Bridging the Past with the Present at Gettysburg

As an educator, there are few experiences more rewarding than seeing history come alive for my students. In a few months, I’ll once again have the privilege of taking my high school juniors to Gettysburg, a place where history and memory converge in profound ways. For these students, this is more than a field trip; it’s an opportunity to connect with the past on a visceral level—to step into the shoes of those who shaped our nation’s story.

One of the primary goals of this trip is to bridge the gap between the abstract and the tangible. It’s one thing to read about the Battle of Gettysburg in a textbook, to memorize dates and strategies, and to analyze the larger implications of the Civil War. But being there, on the very ground where soldiers fought and fell, takes history out of the theoretical and plants it firmly in the real. The rolling fields, the towering monuments, the rugged outcrops of Devil’s Den—each of these elements tells a story that no map or lecture can fully capture.

I’ve found that sensory engagement is key to making this connection. I encourage my students to take in not just the sights, but also the sounds, smells, and textures of the place. The crisp spring air of southern Pennsylvania carries a different weight when you’re walking along Seminary Ridge. The crunch of fallen leaves underfoot or the wind whistling through the trees near Little Round Top offers a fleeting sense of what it might have been like for soldiers trudging to their posts or taking cover during an artillery barrage. These small, sensory experiences—often unnoticed in the rush of daily life—have a way of grounding students in the moment and giving them a glimpse into the lived realities of those who came before.

To deepen this connection, each of my students receives a card at the start of the trip. On it is the photograph and biographical information of a soldier who fought at Gettysburg. These are not just names and faces from history books—they are individuals with families, hopes, and fears. As we walk the battlefield, we follow in their footsteps. We visit the locations where they fought, stood their ground, or retreated under fire. At each stop, I share a little more of their story. By the end of the day, I reveal what happened to each soldier—whether they survived, were wounded, or perished in the battle.

This simple exercise humanizes the vast scale of Gettysburg in ways that resonate deeply with students. Suddenly, the battle is no longer an abstract clash of armies; it’s a story of individuals. My students see the war through the eyes of a young man who left home to fight for a cause he believed in, often with no guarantee of return. They grapple with the weight of choices made under unimaginable pressure, the sacrifices endured, and the fragility of life in the face of war. For many, this exercise transforms their understanding of the Civil War, shifting it from a historical event to a series of profoundly personal experiences.

This trip also underscores the importance of physical space in our understanding of history. Being at Gettysburg makes it all real. It’s no longer just words on a page or dots on a map. The vastness of Pickett’s Charge—the sheer distance covered under relentless fire—is something you can’t truly grasp until you see it with your own eyes. Standing at the Angle, where the Confederates briefly broke through Union lines, you feel the weight of what was at stake. These are the moments that stay with students long after they leave the classroom.

As we prepare for this journey, I’m reminded of how transformative these experiences can be. I’ve seen students who once struggled to connect with history find themselves captivated by the stories of soldiers whose lives and sacrifices mirror their own hopes and struggles in unexpected ways. I’ve seen the spark of curiosity ignite as they ask deeper questions about the Civil War, its causes, and its legacy. And I’ve seen the lasting impact of standing in a place where history happened, where the past feels not so distant after all.

Gettysburg is more than a battlefield; it’s a classroom, a memorial, and a testament to the resilience and complexity of the human spirit. I hope this trip will not only teach my students about the events of July 1863 but also inspire them to think critically and compassionately about the choices we make as individuals and as a nation.

With compliments,

Keith