So as to provide a concrete idea of what part of a civic curriculum might look like:

History can be taught as a series of events accompanied by dates and sprinkled with names of historical figures, and, indeed, such instruction has become commonplace. Within a system of education so fixated on grades and quantifiable data, even the humanities become nothing more than a means to pass a set of multiple-choice tests.

Suppose, however, that there was a definite point to any given unit on history such that the students could immediately understand precisely how a knowledge of the past could be applied to the present in order to bring about a better future. A "point" entails a purpose, and purpose is always personal.

Imagine that in the beginning of the very first lesson of a unit on the nature of democracy throughout the world over time, the students were asked the question: "What issues in society bother you the most?" It is an obvious question for which very few people would struggle to come up with an answer; even young children encounter blatant faults in the systems and social norms that form the foundation of their social environment.

The question has a follow up: "Consider one issue. What is the solution?" Some students will have no answer, or will have only the vaguest hint of an answer. Other students will be idealistic and describe an upcoming utopia brought about merely by the strength of human kindness. For these students, there is a third question: "How might you work with others to make that solution real?" Answers to the third question will receive the greatest amount of scrutiny and skepticism by the teacher. With their abstract platitudes and appeals to universal ideals that sound like a convincing basis for political change but, in reality, amount to no change at all, the students will begin to recognize their paralyzing ignorance when it comes to the actual methods of political change.

Thus, the intent of the course is made clear by the teacher: "If you really do care about these issues to the degree that you say you do, then I expect that you will be striving to reach a resolution. However, a central part of that striving is research on the nature of democracy as it is now and as it had been before. Without knowledge of contemporary systems of democracy, you will have no conception of how to use your civil rights to bring about social change. Without knowledge of past systems of democracy, you will lack insight needed to see through the presumptions of your culture and what it means to be a citizen. Without insight, you may very well overlook the holes in your planning and, soon enough, watch your political plans fall apart."

A course on democracy might reasonably start in ancient Athens. Aristotle's Constitution of Athens provides a concrete image of what the political system in the ancient city actually looked like. Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War looks at Athenic democracy with a critical lens in comparison to Spartan approaches to government. Plato's Republic proposes a kind of meritocracy very distinct from the actual systems of contemporary Athens. These works were written at a time when democracy was young and neither taken for granted nor vaguely espoused as the inevitable form of government in light of Natural Law. A study of these discourses and disagreements, therefore, provide a means of seeing democracy without the shroud of normalcy.

A study of Greece puts into question what a democracy ought to look like, and it reminds us of the extremely high stakes that used to be a part of daily politics. A study of Rome has a similar effect. The patron-client system is somewhat foreign to a modern eye, but it was through this system that ambitious plebians would be sponsored by well-off representatives who could help jumpstart their political careers (at least sometimes). Cicero's orations call back to a time when rhetoric and dramatic flair were a normal part of political discourse and there were dangers inherent in participating so boldly in political debate. People used to put their lives on the line just to have a chance at changing the course of history.

In Ancient China, scholars could become governing officials through their education and consequent qualifications. This materialized as the Imperial Examination system starting in the Sui Dynasty, though less developed meritocratic institutions had existed much earlier. Confucian philosophy is propaganda; it outlines the ideals of Confucius and his later followers, ideals that were eventually standardized and made mandatory. Scholar officials were required to memorize entire works of Confucian literature and internalize predictable responses to questions pertaining to Confucian politics. The life and work of Wang Chong provides a practical example of the antithesis of this conformist meritocracy. Wang Chong struggled to maintain official office because of his combative nature and disillusionment with the presumptions of Confucian thought (as well as the superstitious thought of his folk culture).

Ancient debates on meritocracy and democracy still reflect many realities that we face today. Since the rise of neoliberalism in the second half of the 20th century, an emphasis on test scores has turned many educational institutions into factories mass-producing badges of merit for the student population. When it is one's own culture and society, it is easy to overlook the problems that stem from the status quo. But a study of history as politics brings to the spotlight the realities of a meritocratic bureaucracy and the importance of democracy for all. Politics is not limited to political theory. The ultimate point of the study of politics is to participate in politics. To participate in politics is to know its advantages and to know its flaws, and to know these things requires an understanding of the origins of democracy in Western thought as well as its appearances elsewhere in the world.