The Promises and Perils of Teaching the History of Fun

When I first offered a course called “The Pursuit of Pleasure: A History of Leisure and Recreation in America,” it filled up quickly and generated a waitlist. The course taught students how play is political by exploring topics like the racial segregation of amusement parks. My full roster of non-history majors seemed promising, yet when I told the class they would be reading five monographs, one student stood up, took a bow, walked out, and never came back.  As the semester progressed, it became clear that many students took the class because it "sounded easier" than other history courses and many admitted to not even buying the books.

 By contrast, when I teach courses whose titles and descriptions do not suggest they will prioritize popular history – like “US Women’s History” or “African-American History,” I still expose students to popular experiences and popular primary sources including songs and images they have already seen and heard but never read as historical artifacts.  In this context, students are delighted to engage senses they do not often use in history classes.  The exciting discussions these exercise produce are encouraging.

My disparate experiences teaching popular history suggest that when popular culture is woven into a course theoretically about something else, students are pleasantly surprised by what history can look and sound like. As I continue teaching and refining my course on the history of leisure, I hope to complicate students’ understanding of texts and contexts, and trouble their understanding of both the “popular” and “history” itself. This is the promise of popular history and teaching that feels “fun” for both the students and myself. Through a roundtable discussion, I hope to explore ways to maximize the promises and minimize the perils of teaching the popular in a variety of settings.