His legacy is seen everywhere in our school—from the large painting of him on the second floor, to the ironic name of our football team, and more obviously, the name of our school itself. He is Peter Stuyvesant, Director-General of New Amsterdam up to the day it fell to the British. But if he’d been more “General” than “Director,” he might not have been defeated. Mr. Stuyvesant could have used a better understanding of military science, and as modern carriers of his legacy, so could we.
I was disappointed when my Advanced Placement European History class skipped from the causes to the effects of the Thirty Years’ War without even mentioning the complex war itself. But with so much to cover, it’s understandable that there isn’t enough time to study certain wars, pivotal battles, brilliant generals and determinative alliances. Yet war is a crucial component in history, and the complexities behind it deserve their own class: Military Science.
As with many electives, there’s much to explore in military science than just the name suggests. The tactics used in significant battles, the effects of new weapons and vessels, the core differences between the Western, Russian and modern Chinese systems of warfare and the importance of geography are all deeply interesting subjects in themselves. And all are worth studying for an aspiring military scientist, or just someone who’s interested in the topic. At the same time, the class has potential to be entertaining as well as instructive. Given a scenario (supplies, soldier count, geography, etc.), the teacher could leave the solution up to the class, dividing it up into two or more factions and having them battle it out. A deep discussion would easily follow since there are many possibilities and factors to mention for any situation. In this way, historical battles could be analyzed in ways that would be impossible in a time-pressed history class. Better yet, few resources are necessary. Chalk and a blackboard are all that’s needed to describe situations and strategies, and crumpled up pieces of paper can act as military units on the battlefield (or in this case the floor).
Not only would a Military Science class teach strategies and analysis, but also a powerful skill: problem-solving. Military Science teaches problem-solving in a way math and science classes don’t—when you only have three tanks, 2,000 lives at stake and half as many guns as soldiers, about to fight a well-trained and well-fed army on their own land, do you run? Or do you make a last stand? Given limited supplies and real people on the line, you need cunning, reason and creativity—skills that can be applied in any job.
Military strategists are crucial participants on the global stage. Nazi Germany would have crumbled in weeks without the military brilliance of Hermann Goering, and the United States—and the world—wouldn’t be the same without Ulysses S. Grant or Dwight D. Eisenhower. Napoleon wouldn’t have been nearly as close to conquering the world had he not learned from brilliant generals of the past. The subjects behind physicists, writers, politicians, musicians and artists—all important factors in shaping society—are taught at Stuyvesant, and so should the subjects behind generals and admirals.


I don’t think the author understands the concept of military science classes. What he’s describing is more some pretend world where we play Risk and roleplay for 45 minutes a day.