Lest We Forget… But Do We Really Remember?

The poetry of remembrance, the voices of the fallen and why the lessons of the past still matter today.

Every November, we see them; little red poppies appearing on coats, wreaths laid at memorials, and communities gathering in silence. At eleven o'clock on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we stop. For two minutes, the noise of everyday life gives way to reflection, but what are we really remembering? Or, perhaps more importantly, why must we make sure that future generations never forget?

At 'OakWell Education', we believe that education is about far more than examinations, grades and qualifications. It is about understanding the world, recognising our responsibilities towards others and developing the empathy that allows us to become better human beings. Few occasions demonstrate the importance of these things quite like Remembrance Day.

As an English teacher, I have always found the poetry of the First World War particularly powerful. History books can tell us how many soldiers died, which battles were fought and where the front lines moved. Poetry, however, tells us something rather different. It tells us what it felt like, and oftentimes, a handful of carefully chosen words can teach us more about the human cost of war than pages of statistics ever could. Such is the power of language.

Perhaps the most familiar poem associated with remembrance is John McCrae's 'In Flanders Fields', written in 1915. Its opening words, "In Flanders fields the poppies blow", have become inseparable from the red flowers we wear each November.

McCrae was a Canadian doctor serving during the First World War. He had witnessed the death of a close friend, and his poem captures the terrible contrast between the beauty of nature and the devastation of war. Poppies grow amongst the graves, while the dead seem to speak to those who remain.

There is something extraordinarily moving about that image. Life continues. Flowers grow. The seasons change. Yet beneath the soil lie people whose own lives were cut tragically short.

Those people were not simply soldiers; they were sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, sweethearts and friends. They were young people with ambitions, personalities, hopes and dreams. Some were barely older than the students we teach today and that is something I always want young people to understand. The names engraved on war memorials were once real people sitting in classrooms, laughing with friends, worrying about their futures and imagining the lives they might lead.

Wilfred Owen, another of our great war poets, forces us to confront an altogether different reality. In 'Dulce et Decorum Est', Owen describes the physical exhaustion and horror experienced by soldiers in the trenches. His poetry strips away any romantic notion of warfare. There is no glorious charge into battle, no magnificent celebration of victory. Instead, we encounter suffering, terror and the devastating consequences of decisions made far from the battlefield.

Owen challenges the idea that dying for one's country is necessarily glorious. He wants his readers to question the language used to encourage young men to enlist and to recognise the terrible price they might pay, and that is one of the most important reasons we should continue teaching war poetry: Poetry encourages us to question, rather than simply accept.

Siegfried Sassoon's poetry offers another perspective. His anger at the suffering of ordinary soldiers and his criticism of those who appeared removed from the realities of war remind us that remembrance should not mean glorifying conflict. We can honour courage and sacrifice while still questioning the circumstances that made such sacrifice necessary. Indeed, I would argue that doing both is essential.

Then there is Laurence Binyon's 'For the Fallen', with the familiar words'

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old."

These words are spoken at remembrance ceremonies year after year, and their power has not diminished. I think part of their impact lies in the terrible simplicity of the idea. Those who died remain forever young, while the rest of the world continues to grow older. They never experienced the ordinary milestones we so often take for granted. Birthdays, careers, families, grandchildren, retirement. The small pleasures of everyday life that, when considered together, make a life, and this is where remembrance becomes particularly important in education.

For today's young people, the First World War can seem impossibly distant. The uniforms, the trenches and the black-and-white photographs belong to a world very different from their own. Even the Second World War is now beyond living memory for most families' younger generations. Yet the emotions described in the poetry are not distant at all.

Fear is still fear. Grief is still grief. Love, friendship, loyalty and the longing to return home are as familiar today as they were more than a century ago, and, tragically, war itself has not disappeared. Across the world, families continue to experience displacement, separation, destruction and loss. Children still find their education interrupted by conflict. Young people still grow up surrounded by uncertainty and fear.

Remembrance, therefore, must be about more than looking backwards. It must encourage us to think about the world we are creating now.

We sometimes hear people say that history repeats itself. I have always thought that this is precisely why understanding history matters so much. If we do not learn about the consequences of hatred, prejudice, intolerance and conflict, how can we hope to recognise the warning signs when they appear again? Education gives young people the tools to examine different perspectives, challenge misinformation, recognise injustice and understand the consequences of human decisions. Literature gives those lessons a human voice.

When a student reads Owen's poetry and begins to understand the suffering behind his words, something important happens. The war is no longer simply a collection of dates and events. It becomes personal. When they consider McCrae's poppies, they begin to understand why a small red flower carries such enormous significance, and when they hear Binyon's words, perhaps they pause to consider the futures that were lost.

At 'OakWell Education', we talk frequently about confidence, resilience, kindness and empathy. We believe these qualities matter every bit as much as academic achievement.

Remembrance Day brings all of them into focus.

It reminds us of extraordinary courage, but also of human vulnerability. It encourages gratitude but should never discourage difficult questions. It asks us to respect the sacrifices of previous generations while considering our responsibility to those who come after us, and it reminds us that peace is something precious, never something we should simply take for granted.

So, this November, when we see the poppies and hear the familiar words, I hope we do more than observe a tradition. I hope we remember the individuals behind the names. I hope we encourage our children to ask questions. I hope we continue to teach the poetry, not simply because it appears on an examination syllabus, but because its messages deserve to be heard, and I hope we remember that the greatest tribute we can pay to those who suffered and died is to work towards a world in which fewer people are called upon to make the same sacrifice.

Remembrance is not simply about honouring the past. It is about taking responsibility for the future. At eleven o'clock, we fall silent, but the voices of the poets must never be silenced.

We will remember them.

'OakWell Education'. Growing knowledge, nurturing understanding and helping young people become thoughtful, compassionate individuals.