Why Between the World and Me is required reading

Originally posted at www.21stcenturyscholar.org

1.

Written as a letter from father to son, Between the World and Me chronicles key moments in Ta-Nehisi Coates’ life. Imparting lessons to his son and the reader, the author, who contributes to The Atlantic, presents an unidealized portrait of America and its history of racial injustice and violence.

The emotional center of the book is the death of Prince Jones, a bright star and dear friend whom Coates met while attending Howard University. His murder, by a Prince George’s County police officer, is a reminder of an unrelenting and harsh system that constantly works to harm men of color.

Coates employs clear and precise prose to appeal to a broad audience. Rooted in a long intellectual tradition, he peppers pages with references to critical writers and activists. He uses symbols like Mecca and Dream to describe complex ideas. The author, however, always returns to the real, or corporeal, to be more exact. While recalling his youth, he writes—and I quote at length:

To be black in the Baltimore of my youth was to be naked before the elements of the world, before all the guns, fists, knives, crack, rape, and disease. The nakedness is not an error, nor pathology. The nakedness is the correct and intended result of policy, the predictable upshot of people forced for centuries to live under fear. The law did not protect us. And now, in your time, the law has become an excuse for stopping and frisking you, which is to say, for furthering the assault on your body. But a society that protects some people through a safety net of schools, government-backed home loans, and ancestral wealth but can only protect you with the club of criminal justice has failed at enforcing its good intentions or has succeeded at something much darker. However you call it, the result was our infirmity before the criminal forces of the world. It does not matter if the agent of those forces is white or black—what matters is our condition, what matters is the system that makes your body breakable. (p. 17-18)

2.

Why is Between the World and Me essential reading?

We have all read alarming statistics about the unprecedented rise of the carceral state: 1 in 12 black men ages 18 to 64 are incarcerated, compared to 1 in 87 white men. Since the 1970s, 1 out of 4 black men have been incarcerated. As a result of stricter policing and sentencing laws, since the 1990s, while violent-crime rates have fallen, incarceration rates have risen. High school dropouts are more likely to go to prison. Former inmates are less likely to obtain employment. Households are stripped of husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, cousins, and friends.

Coates knows the statistics too. Between the World and Me, however, is about the people that populate statistics. Prince Jones. Sean Bell. Trayvon Martin. And, countless more.

Coates does not allow his son, or the reader, to lapse, to be misled by persuasive talk or lulled by fantastic promises. He writes, “I loved Malcolm because Malcolm never lied, unlike the schools and their façade of morality, unlike the streets and their bravado, unlike the world of dreamers. I loved him because he made it plain, never mystical or esoteric, because his science was not rooted in the actions of spooks and mystery gods but in the work of the physical world” (p. 36). He demands more. Be critical of everything. Focus on what is real. He commands, “So you must wake up every morning knowing that no promise is unbreakable, least of all the promise of waking up at all. This is not despair. These are the preferences of the universe itself: verbs over nouns, actions over states, struggle over hope” (p. 71).

The book is an illustration of the effects of bad policy and the need for good policy. It is a warning and invocation. Similar to James Baldwin's The Fire Next Time, it takes the form of a letter to a loved one. The editorial decision to write using second person allows Coates to speak to his son and the reader, creating some intimate and evocative moments. We learn as the son learns. And, when he writes "What I want you to know is that this is not your fault, even if it is ultimately your responsibility" (p. 137), we listen.

Using qualitative research to contest stereotypes

Originally posted at www.21stcenturyscholar.org

How are black men portrayed? After Freddie Gray’s death due to the brutality of six Baltimore police officers, newscasts focused on Gray’s criminal record and suspect behavior. When city residents protested, the media became more interested. Reporters searched for provocative stories and trolled for increased viewership. They showed dehumanizing videos of wild mobs looting and rioting.

Mainstream media ignored the peaceful protests of informed residents who understand the intricate factors that contribute to distressed neighborhoods in the city; a city where one out of four individuals live below the poverty line; a city where more than three out of four low-income households are headed by single women; and, a city where nearly one out of three children live below the poverty level. Of course, we know these figures underestimate poverty. Federal poverty lines are notoriously unrealistic. The qualifying amount for a one-person household is $11,770. The amount for a three-person household is $20,090.

I could go on. I could mention that, while most research indicates the multiple benefits of homeownership—from health to upward mobility—nearly eight out of ten low-income families rent, not own. I could talk about the failure to provide living wages, the lack of food security, the disproportionate number of dismal public schools, and a robust school-to-prison pipeline. I could criticize reports about exorbitant amounts of money spent on failed public policies to revitalize Baltimore neighborhoods, reports that imply residents somehow refuse to improve their economic standing despite the good deeds of politicians.

We know that healthy neighborhoods rely on five pillars—quality health, safety, education, employment, and institutions. One-dimensional reforms rarely account for interconnected factors that reproduce concentrated and generational poverty. They disregard a history of corrupt institutions and prejudiced politics, facts that have significant implications for policy implementation. When politicians do introduce comprehensive reforms—think of Promise Neighborhoods—they are woefully under-funded. When they fail, critics use them as evidence to quell future anti-poverty efforts.

Distorted media coverage has wide-ranging effects. It informs public discourse and policy discussions. It’s also divisive. How do reactions while watching the nightly news differ between a middle-class 50-year-old in Loveland, Colorado versus a low-income teenager in Baltimore? I imagine the two might have drastically different interpretations. No one likes to be misrepresented. In this case, news organizations misrepresent entire groups on a national stage.

So, what’s the function of qualitative research? Thoughtful research has the potential to contest negative stereotypes, to show why poverty is rarely a choice, to illustrate how living in poverty is not the same thing as being poor. Skilled ethnographers, for example, have the ability to present the complexities of local conditions and connect them to overarching social and economic conditions. Such insights are critical to creating more productive public dialogue and designing more just social policy.

Whose culture matters? Part II

Originally posted on September 27, 2011.

A few weeks ago, I discussed culture in classrooms. While some scholars argue for a core curriculum using a standardized canon, I suggested a focus on student literacy and critical thinking, reading, and writing skills. This week, I address a similar question:  Whose culture matters in neighborhoods?

I have pondered this question often since beginning my academic career. First, as neighborhood-based reforms such as Harlem Children’s Zone (HCZ) replicate across the country, their successes also raise some questions. In particular, consider HCZ’s Baby College. During this nine-week parenting seminar, parents learn how to read and discipline their children. Anyone versed in early childhood development literature will attest to the value of proper literacy and disciplinary practices. The question I often ask relates to the basic assumptions of the program. How does this program differ from the acculturation programs that occurred at the turn of the 20th century in New York? To be sure, there are differences. But, reformers cannot take for granted that, because they have some technical knowledge, it is the right knowledge.

Second, my dissertation relates to the diversity of cultural beliefs and practices in low-income neighborhoods. As such, I am always asking, “Whose culture matters, and how?” In particular, I investigate the role of culture to education outcomes in the short term and social mobility in the long term.

Renowned French theorist Pierre Bourdieu provides one answer: culture reproduces class positions. In other words, there is a dominant culture, and an individual’s knowledge and deployment of dominant culture will correlate to and maintain his class position. For instance, a teenager from a middle-class family will know to shake someone’s hand at an interview for an internship. Even more, he will know (or his parents will tell him) to apply for an internship rather than work at McDonalds.

Bourdieu’s argument is compelling and controversial. His goal as a theorist was to undress commonly accepted beliefs about society. In the United States, he shows that meritocracy is not the whole story. Although his writing is sometimes long-winded and sometimes confounding, the success of his theoretical argument—which is supported by his popularity—is that, after hearing only a brief description of social and cultural capital, most people will nod their head and murmur something like, “Ok. I get it. That’s interesting.” Not all scholars, however, agree with Bourdieu. If a dominant culture exists, they argue, so too does a non-dominant culture. If you recall my last blog, the argument is similar. Shakespeare is great, but so is Anansi. Why don’t we respect both?

Community cultural wealth is one response to Bourdieu’s singular focus on dominant culture. Each low-income neighborhood, the argument goes, has a unique set of non-dominant cultural practices. In relation to schools, educators ought to build on the capabilities of the students. The concept is particularly useful for developing policies and curriculum for school districts. It is also a response to the deficit-model of schooling. Instead of looking at what students’ lack, let’s look at what they have.

Both perspectives are helpful for understanding culture in neighborhoods; however, I suggest a hybrid solution. Like last week, literacy and critical thinking, reading, and writing are crucial. E.D. Hirsch’s most popular book is entitled, Cultural Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know. In the spirit of Bourdieu, it should probably read, “What Every American Needs to Know to Know to Be Socially Mobile.” Admitting the flaws of dominant culture makes it no less important to success. While not fair, students from non-dominant cultural backgrounds need to be conversant in a number of cultural styles to be successful. As a result, the most successful students are, what Prudence Carter terms, culturally flexible.

We will not solve the culture riddle anytime soon, if ever. The question, “Whose culture matters,” depends on who is asking and who is replying. However, educators can provide students with the literacy skills to read and write in a number of cultural registers.

Whose culture matters? Part I

Originally posted on September 06, 2011

Whose culture matters in classrooms? Since I began teaching English at a school with a diverse population of students, I have thought about this question often. While reading difficult, centuries-old English literature, students frequently asked, “Do we have to read this?” Or, “Why are we reading this?” To the first question, I invariably responded, “Yes!” To the second question, I usually paused and thought. Why do students have to read Canterbury Tales? If you are E. D. Hirsch, the answer is because the bawdy tales are part of a canon that “every American needs to know.”

It doesn’t take long to realize Hirsch is wrong on two levels. First, to say there is a stock of cultural knowledge that all should know, sounds like a worthy claim. The problem occurs when one group tries to define that core. Classical texts do not occur a priori. Their creation and the possibility of their creation is sociohistorically determined. So too are the criteria used to judge them. I have an irrational love for Shakespeare’s writing; however, who’s to say there was not a woman with equal talent during Elizabeth’s reign (for a richer discussion, read Virginia Woolf’s thought-provoking essay, “Shakespeare’s Sister”). Even more, we know there were rich oral traditions occurring on continents across the globe during the 16th century. I’m not arguing that Romeo and Juliet isn’t beautiful. Mercutio’s monologues are nonpareil. I’m arguing that beauty is subjective. By legitimizing one work of art, we de-legitimize another. Beowulf is great, but so are Anansi and Ramayana.

Second, and possibly more to the point, the core knowledge argument is misplaced, especially in the 21st century. Students don’t need to have read a list of books. They need to be literate and critical. Literacy includes print and non-print sources. Being critical includes thinking, reading, and writing skills. In essence, the text—whether it’s Shakespeare or Bashō or a YouTube video—is just a venue for literacy practice. By emphasizing student literacy, we empower them to become better consumers, critics, and producers.

Next week, I will continue this blog, asking “Whose culture matters in neighborhoods?”

Horatio Alger lives! Blame and the culture of poverty

This post was originally published on January 21, 2011.

Horatio Alger, a 19th century author, wrote novels about poor, downtrodden boys who go from rags to riches. They succeed due to dogged toil. The story is ingrained in the fabric of mainstream America. Fathers tell their sons, “If you work hard, you can make it.” That’s the American dream.

The rags to riches story works in concert with the culture of poverty argument. It goes something like this: a group of people develop a set of beliefs, actions, and perhaps excuses that inhibit them from succeeding in life. Over 40 years ago, when Oscar Lewis introduced the concept and Patrick Moynihan’s report popularized it, some parts of academia reacted strongly. William Ryan, in his book Blaming the Victim, retells a comedic sketch where Zero Mostel acting as a senator from the South wonders about the origins of World War II. At the end of the skit, the senator booms out, “And what was Pearl Harbor doing in the Pacific?” Ryan uses this to illustrate his point: the culture of poverty blames individuals for being the victims of unfair and deleterious structural conditions.

The culture of poverty often evokes two responses. First, some believe the culture of poverty is absolutely wrong and become indignant. Second, others believe the culture of poverty is absolutely right and become indignant. I worry that both sides, being so emotionally charged, are hindering us from having meaningful conversations about how to improve the conditions of economically impoverished people. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your opinion, there is no right answer.

The culture of poverty is a flawed concept, not because it doesn’t exist but because it is too simple. As Sharon Hays, a sociologist at USC, points out in her book Flat Broke with Children, to assume that there is a culture of poverty is neither wrong nor the whole story. Why is it outrageous to think that a young African American male or Latino has developed a series of behaviors to cope with his bleak surroundings? The school experiences and reactions of Primo and Caesar in Philippe Bourgois’ In Search of Respect provide an excellent example of this. What is wrong is to assume that there is only one culture of poverty and that it applies to all. Culture is not abstract. It is everywhere but also mutable and embedded in context.

At the same time, there is a common refrain among academics: culture and poverty are back and open to research (see the May 2010 issue of The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science). While that is true, scholars also know that the culture of poverty has remained a popular shibboleth among mainstream America. Moving forward, academics must not only create a more appropriate vocabulary to explore and describe multiple cultures of poverty but also to communicate the import of understanding the myriad cultural and structural conditions that lead to the generational reproduction of poverty.

Dr. King, Civil Rights, and Education

This blog was originally published on January 18, 2011.

Secretary of Education Arne Duncan has said that education is the civil rights issue of our time. While provocative and well-intentioned, the Secretary’s sentiment isn’t entirely true. That is not to say I disagree–education is part of the issue–but to target education as the last stand for civil rights is short-sighted. Poor education outcomes are a symptom of insidious, far-reaching, and unequal conditions and government policies.

We now live during a time when the distribution of wealth is astoundingly unequal. Not only do the top one percent control the majority of wealth in the United States, but the top decile of the top one percent, according to scholar David Harvey, are accumulating capital at unprecedented rates. Relatedly, spatial segregation occurs in cities across the United States, a result of changing labor markets as well as government sanctioned initiatives and policies such as freeways and redlining that have caused unfair conditions for specific groups based on race, class, and gender. Couple grotesque class inequality with segregation and government retrenchment regarding key civil rights issues such as education, housing, healthcare, and job opportunities and a more complex picture of the conditions causing poor education outcomes arises.

Since Dr. King’s famous speech, we have progressed. We have laws that ban segregation and discrimination. More people believe in equality and justice for all, so much so that an African American won the popular vote in a presidential election. And yet, as Dr. King noted, progress is not linear: “All progress is precarious, and the solution of one problem brings us face to face with another problem.” Just this year, anti-gay bullying led to the suicides of multiple teens; Arizona enacted stringent immigration laws that have endangered the basic human rights of both documented and undocumented immigrants; a proposed inter-faith mosque and community center to be built in Manhattan caused a groundswell of opposition and anti-Muslim animosity; and, despite comprising a minority of the population, African Americans and Hispanics occupied the majority of prison cells across the country. Indeed, our generation faces new challenges to overcome in order to achieve civil rights and social justice for all. Racism, classism, and sexism have transformed, becoming sometimes overt, sometimes covert, but just as pernicious.

Let’s celebrate the accomplishments of Dr. King and fellow civil rights activists, but also acknowledge that the dream is unfulfilled and we have work to do.

The promise (and peril) of Promise Neighborhoods

I originally posted this blog on June 28, 2010.

Geoff Canada has quickly become a popular example of the charismatic, transformational leader necessary for positive educational change. His vision of the potential of one neighborhood is nonpareil and extraordinary. His non-profit organization, the Harlem’s Children Zone, which provides a comprehensive suite of services to children and families within a 100 city block radius in Harlem, is ending generational poverty. Over the past several years, Canada has been featured in multiple newspapers, in a book written by Paul Tough, on segments for 60 Minutes and CNN, and even in an American Express commercial.  In fact, Canada and HCZ have been so successful that President Obama, using non-profits and higher education institutions as local implementers, wants to replicate the model in communities across the United States.

The purpose of the U.S. Department of Education’s Promise Neighborhoods Program is to improve the outcomes of children through a continuum of “cradle-through-college-to-career” services. Of note, applications for the first stage, the planning grant, which provides a year of funding in order to develop an implementation plan, were due yesterday.

Promise Neighborhoods provides an opportunity to catalyze sustainable place-based reform; however, tremendous obstacles exist. Canada, for instance, estimates a program similar to HCZ will cost approximately $35 million. Even with matched funding from philanthropic organizations, organizations are not likely to achieve that amount. Other challenges include the politics of policy design, implementation, and evaluation, as well as the involvement of community stakeholders. Yet, the trend to fund community-specific  initiatives, while not new (see the Community Action Agencies established with the Economic Opportunity Act of 1964 as part of President Johnson’s Great Society), is essential to improving the lives of historically marginalized populations. Even though limitations certainly exist, Promise Neighborhoods represents an acknowledgment of the multidimensional aspects of education and community building. It may also represent, I hope and believe, an important shift in policy design.

Remember the Coleman Report

I originally posted this blog on March 02, 2010.

The Civil Rights Act of 1964 mandated a study of educational opportunity among students. In 1966 James Coleman presented the Equality of Educational Opportunity Study. Known as the Coleman Report, the findings were and are striking. They led to a shift of focus from inputs to outputs, from money spent to scores attained.

I’ve heard some describe the findings of the report as more money does not equal higher achievement. That’s true, but incomplete. The findings illustrate that variables such as per pupil spending and teacher to student ratio have little effect in comparison to socio-economic status. 

Yesterday President Obama announced ‘turnaround’ grants for underperforming schools in order to improve the percentage of students who graduate. Schools in each qualified state will compete for funds based on proposals that demonstrate their willingness to change. Some options include removing the principal and a portion of the staff, restructuring governance, and changing instructional programs.

Within the past year, our administration has introduced two new competitive grant programs for considerable sums of money–$4.35 billion for Race to the Top and $900 million for the newest grant. Reform is important and necessary. A disproportionate number of African American and Hispanic students do not graduate, do not go to college, do not lead happy lives. Spending money to fund a new reading program, unfortunately, will not initiate systemic, sustainable change. Replacing leadership, teachers, or governance structures probably won’t help much either. We may see bumps in achievement, but they will fade.

Public education is not doomed. For widespread, lasting change, however, our administration must consider a broader array of social reform programs. Money is important, but we need to fund the right things. The Coleman Report reminds us of the influence of a spectrum of factors including access to healthcare, stable housing, and early and adult education. The Great Society, which led to the Elementary and Secondary Education Act, is the source of both praise and criticism. The intent was good and ambitious. The results were uneven and sometimes uninspiring. Perhaps it’s time we begin to speak of a new generation of progressive initiatives, a chorus of reforms to improve schools and communities together.

What’s trending?

Red Hook rests in South Brooklyn. Water surrounds two sides. The Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, which fences in the landlocked side, serves as a looming reminder of separation. Cut off from the subway, the neighborhood feels unlike other Brooklyn neighborhoods where gentrification and redevelopment rule. One business owner said, “People love living here. We don’t have a lot of transportation options and that’s part of the reason we have a strong neighborhood.” 

The neighborhood contains the largest housing projects in Brooklyn. Karima, a precocious 17-year-old, travels over an hour to get to her prestigious high school. Having to take bus to the subway, she transfers three times. “It’s the worst in the winter,” she says, “I leave when it’s still dark. It’s so cold.” 

I have spent quite a bit of time in Red Hook. Residents seem to want the same types of things: access to quality healthcare, jobs, and education. 

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Common Core standards. NCLB waivers. Competency-based learning. College and career readiness. College ratings. STEM.

The stories of the young men and women who allow me to document their lives remind me of how disconnected education reform often is from the underserved and under resourced communities it often purports to help.

Similar to policy reforms, we need to nurture a balanced portfolio of short- and long-term goals, improving foundations and innovations.

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.

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.