This year, Americans are celebrating the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. That statement of foundational political principles and national identity in the summer of 1776 capped off a year of armed conflict marked by the first shots at Lexington and Concord, the shocking British casualties at Bunker’s Hill, and the ensuing siege of Boston in the spring and summer of 1775. Those conflicts saw the ascent of George Washington to the office of Commander in Chief of the Continental Army — the first national office held by the man who would earn the right to be called the father of our country. Like the greatest of statesmen, Washington proved equally capable of defending his country in war and of governing it in peace.
On Sept. 10, 2025, tragedy struck Utah Valley University, where I teach. At the time, my colleagues and I were hosting Junior ROTC cadets from around the state for the first of a series of Constitution Day events on the theme of George Washington’s constitutional legacy. Washington’s example of courage, moderation, wisdom and civic charity are always relevant models for American students. But that day, the importance of virtuous civic leadership in the face of threats to American prosperity and freedom was visceral and poignant.
For teachers, navigating Americans’ deep disagreements in the classroom feels risky. Early survey evidence suggests that the assassination of Charlie Kirk has only increased the tension. Rather than sparking a renewed commitment to open dialogue, Kirk’s killing has intensified the silence.
According to an October 2025 survey of college students from the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), a notable portion of students have become less comfortable expressing their views on controversial topics in class (45 percent), in common campus spaces (43 percent), and on social media (48 percent), after what happened to Kirk.
A general might seem like an odd model for civil discourse following such a tragic event, but in the American experience, our greatest military leaders furnish helpful examples. With Washington, this is not difficult to see.
At the most basic level, Washington’s steady devotion to the rule of law and constitutional self-government is foundational to Americans’ ability to navigate our political differences. We all operate under the same framework — the Constitution — and must adhere to it as our common bond, even as we seek to improve it and navigate our differences and disagreements about the common good.
Washington lived out this commitment in his conduct at Newburgh in 1783 when he put down a budding coup by his own disgruntled officers and later when he twice laid aside unparalleled executive power, first as commander in chief and later as president of the United States.
In his farewell address at the end of his long public service he pressed home the importance of constitutional fidelity as the bedrock of American citizenship.
“The basis of our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their constitutions of government,” he wrote. “But the Constitution which at any time exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all.”
Navigating Disagreement With Respect
At a more practical level, Washington navigated constant opposition to his command of the Continental army with grace. As president, he presided over a cabinet riven by political division, and even personal animosity. He spoke to his fellow citizens across important differences in a way that reminded them of their common American citizenship and their common humanity. His letter to the Hebrew Congregation at Newport is a model.
But even more important than Washington’s ability to communicate what he held in common with his fellow citizens was his ability to do that while disagreeing with them fundamentally. While famously skeptical of political parties, Washington was not one to dodge controversy. He would not sacrifice his view of the common good for the sake of avoiding an argument.
Washington’s willingness to contend for his principles serves as an important lesson to students and teachers of civic education: civil discourse does not mean avoiding disagreement. It does not mean giving up or surrendering our convictions. It does not mean hiding or concealing our objections to laws or policies or ideas simply for the sake of maintaining the appearance of agreement and civility.
It’s easy to lament our fractured discourse. But as teachers and educators, we must work to repair it. School leaders and administrators should actively support civil discourse and defend the educators who teach it, as well as provide a forum for students who want to express their views. Fostering this courage isn’t about asking students to be martyrs for their beliefs. It’s about creating a positive environment for productive disagreement.
For robust civil discourse, it is important to cultivate courage, humility and civic charity. To foster courage, teachers can scaffold robust debate by starting with discussion topics that lower the social risk of speaking and then building up to more challenging questions, so that each student has a chance to be heard. To instill humility, the first object of discourse should be on understanding a problem from all sides rather than settling a debate. Humility requires a recognition that we may be wrong, or at the very least that we certainly have something more to learn. Human beings are finite and rarely have a complete understanding of the question at hand.
Nurturing Humility and Reasoning Skills
Teachers can nurture civic charity by framing classroom debates as a collaborative, not confrontational, approach to a solution. The parliamentary model of addressing the chair rather than individuals in a debate can help students to see their peers not as enemies but as partners working towards a common goal.
Students should always be pressed to “steel man” arguments, even for positions they don’t hold. This builds intellectual humility, sharpens reasoning skills, and detaches contentious ideas from the people who hold them. Intellectually serious and fact-based comparisons between our present and the past are indispensable. Flippant dismissals of opposing views as fascist and communist will not advance the truth-seeking enterprise.
In other words, we can teach them to be like Washington, who used civil disagreement among his cabinet members to formulate compromises where possible and to proceed with decisions on controversial matters having treated all sides with due respect where compromise is not possible.
I have so far suggested means of supporting civil discourse in the midst of our present divisions and about those issues that divide Americans. But perhaps the most important thing we do for students as civic educators is to help them step outside our current political divisions. Our founding principles and institutions form a pre-partisan constitutional inheritance that was crafted long before the left-right ideological frameworks and red-blue partisan divides we ham-handedly use to put ourselves in political tribes came into fashion.
Examining our country’s historical debates over how best to live up to our constitutional principles engages students with scenarios and questions for which their current partisan frameworks do not provide a clear answer. It reminds them, as Washington sought to do in his farewell address, of the inheritance they hold in common with each other as Americans.
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