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.

Race, research, and justice: Why Trayvon Martin matters to me

Some of my most vivid memories as a high school teacher are of police. Police cars patrolled the neighborhood. They parked in front of the school and at nearby intersections. In school, police officers walked the hallways. Out of school, they walked the streets. 

Police were ever-present in the neighborhood. That is the context in which my students lived. What does it do to a teenager to be under constant surveillance? What effect does being guilty until proven innocent have on a human being? 

As a teacher and researcher, I have been fortunate to interact with thousands of amazing African American and Latino/a men and women. As a result, my life has been have enriched beyond measure. My experiences have also allowed me to address my own biases and stereotypes and question how I have benefited from white privilege and how I reproduce it. After all, growing up in a suburb of Washington D.C., rarely did I see a police car patrolling my neighborhood.

I am a white male who conducts research with African American and Latino teenagers. That is not a footnote to what I do; it is the topic sentence. Certainly, in terms of trustworthiness of research, I have to consider how my race, class, gender, and age affect the data I gather. Does a 17-year-old black male respond differently to me than someone of a different race or class? 

Considering the research that I produce, I have a social responsibility to ensure that my interpretations and representations do not perpetuate stereotypes or injustices. How is what I write different than, what Robin D. G. Kelley calls, the “ghetto ethnographies” of the 1960s?

These are not incidental questions and, given the history of race relations in the United States, they are important to ask and answer, even if asking is uncomfortable and the answers are unclear.

I write today as someone who mourns the loss of Trayvon Martin and hopes his family finds peace. 

I write because race relations in the United States are complicated, and we need to talk about them more often, more candidly, and more respectfully. 

I write because Trayvon reminds me of my own brother, who was shot and murdered a week after his sixteenth birthday. Due to a lack of evidence, the police never apprehended the murderer even though most knew who committed the act. No other event has influenced my life more. Everyday, I wonder what David thought about during his last moments and, as my graduation and wedding approach, I miss him even more. 

Finally, I write because, unlike Trayvon Martin, my brother was presumed innocent. 

Why, even in death, do select groups including the media continue the prejudiced criminalization of African American males?

Justice for Trayvon

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.

Governor Brown sends the wrong message about education

Last week, Governor Jerry Brown described his 2012 budget proposal, which included a $5.2 billion cut in education if voters do not approve a tax increase on the ballot this November. Of the total, Brown plans to cut $4.8 billion in K-12 public school funding—the equivalent of three weeks of schooling—and $200 million to the University of California and Cal State systems. Although the cuts are only an option, Governor Brown is sending the wrong message about education.

In a previous blog, I discussed the relationship between funding and the achievement gap. Scholars and politicians used to frame spending debates around the relationship between money and achievement. The conclusion was that spending does not always equal gains. The results illustrated the need to focus on processes, along with inputs (money) and outputs (achievement). The entire argument, however, presupposed that governments would provide enough money for districts and schools to operate. 

Governor Brown’s proposed cuts highlight an alarming trend in education—the unwillingness to fund education even after all agree that it is essential to the present and future success of the nation. Even taking into consideration spending during the “new normal,” these cuts are shocking. Education in California is already under-funded, and many districts are in fiscal disrepair. The possibility of more cuts places districts in a precarious position. As Superintendent John Deasy points out, Los Angeles Unified has to plan for money that does not exist and decide whether or not to cut a number of programs.

Skeptics point to over a century of unsuccessful reforms as evidence of the futility of government spending on education. Why put money into a system that perpetually underachieves? This perspective, however, ignores important contextual factors like urban poverty and access to social services. Of all industrialized countries, the United States has the highest percentage of children in poverty and provides the fewest social supports, e.g. housing, health-care, and child-care assistance. Similarly, arguments against government spending ignore the recent successes of countries across the globe. A recent article in The Atlantic describes the successes of Finland as educators focus on equity, not test scores. In The Flat World and Education, Linda Darling-Hammond chronicles the turnarounds of Finland, South Korea, and Singapore. What is the common denominator? All three countries’ governments committed to spending money to improve education.

When will education become a priority in California?

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.

Studying and discussing poverty and education

The Broader, Bolder Approach to Education is a coalition of scholars, educators, policymakers, and education advocates who support comprehensive reforms to improve education. They argue that social and economic disadvantage is often a barrier to learning. They target three policy areas: Early childhood education, comprehensive strategies, and school improvement. The list of prominent individuals associated with the project is long, including Pedro Noguera, Susan Neuman, Richard Rothstein, Mike Rose, and Randi Weingarten.

The coalition’s basic message—that happy, healthy children are more likely to learn—seems inarguable. And yet, one scholar has taken aim. 

In a recent article at Education Next, Paul Peterson critiques the Broader, Bolder Approach to Education in general and Helen Ladd’s presidential address at APPAM in particular. 

Peterson’s argument is largely methodological. In the introduction, he asks, “But is parental income the cause of a child’s success?” Assuming that’s the heart of the issue, he then uses evidence to systematically dismantle the causal link between income and achievement. His critique is inaccurate. For more on the differences between his argument and Ladd’s, see Valerie Strauss’s recent post. 

I read and respect Peterson’s work; however, in this instance, he misses the core of Broader, Bolder Approach’s mission. Even more, I’m not sure what he hopes to accomplish with statements like “the Broader, Bolder platform is narrow, niggling, naïve, and negligible.” Instead of a cool, dispassionate discussion of poverty and education reform, the reader gets biased rhetoric that leaves him or her no closer to understanding how to improve education.

Beyond Peterson’s language, the fundamental flaw with his argument is that he thinks and speaks in terms of variables and effects sizes. He simplifies complex processes to correlations among variables and then suggests policy solutions. He says, for instance: 

What has changed for the worse during the intervening period is not access to food and medical services for the poor but the increment in the percentage of children living in single-parent households…A better case can be made that the growing achievement gap is more the result of changing family structure than of inadequate medical services or preschool education.

First, Peterson ignores the fact that, as Linda Darling Hammond notes, of all industrialized countries, the United States has the highest percentage of children in poverty and provides the fewest social supports, e.g. housing, health-care, and child-care assistance. Second, he draws from a tradition beginning with E. Franklin Frazier in the 1930s and continuing with Patrick Moynihan in the 1960s and William Julius Wilson in the 1980s that ties the dissolution of the nuclear family to increased poverty among African Americans. Critiques of the argument— including a failure to account for racist public policies—are numerous. In addition, his argument is based on a faulty causal premise that two-parent households are always better than one-parent households. I can cite numerous examples of students who excel academically with one parent. I cannot say the same for students who do not have glasses and cannot read a textbook because their parents have no insurance. 

The Broader, Bolder Approach to Education and Peterson’s response—as well as a recent New York Times article and edited volume about the same topic (Whither Opportunity)—highlight the revived and growing national dialogue about the relationship between class and education. 

How does living in poverty influence the lives and educations of children? From cognitive delays caused by malnourishment to physiological barriers caused by lack of insurance, the answers are numerous, nuanced, and complex. By setting a comprehensive research agenda and open, active forums for discussion, we can better identify the far-reaching influences and consequences of poverty and, in doing so, create public policies that focus on immediate interventions and long-term systemic reforms.

Preparing students for success now and later

“What does this have to do with anything?” is the question I have heard, in some form or another, from high school students over the last seven years. The question is a valid one. What does Macbeth have to do with a teenager from South LA? Why does he need to know the definition of an isosceles triangle? The answer has to be more than “because it’s important.” The reality is I have forgotten about as much geometry as I have learned and I still manage to function throughout the day. 

There are answers, even good ones. Many of the themes in Macbeth parallel contemporary issues. Triangles form the basis of construction and architecture. To learn about them is to see the world a little differently. The challenge is for teachers to draw connections between abstract concepts and real life, to show how critical thinking and learning translates to success now and the future.

Extending the above argument to schools and neighborhoods, something more complex is happening. The rise in school choice has coincided with a select few “no excuses” college prep schools. From kindergarten on, these brand name schools excel in creating college-going cultures. The expectations are clear: College or bust. The stories are well known as journalists report how, against all odds, students make it from Harlem to Harvard. The problem, however, is not the students who succeed. It is the students who do not. And, there are a lot of them.

College-going prep schools have extended the curriculum from basic skills to everything individuals need to know to succeed in mainstream society, which includes how to speak and act. Questions of relevancy have been answered. Learning becomes future oriented, for a time when students leave their low-income neighborhood to attend college. The unintended consequence is that the future orientation often devalues students’ present contexts and cultural knowledge. 

Often, ideas sound so good and gain so much popularity that they go unquestioned. After all, if a group promises and delivers a high performing school to a neighborhood where the schools have historically underperformed, why would anyone complain? My argument has focused on the worst-case scenario, when education becomes acculturation. Of course, there are culturally responsive college prep schools. We cannot, however, assume that speaking about college access is the same as working towards socially just educational outcomes. 

Sometimes, even the best intentions go awry.

Are the kids really alright?

A few weeks ago the New York Times published a blog entitled “The Kids Are More Than Alright.” The author had several major points:

• Teenagers’ use of marijuana is lower than it was thirty years ago.
• Teenagers’ use of alcohol, tobacco, and other drugs is far lower than it was thirty years ago.
• Teenagers have less sex and lower rates of pregnancy than the previous generation.

These three points lead the author to conclude:

Every few years, parents find new reasons to worry about their teenagers. And while there is no question that some kids continue to experiment with sex and substance abuse, the latest data point to something perhaps more surprising: the current generation is, well, a bit boring when it comes to bad behavior.

After I read the short blog, I was stunned. I have no doubt that the initial report is valid and reliable. From a national perspective, drug use and teen pregnancy may be declining. But, at such a grand scale, what does that really tell us? What do we learn when numbers are stripped from context? How does drug use differ among race, class, and gender? The report provides further evidence to support the need for well-designed studies that include quantitative and qualitative data. The blog, which includes a quote from an editor of Seventeen and references to Teen Mom and Gossip Girl, introduces questions about the blurring of journalism and entertainment in one of the nation’s most influential newspapers. 

The majority of the sixty teenagers in my study of a low-income neighborhood have experimented with drugs. Marijuana is now easier to get than alcohol. I recently discussed my findings with a colleague who grew up during the 60s. He was surprised at my surprise about the prevalence of drugs. Drug use and experimentation, he said, was much more pervasive thirty years ago. Of course, the study supports that. However, such a stance ignores the changing nature of drug use. It is true that many of the participants of my study only experiment with drugs. However, it is also true that a number of them use drugs as a coping mechanism. 

Maybe drug use across the nation is the lowest it’s been in thirty years. However, a statement in like “the current generation is, well, a bit boring when it comes to bad behavior” trivializes what is occurring in low-income neighborhoods. It also moves us no closer to understanding or solving the pressing social issues of our time. Maybe it’s just a blog, but it’s also the New York Times.

Getting to the truth: Doing research with teenagers

Credibility is the first (and most important) criteria for establishing trustworthiness in qualitative research. Credibility, like it’s step-sibling validity, is often the subject of much debate; scholars argue about what it can and cannot do and what strategies researchers should and should not use to ensure rigor in research (see “Varieties of Validity,” an article Yvonna Lincoln penned, or “Qualitative Research and Public Policy”, an article Bill and I wrote). Plainly speaking, however, credibility is truthfulness. How does a researcher know his or her data and interpretations approximate the truth? And, what strategies did he or she use? When it comes to research with teenagers, however, credibility is anything but a straightforward idea. Permit me to elaborate with an example. 

The Smallwood Recreation Complex, located in the northwest corner of a neighborhood in South Los Angeles, spans nine acres. The main feature of Smallwood is a multipurpose brick building, which houses a gymnasium, boxing ring, weight room, and dance studio. A playground, soccer field, baseball diamond, and tennis and basketball courts dot the landscape behind the building. Large eucalyptus trees line the outskirts of the park.

During the spring prior to my year-long ethnography, I conducted a pilot study of the neighborhood. I visited parks, schools, and businesses and interviewed residents, teachers, and workers. I conducted participant observations at Smallwood five times. During each visit, the setting was often the same. Cars filled the parking lot. Adults sat at benches watching children on the playground. Young men played basketball. Three or four men in their 20s and 30s congregated at the building’s main entrance. Children and teenagers walked in and out of the building. After each visit, I often left feeling upbeat. Los Angeles is one of the most park-poor metropolitan areas in the United States; however, the young residents of this neighborhood had a nice place to play and exercise.

Last month, I asked Matthew, one of my informants, to go to Smallwood with him. I knew the 18-year old often boxed and played basketball at the park. On the morning of the scheduled visit, he said, “Hey Randy, we can’t go. Not today.” Two days later, while driving Matt home, I reminded him that we still needed to visit the park. “What?” he responded, “You want to go at the worst time. Three gangs is battling.” A Latino gang member shot and killed someone from a rival gang. The park, he said, was the hotspot. Matt continued, “They shot up right where I live. I was pissed and grieving.” Later, I discussed Smallwood with Matt and his peers. To them, the park and the surrounding neighborhood represented a contested territory, a place where violence could occur suddenly. 

How does a researcher make sense of such divergent experiences? What is the truth? If, as Paul Rabinow says, fieldwork is a “cultural activity,” my experience highlights the dual process of interpretation. I was both making sense of the experiences of my participants as well as myself in the field. My understanding of the park diverged significantly from that of my subjects. 

So, which is it? Is Smallwood a family-friendly park or gang-controlled territory? I have embedded in my study multiple strategies to ensure credibility. In this instance, different methods provided different interpretations. The challenge of credibility is not to eliminate different interpretations like crossing items off of a grocery list. The challenge is to acknowledge that multiple truths exist, often simultaneously, and to understand what that means for the lives of those involved.