cultural capital | Race, Class, and Gender

When Life Gives You Apples: American Children Left Behind

Many black and Latino children in America are given apples and expected to make lemonade.

In America, the achievement gap refers to the difference in Black, Latino, and White students’ average levels of educational achievement (Young). White youth achieve more on average than black and Latino youth. Only 72% of black and Latino youth in America graduated high school in 2012, while 85% of white students graduated nationwide. In 2013, only 4.6 million black and Latino high school graduates attended college compared to the 10 million white high school graduates that attended college (NCES). This achievement gap exists because minority children aren’t as rich in cultural capital as their white counterparts.

The majority of black and Latino children aren’t as privileged as me. I was an A and B student throughout elementary, middle and high school, and I now attend Hamilton College, an elite college. How did I get here?

Although I’m not very rich in terms of economic resources, growing up in a single parent household with my little brother and a single mother who failed to receive child support from both of our fathers, I’m rich in cultural capital. Cultural capital is the general social tastes, preferences, and knowledge of how to skillfully navigate society. It is learned through one’s education, and socio-cultural background.

Growing up in Boston, I was surrounded by educational opportunities and programs. Massachusetts was ranked number 1 in education in 2014-2015 (Bernardo). I was fortunate enough to go to a collegiate charter high school. My graduating class had only 62 students and two college counselors. The school funded college tours around Boston and even out-of-state. As a junior, I began creating drafts of my personal statement; I kept working at it until my college counselors gave it a 100%.

I was involved in many extracurricular activities, especially sports. I played baseball, basketball, and tennis. I worked at a makerspace and entrepreneurship center, where I launched my art business as a sophomore. I was even a part of my school’s debate team. However, my high school and the support I had were by no means the norm in this country for Black and Latino children. There is a lot of progress to be made in other cities and states around America (The Nation’s Report Card). Many esteemed American cities like Washington D.C. lack good education systems. Washington D.C., the nation’s capital, where so many intellectuals, politicians, and judges live fails to educate the children that live in the same area (Bernardo). D.C. is ranked 50^th in the nation. In Washington D.C., only 64.6% of black and Latino students graduated high school compared to the 84.5% of white students that graduated (OSSE); these rates are worse than the national average.

The achievement gap in Massachusetts is much smaller. In 2015, 75.8% of white high school students graduated while 69.6% of black and Latino high school students graduated (Massachusetts Department of ESE). So what has the State of Massachusetts done right in their education system to close the racial attainment gap?

In 1993, Massachusetts decided to focus on improving public education. The Massachusetts Education Reform Act of 1993 set out to reform local education systems throughout the state (Horan). Resources were allocated to revise curricula, and update facilities and equipment, including new books and working computers. Programs were also created to provide more college prep for students. Since the 1993 reform, a higher percentage of kids have been graduating per year Boston’s 4-year graduation rate has climbed from 59.1% in 2006 to 70.7% in 2015 (Horan). Academic performance in the classroom has surged. Boston should and needs be looked at as a national leader in education reform

If not, the achievement gap will continue to exist. If so, the American state and federal governments are illustrating their apathy for America’s failing education system that claims no child should be left behind. Why have legislation like the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 if its basic premise is not being practiced?

Humanizing the American Poor: A Review of the Documentary Rich Hill

“We’re not trash. We’re good people.”

Early on in Andrew Palmero’s and Tracy Tragos’s documentary Rich Hill, Andrew, age 13, delivers this message. Andrew is an adolescent boy subject to a seemingly endless cycle of broken homes and extreme poverty. In documenting the life of Andrew, the directors opt to forgo narration, choosing instead to document his life as it happens. Though the film is void of an explicit narrative, it sheds light on the problems plaguing impoverished families. It provides the viewer with strong ethnographical evidence that supports sociological and economic evidence of the limited upward economic mobility in America as well as the cyclical nature of poverty.

Throughout the film, the directors juxtapose extremely patriotic shots of the town’s Fourth of July celebrations with shots of Andrew struggling to achieve a normal life. At first, I thought these shots served only to make the film more aesthetically pleasing. But as the film progressed, it was clear that they served to demonstrate that, despite what we may think, the American Dream is not always within reach for the extremely poor. For a kid like Andrew, who is forced to bathe in water heated by irons and coffeepots, the day-to-day battle to survive poverty makes long-term planning all but impossible. Furthermore, given his parents’ lack of education and his inconsistent attendance at school, it is very clear that he lacks the cultural capital necessary to understand how one can attain a higher education and a successful career, much less actually achieve these things.

In a similar manner, Palmero and Tragos also include shots of a Ferris wheel at the local carnival in order to represent the cyclical nature of poverty. The academic world has long understood that poverty has a propensity to be passed along from generation to generation. Economic data tells us that the offspring of families in lowest income quintile have the smallest probability of ending up in the highest income quintile (Norton et. al. 2011).

Similarly, sociological literature tells us that parenting styles perpetuate income levels across generations. In her book Unequal Childhoods, Annette Lareau (2003) draws distinctions between the way in which lower and upper classes approach parenting as well as the consequences of the different approaches. She explains that wealthier parents use a child-rearing approach called “concerted cultivation” that is characterized by very active and guided parenting in order to foster the growth of their child’s talents, opinions, and goals. This approach is adopted to prepare children for future academic and occupational endeavors. On the other hand, lower class parents tend to let their children grow and mature more on their own, through a “natural growth” parenting style. As a result, these children are dependent on the institutions they are a part of. They are less likely to seek out alternative guidance or directly question authority. Furthermore, lower class kids are far more likely to spend their time “hanging out” instead of participating in organized extracurricular activities that ultimately are rewarding in the long run (Lareau 2003).

Throughout the film it is apparent that Andrew’s parents’ do not use the concerted cultivation approach. Andrew spends the majority of his afternoons aimlessly playing. The fact that Andrews’ parents frequently move houses in the pursuit of new jobs further eliminates any sense of institutional consistency that would have otherwise existed in Andrew’s life. One cannot help but worry that Andrew will be subject to the same cycle of poverty that his parents experienced as a result of his upbringing. At the conclusion of the film, it is clear that the use of a Ferris wheel could not be a more apt metaphor for Andrew’s family’s life as well as the rural poor as a whole.

Unfortunately Andrew’s experiences are far from unique and are characteristic of the struggles that most young, poor Americans face. It is not clear by the end of the film what could or should be done in order to reverse these troubling trends. While the film fails in this regard, it does deserve considerable praise for its ability to humanize the American poor and strike down stereotypes of a lazy lower class unwilling to work their way out of poverty. It is abundantly clear at the end of the film that Andrew and his family are indeed good people. They are just facing numerous, overwhelming challenges that make it nearly impossible for them to break out of poverty.

The challenges of being a first-generation college student

When I applied for college, a question on the application asked if I was a first generation college student. I checked the box, not fully knowing the question’s significance. Later I found out only 15% of the students in my class year were first-generation college students. I guess that makes me kind of special.

Although freshman year is challenging for most students, many of the struggles first generation students face are unique. Besides academic and social transitions most of the students face, first generation college students face additional cultural challenges (Pascarella et al. 2004). These students can experience a cultural conflict between home and the university environment because their parents did not attend colleges. First generation students do not always understand what some students may have learned from their parents, and thus, grasp intuitively (Tugend, 2015). For example, first gen students may lack understandings of how to navigate various facets of campus culture, such as how to make friends and accessing social and academic resources.

Collegiate academics are considerably harder to grasp than the high school curriculum. Assigned reading are more difficult to comprehend, essays are more demanding, and projects are more complicated. In addition, it is more difficult to balance the time between study and social activities. Last semester, I spent hours doing my philosophy readings, not understanding most of their contents. Sometimes I would not have dinner with my friends because I had to do more work.

The stress from academics and social isolation can cause mental issues. Joseph Morales (2013), an alumnus from Pomona College, when reflecting his college experience, said, “Depression was a constant issue. I felt dumb, poor, homesick, confused, and burnt out.”

Students compare themselves with others based not only on academic performance, but also on socioeconomic status. Not all first-generation students are from low-income families, but a large proportion of them are from a lower socioeconomic background (Tugend, 2015). Being a first-gen college student and from a lower socioeconomic class has a coupling effect on students’ self-confidence and self-esteem. They often hide their identities because if their peers know they are both first-gen and poor, their peers may underestimate their academic ability, achievement, and performance (Banks-Santilli, 2015).

Unfortunately, even though first-generation college students face many new challenges, often their parents cannot relate to their experiences. When I talked to my mom about the classes I was taking and clubs I was a member of last semester, our conversation always seemed to remain at the surface level. Later, I learned to tell her about my life in a more routine way, stating everything I did every day without explaining in details because she would seemed indifferent anyway. Even though we are still close, there are so many things about me that my parents do not know, and I wish I could share more details with them.

First-generation college students are different from other students, but discussions of these differences rarely occur. There is a lot that colleges can do to improve the situation. For example, Harvard University has established a program on directing college awareness to future first generation college students (Harvard First Generation Program). The program aims at raising awareness to future first-gen college students and building networks between alumni and these students. Hosting lectures on challenges first-gen students face and designing programs for first-generation college students will help them better understand their identities and have more a successful transition to college. Colleges can also hold meetings or set up discussions for first-gen college students to help them feel less alone. Schools can work harder to admit more first-gen college so that they have greater representation as well. Increased support for first generation students is crucial to help them achieve self-worth and success, not only in college but also beyond it.

What I Learned in Boarding School Is…

Heart thumping. Hands shaking. Anxiety building. “VIEW DECISION” appears on the screen. My heart stops. I hold my breath and click the button. “CONGRATULATIONS” catches my eye. I can breathe again.

As a high school freshman, I never imagined going to an elite college like Hamilton. For two years, I attended a public school of about 1000 kids in a middle class community. In 2013, my school graduated only 86% of its senior class. Of those students, 47% attended Massachusetts state universities or community colleges. With my average grades, I am convinced that if I did not go to prep school, I would not have been admitted to Hamilton. Why?

Sociologist Mitchell Stevens (2007) in his book, Creating a Class, spent a year observing the admissions process at an elite college. He argues that because of their abundant resources, including experienced college counselors, applicants at prestigious high schools have a huge advantage in college admissions. As a result, a higher proportion of prep school students, compared to public school students, are admitted into top colleges. In 2013, one boarding school sent 18 of their 323 graduating students to Harvard University. Harvard accepted only 13% of its 35,000 applicants that year.

So how do prestigious high schools get disproportionately high percentages of their students into elite colleges and universities?

Reason #1: Learning to be Comfortable with Authority Figures

At boarding school, students live with authority figures. Teachers are also coaches and dorm parents, so students learn how to appropriately interact and form intimate bonds with them. These increased interactions provide a strong foundation for mature relationships with college professors and, later down the road, employers. In Privilege, Shamus Khan (2012) suggests that learning how to build intimate relationships with people in positions of authority, without acting as if you are an equal, prepares young people to succeed in elite environments.

Reason #2: One-on-One College Counseling

Private school college counselors focus only on getting their students into college. Public school guidance counselors, however, work on academic, social, disciplinary problems, and college/career development with their students, and thus, spend significantly less time on college counseling (see figure below).

I started meeting with my college counselor junior year of high school. The first few meetings did not involve college. He asked about my family, interests, and aspirations. Good college counselors take time and get to know their students on a personal level.

My college counselor made me a list of schools to visit based on the characteristics of my “hypothetical dream college”. Later, he edited my supplement essays, reviewed my common app, and prepared me for interviews.

Reason #3: College counselor-admissions officer relationship

The college counselor-admissions officer relationship is essential to the admissions advantage prep school students acquire. Stevens (2007) finds that admissions officers build relationships with counselors at elite high schools who can send the college academically capable, well-rounded applicants.

When reviewing applications, college officers are often faced with tough decisions. However, the more an officer knows about a student, the easier it is to make that decision (Stevens 2007). College counselors become acquainted with their students and write them exemplary recommendations. These letters are honest and include detailed reasons why the student would fit in well at the college. This is where a good relationship helps. If a college counselor repeatedly sends the college intelligent students who contribute to the college’s athletic or art programs, the admissions officer will trust the counselor and be more likely to admit the student. This often helps less qualified students at prestigious high schools get into elite schools, instead of similarly qualified applicants from schools with less college preparation resources.

Many public school students do not have this privilege. Each guidance counselor has several students, so they write the seniors short, vague recommendations. The less information a college officer has on an applicant, the harder it is to admit that student.

Boarding school facilitated my college admissions process. Because of abundant resources, my classmates and I had an advantage when applying to elite colleges. Due to similarity in admissions processes, Stevens’ (2007) findings at the elite liberal arts college can be applied to numerous elite colleges and universities. Although this is true, it demonstrates class inequality. Wealth should not determine whether or not a student is admitted into an elite college. If all schools had similar college counseling resourses, there would be less of a socioeconomic class advantage in college admissions.

Black Skin, “White” Speech: an Analysis of Code-Switching

“Why you sound just like those white kids at your school?”

“Yo, you’re wildin’. This is my voice. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout,” is my typical response to a question like that. Whenever I spend time with friends back home during breaks and/or talk to them on the phone, I am bound to get that question. I am still not sure how to avoid “sounding white.” I question whether or not I am “black enough” for my friends at home.

I’d imagine that the most salient change in my life was the transition from a predominantly black public high school to a predominantly white private college. Whether I knew it or not, during my transition, I altered the way I communicated with certain audiences; I maintained two separate identities made possible through language and expression. I was code-switching.

Code-switching refers to the practice of shifting the languages you use or the way you express yourself in your conversations (Deggans 2013). It occurs daily and, for me, is most noticeable in greetings. Back home in Brooklyn, NY, I’d greet a black friend by saying, “What’s good?” By using this language, it sends a message to my friends that I know the jargon of the “hood” and it reaffirms my blackness. On the contrary, at my current school, Hamilton College, I tend to greet my white friends with, “Hey. How are you?” in a very lively tone to convey that I am friendly and welcoming like every other student. Essentially, code-switching involves a certain particularity with one’s word choice and expressions whether speaking to friends, family, teachers, coworkers, etc. Words must be tuned to fit the context in which they are situated.

W.E.B DuBois’ “The Souls of Black Folk,” connects this concept of double consciousness to race. Referring to blacks, Dubois states that “to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face” (DuBois 1903), Blacks must navigate two culturally separate identities and communities. While I assume my Negro identity at home and use the African American Vernacular English with friends, I make a conscious effort to be grammatically sound when in a white environment. When Standard English is most valued in our prestigious institutions, blacks must not only show that we are “articulate” enough, but enunciation and articulation become strongly emphasized. We can’t comfortably drop the “g” at the end of our words or mess with the syntaxes of our sentences.

However, in retrospect, the subconscious, yet sometimes conscious, changes in my tones, inflections, and accents mean something significant. Code-switching is not just a valuable skill but is essential to maintaining our dual identities. Restricting the use of Standard English in a predominantly black community enables one to not be seen as elitist, pretentious or as “acting white.” Being able to switch back into Standard English with white friends allows me to avoid being constantly corrected and displays that I am “articulate” enough to be a student at Hamilton College.

Code-switching IS taxing work. While I am developing the cultural capital necessary to be successful in lucrative white-collar jobs, it comes at a cost. My on-off switch seems to be malfunctioning. I may use words like “superfluous” in place of “mad extra” or “egregious” instead of a phrase like “yo that’s wild crazy” when talking to my black friends. I find myself struggling to communicate with friends, as if we don’t all speak English. And maybe we do, but just in different ways. However, as long as I find myself in two different social contexts, code-switching will continue to be a necessary tool for survival.