The vacuuming has gotten noisier; Ryan says, “This don’t sound right.” Ryan pulls the vacuum back, and in the entryway (exactly where the girls are performing), he lays the vacuum down and exposes the bottom of the machine. Ryan crouches down to look at the machine; Grandmom, ignoring the girls, gets on her knees to inspect.
The girls bow together and retreat to plot the third part. I join the investigation of the vacuum cleaner. The brush is matted with tinsel that has become tightly wound around the roller. Grandmom and I work together to extract the tinsel. Meanwhile, the girls have finished preparing part three. They come back. They stand right next to Grandmom and begin their skit. Since I am now down on the floor, involved with the vacuum cleaner, no one at all watches this phase of the play.
The girls do not pause or ask anyone to watch, but Amy announces in a loud stage voice, “Part Three.” This time they do a little dance . . . They hop up and down and swing their legs back and forth and chatter about Santa and his elves and how they are coming for a visit.
Grandmom is looking annoyed. The girls are standing almost on top of her and their legs are close to her; they are singing in loud and enthusiastic voices. She grimaces but doesn’t tell them to stop. She focuses more closely on the machine.11
Katie’s activities are not always ignored. For example, her mother watches, smiling occasionally, as Katie presents an at-home reenactment of the school ceremony in which she received a perfect attendance award for a three-month period in the early fall. Ms. Brindle also approves of Katie’s involvement in choir, a one-hour, after-school (no-fee) activity that Katie signed herself up for (and walks to and from school once a week to take part in). As she explains during the in-depth interview, Ms. Brindle thinks Katie’s participation in the choir is a good idea for a couple of reasons:
It’s just that it gives her something to do and to be with other kids and that makes her feel better, to do that, instead of being home and being bored . . . It makes her happy, you know. It gives her something to do. I have no complaints.
She does more than provide verbal support. Ms. Brindle makes a special trip to the store and spends money that could have been used for many other purposes to purchase a special dark skirt that Katie wore at the choir’s holiday performance.12 What Ms. Brindle doesn’t do that is routine for middle-class mothers is view her daughter’s interest in singing as a signal to look for other ways to help her develop that interest into a formal talent. Similarly, Ms. Brindle does not discuss Katie’s interest in drama or express regret that she cannot afford to cultivate her daughter’s talent. Instead, she frames Katie’s skills and interests as character traits—singing and acting are part of what makes Katie, Katie. She sees the shows her daughter puts on as “cute” and as a way for Katie “to get attention.” She thinks that other people telling Katie that she is doing a good job might give her daughter more confidence, but she does not see developing Katie’s incipient talents as part of her role as a mother.
There is no emphasis on providing materials Katie might use at home to further develop her creativity. Moreover, because children in poor neighborhoods have relatively few possessions, creating entertainment from makeshift sources is common. For instance, all of the makeshift costumes Katie and Amy so enjoy playing with remain stashed at Grandmom’s; Katie has none at her apartment. While middle-class homes typically have a nearly inexhaustible supply of paper, crayons, markers, stickers, and assorted other craft supplies for children’s use, the Brindle house has none, literally. The family does not own a ruler or marking pens. Paper of any kind is in short supply. When Katie fashions snowflakes from clean cardboard she found in a dumpster at the apartment complex, her mother accepts the one Katie has made for her, saying only, “Winter will be over soon.” She offers no praise, no comment about Katie’s resourcefulness or creativity. Ms. Brindle sees these various creative endeavors as Katie’s projects, not hers. Thus, when Katie asks her to help build a dollhouse out of a cardboard box, she refuses, casually and without guilt.
Similarly, Ms. Brindle does not seem to think that Melmel needs any special assistance or toys. She appears to see little difference between Melmel’s entertaining himself by pounding on the coffee table, rolling around on the floor, or poking Jenna’s puppy versus playing with his “developmentally appropriate” toys, which except for special occasions, remain neatly stacked in a closet.
Certainly, the many burdens in Ms. Brindle’s life contribute to her relative inattention to the details of Katie’s leisure pursuits. The economic burdens are formidable and are compounded by her daughter’s health problems. But, large as those problems are, they probably account only in part for the approach Ms. Brindle takes. Even if she had less on her mind, Katie’s mother probably would not substantially change how she views her daughter’s talents or alter her response to Katie’s bids for adult attention. She tries hard to meet her children’s basic needs. She is willing to sell her belongings and move a thousand miles away in order to care for her oldest daughter. She enjoys seeing Katie having fun with her cousin, Amy, and Melmel swaying with the movement of the bus. But nurturing her children’s creative development is not something she sees as her responsibility. In general, she believes that children’s play is for children.
DISCUSSION
In our observations, simple life tasks were harder to accomplish for families that had the most limited economic resources, so poor mothers had more economic strain in their lives than did working-class mothers. In both social classes, children were keenly aware of their family’s limited economic resources. Katie worried when it appeared that her mother had been shorted food stamps; she was cautious about asking for food at her Grandmom’s house, even though she was hungry. In the Brindle family, it was routine for the refrigerator to be empty once or twice a month. Although both poor and working-class families faced formidable economic constraints, poor families were more overwhelmed. Among the poor families, some families, such as the Brindles, had many more life difficulties than did other poor families. Similarly, children such as Katie Brindle, with her history of sexual abuse, had faced many more life difficulties than had other children.13 Thus, within broad social class categories, there is variation in the biographies of individuals.
When I began this study, I expected to find marked differences in child-rearing strategies between poor and working-class families. This was not the case. As with Tyrec Taylor, Katie Brindle’s life is dominated by informal play, both with children she joins outdoors, in the parking lot of her apartment building, and with her cousin, Amy, at their Grandmom’s house. In both working-class and poor families, parents seemed preoccupied by the amount of work involved in caring for children and by the effects of inadequate economic resources. In a somewhat different vein, the pleasures and obligations of rich and deep kinship ties also demanded adults’ attention. These factors combined to make parents keenly aware of constraints, and also to set constraints in children’s lives. Nevertheless, within those boundaries, children were allowed a great deal of latitude (especially in comparison to middle-class children). Parents appeared to believe that children would thrive naturally, without the benefit of special toys or lessons. These things might make children happy, but they were not, in these parents’ view, critical for children’s well-being. As a result, there was a separation between children’s and adults’ spheres.
There were advantages to this cultural logic of child rearing. For parents, there was less labor and a more leisurely pace than in middle-class homes. Children’s activities did not control their parents’ time. Weekday evenings and weekends were not spent rushing to and from children’s events. Nor did parents have to spend scarce resources on enrolling children in activities. Children benefited too. They appeared to be more relaxed as well as more vibrant. They were not as tired. They did not seem staid or bored. When they were playing, they were fully engaged in the process; it seemed to be truly fun to them. In addition, since they were usually in control of their own play,
children could shift to a new game when they felt like it—which was often. Children also were spared school-like experiences at home, with their parents relentlessly pushing their educational development, a pattern that we next see with Alexander Williams.
PART II
Language Use
WORDS ARE PART AND PARCEL of the human experience. Yet there are important variations in the social patterns of speech. Some researchers, notably Shirley Brice Heath, have found that parents differ in whether they treat young children (who cannot yet talk) as potential conversation partners. Some mothers interact with their infants as if they were engaged in a conversation: “There, there, doesn’t that feel better now?” Pause. “Are you ready for your nap?” Pause. The young children are not capable of answering at this point in their lives, but as they become able to, they will come to view themselves as conversation partners for adults. In other families, however, Heath found that parents talked about children but did not behave as if infants and young children are viable conversation partners. Heath argues that these different strategies of sociolinguistic style have important implications for children’s schooling.1
In this section, I show that the children in the families being studied were also taught to use language differently. Some families—notably the Black middle-class (albeit wealthy) family of Alexander Williams—use language as an end in and of itself. They enjoy words for their own sake, ascribing an intrinsic pleasure to them. They discuss alternate meanings of words. The parents use language as the key mechanism of discipline. This approach often leads to extensive negotiation, bargaining, and whining in the course of daily family life. But it also leads Alexander to acquire a large vocabulary and to be adroit at verbal interaction. For other families, and notably Harold McAllister’s Black poor family, language is used in a more functional fashion. Family members are able to communicate their preferences very clearly, as when Harold firmly rejects the idea of a peach-colored towel when shopping with his father, but they use many fewer words to do so. Rather than extensive negotiation, these parents use directives and, when necessary, threats of physical punishment. One consequence of this is that the children we observed rarely, if ever, talked back to adults. Whining, which was pervasive in middle-class homes, was rare in working-class and poor ones. Still, since linguistic interaction often builds vocabulary and other important reading skills, there was an unequal educational benefit for children from the different approaches to language in the home. Working-class and poor children also gained less experience in negotiating with adults, skills that might be useful in institutional encounters in their future.
CHAPTER 6
Developing a Child:
Alexander Williams
As we enter Park Lane, [Ms. Williams] says quietly to Alex, “Alexander, you should be thinking of questions you might want to ask the doctor. You can ask him anything you want. Don’t be shy. You can ask anything.” Alex thinks for a minute, then says: “I have some bumps under my arms from my deodorant.” (Mom:) “Really? You mean from your new deodorant?” Alex: “Yes.” [Ms. Williams:] “Well, you should ask the doctor.”
In a quiet street in a largely Black, middle-class neighborhood in a major northeastern city stand large, old, stone houses with expansive porches and sweeping lawns. Alexander Williams lives in one such six-bedroom home. He is the only child of a middle-class African American couple. His parents, Christina Nile and Terry Williams, met when they were students at a small, predominantly white, religious college in the South. They had been married ten years before Alexander was born. Alexander’s mother uses her maiden name, Christina Nile, at work, but she goes by Mrs. Williams at church. A tall woman with honey-colored skin, freckles, and long, black wavy hair, Ms. Williams is positive, bubbly, and energetic. She has a master’s degree in liberal arts from an elite college and is a high-level manager in a major corporation. She has a corner office with a view, a personal secretary, and job responsibilities that include overseeing offices across the nation. She finds it hard to leave her office by six, since “that is when the West Coast is just getting warmed up.” She knows she works fewer hours than she would if she didn’t have Alexander. Although she tries to limit her travel to long days, she has an overnight trip at least once a month.
Alexander’s father, Terry Williams, is a tall, thin man, who stands very straight and has a serious demeanor. During the week, he is usually dressed in a formal dark suit, with a crisply ironed white shirt and a conservative tie. During family car trips, or while waiting for Alexander’s events to begin, he is often absorbed by the newspaper, but he will occasionally join in the conversation and make wry jokes. He often calls Alex “Handsome” and ruffles his son’s hair affectionately. Mr. Williams earned his J.D. degree from a well-regarded private university. A trial lawyer in a small firm, Mr. Williams works long hours handling (primarily) medical malpractice cases. Preparing these cases keeps him busy from five in the morning until midnight for two weeks each month. The other two weeks, he works until around 6 P.M.
The family, as Mr. Williams says, does not lack “creature comforts.” Together, Mr. and Ms. Williams earn more than $200,000 annually. They rarely discuss money with their son; we never heard either parent say something was “too expensive.” Their large, comfortable home is worth $150,000 in 1995; they drive a new beige Lexus; they have computers and portable phones; their son attends a private school. The Williamses’ home is immaculately kept and expensively furnished. In the formal dining room, a long wooden table and tall, straight-backed chairs rest on a thick Oriental rug. A matching buffet stands nearby. The formal living room is always neat though rarely used, except for piano practice. The family spends most of its time in the large kitchen. They also sometimes sit in an upstairs family room decorated in a “country” theme. There are blue-and-white checked wingback chairs and a love seat, wreaths, wooden cats, an armoire-style entertainment center, and paintings with African and African American themes. The room also has a television. Occasionally Mr. Williams watches a basketball game; sometimes, the family watches The Cosby Show or Star Trek together.
Alexander is a tall, thin boy—a smaller edition of his father—with a winsome smile and a charming manner. He is active and inquisitive. One Saturday afternoon, for example, while the adults talk, he twirls around the kitchen. He keeps his hands on his stomach and pushes out the shirt of his soccer uniform as he circles. On another occasion, after his mother drops him off at the house and continues on to park the car, Alex hops off the steps and jumps up in the air, trying to see through the windows of the house. He is also verbally playful, initiating jokes and bantering with his parents. His mother, who stresses the importance of children being “exposed” to various experiences, is pleased with Alexander’s approach to life:
I would have to say that Alexander is a joy. He’s a gift to me. He’s [a] very energetic, very curious, loving, caring person, that, um . . . is outgoing and who, uh, really loves to be with people and who loves to explore and loves to read and . . . just do a lot of fun things.
Alex is enrolled in after-school care on the school grounds of his private school, located near his mother’s work.1 His mother, often accompanied by his father, picks him up at six in the evening. Alex is popular at school, a boy who “gets along with everybody.” He initiates play with other children freely and easily. He is also busy in and outside of school. There are weekday evenings, especially near the end of the school year, when he does not get home until 9 P.M. In a typical week, Alexander attends a piano lesson, university choir practice, Sunday school, church choir, and baseball and soccer practice and/or games. He often has rehearsals linked to school plays and to concerts. In the winter, he plays basketball as well as indoor tennis. In the summer, he attends special sports camps.
CONCERTED CULTIVATION
Alex’s parents fully support his involvement in extracurricular activities. Like other middle-class parents, they make accommodations in their own schedules to meet their son’s needs.
The Williamses’ child-rearing strategy embraces the logic of concerted cultivation. They consider Alexander’s many commitments an essential component in his overall development. In addition to the effects of concerted cultivation on the organization of daily life, concerted cultivation also shapes the use of language. Indeed, the extensive use of verbal negotiation is a pattern we observed in all of the middle-class homes and is a special focus of this chapter. It is an important part of middle-class parents’ efforts to foster their children’s talents and skills. In Alexander’s home, as well as the homes of other middle-class children, there is a steady stream of speech, interrupted by periods of silence (as opposed to the pattern in working-class and poor homes, in which periods of silence are punctuated by speech). Talking fosters the development of children’s knowledge and opinions. Middle-class children learn to articulate their own views as when, for example, in the opening to the chapter Ms. Williams encourages Alexander to prepare a question in advance for the doctor. Reasoning is also the mainstay of discipline and guidance in middle-class families. Finally, an emphasis on the use of reasoning in the home creates broad-spectrum benefits. Parent-child dialogues can boost children’s vocabulary, preview or deepen knowledge of subjects taught in school, and familiarize children with the patterns of verbal interaction that characterize the classroom and other dealings with adults in organizational settings.2
The benefits of this aspect of concerted cultivation go beyond academic enrichment, however. Schools expect children to know how to reason with one another; doctors prefer informed patients who take responsibility for their health.3 Middle-class children, because they assume a position of mutuality or equality vis-à-vis adults, frequently pass judgment on the adults around them. Most of the middle-class parents we observed, including the Williamses, met such judgments with wry humor rather than anger. In general, the children of middle-class parents have a sense that they are special, that their opinions matter, and that adults should, as a matter of routine, adjust situations to meet children’s wishes. Thus, one of the benefits of middle-class status appears to be the transmission of exceptional verbal skills that enable children to make special requests of adults in positions of power. This chapter provides examples of Alexander using his repertoire of reasoning skills with adults (his parents and his physician) to gain a customized advantage.4 These same skills, however, also can make family life exhausting, as children of all ages repeatedly seek to reason with their parents. The very same skills parents encourage in their children can and do lead children to challenge, and even reject, parental authority.
Unequal Childhoods Page 15