History Students Relive the Black Death

By the end, 60% of the class was dead. 

Not the students, of course, but Assistant Professor of History Meghan Woolley’s class truly felt the impact of that number. 

“We took a moment to say, ‘Look around,’” Woolley said, “consider how many of your classmates are gone. That moment really sank in.”

In her classroom, Woolley taught the Black Death in a real way—not just teaching the history, but asking her students to live it. 

Woolley's course centered on an interactive role-playing game titled Plague Comes to Norwich in 1349, designed by medieval historian Amy Curry. Students “lived” the life of a real historical figure from Norwich, a large and well-documented city of fourteenth-century England.

For Derrick Owusu, that meant becoming Clement Demol, medieval barber and member of the medical faction. In fourteenth-century Norwich, barbers didn’t just give you a shave—they played a role in the city’s medical response to the plague. Owusu’s role meant he had to argue for public health policies against powerful religious authority. 

Divided into factions—wool merchants, tradesmen, church officials, medical professionals, and bailiffs—each student had their own priorities and perspective. Over the course of six classes, they played their character, taking on the weight of city leaders and making key decisions about daily function during the unfolding of the plague. 

From delivering speeches and proposing solutions to voting on the city’s governance, each student had a role to play in deciding the city’s future, including whether to close off the city, impose quarantines, and where to bury the dead. 

“The choices they made had an impact,” Woolley said. “They have to see the consequences play out.”

Woolley’s goal wasn’t just class engagement, it was the release of preconceptions to make way for true understanding.

“When you really immerse yourself in a particular moment, you can see how much chance has an impact,” she said. “History isn’t destined to go a particular way.”

Throughout the six sessions, students had to stew in uncertainty, not knowing how their negotiations, compromises, and decisions would affect the “city” they called home. They couldn’t rely on textbook answers, they had to navigate the uncertainty in real time. 

They had to live it, breathe it, and sometimes, die from it.

“It’s like you are living inside the books that you’ve been reading,” Owusu said. “You are no longer looking at the theoretical aspect—we are looking at the practical aspect of history.”

The game was designed to reflect the reality of the unknown that the original people of Norwich experienced. Each class included the Tolling of the Bells, where students had to draw from a bag of dice—luck of the draw was the difference between health, illness, and death.

But it wasn’t just random luck. The decisions made by the students factored heavily into the odds of survival. The choice to keep the city gates open meant more death dice in the bag. 

With each decision the class shifted. Voting for quarantine brought a physical shift for the class, limiting communication and mirroring the deterioration of order in medieval cities. 

Unlike a traditional lecture, Woolley took a step back, allowing the students to lead the class through discussions, negotiations, and any decisions. 

“I take a backseat—the students are in control of organizing the debate and doing all the speaking,” she said.

Woolley embraced the role of “town-crier,” providing critical updates and tracking outcomes, allowing the students to truly engage in the activity. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a class where students were staying after class to strategize,” Woolley confessed. “They were forming plans, talking to other factions, and continuing conversations outside of class.”

Woolley’s students didn’t just participate in the activity, they immersed themselves in the experience. 

“I was so impressed with the way students leaned in to embody their characters,” Woolley said.

After receiving character dossiers, students incorporated that information into their arguments, citing specific consequences to their livelihoods and their families.

“One student wrote a will based on real medieval examples because they were worried their character would die,” she said. “Another created rules to protect the nuns in their priory. They were having fun and willing to go above and beyond.”

Students experienced the same fears that shaped historical decisions—one of the most prominent being the war between public health, religion, and economic stability. 

For those in the medical faction, the tension was felt immensely. The fight against religious power was hard to win, and practical health arguments often lost to the authority of the church.

Owusu argued for the medicine, trying to convince the other factions of the dangers the plague presented, but it was an uphill battle. 

“The religious perspectives always outweighed that of the medical perspectives,” Owusu said.

In fourteenth-century Norwich, religion shaped nearly every part of daily life. The church wasn’t just a place of worship—it was a source of authority, community, and explanation during times of crisis. When the plague spread, many people understood it through faith first and medicine second.

That made decisions like closing city gates, limiting burials inside church walls, or restricting gatherings far more complicated than simple public health measures.

Closing the city and limiting trade routes was heavily resisted, even as the risk to the residents continued to rise. After a while, factions began to compromise—students once adamant to fight for their solution began negotiating for partial victories.

Students had to think differently—they couldn’t bring today’s knowledge of health and hygiene into their discussions.

They had to craft their arguments around medieval beliefs—including religion and theories about polluted air.

“A role-playing game creates a sense of empathy with historical people,” Woolley explained. “Students have to understand their values, their perspective, and how their experiences would shape their choices.”

When the course concluded, students hadn’t just learned about history, they had felt the weight of it. 

For Owusu, the experience changed how he viewed history, “it made me feel how Clement wanted to convince the people of Norwich to listen—it made me feel more connected than just reading about it in history books.”

“I hope they had fun,” Woolley said. “But more than that, I hope they understand that people in the Middle Ages were doing the best they could with the knowledge and tools they had—trying to protect their communities, even when it was incredibly difficult.”

For students like Owusu, the experience proved that history is more than dates and documents—it is people, choices, and consequences that can still feel real centuries later.