Seeing Thinking on the Web
Daisy Martin and Sam Wineburg
READERS actively "source" when they read everyday texts.1 They notice whether a news
story appeared in the Washington Post or Washington
Times, or whether an op-ed comes from the pen of Bill O'Reilly
or Bill Maher. Sourcing is key to understanding how knowledge is
made in many disciplines, but it is especially important in history.
Historians continually and consistently source the traces of the
past to construct legitimate interpretations of the material they
study. On the other hand, students in our history courses rarely see
"sourcing" or other discipline-specific reading strategies as part
of learning and understanding history.2
Acts of close reading and textual analysis,
which come routinely to historians, remain a foreign and obscure
language to many of our students. As Gerald Graff notes in
Clueless in Academe, college students often view typical
academic practices as "bizarre, counterintuitive or downright
nonsensical."3 Graff argues that academics
obscure their practices from students by using a variety of methods,
including "the problem problem"—finding problems where none are
generally thought to exist:
The academic faith in the singular
virtue of finding problems in subjects ... generally thought to be
unproblematic seems especially bizarre and forced when the
problems have to do with the meanings of texts. The idea that,
below their apparent surface, texts harbor deep meanings that cry
out for interpretation, analysis, and debate is one of those
assumptions that seems so normal once we are socialized into
academia that we forget how counterintuitive it can be.4
Professional historians find problems as a
matter of course, but it is precisely this routine nature that masks
"problem finding" in many classrooms. Few historians see it as part
of their job description to make their reading processes explicit or
visible to students. At the high school level, students may only
read the textbook, and too often their main task becomes scanning
that book for information and repeating it back on tests. Concerns
about coverage in the high school classroom can make close reading
seem like an expendable luxury teachers can ill afford. Graff's
central argument holds true for history education writ large.
Analyzing and questioning historical texts seems mysterious and even
unnecessary in many history classrooms, even though practicing
historians see it at the heart of their daily practice.
Fitting the teaching of textual analysis
into the history survey is not without its challenges. The need to
cover content and traverse the historical terrain often drives
teachers' planning decisions, and the large lecture course seems to
allow scant opportunity to model and teach historical reading and
thinking. Some have suggested that technology may ameliorate this
problem. For the first time in history, the novice has instant
access to the archive5—in the past decade alone,
millions of documents have been digitized and made readily available
to teachers and students alike. Whereas teachers once bemoaned the
difficulty of tracking down historical sources, such complaints can
no longer be defended. We are undoubtedly awash in a digital deluge.
What we lack, however, are the tools that would allow us to address
Graff's concern: how do we use new digital technologies not only to
make sources more available, but also to cultivate skills that teach
students to read and think about these sources in meaningful ways?
At historicalthinkingmatters.org, we
use the Internet as a distribution system and pedagogical tool for
teaching and learning sophisticated ways of reading history.6 Our project is a
collaboration between the Center for History and New Media at
George Mason University, the pioneers of on-line historical
resources with their "History Matters" website, and the Stanford
School of Education's Ph.D. program in "History Education." We drew
on our overlapping areas of expertise to create a website that does
more than present historical materials: we offer tools and resources
designed to show and teach the nature of historical
reading and thinking.
Historical Thinking Matters website
How do we prepare novices to enter vast
digital archives with an analytic eye that prompts them to source,
question, and contextualize historical documents? One of the best
ways to learn something is to see it demonstrated. While other
websites have videos of historians giving lectures or talking about
how they read, we attempt to do something quite different: we try to
capture historians in the act of historical cognition—not explaining
how they would read, but actually showing them making sense
of sources that they have never before seen. We use a technique
called "think-aloud," in which people verbalize their thoughts as
they read texts out loud. Think-aloud differs from its discredited
ancestor, introspection, in two ways: first, it asks people to
report their thoughts in real time, not minutes or days later; and
second, it asks people to verbalize the contents of their
thoughts, not the processes used to generate
them.7 Think-alouds give us insight
into the "intermediate processes of cognition"—the way-stations that
lead to discovery and the creation of a warranted interpretation.8 It is during these stages,
well before a conclusion has been reached, that we see thinking at
its most raw—filled with hems and haws, false starts and
switchbacks, wrong turns and self-corrections. But it is also at
these points that viewers can watch historians right themselves
after a fall and gain a stable footing.
Our approach gives new meaning to the phrase
"historical expertise." The historian qua expert is not
holding forth as much as he or she is modeling how to construct
historical meaning, how to formulate—not merely deliver—an
interpretation. It is at these stages that our students often need
the most help. Think-alouds give us a glimpse of what expert
cognition looks like before it is tidied up and presented for public
view. It is precisely these intermediary steps of historical
cognition that remain shrouded in mystery for students.
We gather our think-aloud data through
interviews with both expert and novice historians. These interviews
include a document task, where the reader is introduced to the
think-aloud method and tries it by reading a common daily newspaper.
We encourage readers to try to verbalize every thought that comes to
mind—no matter how trivial or mundane they feel it might be. After a
brief practice and some encouraging words, we ask our respondent to
think aloud while reading a prepared set of documents on a
particular historical topic from one of four modules on our website:
Spanish-American War, Scopes Trial and the 1920s, Social Security
Act and the New Deal, and Rosa Parks and the Montgomery Bus Boycott.
In pilot testing our web-based teaching and
learning environment, we have learned that the think-aloud clips
must be short—no more than 90 seconds. Short clips keep attention
high, a crucial factor in web-based
environments.9 Additionally, short clips do
not take up excessive bandwidth and can be produced in a format that
allows teachers to use these clips even if they do not possess
expensive software or a full set of classroom computers. From hours
of videotaped think-aloud sessions, we select clips that range from
a half-minute to a minute and
We have found that we are more likely to get
instructive examples of historical sense-making if we ask historians
to read outside of their area of expertise. For example, an expert
on the period of the 1920s brings so much knowledge to the document
set about the Scopes trial that watching him or her in action may
intimidate, rather than instruct, a high school student. Historical
reading could seem even more mysterious were this expert to refer to
the historiography of the period, such as the works of Edward J.
Larson, Ann Douglas, and John Higham,10 peppered with language
about materialism and eugenics. However, if a medievalist or an
Africanist looks at that same document set, we better approximate
the conundrum of the student who, equipped with a much sparser
knowledge base, is asked to learn something new from an encounter
with historical materials. The expertise these non-specialist
historians bring to the task is intact and vivid—including how to
specify what they do not know and how to "find problems."11
Spanish-American War Activity: "Awake United
Consider the case of Ph.D. candidate Natalia
Mehlman, whose dissertation research investigates bilingual and sex
education in California in the 1970s. We presented Natalia with the
document set for our inquiry on the Spanish American War.
Natalia read nine edited documents,
including two newspaper articles about the sinking of the
Maine, McKinley's war speech, the Monroe Doctrine, U.S.
telegrams about coaling stations and the Cuban reconcentration
camps, and finally, the following excerpt from Albert J. Beveridge's
Senate campaign speech delivered on September 16, 1898 to potential
constituents in Indiana:
As she read
Beveridge's words, Natalia's eyes widened, and at the end of this
last sentence, she paused and made this comment:
Fellow citizens—it is a noble land
that God has given us; a land that can feed and clothe the world
... It is a mighty people that he has planted on this soil ... It
is a glorious history our God has bestowed upon his chosen people;
... a history of soldiers who carried the flag across the blazing
deserts and through the ranks of hostile mountains, even to the
gates of sunset; a history of a multiplying people who overran a
continent in half a century.
So again, this kind of takes the
whole brutal and violent history of expropriation of Westward
expansion and puts the, a, describes it in a glorious way, "the
blazing deserts," "the gates of sunset," etc., but also takes the
people who were overrun out of the picture too. It was the
mountains that were hostile, not the actual people living there!
It was the continent that was overrun, not the civilizations that
occupied it. So I think that's interesting ... We see here that
he's a leading advocate of American expansionism, I think that
that kind of rhetoric is immediately going to downplay the human
costs of this expansion, be it in American soldiers, who don't
have the choice except to go forth on this God foreordained
mission or the people who they'll be killing.
Using her hands, eyes, and inflection to
communicate meaning, Natalia's comments on this excerpt exceeded the
length of the text itself! She first formulated a context for
Beveridge's words, connecting them to the "whole brutal and violent"
history of Westward expansion. She pulled quotes from the document
to characterize Beveridge's view of this expansion as "glorious" and
she explained that rhetoric downplaying the butchery of Native
removal can be expected from this kind of speaker at this time.
Natalia's reading of the Beveridge documents took a little over a
Natalia drew on particular phrases from
Beveridge to make her point. In this clip, we do not hear the
historian struggling to understand; rather, Natalia seemed to use
what she knows about the ideology of manifest destiny to
characterize and situate Beveridge's words (although she did not
actually use the term "manifest destiny"). She noticed who Beveridge
does and does not talk about—a strategy that historians sometimes
refer to as "reading the silences."12 Rather than approaching
Beveridge's words as expository text that means exactly what its
words convey, Natalia used historical reading strategies to find
problems in the text and understand it more fully.
Our previous research led us to believe that
simply presenting novice readers with powerful examples and
expecting them to have some utility is the pedagogical equivalent of
magical thinking. Just as the untutored eye looks at a Van Gogh and
sees not a swirl of pulsating color and energy, but a simple tree,
grass, and sun, so the novice watches Natalia and wonders "What's
the big deal?"13 Novices not only need to
"see thinking"—they also need to see it and then be guided in
understanding what they saw. Each of our video think-alouds is
accompanied by a commentary intended to do just that.
In writing our commentaries, we first needed
to name the strategies we identified (indicated in the bold text
below). Naming allows a novice first to locate the strategy, then
identify it in other instances, and ultimately bring that strategy
under cognitive control.
|Reading strategy—Using background
Natalia uses historical information and
knowledge to help her read and understand this document. When
she says "brutal and violent history of expropriation of
westward expansion," she's referring to America's history of
seizing Native American land as the country expanded westward
(expropriation simply means forcibly taking away
someone's property or money). You are probably familiar with
this history: but you may not have used it to understand
When you approach and read a
historical document, ask yourself, "What knowledge can I bring
to this document to help me understand
The strategy of "using background knowledge"
may seem like common sense, but it is precisely what many of our
freshmen and sophomores fail to do when reading a document like
Beveridge's. These same students would be able to define "manifest
destiny," but not think to invoke it in this context. The practice
of pausing to ask oneself "what else do I know about this topic?
What other knowledge might I possess that would be applicable?"
often distinguishes able from less able
|Reading strategy—Reading the
Natalia is surprised that the text does
not mention Native Americans; she notes that according to
Beveridge, "'It was the mountains that were hostile,' not the
actual people living there. 'It was the continent that was
overrun,' not the civilizations that occupied it." This
silence about the presence of Native Americans is what
Natalia means when she says that Beveridge "takes the people
... out of the picture."
To read silences, historians
ask questions of an account. These include: What is the
speaker not mentioning? Whose voices are we not hearing
in a particular document or historical account? Which
perspectives are missing?
Historians and other expert readers may
notice what Natalia does without the aid of our commentaries. But
for many students, these commentaries will be indispensable for
recognizing and understanding these finely honed reading abilities.
In our unit on the Scopes trial, we use a
clip from Professor Joy Williamson, an expert on black protest
movements on American campuses in the 1960s.15
Scopes Trial document
Williamson looked at the document pictured
above, and paused at its head note. After reading the words
"American Federation of Teachers," she comments that she "never
realized how old they were," proof that her eyes darted from the
head note to the document's attribution at the bottom. She only
reached seven words farther into the head note before offering this
Okay, I'd be interested to know more
about the AFT in 1925. And I'm wondering if this is teachers
banding together against the legislature and legislative
interference in what happens in the schools—kind of mandating
curriculum. And so I am wondering if the role that the AFT played
banding together in support of Scopes—I can't imagine every
teacher who is a member of the AFT believes in evolution; I doubt
that this was a prerequisite to becoming a teacher. So, I have no
doubt that there were ideological differences, but I wonder
about—so obviously I can't get past this head note!—about the AFT
and why, I'd want to know why, they made this particular decision
and if it has anything to do with interference in the business of
Professor Williamson's comment provides a
textbook example of sourcing. She also modeled how a historian
encounters a text and uses it as an opportunity to become clearer
about what she does not know—an opportunity to specify her ignorance
and find new problems. In the course of her 133-word opening comment
(delivered after looking at only the head note and glancing at, but
not yet reading the document) she "wonders" three distinct times and
"would be interested to know" or "wants to know" twice more. Here is
the commentary we provide to students on this instance of sourcing:
Williamson demonstrates what it means to "source" a
document—to give full consideration to who wrote a document
before launching into its contents. For historians,
there is no such thing as free-floating information—historical
texts are written by people in particular settings. Therefore,
before we can consider what a text says, we have to know
who says it.
This is exactly what Professor
Williamson does. Immediately after reading that the statement
comes from the American Federation of Teachers (AFT), one of
the first teacher unions in the United States, she comments
that she "never realized how old they were," a statement that
shows that she has already glanced down at the document's
citation to locate its 1925 date. In sourcing this document,
Professor Williamson does much more than notice who wrote it.
Before she even starts to analyze the document's body, she has
formulated a whole list of questions to ask, including: What
was the purpose of the AFT banding together? Since not all
teachers believed in evolution, what other motive might have
been behind their actions? Were they acting on the principle
that teachers have rights and that the government should not
dictate what teachers say in the classroom?
If you pay
close attention to Professor Williamson's language, you will
see that she uses the word "wonder" three different times! You
may regard historians as people with bundles of answers, but
here, Professor Williamson demonstrates a different kind of
historical expertise: she is an expert at formulating
questions. She is an expert not because she reads quickly but
because she reads slowly. She slows down the reading
process so when she gets to the body of the actual document,
she brings a set of questions and a prepared
Even with commentaries, novices may still be
intimidated by gaps between their own emerging ability and these
videos of experts. Therefore, not all of our clips show cognition as
it ought to be. We also include models of novice cognition that
highlight moves that students typically make as they struggle toward
a more sophisticated comprehension.16 By identifying what goes
wrong with historical cognition, we hope to help students recognize
missteps in their own thinking, as well as to help teachers
understand some of the common stages along the route to becoming a
competent historical reader.
Chuck, an eleventh-grade Advanced Placement
U.S. history student, examined two excerpts from contrasting
newspaper articles from February 17, 1898—the first two documents in
our module on the Spanish-American War. Published the morning after
the late-night explosion of the U.S.S. Maine, the newspapers
led with very different headlines. The New York Times
proclaimed that the "Maine's hull will decide," and that an
investigation into the nature of the explosion was underway. The
New York Journal and Advertiser asserted in splashy headlines,
"Destruction of the Warship Maine was the Work of an Enemy."
After Chuck finished reading these two
documents, the interviewer asked: "Do you feel like you know what
happened to the Maine?" Chuck replied quickly and with some
Interviewer: "And what would that be?"
Chuck: "I would say it was blown up by the
Spanish because we then had a war with them. So, if there was a
Spanish-American war and this happened right before it, then this is
probably what started it."
The contrast between the two different news
reports did not cause Chuck to hesitate when answering the question
about what happened to the Maine. Instead, his answer
exemplifies a pattern familiar to researchers of historical
cognition.17 Novices often assess cause
based on temporal proximity. Whatever relevant factor happened
closest to the event under investigation is often privileged over
more distal causes. Students often assume a teleological stance
towards cause, believing that history is an inevitable set of events
unfolding in predetermined ways towards an ultimate goal—often
missing how specific moments offered different paths and suggested
different ends. We know that as students become more sophisticated
in their thinking, they identify more causes for events and move
away from relying on single causal explanations. Indeed, Spanish
history researchers Mario Carretero and Margarita Limon suggest that
novice thinkers are often more certain about their causal
explanations than expert thinkers, who readily admit their
explanations as tentative and qualified.18
Spanish-American War Activity: "New York Journal"
Chuck's reliance on temporal proximity to
explain the Maine's explosion, his use of this single event
to account for the beginning of the Spanish-American War, and his
air of certainty is reminiscent of many students we have taught in
our own classes. Faced with a set of contrasting
accounts—intentionally juxtaposed to underscore a problem—our reader
"solved" this problem by ignoring it. The texts did not prompt Chuck
to question or deeply consider what happened to the Maine.
Indeed, his preconceived ideas about historical cause and the
righteousness of American military engagements trumped the evidence
right before his eyes.
Chuck's short but decisive statements make
him an excellent candidate for the kind of thinking we want to
examine. While we hesitate making any student a "poster child" for
flawed cognition, most history teachers have several
"Chucks"—students quick to form conclusions and who see the task of
historical interpretation as one of rapidly sizing up the situation
and defending their view tenaciously. Just as we provide a
commentary for the experts, we do so for Chuck.
|Watch Chuck assess the question of
"Do you feel like you know what happened to
the Maine?" the interviewer asks. Chuck replies quickly
and with some certainty, "Yes." While the New York
Journal's headline showed the same certainty that Chuck
does, the New York Times reported that the cause of the
Maine's explosion was still unknown. But neither this
contrast nor the information that each newspaper uses to make
its points causes Chuck to pause when confronted with this
Chuck continues by telling the
interviewer what happened to the Maine: "It was blown
up by the Spanish because we then had a war with them. So if
there was a Spanish-American war and this happened right
before it, then this is probably what started it." Chuck's
reasoning is not unique: many history students use the same
All that Chuck needs to establish what happened
to the Maine is the knowledge of its place in the
chronological sequence and a kind of backwards logic. The
documents he has to work with (even if there are only two of
them) have little effect on his assessment of cause. Although
he spent more than 10 minutes looking at the two newspaper
accounts and he found the New York Times article easier
to understand with more kinds of information, none of this
seems to matter when it comes to determining what happened to
Chuck is not unusual in his
certainty, his understanding of historical cause, or the
strength of his ideas in the face of contradictory evidence.
This module is designed to complicate students' notions that
events have single causes and that proximal causes always
Chuck's video and accompanying commentary
illustrate the kind of thinking that our Spanish-American War
investigation is designed to challenge. We purposely selected
resources to highlight the varied and multiple causes of the
Spanish-American War. Chuck's thinking also offers an opportunity to
emphasize a thread that runs through all of our site's resources—the
need to support historical claims with textual evidence. Seeing
Chuck's thinking in action offers educators a new resource in
addressing their own students' misconceptions about historical
thinking. Sometimes it is easier to grasp faulty logic in someone
else's thinking before we can recognize it in our own.
Think-alouds as Instructional
To show thinking on the web, we have
borrowed a tool from the world of psychological research and
transported it to the world of instruction. Think-aloud methods have
long been central to studies investigating the nature of
disciplinary expertise; we believe that they can also be used in the
classroom to help students develop this expertise. From using
Natalia's think-aloud to prime students to question sources about
voices that remain silent, to considering Chuck when preparing a
lesson on historical causality, teachers will no doubt find varied
ways to use these tools. But one thing will be constant in these
uses—think-alouds represent historical expertise and knowledge
differently from typical curriculum materials. Historical knowing
becomes about asking questions, reading sources closely, and
analyzing and synthesizing across multiple accounts.
Teaching a way of thinking requires making
thinking visible. We need to pull back the curtains from historical
cognition to show students not only what historians think, but
how they think. Given that many students believe that history
is a single story to be committed to memory and that texts speak for
themselves, teaching historical reading processes seems urgent work.
Texts are not "self-interpreting," notes Gerald Graff, nor is
interpretation an "occult process," but rather, "one that might be
mastered by learning disciplined reading."19 Web-based think-alouds
provide a new entry to the seemingly mysterious world of textual
analysis, distancing it from the sphere of magic, and grounding it
in a set of processes that can be demonstrated, taught, and learned.
Using the think-aloud tool to show multiple points along the
expert-novice spectrum may help us better convey the texture and
complexity of historical reading. Introducing students to
instructional think-alouds may facilitate this process, as they
realize that these ways of thinking are learned rather than
Historical thinking matters because
it prepares today's students to face the challenges that confront
them as citizens in the present. We do not advocate the teaching of
historical thinking and reading merely because they are central to
the discipline: we believe that critical reading is essential to an
educated citizenry. Using backwards logic to explain cause is an
erroneous way to reach an interpretation and, as we see in the
contemporary political arena, is ripe for exploitation. A news
article that describes labor strife but includes quotes from only
one side should provoke readers to ask questions about what they are
not hearing. Hearing contradictory reports about a political
appointment should prompt questions about the reporters'
commitments, possible interests, and viewpoints. Indeed, any
encounter with the daily news demonstrates that ways of historical
analytic reading skills lose none of their urgency outside the
1. The practice of sourcing is one of the
key features that distinguishes skilled from unskilled historical
reading. In a study comparing professional historians with skilled
high school readers in an Advanced Placement class, historians
"sourced" 98% of the time, compared to 31% of the time for students.
See Sam Wineburg, "Historical Problem Solving: A Study of the
Cognitive Processes Used in the Evaluation of Documentary and
Pictorial Evidence," Journal of Educational Psychology 83
(Fall 1991), 73–87.
2. For one example, see Lendol Calder,
"Uncoverage: Toward a Signature Pedagogy for the History Survey,"
Journal of American History 92 (March 2006), 1358–1370.
Calder talks about how students come to his university history class
having been schooled "to think that being good at history means
being ready to supply a correct answer," 1365. Sourcing is one of
six cognitive habits Calder emphasizes in his course to correct this
3. Graff, Clueless in Academe: How
Schooling Obscures the Life of the Mind (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 2003), 44.
4. Ibid., 46.
5. On the "novice in the archive," see
Randy Bass and Roy Rosenzweig, "Rewiring the History and Social
Studies Classrom: Needs, Frameworks, Dangers, and Proposals" (white
paper, Department of Education, Forum on Technology in K-12
Education: Envisioning a New Future, December, 1999), http://chnm.gmu.edu/resources/essays/d/26#_edn6.
6. Primary investigators on
Professors Sam Wineburg at Stanford University and Roy Rosenzweig at
George Mason University's Center for History and New Media (CHNM).
Thanks go to the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation for their
support of this project and for additional support from the Carnegie
Corporation of New York. Important contributions to the site's
development and production were made by Brad Fogo, Daisy Martin,
Chauncey Monte-Sano, Julie Park, and Avishag Reisman at Stanford
University and Jeremy Boggs, Josh Greenberg, Stephanie Hurter,
Sharon Leon, and Mike O'Malley at George Mason University.
7. For a detailed discussion of the
think-aloud methodology and its rationale, see K. Anders Ericsson
and Herbert A. Simon, Protocol Analysis: Verbal Reports as
Data (Cambridge, MA: 1984).
8. See Sam Wineburg, Historical
Thinking and Other Unnatural Acts: Charting the Future of Teaching
the Past (Philadelphia: 2001), esp. chapter 3.
9. Jakob Nielsen, "Usability of Websites
for Teenagers," Alertbox (31 January 2005), http://www.useit.com/alertbox/20050131.html.
10. Larson, Summer for the Gods: The
Scopes Trial and America's Continuing Debate Over Science and
Religion (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998);
Douglas, Terrible Honesty: Mongrel Manhattan in the 1920s
(New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1996); Higham, Strangers
in the Land: Patterns of American Nativism, 1860–1925 (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2002), 264–300.
11. See J. W. Getzels, "Problem Finding:
A Theoretical Note," Cognitive Science 3 (1979), 167–172.
Getzels makes the case that problem finding is at the heart of
disciplinary expertise. On how historians "specify ignorance" as
they read, continually formulating an agenda for their future
learning, see Sam Wineburg, "Reading Abraham Lincoln: An
Expert/Expert Study in the Interpretation of Historical Texts,"
Cognitive Science 22 (1998),
12. J. D. Wrathall, "Provenance as Text:
Reading the Silences around Sexuality in Manuscript Collections,"
Journal of American History 79 (June 1992), 165–178.
13. David N. Perkins, "Art as an
Occasion of Intelligence," Educational Leadership 45
(December 1987/January 1988), 37–43.
14. Eva L. Baker, "Learning-Based
Assessments of History Understanding," Educational
Psychologist 29, no. 2 (1994), 100–101 and
15. Joy Ann Williamson, Black Power
on Campus: The University of Illinois 1965–75, (Urbana and
Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2003).
16. Think-alouds showing novices in
action appear on the teacher site. These were originally conceived
as a teachers' aid to inform lesson planning and help teachers
anticipate how students approach the particular historical topic and
17. See Alaric K. Dickinson and Peter J.
Lee, "Making Sense of History," in Learning History, ed. Alaric K.
Dickinson, Peter. J. Lee, and Peter J. Rogers (London: Heinemann
Educational, 1984), 117–53; Denis J. Shemilt, History 13–16:
Evaluation Study (Edinburgh, 1980); James F. Voss, et al., "The
Collapse of the Soviet Union. A Case Study in Causal Reasoning" in
Cognitive and Instructional Processes in History and Social
Sciences, ed. Mario Carretero and James F. Voss (Hillsdale, NJ:
Erlbaum, 1994), 403–429.
18. Mario Carretero and Margarita Limon,
"Evidence Evaluation and Reasoning Abilities in the Domain of
History: An Empirical Study" in Learning and Reasoning in
History, International Review of History Education, 2 (London:
Woburn Press, 1998), 271.
19. Gerald Graff, Clueless in
Academe, 48 and 52.
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