Then nothing. After an initial inquiry about Islam and terrorism (and a short response) there were no more questions. I tried motivating them to ask questions or offer comments; I made it clear that the classroom was the place to talk about these things. Still nothing. So we moved on, and the rest of the year rolled by. Recently I started the Middle East unit with this year’s class. And again: nothing. The more I asked my students about their thoughts on the Middle East, the more I realized that it was not simply a matter of disinterest (although that is certainly a factor among some), but rather that the subject only existed to them in an abstract manner.

I wasn’t expecting teenage students to have a keen awareness of foreign affairs, but this surprised and saddened me. My high-school experience was shaped by 9/11, and I enlisted in the Marine Corps shortly after the towers fell. It wasn’t until after I returned from deployment to Iraq and entering college that I began to think more about what this war meant and how it has fundamentally changed American society. But for my students, this was a war that had existed for almost their entire lives: In fact, from the moment many of them were born, the U.S. has been engaged in conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan. This is not to mention the indelible mark that terrorism has left on Europe in recent years, or the very visible specter of ISIS operating within the Middle East and Africa today. How could there be no questions?

As a teacher, I wanted student engagement, but as a veteran of Iraq, I wanted something more. I wanted students to actively seek understanding of the region and the war that shaped a new generation of vets, including myself. I wanted to know that this history would not be lost, that a war costly in blood and treasure would not be forgotten; student detachment now would mean their detachment as they entered college and, ultimately, the “real world.” The consequences of a disinterested society are severe when considering the inevitability of future American military mobilization. Education serves as a powerful tool for encouraging debate around the merits of military engagement. In how many needless military campaigns will the U.S. engage if the public does not take part in open discourse?

I began to wonder if the disconnect is generational, whether today’s children are uniquely disconnected from the war that has shaped their lives. Consider the Vietnam War: The number of U.S. households owning a television increased by 75 percent between 1950 and 1960. By the time the Tet Offensive took place in 1968—a major turning point in the war—nearly 95 percent of households owned a TV. Images of the war were directly broadcast into the homes of millions of Americans via the big three networks, and, because journalists in Vietnam enjoyed open access to military officers and few restrictions on what they publicized, the coverage Americans consumed was unprecedented in its scope. If you had a TV, and it was turned on, you were going to see Vietnam.