EMERGING SIGNS OF CONSTRAINT
The McAllisters, like other poor and working-class families, display caution and at times distrust toward individuals in positions of authority in dominant institutions. This approach contributes to very different interactions between family members and institutional representatives as compared to those experienced by middle-class families.
At a parent-teacher conference, for example, Ms. McAllister (who is a high school graduate) seems subdued. The gregarious and outgoing nature she displays at home is hidden in this setting. She sits hunched over in the chair and she keeps her jacket zipped up. She is very quiet. When the teacher reports that Harold has not been turning in his homework, Ms. McAllister clearly is flabbergasted, but all she says is, “He did it at home.” She does not follow up with the teacher or attempt to intervene on Harold’s behalf. In her view, it is up to the teachers to manage her son’s education. That is their job, not hers. Thus, when the children complain about a teacher, she does not ask for details. Harold’s description of his new (fifth-grade) teacher as “mean” prompts his mother to recall another, more likable, teacher—nothing more.
Similarly, when the McAllisters visit a local clinic so that Harold can get a physical for Bible camp, their experiences contrast sharply with the Williamses’. Here, too, the normally boisterous Ms. McAllister is quiet, sometimes to the point of being inaudible. She has trouble answering the doctor’s questions. In some cases, she does not know what he means (e.g., she asks, “What’s a tetanus shot?”); in others, she is vague:
DOCTOR: Does he eat something each day—either fish, meat, or egg?
JANE (her response low and muffled): Yes.
DOCTOR (attempting to make eye contact but failing as mom stares intently at paper): A yellow vegetable?
JANE (still no eye contact, looking down): Yeah.
DOCTOR: A green vegetable?
JANE (looking at the doctor): Not all the time.21
DOCTOR: No. Fruit or juice?
JANE (low voice, little or no eye contact, looks at the doctor’s scribbles on the paper he is filling out): Ummh humn.
DOCTOR: Does he drink milk every day?
JANE(ABRUPTLY and in a considerably louder voice): Yeah.
DOCTOR: Cereal, bread, rice, potato, anything like that?
JANE (shakes her head, looks at doctor): Yes, definitely.
Harold, too, is reserved. When the doctor asks, “What grade are you in at school?” he replies in a quiet, low voice, “Fourth.” But, when the topic shifts to sports, his voice grows louder. He becomes confident and enthusiastic. When the doctor reacts with surprised disbelief to Harold’s announcement that he plays all positions in football, Harold is insistent. “All of them,” he reiterates, interrupting when the doctor seeks to clarify things by listing positions (“tailback? lineman?”).
Nor is Ms. McAllister always passive or subdued during the visit. For example, when the doctor comes into the waiting room and calls their name, she beckons Runako to come along and, only as an afterthought, asks if her nephew may come too. Ms. McAllister also asks that Harold’s hearing and weight be checked. Not content to trust the doctor, she sends Runako down the hall to watch Harold being weighed and report the results back to her.
Nevertheless, there was an important difference in the character of the interaction between the McAllisters and their doctor and the Williamses and their doctor. Neither Harold nor his mother seems as comfortable as Alexander, who was used to extensive verbal conversation at home. Unlike either McAllister, Alexander is equally at ease initiating questions as answering them. Harold, who was used to responding to directives at home, answered questions from the doctor but posed none of his own. Unlike Ms. Williams, Ms. McAllister did not train her son to be assertive with authority figures, nor did she prepare him for his encounter with the doctor. Finally, the two families approached the visit with their doctor with different levels of trust. This unequal level of trust, as well as differences in the amount and quality of information divulged, can yield unequal profits to the individuals involved during a historical moment when professionals define appropriate parenting as involving assertiveness and reject passivity as inappropriate.22
DISCUSSION
The verbal world of Harold McAllister and other poor and working-class children offers some important advantages as well as costs. Compared to middle-class children we observed, Harold is more respectful toward adults in his family. In this setting, there are clear boundaries between adults and children. Adults feel comfortable issuing directives to children, which children comply with immediately. Some of the directives that adults issue center on obligations of children to others in the family (“don’t beat on Guion” or “go do [her] hair for camp”).23 One consequence of this is that Harold, despite occasional tiffs, is much nicer to his sister (and his cousins) than the siblings we observed in middle-class homes. At family gatherings he voluntarily cares for his sixteen-month-old niece. Overall, children and parents spend less time talking; but, as in the choice of the towel for summer camp, the fewer words spoken (“girl colors”) do not impede the clear communication of one’s wishes. The use of directives and the pattern of silent compliance are not universal in Harold’s life. In his interactions with peers, for example, on the basketball “court,” Harold’s verbal displays are distinctively different from those inside the household, with elaborated and embellished discourse. Nevertheless, there is a striking difference in linguistic interaction between adults and children in poor and working-class families when compared to that observed in the home of Alexander Williams. Ms. McAllister has the benefit of being able to issue directives without having to justify their decisions at every moment. This can make child rearing somewhat less tiring.
Another advantage is that Harold has more autonomy than middle-class children in making important decisions in daily life. As a child, he controls his leisure schedule. His basketball games are impromptu and allow him to develop important skills and talents. He is resourceful. He appears less exhausted than ten-year-old Alexander. In addition, he has important social competencies, including his deftness in negotiating the “code of the street.”24 His mother has stressed these skills in her upbringing, as she impresses upon her children the importance of “not paying no mind” to others, including drunks and drug dealers who hang out in the neighborhoods that Harold and Alexis negotiate.
Still, in the world of schools, health-care facilities, and other institutional settings, these valuable skills do not translate into the same advantages as the reasoning skills emphasized in the home of Alexander Williams and other middle-class children. Compared to Alexander Williams, Harold does not gain the development of a large vocabulary, an increase of his knowledge of science and politics, a set of tools to customize situations outside the home to maximize his advantage, and instruction in how to defend his argument with evidence. His knowledge of words, which might appear, for example, on future SAT tests is not continually stressed at home. His effort to protect his cousin at school leads to the risk of suspension. His family has very close ties, but, unlike the Tallingers, they do not look each other in the eye when they speak. In future job interview situations, the closeness of Harold’s family may not translate into the same value as the family training of other children who sustain direct eye contact. In these areas, the lack of advantage is not connected to the intrinsic value of the McAllister family life or the use of directives at home. Indeed, one can argue that raising children who are polite and respectful and do not whine, needle, or badger their parents is a highly laudable child-rearing goal. Deep and abiding ties with kinship groups are also, one might further argue, important.25 Rather, it is the specific ways that institutions function that ends up conveying advantages to middle-class children. In their standards, these institutions also permit, and even demand, active parent involvement. In this way as well, middle-class children often gain an advantage, as we see with the experience of Stacey Marshall in the next chapter.
>
PART III
Families and Institutions
CHILDREN DO NOT LIVE THEIR LIVES out within the walls of the home. Instead, they move out into the world. They are required by law to go to school, and school is a powerful presence in their lives. Many children, as I have shown, have organized lives chock full with activities run by adults; other children have a slower-paced life wherein they hang out with cousins, watch television, and play outside. As children move out of the radar screen of the home environment, parents do not differ by social class in their love and concern for them. As the cases in this next section illustrate, working-class and poor mothers often anxiously watched their children’s situations, as when in first, second, third, and fourth grade, Wendy Driver was having trouble learning to read. Similarly, Ms. Marshall kept her attention on her daughters’ complaints about “Art” the bus driver.
Still, social class seemed to make a difference in how parents, primarily mothers, managed children’s complaints about institutions. Middle-class mothers were often very interventionist, assertively intervening in situations. Sometimes parents were successful, and sometimes they were not. But in the process, they directly taught their children how to “not take no for an answer” and to put pressure on persons in positions of power in institutions to accommodate their needs. By contrast, working-class and poor parents tended to expect educators and other professionals to take a leadership role. This deference was not, it turned out, a stance they took up with other key service providers in their lives. Ms. Driver, for example, considered herself “hot tempered” and would fume about the latest antic of their landlord, but in the school situation, she was much more passive. Since the school was designed around a system of concerted cultivation, and teachers expected the parents to take a leadership role in schooling, the deference of parents such as Ms. Driver was problematic in terms of fostering school success.
Still, cultural resources did not automatically lead to profits. Despite assiduous efforts by the white middle-class mother Ms. Handlon to help her daughter Melanie in school, the experience was often difficult at home and of questionable benefit at school. In addition, it is important to look beyond the issue of individual personalities and look more broadly at the relationship of social patterns and social structures. Schools, despite their claims to be friendly places, have a legal obligation to turn parents in if they suspect child abuse or neglect. In this role, they are arms of the state. Working-class and poor parents, as I have shown, were less likely to use verbal reasoning as a form of discipline. Instead, many were likely to use physical punishment. As I will show with the case of Little Billy Yanelli, the use of a belt at home was in clear conflict with the patterns adopted by the school. In addition, the parents’ belief in the importance of Little Billy defending himself on the playground also collided with school rules. As a result, the Yanelli parents felt alternately defiant, scared, and powerless. They encouraged their son to hit, when they felt it was necessary, and, when necessary, he would be hit with a belt at home. But through their lives, there was a lurking concern that they, and other working-class and poor families shared: “the school” would suddenly turn them in for child abuse and “come and take my kids away.” By being in synch with the standards of school officials, the cultural logic of child rearing of concerted cultivation provided important, and largely invisible, benefits to the middle-class parents and children that the working-class and poor parents and children did not gain.
CHAPTER 8
Concerted Cultivation
in Organizational Spheres:
Stacey Marshall
Suddenly, the first day in [gymnastics] class, everything that Stacey did, you know, uh. . . . Even, even though she was doing a skill, it was like, “Turn your feet this way,” or . . . , “Do your hands this way.” You know, nothing was very, very good or nothing was good, or even then just right. She [Tina, the instructor] had to alter just about everything [Stacey did]. I was somewhat furious . . . The instructor had come to the door, Tina. So I went to her, and I said . . . “Is there a problem?” (Interview with Ms. Marshall)
All families interact with many different institutions. For middle-class mothers, the boundaries between home and institutions are fluid; mothers cross back and forth, mediating their children’s lives. When Ms. Marshall, a middle-class African American mother, discovered how unhappy her ten-year-old daughter, Stacey, was after her first gymnastics class in a private program, she did not hesitate to intervene. Almost seamlessly, the daughter’s problem became the mother’s problem. Ms. Marshall firmly believed that it was her responsibility as a parent to ensure that Stacey’s activities provided an opportunity for positive, self-affirming experiences. Like other middle-class mothers we observed, Ms. Marshall acted like a guardian angel, hovering over her children, closely monitoring their everyday lives, ever ready to swoop down to intervene in institutional settings such as classrooms, doctors’ offices, or day camps. Sometimes, her actions embarrassed her children; other times, the girls welcomed their mother’s efforts.
Middle-class parents’ interventions on behalf of their children can produce a twofold advantage. The children’s interactions with teachers, health-care professionals, and camp counselors become more personalized, more closely tailored to meet their specific needs. Just as important, the children learn to expect this individualization, and they begin to acquire a vocabulary and orientation toward institutions that will be useful in the future, when they come to extract advantages on their own behalf. In the Marshall family, the children have many opportunities to learn how to negotiate the world beyond their home, and in their mother they have an unusually strong role model to help them acquire skills for effective interactions with institutions later in their lives. Nor was this pattern unique to the Marshall family. Other middle-class mothers in the study also played this “guardian angel” role. Middle-class parents were, for example, more likely than other parents in the study to request particular teachers for their children (Table C7, Appendix C).1
THE MARSHALL FAMILY
Lorrie and Lonny Marshall, parents of twelve-year-old Fern and ten-year-old Stacey (the target child), are in their forties. Each had been married once before they met; neither had had children. Ms. Marshall, who is tall, thin, and attractive, looks several years younger than she actually is. Her brown hair is relaxed and curled under; her skin is light brown. At home, she often dresses in a pressed, button-down shirt, shorts, and sandals. She has a quiet voice. During conversations, when she is trying to remember something, Ms. Marshall will close her eyes and think for several seconds. She is a college graduate and also holds a master’s degree in math. The (Black) sorority she pledged in college remains an important part of her life. Employed full time in the computer industry, she telecommutes one day per week. On the other days, she drives fifty miles (round-trip).
Mr. Marshall is also tall and thin. He is the family comedian; his frequent jokes make life at home more lighthearted. For example, five minutes after meeting me, while looking over the list of publications on my vitae, he exclaimed, “Why, we are so proud of you!” Stacey and Fern adore him. Like his wife, Mr. Marshall has a college degree and was very active in his fraternity as an undergraduate. He is employed as a civil servant. He works nights, often six days a week, but he is not required to travel. He leaves for his job at 2:30 A.M. and returns in the early afternoon. Usually, he takes a nap when he comes home; sometimes he sleeps in the evening. Mr. Marshall is a confirmed sports fan; most evenings he watches a game on television. He coaches Fern’s basketball team and travels with the players to out-of-state tournaments. He is disappointed that Stacey shows a lack of interest in basketball.
Both Mr. and Ms. Marshall grew up in the South. Ms. Marshall’s parents live about four hours away. She sees them “three or four” times per year but talks to them on the phone weekly. She has two sisters; she talks on the phone with them monthly. All three sisters try to get together to visit their parents at the same time. Mr
. Marshall’s father died twenty years ago. His mother, a former schoolteacher, comes to her son’s home to visit twice a year; he travels to see her an additional two or three times per year. None of the grandparents seem to be an especially important part of Fern and Stacey’s lives.2
The Marshall girls are fifteen months apart in age. Like their parents, both are tall and thin. Fern is an avid basketball player. Stacey prefers gymnastics. The field-worker described Stacey this way:
She has medium brown skin and wears wire-rimmed glasses. Her hair is styled with a small bang, and then the rest is pulled back into a rather tight ponytail. She wears a white T-shirt with a Tasmanian She-Devil cartoon character on it, and white shorts. When she smiles, I notice her dimples.
As Ms. Marshall says, her daughter is a “personable person” who is more like her talkative father than her quiet mother. Stacey is both a talented gymnast and a good dancer. At home, she often hangs out by herself in her bedroom, watching television; but with friends, she can be lively. At the summer camps she attends, she has collections of friends to regularly chatter and giggle with.
At home, Stacey seems less bubbly. She and Fern annoy one another. The two squabble routinely; spats break out all through the day. For example, one afternoon, Stacey answers the phone, using the extension in her bedroom. She yells to Fern that the call is for her. Then, instead of hanging up, Stacey listens in, eavesdropping on her older sister’s conversation. Fern strides into Stacey’s bedroom, fuming. Wordlessly but angrily, she disconnects the phone from the wall. Stacey leaves the phone unplugged for a bit, but then returns to eavesdropping. These little tense encounters are often repeated. In the car during a ninety-minute drive, Stacey and Fern fuss at each other, at first jovially, but then angrily, including slapping, spitting, and pulling each other’s hair. In general, Mr. and Ms. Marshall treat these sorts of interactions between the girls as part of normal sibling rivalry. The parents often make comments designed to defuse the girls’ quarrels. They also frequently simply look at each other and sigh over their daughters’ behavior or, in the car, separate them into different seats. There are also, however, moments of warmth as when Stacey uses her birthday money to buy her sister chocolates or when she seeks Fern’s fashion advice, explaining to the field-worker, “Fern usually knows what looks right.”
Unequal Childhoods Page 22