The changing nature of public education

John is a mechanic who lives on the less affluent side of town. His three children all attend public schools. Last year, John Jr., his oldest child, started high school. After the first semester, his grades dropped. Normally an A or B type of student, he seemed apathetic about receiving Cs and Ds. The father, after some investigation, discovered that John Jr. had been bullied by some of his older peers. To complicate the matter, the peers were gang members and caused trouble to the teachers as well.

John went to his son's teachers. Some were responsive and helpful. Others were not. After two more months, he noticed his son becoming detached. He slept in, argued with his two younger siblings, and always wanted to be left alone. The concerned father consulted with the ninth grade administrator, who suggested John Jr. was just going through growing pains as he transitioned from middle to high school. The father left the meeting more dejected than before.

John, who was an avid supporter of traditional public education, decided it was time to explore other alternatives. The well being of his son was most important, and he needed a better educational setting. A week later, he enrolled his son in a nearby charter school. The school’s teacher to student ratio was far smaller than the traditional school and the students were more eager to learn. 

Does this scenario sound familiar? It should. It is occurring in cities across the country.

Spokespeople for educational change often reduce reform options to forced dichotomies. We are supposed to pick from a menu of either / or options: neighborhood or charter schools, democracy or capitalism, test- or student-centered learning, and on and on. As the above scenario points out, the choice for parents is often much simpler and based on finding the best possible school.

This is the last of my blogs about education as a public good. I will not belabor my point because I think the majority of readers believe, like I do, that the nature of public education as a public good is changing. The change is neither good nor bad; it is just different than before. We cannot approach education as Dewey or Thorndike did. In fact, we cannot approach education as we did even five years ago. 

Individuals who argue that neighborhood schools are inherently good and support democracy and charter schools are inherently bad and support capitalism are arguing for an ideal that has never existed. Neighborhood schools as a whole have always struggled to educate all of the students in the neighborhood whether those students have been low-income, Native American, African American, or Latino, or immigrant. Sure, we have outstanding cases of neighborhood schools helping a diverse mix of students. But, we also have those same examples in regard to charter schools.

We have innumerable opportunities to improve schools and neighborhoods and those opportunities do not easily divide between democracy or capitalism, neighborhood or charter schools, or whichever other dichotomies a few outspoken reformers tell us from which we need to choose. Parents such as John are not interested in choosing sides or getting involved in debates about ideology; they want the best possible educations for their children. The nature of public education has changed, and it is time to update the ways in which we discuss, think about, and design education as a public good.

You can put a price on education

I.

I come from a working class family. I am the only one to enroll in a four-year university. To save money, my father asked me to attend community college first. I did. After two years, I transferred to the University of Maryland. A week before classes began, my family’s economic standing changed drastically. I accepted the fact that I could no longer afford college. A few days later, my mother and I sat in the financial aid office at College Park. The officer did not provide good news. As I sat with my head down, my mom leaned over and, with superhero-type strength, said, “I don’t care what we have to do. Come hell or high water, we’ll find a way.” That belief carried me through my B.A., M.S., and Ph.D. To pay tuition, my mom worked extra hours, and I commuted to school, worked a job, and received need- and merit-based aid. 

I have experienced the same sort of unyielding resolve in many of the parents of the first-generation immigrants with whom I have worked. Last year, I sat with Jose and his father in their living room, which also doubled as a bedroom. Jose’s father, who suffered from AIDS, was struggling to find a free health clinic for his toothache. Through sickness, he worked 12 hours a day for six days a week in order to earn less than minimum wage. I asked why he sacrificed so much. He pointed to Jose. “For him,” he responded, “He’s going to college. He will be successful.” This year, Jose is a freshman at UC Irvine.

Higher education provides pathways to opportunity. That is a core value of our country. It is the belief that has guided my mother and me and Jose and his father. But, higher education is becoming increasingly expensive. 

A new report states that one in five households in the United States—compared with one in ten nearly two decades ago—owe student loan debt. In households such as mine, where the heads of household are under 35 years old, the number rises to 40%, over twice the amount (17%) in 1989. Another report indicates that a staggering two-thirds (66%) of four-year college graduates in 2011 had student loan debt, averaging $26,600.

II.

After ten years of higher education and a six-month grace period, the government now wants its money back. I will spend the next ten years paying for my education. On good days, I pretend I am paying for an imaginary Land Rover. On bad days, when I think about owning a house or having a baby, I consider my student loans—along with my wife’s law school debt—and wonder what we could have done differently. The answer is “not much.” We believed in the promise of higher education, and we borrowed what we needed, not what we wanted. 

My wife and I are now members of a growing cohort of individuals with unwieldy student loan debt. That cohort ranges from those who earned graduate degrees and are now underemployed and struggle to repay their loans to others who dropped out after two semesters of undergrad because they could not afford to pay for remedial classes and are now unemployed and in debt. 

How much should students mortgage today for the potential of tomorrow? We can no longer assume the promise outweighs the cost. 

The upcoming presidential election will determine a lot about the future of higher education and our country. For a summary of the differences between the candidates, see an article published during Education Nation. In short, President Obama wants to increase regulation. Governor Romney wants to provide choice. During the first debate, Romney declared, “The private market and individual responsibility always work best.”

To maintain the integrity of hope in higher education and stay another financial crisis in our country, I ask both candidates what they plan to do to create new pathways to college and away from debt.

P. Diddy, education, and opportunity

A few weeks ago, Sean "Diddy" Combs’ son earned a $54,000 athletic scholarship to UCLA. The news sparked a debate about college access and the redistribution of wealth. Even, Bill O’Reilly commented. 

What responsibility does a person whose net worth is nearly one half of a billion dollars have to education as a public good? Does the son of a media mogul really need a merit-based scholarship from a fiscally strapped state school?

Student debt is a hot topic right now, and there are multiple angles to approach the controversy. Some have argued Combs’ son should decline his scholarship, even though he earned it. Financial aid is largely a zero sum enterprise, and Combs' scholarship deprives another student of an opportunity.

I have also heard individuals suggest that all college athletes who go pro should repay their scholarships after graduation. This, to me, seems like the murkiest argument. One former graduate of USC said he tried to get his teammates to repay their athletic scholarships; they scoffed, but he did not explain why. I think it is fair to assume that they felt they earned every penny of their scholarships. How many millions of dollars do universities make from student-athletes? How much will UCLA benefit from having a Diddy attend the school? How much do wealthy alumni donate? Moreover, given our expanding knowledge about football and brain damage, is trading scholarships for the increased likelihood of short and long-term injuries—e.g. trauma, depression, and dementia—ethical? 

When I read about P. Diddy’s son, I immediately thought of a recent interview between Hannah Storm and Kobe Bryant. The notoriously cantankerous phenom talked about maturing as a player and person. He started a charity that has focused on improving the lives of those in need. He discussed the stark contrast that occurred during and after games at the Staples Center. One moment he was surrounded by affluent individuals spending up to $1,500 on tickets to a basketball game and the next he was driving past homeless individuals on Skid Row who were scrounging for a few dollars to buy food. 

If everyone just pitched in a little, he said, we could change lives.

Education is a public good from which we all benefit. What responsibility does a media mogul have to supporting public education? What responsibility do you or I have?

Providing opportunities to learn

Annette Lareau, in her classic book Unequal Childhoods, develops the concept of concerted cultivation, the targeted development and socialization of children through experiences and activities. She argues that concerted cultivation—as opposed to natural growth—is a key parenting strategy. It is a concept that is so popular, in part, because it makes sense. For my dissertation, I build on Lareau’s work to discuss concerted cultivation across the neighborhood.

A key difference between high and low achievers is what they do during the first three hours after school. For the highest achievers, this time is spent participating in activities that are consistent with concerted cultivation. For the lowest achievers, this time is often spent hanging around with friends, working at a low-skill job, babysitting siblings, or watching television. Each of these activities does little to improve college access.

What can we do to improve college access?

The answer, I believe, is to create extended learning opportunities (ELOs). The National Education Association defines ELOs as “a broad range of programs that provide children with academic enrichment and/or supervised activities beyond the tradition school day and, in some cases, beyond the traditional school year” (p. 1). Although ELOs may include traditional after-school programs, they consist of a much larger and more flexible variety of options such as before- and after-school tutoring, internships, and summer enrichment programs. ELOs ought to appeal to district administrators, in part, because of the flexibility of delivery options. Districts or private partners such as non-profit organizations or universities may provide them. 

The findings from my dissertation highlight the value of engaging teenagers immediately before and after school. ELOs provide structured supervision where adults act as mentors and resource brokers. High school is a time when teenagers have more independence, more choices, and are more apt to explore their environment. By enrolling their children in out-of-class activities, parents structure and control their teenager’s behavior and activity. After-school activities not only protect teenagers from getting into trouble but also improve student grades, participation, and self-confidence.

While comprehensive reforms such as the Harlem Children’s Zone are necessary and important, they are also expensive and unlikely during the current recession. ELOs present a practical option to provide access to social and cultural capital and engender college access.

No culture left behind: Moving from intelligence to competence, Part II

Last week, I discussed the difference between deficit and surplus perspectives in education. A surplus of cultures exists in many low-income neighborhoods. And yet, current research, policy, and practice often assume a deficit perspective. 

I argued, instead, that scholars, policymakers, and practitioners ought to consider a surplus perspective. Such a perspective refocuses discussions from what African American and Latino teenagers lack to how the educational system can better leverage extant strengths. It also facilitates a discussion of the types of cultural competencies that the educational system does and does not value. Shifting the discussion from intelligence and innate ability to cultural competencies is an important step to acknowledging the potential of all students.

Today, I would like to provide an example of what I mean by cultural competencies:

Chuck is one of the young men with whom I have had the privilege of working and mentoring throughout my dissertation. He likes to draw, skateboard, and dance. He excels at all three. 

Capitalizing on his networking skills, Chuck forms skateboard and dance groups. One group is named Movable Parts; they use the name to distinguish themselves on YouTube in particular and in media in general. The group is known for “jerkin’,” a style of street dancing. He says, “I taught myself and I watch videos like YouTube that I made, and I enhance my dance moves. I danced on MTV and BET before, and I had little gigs with Snoop Dog and stuff.” 

Chuck parlays YouTube hits into dancing sponsorships in order to receive free clothing. In one video, he competes against a friend. The person who posted the video wrote, “One of the best jerk battles around…Vote or Die…LOL.” The video lasts for seven minutes. The two, who exchange dance moves, perform the battle on a sidewalk in front of a concrete wall decorated with graffiti. After the first exchange, a bell rings and “Round Two” flashes across the screen. A song by two local musicians begins playing. Chuck begins. At the end of his turn, he tosses an imaginary ball in the air and hits it with an imaginary bat. Homerun.

The video receives over 105,122 views and 393 comments. The majority of viewers select Chuck. One writes, “Chuck all day.” Another posts, “Chuck kid go hrd.”

Chuck is example of this sort of creative and entrepreneurial competencies that are not recognized in school. He also has a 1.7 grade point average. When I first met him, Chuck wanted to attend San Jose State, major in fine arts, and join the “Dirty Brushes,” an art club. However, I soon learned that he is ineligible to attend a Cal State or UC because of his poor grades. He will most likely have to go to Santa Monica College for a year and then transfer.

How is it possible that an educational system has failed to capitalize on such obvious talents? Chuck is one of the most creative individuals I have ever met. And yet, by conventional educational measures, he does not qualify to attend a Cal State.

If we are to address the gross inequalities occurring in schools today, it is time to acknowledge the cultural mismatch between the competencies students possess and what the educational system values.

No culture left behind: Moving from intelligence to competence

In education, scholars, practitioners, and policymakers often espouse a deficit cultural perspective to explain academic success and failure; students who succeed exemplify a mainstream culture whereas students who fail represent an oppositional culture. Unfortunately, by “blaming the victim,” such arguments echo previous culture of poverty debates, reinforce stereotypes, and do little to move us forward. 

My dissertation examines the lives of African American and Latino teenagers in a low-income neighborhood. Summarizing my argument in one sentence, we ought to consider a surplus cultural perspective. 

Culture is vibrant, and cultural variation occurs as a result of a range of compositional factors such as race, class, ethnicity, educational attainment, and access to and quality of institutions. As a result, a surplus of cultures exists in neighborhoods in cities like Los Angeles, Washington D.C., and Brooklyn. 

A surplus perspective illustrates the cultural mismatch occurring between what students possess and what our educational system values. We are both failing to harness the strengths of students and de-legitimizing their cultural identities.

Next week, I will use an example to illustrate the cultural mismatch occurring in schools and explain why we ought to shift from conversations about intelligence to cultural competencies.

Blocked access and leveled aspirations

Last week, I recounted the amazing story of Diane, an undocumented first-generation college-goer. If Diane’s story illustrates the promise of higher education, my discussion today highlights the peril of blocked access and leveled aspirations.

I have been privileged to chronicle a critical moment in the lives of teenagers: the senior year in high school. The year is a celebration of endings and beginnings. It marks the end of their high school careers and, to some extent, their childhoods. Each activity, from the first day of school to the last, is imbued with a sense of finality as the end marks the beginning of college and a promising career. 

This year, I interviewed sixty male teenagers at three high schools in a low-income neighborhood. The participants divided into three categories: High-, middle-, and low-achievers. At each level, I asked about college and career aspirations. Admission standards for the students’ target schools rarely matched their grade point averages and standardized test scores. For instance, a teenager listed NYU when his scores indicated that he was more likely to attend UC Santa Cruz. Or, a student listed a Cal State when he was more likely to attend community college. The most solemn appraisals often came from low-achievers, who said something like, “I just want to get to a college.” Unfortunately, they did not know the required steps to get there.

That was fall. Now, it’s spring. For many students, letters of rejection have mounted. They know they will not be attending their dream schools. Some have changed their plans. Rather than attending NYU, they plan to go to St. John’s and then transfer to Columbia or NYU. Others are going to UC Santa Cruz. The third and largest group is still undecided. Their vague plans include going to community college and then transferring. 

Overall, for the high-achievers, the application process has been humbling. They realize that they are not as competitive as previously thought. However, they gained admittance to a decent college and from now until college graduation they have time to make up the difference. For the middle- to low-achievers, the process has been deflating. Today, they enter a critical time in their quest for higher education and social mobility. They will either do what it takes to go to college and their life will be markedly different, or they will not.

What is my point? Secondary and postsecondary education institutions have failed these young men. There is no reason such a high stakes process should be so unsystematic or damaging. 

I have identified two improvements; I invite you to think of more. First, schools at every level need to do a better job of building the infrastructure to get teenagers from high school to college. It is no longer enough to talk about creating a college-going culture. The supports need to be there in order to promote college readiness. Offering college level courses that lack rigor or extracurricular activities where the students meet infrequently and little is accomplished do not equal college access or success. Those classes and activities pad resumes, but do little to get teenagers to college.

Second, the process to get to college should be transparent. At every step of the way, students should know where they stand in relation to college matriculation. Relatedly, data sets are robust enough to provide benchmarks for students. Districts use a range of elementary school data, including students’ attendance and grade point averages, to predict which students are at-risk of dropping out of school. We ought to use the same predictive modeling for college-going. From the data, schools could offer intervention programs for students who are not on pathways to success. That means providing classes before and after school as well as enrichment opportunities throughout the year. We have to capture students’ interest and create conditions for learning, not store promising, capable young men in the corners of classrooms.

We are increasing injustice by waiting until students are eighteen years old to tell them that they do not have the competencies to matriculate to college. And worse, we are allowing strangers to tell them via rejection letters.

College access and the promise of higher education

I imagine it takes an extreme amount of courage to migrate from one country to another, to leave your wife and three daughters for the uncertain promise of a better job and more opportunity. That is what Diane’s father did. He immigrated to Los Angeles, obtained a manufacturing job, learned English, and saved money. He then paid a Coyote to bring his beloved family back to him. 

The reunited family lived happily together until the father unexpectedly died of a terminal illness nearly a year later. As Diane told me one day after school, her father’s death changed everything. He was the sole income earner and their liaison to a strange new world. After his death, her mother began working full-time. Diane, the oldest of the children, became the primary caretaker. She admitted, “I had to grow up fast.”

Two weeks ago and over a decade after her arrival to the country, Diane received an acceptance letter from Harvard University. Her remarkable journey began in a rural village with two parents deciding to sacrifice for the prospect of opportunity. Next fall, her journey will continue in Cambridge, Massachusetts at the most prestigious college campus in the world. 

For seven years, I have worked as a teacher and researcher with thousands of students. Diane is the first to have gained admittance to Harvard. She is as hardworking as she is gifted and the type of student teachers love. Even her friends know how special she is. One joked, “Of course, you’re going to go to Harvard and become a doctor or lawyer. You’re Diane.”

Diane is an undocumented, first-generation college student. By all accounts, her story is exceptional. Next week, I will discuss another, more common story. Until then, I celebrate the life of a determined and deserving student who reminds us all of the promise of higher education.

Giving thanks now and in the future

Now is the time to give thanks. I am thankful for having good health, professional successes, and old and new friends and family. When I consider major trends in education, however, giving thanks is more difficult.  Don’t get me wrong: There are people and events for which to be thankful. This year, Governor Brown signed legislation that will allow undocumented students to receive financial aid for college. The Dream Act will absolutely change the lives of many teenagers. In addition, there are numerous examples of hugely successful students, teachers, and schools at every level across the country. Those are important facts and reasons to give thanks. 

And yet, we cannot ignore the realities of our current educational system. Consider a few facts about Los Angeles:

• One-third of all Black and Latino children are poor and, as a result, less likely to have positive health and educational outcomes.
• In Los Angeles Unified School District, nearly three out of every ten Black and Latino students drop out of high school.
• Of the Black and Latino students who do graduate, only four out of ten enroll in college.

Education provides a pathway to social mobility. Unfortunately, millions of children encounter immense barriers. In particular, the 60 young men who are participating in research for my dissertation shape my thoughts during this holiday season. What reforms may have helped them succeed in high school and matriculate to college? I suggest five:

• First, neighborhood-based reforms like Promise and Choice Neighborhoods in order to alleviate poverty and provide improved job opportunities, healthcare, and access to social services for families. 
• Second, extended school days and more after-school activities in order to increase learning opportunities and social networks.
• Third, university-created mentoring and enrichment programs starting with at-risk middle school students in order to increase high school retention and college access.
• Fourth, thoughtful and well-executed uses of technology in order to provide access to information. Starbucks provides free Wi-Fi to coffee drinkers. Why don’t all high schools provide free access to students? 
• Fifth, a standard, simplified college application process and automatic enrollment pathways in order to increase access.

These are a few of the reforms that could improve educational and life outcomes, particularly for students in low-income neighborhoods. What changes do you want to occur? 

I wish every one a happy holiday. Now is the time to give thanks, but also plan for more thanks in the future.

Sources

Blackwell, A. G., & Pastor, M. (2010). Let's hear it for the boys: Building a stronger America by investing in young men and boys of color. In C. Edley & J. R. d. Velasco (Eds.), Changing places: How communities will improve the health of boys of color (pp. 3-33). Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

http://www.csus.edu/ihelp/PDFs/R_Consequences_of_Neglect.pdf

The college hype machine

Teenagers choose colleges based on reputations. The participants in my study often post or talk about wanting to go to universities like Columbia, University of Arizona, USC, or UCLA. Those preferences are not random; they are based on the schools’ images and the students’ reactions to those images. Columbia is an intellectual powerhouse. Arizona has a great basketball team. USC is a football juggernaut. UCLA has a legendary basketball tradition. Unfortunately, reputation doesn’t always equal reality.

Growing up, I cheered for University of Maryland athletics. During my senior year, my father agreed to pay for college. He gave two conditions: First, I had to go to community college for two years. Second, I had to go to the state school. Although I really wanted to attend an Ivy (again, reputation), I loved Maryland. After two years of community college, the choice was easy. In the spring of 2002, the Terps won the national championship. That fall, I matriculated to college. 

Although I love Maryland, the school was the wrong choice. Circumstances changed the week before I began classes. My mother and I were left to finance my education. I commuted an hour to and from campus everyday, and my college experience diverged significantly from most of my peers. During my time in college, I was given little career advice. After graduation, I was left with student loans and no obvious next step.

An undergraduate degree is no longer a golden ticket. 

We often speak in broad strokes: College is important. Go to college. Pick the right school. But, we ignore the details— financial aid, student debt, faculty-to-student ratios, graduation rates (for everyone and for low-income minorities), and career readiness. Those details add up. For a lot of first-generation, low-income college-goers, they are the difference between graduate school and a successful career and returning home and joining the working poor. 

Postsecondary education has become a reality for an unprecedented number of teenagers. What is their reward? Often, they get to spend two years in large seminars where they rarely interact with professors. At best, they are motivated and skilled. They figure out what to do. At worst, they do not receive the support they need and dropout with substantial debts. 

High schools need to do a better job of teaching the right questions to ask, and universities need to be held accountable for the success of their students. This week, a young man I’m mentoring was accepted to USC. He was absolutely ecstatic. I worry he will not have that same feeling four years and five months from now.

The first three hours after school

After the last school bell rings, teenagers have a variety of options to occupy their time. The number of options multiplies due to several factors. First, older age correlates to increased freedom. In addition, parents or guardians are likely to work after school lets out. Second, in urban neighborhoods, teenagers have access to a variety of locations. Friends’ houses, parks, fast food restaurants, and public transit are all within walking distance. Teens are not dependent on rides from parents or older siblings.

From participating in after-school activities to hanging out with friends, what teens do and the people with whom they interact either reinforce or detract from college access. Meaningful after-school activities provide extended learning opportunities and engender college-going behaviors. That knowledge and those behaviors even extend to informal activities such as playing basketball or eating at a fast food restaurant with friends. During those times, teens discuss a range of issues including choosing and paying for college. In contrast, informal activities such as gangbanging or doing drugs have the ability to derail college access. Poor choices out of school lead to poor grades in school. Not only are the teens participating in illicit activities, the conversations differ starkly from those of their more academically engaged teens. 

President Obama is sounding the alarm for increased postsecondary opportunities. At the same time, district administrators are making tough choices. Those choices include which programs to fund and which positions to staff. Unfortunately, after-school activities are often the first to go. The reasoning goes something like, “We have to focus on the core, not the periphery. An after-school college prep program is nice, but it won’t improve test scores.” That reasoning ignores the value of after-school programs, which provide supervision, mentorship, and extended learning opportunities.

If we want to improve college access, it’s time to focus on the first three hours after school.