decks of the Gran Grifon, standing out from a painted seascape. The children were invited to explore the ship, looking for evidence left behind by the captain, Juan Gomez de Medina, and his men. This they did with enthusiasm, in defiance of the convention that small children always prefer activities with simple abstract shapes and bright colours.

360 Learning History in Museums

This rocky area alongside the ship in Armada Discovery also served as a story-telling corner, linked thematically to the Spanish ships wrecked on the Scottish islands.

Young children visiting Armada Discovery learn how 16th-century ships’ guns were loaded.

One part of the ship was a reconstruction of the captain’s cabin, with a table, chair and bunk, panelled walls with carvings, jewellery, a wooden comb, a small animal cage, a chart, a pair of leather shoes, a leather jerkin and some sheets of paper with brief extracts from the captain’s diary giving a vivid description of the shipwreck. All of these artefacts were replicas of material recovered from Armada wrecks or other contemporary ships. The captain’s diary was a translation from his manuscript version held in Simancas. Most of the originals were on display in cases in the main exhibition. On the open deck outside the captain’s cabin there was a ship’s pump mechanism and, out of reach but not quite out of sight, the only rat that had not managed to escape from the sinking ship. A gun was assembled in the forepeak complete with gun carriage, cannon balls of varying sizes, shot gauges, sponge and linstock. The gun could be loaded, once the correct ball was identified by using the shot gauge, but not, of course, fired. Elsewhere in the forepeak lay a barrel of salt fish to smell, and one of dried ship’s biscuit, discovered by touch through a small hand-hole, also rough wooden bowls and spoons and a leather water-bottle used by the crew. Like the artefacts in the captain’s cabin, these were all replicas.

Once the children had explored the ship, they could measure daily rations of biscuit and chick peas with scales, or explore and play with other modern materials and equipment. Th e purpose of these activities was to develop basic scientific and mathematical concepts directly related to the replica material on board the ship. After these informal explorations and activities, each session ended as it began with a storytelling session back on the rocks-sometimes, at the children’s request, the story of the Spaniard’s rescue from Fair Isle and the dangers they faced on the journey home, or, on other occasions, a story from a book or a retelling of a folk tale about a shipwreck from one of the nearby Scottish islands.

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The popularity of Armada Discovery encouraged the Museum to provide a larger activity gallery for children and adults as an integral part of the next temporary exhibition on the Mutiny on the Bounty. Bounty Discovery is located in a gallery 10 metres wide and 16 metres long on the upper floor of the exhibition wing. Visitors reach this area after they have seen the rest of the exhibition and passed through the exhibition shop and can, if they wish, take the stairs down to the exit rather than enter the gallery. Visitors to this activity area, unlike those to Armada Discovery, are not required to join scheduled sessions but can move in and out of the gallery freely during opening hours, mingling with school groups or other visitors. On account of this and the very much larger number of people visiting the space (sometimes over 1000 per day) the one or two interpreters present have less opportunity to initiate visitors into the space than they had in Armada Discovery, and carry a heavier security and supervisory responsibility, which necessarily inhibits their educational role as interpreters and storytellers.

Bounty Discovery presents the Botrnty at Tahiti in January 1789, just a few months before the mutiny. The central theme of the area is the contact between the Europeans and the Tahitians. Visitors enter the gallery through the side of a Tahitian house and walk onto the foreshore of the island. The air is filled with the sounds of children at play, chickens, pigs squealing, a triton shell trumpet, drums, birdsong and the beating of the sea on the beach-all of which are to be found either as artefacts in the environment or illustrated on the scenic cloth that goes all around the room. In and around the hut is a selection of Tahitian artefacts for handling or use, including a sleeping mat with headrest, a breadfruit pounder, a barkcloth beater, a sharkhook and tattooing tools, as well as nails, files and beads traded from the sailors. All of these are replicas of examples from European museums with Tahitian collections, some of which were temporarily displayed in the main exhibition.

On one side of the shore stands a life-size Bounty sailor, a revolving figure which can be turned to mix or match the head, body and legs of four of the Bounty’s crew, including Captain Bligh. On the other side, by the hut, is a similar Tahitian figure which can be turned to make a tattooed warrior, a dancing girl or Chief Tynah. Fixed on a stand by the English sailors and pointing out over the bay to the painted scenic backcloth, is a telescope. This has two eyepieces, loosely attached so that visitors can compare the tiny image obtained without any lens with that achieved by using either of the two eyepieces, both of which hold magnifying lenses of different powers. Also on the foreshore is a reconstruction of a Tahitian child’s canoe, while on the backcloth a magnificently carved war canoe can be seen sailing across the bay.

Visitors then cross a small stretch of ‘water’ to reach a reconstruction of part of the lower deck of the Bounty. Passing through a passageway, they reach Bligh’s tiny cabin, a space of approximately 3 square metres containing a bunk, a washstand and a writing- table. Lying open on the table is Bligh’s logbook, in which he described his relatively humane shipboard routine and his difficulties with the crew (but not of course the mutiny, which has not yet taken place). Also in the cabin is a chamber pot, a candlestick and an inkpot, all of pewter, and a chart of Tahiti with the ship’s position marked on it.

Next to the cabin is a stairway. Three months later Fletcher Christian and other mutineers will seize Bligh and drag him up the stairs at the start of the mutiny. Other activities on the ship included two hoists, one with a single block and one with a double, so that children can compare the effort each required to lift sacks of identical weight; a knotting board with knots to tie; a hammock; and a provisions store where visitors can try to guess the contents of four barrels which contain dried malt, vinegar, salt fish and concentrated liquid malt. This requires a sense of smell, but not an acute one! Some

362 Learning History in Museums

Bounty Discovery at the National Maritime Museum accompanied the exhibition Mutiny on the Bounty during the summer of 1989, and within the reconstructed section of the lower deck of HMS Bounty the pantry contained real provisions for the children to identify.

Detail of the interior of Bligh’s cabin in Bounty Discovery with a chart of Tahiti on the panelling and the position of HMS Bounty marked. B&h’s ‘logbook’ lies open on his table, available for children to consult.

miscellaneous possessions belonging to the crew lie scattered around this part of the lower deck-clothes, a griddle, as well as fish-hooks and other items traded from the Tahitians. Cheap prints stuck to the ship’s wall and beams before it left London reveal the sailors’ likings and loyalties. From here visitors return across the water to the shore.

Armada Discovery and Bounty Discovery were both set in historical environments in order to establish a coherent context for the activities and to emphasize the story that each embodied. The result in both cases was an imaginative recreation based on sources, with many of the scenes and objects depicted chosen to illustrate or extend themes in the activities. As such, the environments were, in a sense, works of art, but deliberately not works of fantasy (which was certainly a danger when reconstructing the Tahitian environment).

It is asking much of visitors, adults as well as children, to expect them to move from a conventional gallery into an activity gallery without becoming uncertain about their own roles. Experience has shown that it is important to establish a psychological frame for such spaces, which do not conform to the pattern of the rest of the Museum. This frame has several purposes: to explain to visitors the theme and purpose of the activities, and to indicate its geographical limits if necessary; to make clear the conventions the Museum has used in constructing the gallery (far example, the use of replicas in place of originals); to explain what visitors must not do, for reasons of safety or to protect the activities; and to explain what they can do to make the most of the opportunities it presents for learning and enjoyment. All of this must be done immediately visitors arrive at the space so that they are reassured and fully understand the new frame in which they operate.

DAVID ANDERSON 363

Children were enc aged to handle the and replica artefac the Tahitian house tion of Borrnty Dz cry.

zour- food ts in

sec- ‘scov-

A revolving Tahitian fi- gure display column in Bounty Discovery which can be turned to mix or match the head, body and legs of a tattooed warrior, a dancing girl or Chief Tynak.

The frame need not be communicated by words only. Visual conventions, such as the colour black, used in Bounty Discovery to indicate historical anachronisms such as non-environmental gallery walls and wall furniture, can be equally effective. In Bounty Discovery, signs and notices were introduced to help interpreters establish the conventions with visitors. Experimentation has shown, however, that while signs can establish negative rules (for example, with respect to running or climbing), the r61e of the interpreter is crucial at the beginning of the visit to the space in encouraging visitors to make the most of the potential of the space. On one occasion, in Annada Discovery, when interpreters were not present, families were observed as they entered and left the

364 Learning History in Museums

room freely, unsupported and undirected. Both learning and enjoyment suffered noticeably as a result, and the duration of the visit was significantly reduced. However, when the interpreters were in the space and introduced the sessions, children and adults readily appreciated the frame within which they participated. Children’s play could not occur if they were not capable of some degree of meta-communication to establish rule structures. Children also show a remarkable ability to distinguish the boundaries between play and reality, and to move confidently and creatively between them.6 It is not surprising that they have little difficulty in understanding the complex and unfamiliar frame required for an activity gallery, provided its rules are communicated effectively.

The interpreters have all been, with one exception, student teachers at Goldsmiths’ College. All interpreters had teaching experience. Several were early childhood specialists, which was a particular advantage in Armada Discovery. Their pedagogic skills in that room produced a relaxed and informal space, but one that was also secure and closely structured. This minimized any control problems that might have arisen if inexperienced staff had been employed. No attempt has been made to put the interpreters into costume, thereby avoiding diversionary games with visitors who might try to trick them into acknowledging an event which had not, for their costumed persona in 1588 or 1789, yet taken place. As themselves, and as representatives of the Museum, they have been able to interpret the facility with more historical honesty, and arguably with greater diversity and sophistication than would have been possible if they had been in costume. Many visitors are inexperienced at interpreting the artefacts and look to the interpreters for guidance. There is a strong impression that the enthusiasm of visitors, and their perception of the value of the experience, is closely dependent on the presence of skilled interpreters. They have given life to the galleries.

One of the aims of both Armada Discovery and Bounty Discovery was to provide a space where adults and children could learn together, as it was realized that parents, like the interpreters, would play a crucial role in the success of the venture. Some artefacts, such as the captain’s logs, and many of the themes within both galleries were deliberately set above the conceptual level of the children to reward adults and encourage them to participate. Before opening Armada Discovery, the Museum was concerned that parents might keep to one side of the room and leave their children to explore and play unaided. This fear was groundless. Most parents and grandparents, of both sexes, joined their children in investigating the ship with great enthusiasm, clearly from their own interest as well as from a desire to encourage their children. Once this was done, some parents then preferred to join their children at the play activities only at intervals, being quite content otherwise to talk to each other or read some of the books provided for both children and adults in one corner of the room. These non-participators were, however, a minority.

The overall quality of family participation in the activities and of discussion, between the family members and with interpreters, has demonstrated that they can be highly effective learning units, in some respects far more highly motivated and effective than many school groups. In part, this can be explained by the close bonds that probably exist within families that regularly visit museums, and by their common desire to share an enjoyable experience together. These observations are confirmed by the findings of research outside museums into the learning behaviour of families, which suggests that, with minimal guidance but provision of suitable learning resources, parents both from advantaged backgrounds and from areas with multiple characteristics of deprivation will often willingly take responsibility for supporting their children’s learning outside school.’ An extensive study for the Smithsonian Institution has concluded that in the context of schools, museums or the home the family is a ‘highly adaptable, cooperative

DAVID ANDERSON 365

social group which can and does facilitate the learning and exploration of each of its

members’. * A greater investment of educational resources by museums in the field of family learning would probably bring significant benefits to both children and adults.

Two issues, the role of play in history learning and the use of replicas, deserve brief discussion. Play materials, such as scales, sandglasses, a wooden construction kit, magnets and magnetic compasses as well as art materials, were given a space of their own in Armada Discovery. No play materials were included in Bounty Discovery because it was believed that the pressures of a mass audience exhibition would make them impractical. The purpose of the play materials was to develop basic mathematical and scientific concepts directly related to replica material on board the ship. Observation of children in Armada Discovery convinced all involved that the belief, widely held in museums and elsewhere, that play is a frivolous activity and that play and learning are mutually exclusive, is quite wrong. In one episode, a member of staff from Goldsmiths’ College observed four children aged between 3 and 6 years playing with the construction kit.’ Their conversation with her and their practical explorations covered a wide variety of concepts, including rotation, levers, wheels, height and scale, all linked to the cannon, the pump and other artefacts and spaces they had investigated on the Gran Grifon. Of course, not all play observed in the area was so specific to the theme of the gallery. Most was purposeful but only loosely related to the ship, some was not related at all. However, many children frequently spent time investigating the properties of unfamiliar equipment and materials before integrating them into their play. Studies of young children outside museums have indicated that prior play with materials improves children’s problem- solving with those materials later on.” This suggests that play materials do have the potential to help children understand the properties of associated historical artefacts.

The decision to use replica material in the two galleries was debated at some length.

Artefacts were selected because of their symbolic value as well as their aesthetic qualities and function. Some were included to illustrate themes in the galleries or to suggest comparisons with other artefacts, thereby revealing contrasts between classes and cultures, and underlying social or moral values. In Armada Discovery few children or adults appeared to be under the illusion that the artefacts were originals, despite the high quality of most of the replicas. It was clearly quite impossible to have used contemporary artefacts in such a situation and no visitor was seen to reject them because they were not original. Their value in stimulating investigation and discussion was beyond question. Nevertheless, doubts remained, at least in the minds of the staff of the Education Section of the Museum about using replicas to teach visitors about evidence. An activity which addressed this issue directly, perhaps by inviting visitors to explore differences between originals and replicas, would in retrospect have been valuable.

How much historical learning took place? Armada Discovery and Bounty Discovery were both established (among other objectives) to experiment with selected strategies for promoting historical thinking, but neither gallery attempted to provide visitors with a comprehensive introduction to the historical process, and they did not make any reference to historical skills or concepts, or any other aspect of the learning of history, in notices or labels. This purpose was left unstated. As Armada Discovery was open only for a limited period no formal evaluation was undertaken to assess its effectiveness as a learning resource, and it is too early yet to come to any conclusion about Bounty Discovery. However, visitor behaviour in Armada Discovery was closely observed by Museum staff and by the staff and student interpreters from Goldsmiths’ College, and some initial observations are also possible for Bounty Discovery. As the two activity galleries were designed for different age ranges of children (3-8 and 3-14 respectively)

366 Learning History in Museums

their learning potential is now considered separately. Piaget’s view that children up to the age of 7 years remain in the pre-operational stage

of thinking has encouraged many teachers to believe that infants are incapable of understanding historical concepts at even the simplest level. As a result, infant history has been almost entirely neglected in the early years of UK schooling, More recently, however, Margaret Donaldson has suggested that children are capable of logical and consistent thought much earlier than Piaget’s experiments had indicated, and that they are able to decentre, to see a situation from the point of view of someone else (an essential historical skill), if the task makes ‘human sense’” and is not just a laboratory exercise. It may, then, be possible after all to teach history as a subject to young children. l2 From the age of 4, children start to develop a sense of time, starting with an awareness of their own past, based on their memories and evidence from family photographs and other sources. Soon afterwards they can start to construct simple chronological sequences, and then by 7 or 8 can identify some periods from the past. What they usually lack entirely until 11 years or older is a numerical sense of time.13

Armada Discovery used, in combination, two approaches to the learning of history that seem to have been particularly suited to younger children-storytelling and the exploration of first-hand tangible evidence. The telling of the story of the Gran Grifon was an essential part of each session in Armada Discovery. It enabled the children to absorb necessary information and to involve themselves in the predicament of the crew of the doomed ship, before they went on board to find clues left behind by the captain and his men. The artefacts on the ship, some of which were familiar and some not, provided them with a rich resource and stimulated their curiosity. The skills of observation of evidence, of asking questions and of making deductions must all be learnt through practice, and not all children possessed them. Some children took the initiative

and freely discussed artefacts and asked questions such as ‘Why are the teeth of the comb so close together?’ or ‘What kind of animal would have lived in a cage as small as that?’ Others needed the intervention of an adult before they looked for answers to such questions. Many of school age noticed the similarity between the wooden comb and the nit combs they had seen used at school, and deduced that lbth-century sailors, like Z&h-century children, must have suffered from head lice. Artefacts like the comb and the cage, which were familiar and yet posed problems that made human sense to the children, encouraged many of them to make comparisons between past and present, and suggest Donaldson is right when she argues that children are capable of logical thinking from an early age. Fewer children, however, compared the lives of the captain and crew of the Gran Grifon, perhaps because few of the articles in the two areas of the ship were directly

comparable. Some of the deductions offered by children (and adults) were incorrect. The most

common mistake concerned the bunk in the captain’s cabin which, like the rest of the furniture (and unlike all the other replica artefacts), had been constructed to a reduced scale to make it accessible for very young children. As a result, many visitors deduced that the captain must have been much smaller than the average today. (We happen to know from contemporary descriptions that the captain, Juan Gomez de Medina was, on the contrary, quite tall.) In this case the fault lay with the Museum, not with the children’s reasoning, and was a salutary reminder of the need for consistency within the

psychological frame. The dominant theme in Bounty Discovery was the clash of two cultures. The voyage of

the Bounty is remembered today mainly for the mutiny; Tahiti and the Pacific Islands provide a romantic setting for the story. But the Bounty’s long stay in Tahiti had another

DAVID ANDERSON 367

significance. It was the first attempt by the British to exploit the commercial potential of the region. Within two generations of the arrival of the Bounty the main characteristics of the Tahitian economy and culture had been destroyed. It is this overarching historical concept, the contact and tension between two cultures in the past, symbolized by the European and Tahitian figures and by the ship and the Tahitian house with their respective artefacts, that Bounty Discovery was designed above all to communicate. Children can compare the bunk in Bligh’s cabin and the sailor’s hammock with the Tahitian sleeping mat with its wooden headrest. The diet, materials, technology and ship and boat design suggest similar contrasts. The importance of trade as an agent of change is shown by the presence of English beads, files and iron nails (drawn from the Bounty’s store of trade items) in the Tahitian house, and the Tahitian breadfruit, coconuts and artefacts on the ship.

Observations suggest that many visitors make spontaneous comparisons between the replica 1 &h-century artefacts, such as the sailors’ square wooden platters, and those they use today. Some also make comparisons between food, beds and other aspects of the material culture of the two groups, and most seem to understand that they have traded with one another. Most questions and hypotheses are concerned with the concrete and familiar, such as food (‘How were yams/breadfruit/ship’s biscuits cooked?‘) and the life of the sailors on board ship (‘Why was Bligh’s cabin so small?‘). Few visitors hypothesize about the likely consequences of contact and trade for either the Tahitians or the sailors. As in Armada Discovery, these examples suggest visitors can appreciate historical concepts and use historical skills. However, many visitors also come with historical stereotypes well established in their minds. Most believe l&h-century English ships were almost like floating prisons, with half-starved sailors and brutal officers. In truth, life on board ship was certainly hard but, by comparison with many landsmen, sailors on ships of the period (including the Bounty) were well fed, and were disciplined according to naval regulations almost universally accepted by officers and men alike. Bounty Discovery does not correct the stereotype (except by listing and showing the substantial rations each man received), but it does stimulate discussion between visitors and interpreters on this issue.

Writing in Nature two years ago, Michael Shortland commented that children visiting interactive science centres have fun but seem to learn little science, partly because the science is too complex. Too many activities, he observed, purport to offer insights into science with little attempt to describe the material in its broad social and intellectual context. Science is not just entertainment, adventure and good clean fun, but a serious, difficult, demanding enterprise which continually raises political and moral dilemmas. l4 The problems Shortland identifies in the design of interactive science exhibits could apply equally to interactive history centres, but history centres have one distinct advantage-in the words of Margaret Donaldson, they make ‘human sense’. The context of time, place and society, which is often absent from science centres, is the very material of history. It is the characteristic which helps to make the subject accessible. The two history centres at Greenwich, though not yet fully evaluated, suggest that with the help of skilled interpreters and the involvement of parents, and the use of techniques such as storytelling, play and symbolic reconstructions of evidence, children can learn historical skills and concepts.

In future, with further research and the development of a wider range of techniques, it may then be possible to create a history centre that more truly reflects the nature of the subject. This is an ambitious objective, but it is one that goes to the very heart of the educational purpose of museums.

368

Acknowledgements

Learning History in Museums

The author wishes to thank the Friends of the National Maritime Museum for their generous financial support for Armada Discovery and Bounty Discovery; colleagues at the Museum for their advice and support; Vicky Hurst and Marion Whitehead, lecturers at Goldsmiths College, University of London, and Sara Hurdle, Helen Johnson, Yvette Kollar, Carolyn Ostell, Emma Reid and Matthew Lyons, interpreters, for their contributions to the development and operation of the two activity centres and for their evaluative comments and observations; Birgitta Stapf and Klas Helmerson of the Wasa

Museum in Stockholm for information and for insights provided by their own work; also Peter Ling, designer, and David Moon and Robin Durham of the Scenery Works, contractors, for their contributions to the two projects.

Armada Discovery has been donated to the Interpretive and Museums Service of Derry City Council in Northern Ireland. There it will be adapted to become the Trinidad Valencera, an Armada ship wrecked off the Derry coast, at a new museum of Derry and North West Ulster history.

Notes

1. Department of Education and Science, History in the Primary and Secondary Years: An HMI View (London, DES, 1985), p. 39.

2. This summary is derived mainly from two sources: Department of Education and Science, op. cit. Note 1, pp. 2-3, 18-19; also Schools Council History Project 13-16 Project, A New Look at History (Edinburgh, SCHP, 1976), pp. 16-18, 38-42.

3. Schools Council History Project 13-16 Project, op. cit. Note 2, also Denis Shemilt, History 13-16 Evaluation Study (Edinburgh, 1980). For a fuller discussion of some of the issues arising from the new history see D. Thompson, ‘Understanding the Past: Procedures and Content’ and other articles in A. K. Dickinson et al., eds, Learning History (London, 1984).

4. See, for example, John West, History 7-13 (Dudley Teachers’ Centre, Dudley, 1981) which includes a range of strategies on the use of museum artefacts.

5. Barbara Tymitz-Wolf, Mysteries in History: A Case Study of an Evaluation Process (Indiana University Press, October 1986).

6. See Gregory Bateson, ‘A Theory of Play and Fantasy’, in J. S. Bruner, A. Jolly and K. Sylva, eds, Play: Its RSle in Development and Evolution (Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1985), pp. 119-129.

7. Margaret M. Clark, Children Under Five: Educational Research and Evidence (London, HMSO, 1988), gives details of a home-based project in Scotland. For an extensive, successful and well-researched mother-child programme in Israel, see Avima D. Lombard, Success Begins at Home (Lexington, MA, 1981).

8. J. D. Balling, D. D. Hilke and J. D. Liversidge, The Ri%e of the Family in the Promotion of Science Literacy Final Report, National Science Foundation, Grant No. 81-12927, National Museum of American History, Washington, DC.

9. Vicky Hurst, Goldsmiths’ College, University of London, unpublished evaluation of Armada

Discovery. 10. J. S. Bruner et al., op. cit. Note 6, p. 16. il. Margaret Donaldson, Children’s Minds (London, Fontana, 1984), pp. 17-30. For a discussion of the

implications of Donaldson’s findings for history teaching, see P. J. Lee ‘Historical Imagination’, in A. K. Dickinson et al., op. cit. Note 3, pp. 107-116.

12. See Joan Blyth, History 5 fo 9 (London, 1988) and History in Primary Schools (Milton Keynes, 1989), for examples of work in infant schools designed to test or develop historical thinking.

13. John West, op. cit. Note 4. 14. Michael Shortland, ‘No Business like Show Business’, Nature, 328, 16 July (1987), pp. 213-214.