The Fourth of July is, nearly universally, a day of relaxed celebration and ritual, from enjoying grilled hot dogs, potato chips and ice cream — hey, it’s a special occasion! — to gathering with neighbors to watch fireworks. But for progressives like myself, the holiday’s star-spangled flag-waving and patriotic songs and speeches extolling America’s greatness can feel hokey or even hostile. In an increasingly polarized nation, overt declarations of national pride often morph into displays of aggressive nationalism tinged with xenophobia and jingoism.

I’m not sure when my sense of patriotism began slipping away. Maybe it was in college, when I was exposed to a more complicated version of American history than I had previously known. Or maybe it was later, as a journalist covering the protests of people who felt — legitimately, it often seemed to me — as though they had been shortchanged out of the American dream. Or maybe it was when I had the opportunity to travel to other parts of the world, where I met people who had access to things like free health care and who were baffled by the idea of American exceptionalism. 

Younger generations are not as patriotic as our parents and grandparents. Recent polls reveal that the percentage of Americans who are proud of their country has declined over the last several decades. Sadly, the fault does not lie with our children, but rather with their education.