What kid doesn’t love a good ghost story, especially when the Halloween season rolls around?
Two years ago, I had this question on my mind when I developed a two-day curriculum for an extracurricular course my school offers on local history. I decided to guide students in an exploration of our hometown’s haunted history. Some might say that there is no educational value in doing so, but I want to refute that point of view.
Every town has its own spooky stories, urban legends passed down for generations around campfires and parked cars on deserted lovers’ lanes. Often called “friend-of-friend” tales, they’re macabre, frightening, sometimes funny, but always entertaining. Chances are you’ve told one yourself, adding a few twists along the way. After all, much of the power of these stories lies in the dramatic manner in which they are shared.
On the first day of the class, we analyze stories, and the next, we take a field trip to the sites. I begin with a lecture on the sociological and psychological roots of urban legends and ghost lore. What do the stories local to our area—a ghost mule, a patch of haunted woods, an encounter with aliens on a nearby beach—reveal about us? What needs do they fulfill? How do they bind a community? And how have social media and smartphones changed the way they spread?
We then examine primary sources, including century-old newspaper clippings, that shed light on the origins of local legends. For instance, we read of a fatal fall from a nearby cliff 70 years ago that may explain the ghost story tied to that spot. Another newspaper clipping about an attempted robbery at a butcher’s house in 1922 may offer origins of a tall tale of an ax murder.
Advances in technology and communications have broken down barriers between people and nations. While these developments have undeniable positive benefits, they come with trade-offs: We now sometimes know more about distant places and events than about our own communities. The urban legends associated with our neighborhoods and cities offer a glimpse into the heart of our hometowns, imbuing the places in which we live and work with colorful, singular identities.
Students must care about their hometowns before they are ever going to want to get involved, be it in local politics or volunteering. Learning about enthralling local lore is one way to get young people to care.
Many students might find the tales fun but ultimately unserious. Teachers should reframe the urban legends as significant cultural artifacts, just as relevant to the study and understanding of a community as an item dug up by an archaeologist. The stories tap into the way in which community members think and feel.
In some cases, urban legends offer a way for elders to protect young people, deterring them from visiting the “lovers lane” or engaging in potentially dangerous behaviors. This is similar to the way fairy tales often feature moralistic arcs meant as much to entertain as to inform and shepherd.
Unlike a physical object, a legend is very often passed down orally and therefore subject to much more change. The manner in which the story grows is itself a valuable avenue for more research, as these narratives often reflect the changing attitudes, prejudices, or circumstances of the community in which they are present.
In one legend my class examines, several murders in the so-called “Axe Murder Hollow” are attributed to the Romani people, despite no evidence to support the claim. We discuss how fear of this itinerant minority could very well have spurred such sentiment and prompted storytellers to add that salacious element.
Analyzing urban legends also offers an avenue to teach information literacy and historical research. There are many ways to trace the origins of your own local stories, and each one may demand a different approach. Dig through archival databases, talk to school and public librarians, and reach out to journalists, writers, and community leaders.
Teachers can empower students to think like historians, working to identify how fact and fiction often merge to forge the folktales residents grow up telling one another. Young scholars can reverse engineer the sensational tales, tracing the stories’ paths through newspapers and even pinpointing the possible kernel of truth or genesis event. These are transferable, real-world skills, equipping students with media literacy and the competence to view information with a discerning eye.
While urban legends usually contain sensational and paranormal aspects, they are typically grounded in history, which teachers can use to contextualize the stories as well as educate students. In my own classroom, for example, a supposed 1966 UFO landing by nearby Lake Erie prompts a classroom discussion of Cold War-era technology and fears.
Finally, studying urban legends provides opportunities to get kids out into the communities that they call home. Educators are often criticized for creating a sedentary environment dominated by screens. Analyzing area folklore offers students occasions to break free from their routine and meet community members, storytellers, scholars, librarians, archivists, journalists, and other educators, as well as visit locations with which they may be unfamiliar. I was personally surprised to find that many of my students had never been to a cemetery.
We are the stories we tell. They shape and influence our community in profound ways. These stories matter to our communities. What’s more, they offer educators a chance to teach information literacy, archival research, and local history in a dynamic and captivating manner.
So, this Halloween gather your students around the campfire for a ghost story.
