Just as we were leaving Napoleon’s tomb at Les Invalides in Paris last summer, my 11-year-old daughter, Camille, turned to me and in the hammiest Franglish accent whispered: “They say I’m short and I got little hands. But check out my massive … battle plans.” Well played, my girl. Well played.
As a lecturer in history, I encouraged Camille to watch all the Horrible Histories episodes on iPlayer during lockdown homeschooling. Ever since, one of our in-jokes has been to see who can slip lyrics from the show into conversation at the most opportune (or inopportune) moments. Despite my best efforts, she is far better at it than me.
On Friday November 29, Horrible Histories will receive a special Bafta award in recognition of its “extraordinary cultural and social impact and the joy, enrichment and hilarity it continues to bring to people of all ages since its inception 15 years ago”.
I couldn’t agree more – it has meant my daughter has enthusiastically embraced history as a subject, aided in her understanding of important events by the wittily packaged Horrible Histories sketches and songs. Like many tweenagers, Camille seems to know every last word, every foreign inflection, dance move and eyebrow twitch from the many songs off by heart.
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Through these adapted pop classics, ballads, or in the case of the Napoleon Bonaparte song, a “French-touch”-meets-dubstep track, Camille takes in the historical introduction delivered in each episode. She also comes away with all manner of bizarre minutiae on people, places and eras, which I imagine will only maximise her chances of winning tiebreakers in future pub quizzes.
Camille loves the show’s sketches, the talking rat and regular fixtures like Chatty Death’s amusing interviews of unfortunate historical figures. She has also read and enjoyed many of Terry Deary’s original Horrible Histories books. However, it is the catchy lyrics in the TV series that are the highlight for her and which she seems to unconsciously absorb in no time at all. And all the more so if the song of the week happens to be to a tune already on her radar.
Learning about William the Conqueror to the deliciously anachronistic melody of Gangnam Style, or discovering Florence Nightingale and the evolution of medical hygiene to Meghan Trainor’s All About the Bass (that is, military base) has made what could have been fairly dry, unrelatable historical facts extremely amusing and memorable.
The songs have also played a valuable role in extending her historical horizons. While jokes abound in many songs, others carry important messages regarding the injustices of the past and strive to amplify previously marginalised voices.
Through the songs Camille has learned about the legacy of transatlantic slavery and black British abolitionists as well as Rosa Parks and the American civil rights movement. She has also been introduced to the contribution of powerful women from Cleopatra and Boudica to women’s suffrage activists of the Edwardian era.
One of the great strengths of Horrible Histories is that it allows young people to understand thorny and ugly episodes from the past that have not always featured in school history books.
It is no exaggeration to say that Horrible Histories has transformed and democratised history learning for thousands of school children. It has also helped young people to recognise and critique inequalities in today’s society, which can only be a good thing.
There is of course a limit to the detail that can be conveyed in a Horrible Histories song, especially when room often needs to be found for a joke or three, but I’m always heartened by the key facts that Camille manages to reel off after a few listens. It is also lovely to witness the sheer enthusiasm for a topic that the songs and sketches kindle in her.
Horrible Histories is a springboard for my daughter, prompting her to learn more about the people and events it brings to her attention.
But then I didn’t need much persuading of the value of Horrible Histories in connecting young (and not-so-young) people with the past, having watched one of the first episodes as a student back in 2009 in the name of academic research.
I grew up laughing along to Tony Robinson and David Bell’s fabulously feminist, if unapologetically ahistorical, 1990s TV show Maid Marian and Her Merrymen. I also learned most of my A-level history syllabus through song.
My teacher, the legendary Mr Akers, wrote and performed an impressive array of tracks. His topics ranged from German unification to the Russian revolution with melodies inspired by the country in question. Tsarist politics to lively Cossack music was a particular favourite.
I saw early on how being made to feel at ease while learning and bringing humour into the proceedings made information sink in all the quicker. I also recognised how learning through catchy songs and well-conceived verse made recall and interpretation far easier. (I can still remember most of Mr Akers’ lyrics today).
I wish that I had the ingenuity and voice to perform my own songs while teaching but, realistically, I would only make my students (and Camille) cringe. Thankfully, we have Horrible Histories and its many songs to introduce new generations to the past, and cement history as the fascinating and bizarre subject it so often is.
Rachael Attwood does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
