BY: Mike DiMatteo

All it takes is a perusal of “X” or any social media platform to grasp the depth of civic illiteracy that abounds in these United States. This is not a condemnation of those who don’t understand the importance of Article III, Section II of the United States Constitution, or some remote passage whose meaning is still being debated by constitutional scholars — rather, it is an indictment of schools and their approach to teaching this most sacred document. Few know, for example, that the Constitution was written in support of the Declaration of Independence, making the latter document paramount in any serious study of our system of government, yet it consistently gets short shrift in classrooms across the country. Further, when the Constitution is taught, the focus generally falls on the composition of the three branches of government and their qualifications, rather than how those branches mesh — their responsibilities, their boundaries — distinctions that have, admittedly, grown increasingly blurred over the last quarter century.

There is also almost no examination of the roots of our Constitutional Republic beyond a cursory study of the American Revolution. Rarely do classrooms engage in a serious look at the Federalist Papers, the philosophy of John Locke, or the historical conditions of the 18th century that gave rise to the Constitution itself. Historical context is paramount here: without it, the Constitution is little more than a fable, a passing reference to a time long past, its practicality lost on those who live under it every day.

The limits imposed on the federal government by the Constitution are strict, and many would argue they have been exceeded by a significant measure, to the point where some believe the document is being disregarded rather than serving as the rudder it was designed to be. Even if one disagrees with that assessment, how would one ever know without a working knowledge of the document that serves as the skeleton — the bones and marrow — of this nation? All it takes, it seems, is a university student being told that this or that action by a member of Congress or the President is “unconstitutional” to ignite protests on campus by young people who willingly join the fray, but cannot articulate what or why they’re protesting, in a constitutional sense. The flame of youth is easy to ignite, and powerful when lit, but without context or requisite information, can quickly burn out of control.

The corrective is straightforward, if not simple. Civic literacy.

It must be remembered that the Constitution of the United States is deliberately short, and while the language used is of a different era, it is precise — by design. So, how can we go about building a bridge across this constitutional divide?

First, civic literacy must be taught at every grade level, by educators who are competent in the discipline. The material should be age-appropriate, yes, but it should deepen each year — not revisited perfunctorily, but built upon with genuine rigor. We cannot expect students to understand how this nation works, or how it is supposed to work, if it is not taught with conviction.

Second, teachers tasked with teaching civics should approach the Constitution with intellectual honesty and a commitment to the material itself, rather than using the classroom to advance personal political ideology. Students deserve instruction rooted in the text, history, and principles of the nation’s founding documents.

Third, civic literacy cannot be reduced to a unit. When former Governor Bruce Rauner mandated civics instruction in Illinois schools, I remember the particular satisfaction I felt — finally, students would be required to learn the process, the history, the structure of the nation they are being asked to participate in. What I found was something else entirely. Administrators, overwhelmed or indifferent, compressed the mandate into a unit and called it compliance. At the high school level, yes, the school day is finite. But a subject that touches every citizen, every election, every law enacted in their name must be given room — a real class, not a footnote.

Fourth, civic education must be more than a manual for activism. All too often, “civics” is collapsed into a study of rights — and while rights matter enormously, I have sat through too much instructional time devoted to navigating traffic tickets, staging protests safely, and thinly veiled political advocacy dressed up as curriculum. That is not civics, at least not in the fullest sense of the word.

There are civics classes in many American high schools, but they live mostly at the AP level. The Constitution test — once a meaningful graduation requirement — has been reduced in many schools to a multiple-choice exercise of the most basic kind, with a “D” considered passing. Some districts have abandoned the test altogether. One teacher told me directly: “Our district is concerned it would cause trauma to new immigrants.” The irony is difficult to ignore. The Constitution is precisely why many of those students and their families came here. Learning it should be viewed as an opportunity for belonging and civic participation, not something to avoid.

If this nation is to endure and improve, civic education must be treated as essential — not aspirational. Without it, the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence become little more than words on old parchment, suggestions from a time long past, offered by men no one bothered to study.