Learning History with LEGO: Interview with Ian Dudley

I'm an artist and a teacher, so I try to approach each subject creatively. One of my goals for this school year was to ground my school's history curriculum in proximity.

I chose to use LEGO for several reasons. First, LEGO is broadly appealing to children, which creates instant buy-in. Most students already had years of experience building with these iconic bricks, so they felt confident, capable, and full of ideas before the project even began. Second, LEGO builds are both flexible and sturdy. Since we built our movie set on a very large table in a relatively small classroom, it was important to use a material that could lock in place. That way, if the map got bumped, our work would not be altered or destroyed. LEGO also became a powerful tool for illustrating the material costs of development and change. When the children paved streets or developed a neighborhood block, they physically removed LEGO trees, rocks, grass, flowers, and creatures, placing them into a bin.

The project was, at its core, an interactive map. A textured map helps children wrap their minds around the complexities of space and time by shrinking large ideas into something small, tactile, and easier to understand. The children sometimes stood on the map—somehow unfazed by the pain of LEGO underfoot—and experienced the godlike power of altering a landscape. This playful way of engaging with history made their studies more meaningful and memorable.

How did you first become interested in history? Was there a moment or experience that you remember? 

I’ve always loved music, and I think old music was my first gateway into history. I loved learning how the evolution of technology shaped the music industry, noticing sonic trends that emerged over time, and seeing how those trends related to shifts in fashion and design. 

I also have vivid memories of asking permission to unlock and explore a chest tucked deep in my parents’ closet, filled with artifacts and heirlooms from my family’s history. Inside were treasures like an old music box, collapsible opera glasses, and a photograph of my grandfather in a naval deep-sea diving suit. Those experiences gave me an early love for the smell, feel, and look of old things, which I’ve carried with me ever since.

I’ve always enjoyed collecting, curating, and rearranging small objects from the past. To me, artifacts are gateways. They spark my imagination, forming a bridge between me and all the people who have touched them. I know I’ll never truly experience a distant past, but holding or looking at these objects feels like some approximation of time travel, and I treasure that feeling.

What was the students' initial reaction to building their neighborhood with LEGO?

Their initial reaction was excitement and anticipation. I think most children commit to learning more deeply and enthusiastically when they understand why they’re learning what they’re learning. That’s why it’s always important to me to be transparent about the purpose behind our work in the classroom. 

Very early in the school year, I told them that all the history they’d be learning was building toward something special: they were going to create the first-ever movie about Fair Haven’s history, entirely with LEGO. It wasn’t just motivating for them to know they’d get to build with one of their favorite materials on a massive scale. It was also motivating to understand that they were making something historically accurate and legitimate. They knew this movie would be screened in a movie theater and shared with the broader community, which gave the project a sense of importance.

For me, it’s essential that children feel what they’re learning is not just “school work” or “children’s work” but real, meaningful human work. That sense of legitimacy and authenticity changes everything, and ultimately leads to learning that stays with students long after a project is complete. 

 

You mentioned that the students conducted interviews with local historians and residents. What was the most surprising or interesting thing they learned from these conversations? 

That’s a tricky one to answer. I wish I could poll the children right now and see what they’d say, but summer is in full swing. I’d say a few things really stood out to them. Many were deeply interested in the resourceful, sustainable, and ingenious practices of the Quinnipiac people, the Indigenous group who were the original stewards of the peninsula. They were fascinated by how every part of an animal was used for nutrients, toolmaking, clothing, spiritual practices, and more. After learning this, I noticed a shift in their play and creativity. They became more likely to experiment with and repurpose the materials around them. 

They also loved hearing anecdotes about children from the past, and were surprised to learn that it wasn’t uncommon for kids to work in factories, shuck oysters, or deliver ice. Of course, they were also drawn to the quirkier historical tidbits, like the story of someone eating over 150 oysters in a competition.

During one visit from a historian, the children were captivated by a 19th-century bird’s-eye-view map of New Haven. They couldn’t believe that, before human flight existed and cameras were widely used, someone could imagine what a city looked like from above–the timeless power of imagination! 

In your opinion, why is it important for young children to connect with history, especially the history of their own community? 

Kids love to be experts, and they’re naturally driven to make sense of the world around them. Learning local history scratches both of those itches. When children engage in this kind of study, they end up learning things many adults around them don’t know. They feel proud when they can teach something to an older person, especially about the places they pass every day on their way to and from school.

One of my main goals in teaching history is to help children see themselves as a part of it—to understand that history isn’t a wall between now and then, but more like a rolling wave that they’re riding every day. When they come to see themselves as part of an ever-unfolding story, the past becomes more relatable, the present more valuable, and the future more malleable. 

I like to design projects that help kids feel like history-makers, projects that we conceptualize as gifts to the future. I tell them that someday, someone might discover their work and gain insight, from them, into what life was like in the early 21st century. Engaging with diaries, letters and objects from the past can make history feel immediate and relatable, showing how different things were, but also how much they’ve stayed the same. When children realize they have the power to offer that perspective to the future, they begin to see themselves, their voices, and their identities as valuable and meaningful, which is deeply empowering. 

And of course, there’s the well-worn but essential truth: we learn history so that we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past. Our movie ends with the line, “But in order to figure out what happens next, it helps to know what came before.” That’s the heart of it.

Ultimately, I want my students to be active, engaged citizens of the world. That means understanding that our beautiful world is stained by injustice, and that what’s unfair is challenged by individuals and communities who take action. Without that knowledge, it’s easy to feel helpless. But when children see historic examples of people and communities standing up for what is right, they begin to believe in their own power—and in the collective power—to shape the future they want and deserve.

 

What advice would you give to other elementary school teachers who are interested in creating engaging history projects?

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I truly believe history is most engaging for children when it’s nearby. My first recommendation is to become well-acquainted with the history of the area around your school, specifically within a one- or two-mile radius. That way, you can plan walking trips, which are more flexible than bus trips and help children feel the direct connection between their school and the places they explore. Visit historical societies. Connect with local historians, community members, and anyone who might hold stories about the area. Explore old maps and walk the neighborhood yourself. 

I spent much of the summer before the school year walking around Fair Haven, and in doing so, I grew to love the place more deeply just by learning about it. Practicing what we preach, modeling the curiosity and enthusiasm we want our students to have is key. Kids can sense when we’re genuinely excited about what we teach, and that energy shapes their own engagement. 

When designing curriculum, I try to make learning interactive, creative, and imaginative. History is serious business, but it can be approached with a spirit of play.

We can pretend to be people from the past, and challenge our students to explain the present to us. We can send them on scavenger hunts around the community, or invite them to imagine they are archaeologists, time travelers, or aliens trying to understand a new place. Tapping into their imagination and love of play bridges the gap between the abstract nature of the past and the concrete reality of learning. 

I recommend ending a local history study with a large, creative, collaborative project. This could be a classroom museum, a podcast, a play, a puppet show, a board game, a book, a movie, or even letting children choose their own way to represent what they’ve learned. The key is to give students an opportunity to absorb, organize, and share their learning in a way that utilizes their creativity while documenting the work in a beautiful form.

 

LEGO bricks aren’t inexpensive, and they hold their value—both economically and sentimentally—so we relied on the generosity of our community. We were fortunate to receive tens of thousands of donated pieces. More broadly, I’d recommend tapping into the resources and know-how in your classroom community. In our case, parents didn’t just donate LEGO bricks, they also volunteered to build the platform for our map, edit our movie, and even handle the audio mixing and mastering.

I work at an independent school, so while our curriculum is informed by standards, it isn’t bound to them. I know that gives me more flexibility and autonomy than many educators have. That said, I believe there are ways to creatively align local history with existing standards, and in doing so, you’ll likely find much greater engagement, curiosity, and pride from your students.

Finally, just as in literacy instruction, it’s vital that students see themselves, their identities, and their cultures reflected in the stories we teach. When designing a local history project, be intentional, thoughtful, and responsive. Work hard to ensure that as many identities as possible, especially those represented in your classroom, are present in the narrative. This makes history not just a subject to study, but a living, shared story your students are part of.

And, as a fellow history buff, we have to ask: if you could travel back in time, what time would you go to?

This is a tough one. I’ve thought about it many times. Part of me would like to revisit a memorable day from my own past, just to see how my memory compares to reality, but that feels too self-indulgent. Another part of me wants to spend a day on the shore of an ocean before any life had emerged from water, or perhaps at the exact moment the first sea-dwelling creature began to dabble with life on land. I’d love to just sit there and observe a truly untouched, unseen landscape. Or maybe I’d rather observe the Big Bang from a safe distance to see what that was all about. It’s too hard to pick!

 

Don't forget to check out the students' movie Everchanging Peninsula: A LEGO History of Fair Haven! We hope it will inspire you to create your own hands-on history projects.