In line with my earlier post…I’d like to discuss “opportunities.” Perhaps we should just call this “Social Justice Sunday…”
I am often disheartened to hear friends and associates argue that some sort of “level playing field” already exists in America. There’s often an insinuation that if a person does not succeed it is because they are “lazy,” or perhaps they “just don’t want it enough,” and don’t take advantage of “the opportunities that are afforded to everyone.”
I learned a lot about just how “uneven” the field is while teaching at Stratford Comprehensive High School in East Nashville. I learned that there is so very much that can easily be taken for granted…so perhaps a comparison between myself and a former student can shed some light on what I mean when I say that the opportunities are not truly equally available. For the sake of discussion, we’ll call my student “Jane.”
I was raised in Lake Forest, Illinois. A land of country clubs and wealth. My family was what one might call “middle class.” We had a nice home in a neighborhood with no crime (in fact, there has little crime in the entire city). Mom was a housewife and the house was always clean, and food was always on the table at dinner time. She would drive me to school or other activities, and when I got home we’d sit and watch Jeopardy or an after-school special. She’d make me do my homework, and once Dad got home…we’d all sit and have dinner together. Proper English was spoken in the home, and the level of vocabulary was “elevated.“ Dad would regale us with adages and stories from his work day, and in turn I would be asked what happened during mine. Mom knew all my friends and their parents, and where I was at any given point in time.
Jane was raised in East Nashville, Tennessee. A working/lower class part of town, with several public housing developments…she lived in one of them. Both her parents had to work, so she saw very little of them, and the home was often untidy. She would come home from school (she walks) and take care of her two younger siblings. Maybe she’d get some food at the Crystal’s down the street, or warm up a Hot Pocket, and then sit down to watch The Parkers, or maybe some music videos. She eats alone, and does her homework if she has time after taking care of her brother and sister. Nights were often disruptive since the police would regularly get called to her apartments over drug crimes, domestic disputes, or the occasional shooting. Her parents, both high school dropouts speak relatively poor English with “impoverished” vocabularies…when they are even at home. They don’t know her friends, or her friends parents, which is probably just as well, because most of them are in gangs and if they haven’t already dropped out of school…they soon will.
For me…expectations were clear: high school…then college…then a job and financial self-sufficiency. Mom kept up with my grades and was quick to speak with a teacher if I was having trouble. If doing well, I was moved to honors classes where we studied college-level material. I did several extra-curricular activities, which was encouraged by my mother because it would look good on college applications. I was in Boy Scouts. My education did not begin and end with school, because Mom considered the Arts to be very important; once every three months we would go to the Art Institute in Chicago, or to some other museum, or to the Opera, or to the Symphony. I had many conversations with my parents about various careers, and knew what it would take to become a doctor, lawyer, businessman…et cetera. My guidance counselors at school (based on my B+ average) recommended that I apply to Bucknell, Kenyon, Lafayette, James Madison, Vanderbilt, Northwestern, and University of New Hampshire as a backup. There was no talk of scholarships or loans, because Dad was footing the bill.
Jane’s parents have tried to talk her out of college because they can’t afford it, and they “didn’t need it.” Her parents have no idea how she is doing school other than her report cards, and aren’t returning her teachers calls. She’d like to do some after-school activities, but she has to take care of “the little ones” and she doesn’t know how she’d get back and forth to the activities anyway. She’s in an honors class…but the class covers mostly 7th or 8th grade material because they are all behind on spelling, grammar, and basic reading comprehension. She’s never been to a museum or a symphony and isn’t sure why anybody would think those things are “fun.” She thinks she’d like to be a Pediatrician, because she’s really “good with babies,” but she has no idea what kind of schooling is required…she assumes it’s just four years of college…maybe less. The guidance counselors at her school recommend she learns a trade, but if she really wants to go to college (based on her B+ average) they tell her to go to Tennessee State. If she does…she’ll probably have to take a year of remedial classes to catch up, and because nobody told her about any of the scholarships available (she’d heard about them, but mistakenly didn’t think she’d qualify for them), she’ll be paying off her school loans until about the time her own children go to college….IF they go to college.
A week prior to college graduation, I land a job, and line up an apartment. With a little financial “help” from my parents, I obtain all the necessities (which they augment with some furniture they had been saving in the basement). Dad helps with guidance as to budgeting, and Mom has already taught me most of the various “life essentials” like doing laundry, paying bills, buying groceries, cooking. I have their constant attention and support and feel confident that I will succeed and soon be totally self-sufficient. I know how to write a resume, interview, and be professional….from those dinnertime conversations with Dad. I think I know how to build a good relationship and one day a sound marriage from the example my parents set for me everyday. And if I have a child…I know how I can best raise them to be as successful as I am…or more.
Jane doesn’t finish college…having little support of either a personal or financial nature. She gets a job while in school to pay for all the “extra” stuff you need on top of tuition like books or food…and soon the job and the money it brings seems far more important. She says she’ll go back, but never will. She rarely talks to her parents who seem to have “moved on with their lives” since she left the house. When she eventually loses her job, she asks for help, but it is denied…she asks to move back home, but can’t…so she moves in with her boyfriend who has a job as the shift supervisor at the Crystal’s down the street from where she grew up. She becomes totally dependent on him for support so even when he starts mistreating her…there’s not much she can do, especially now that she’s pregnant. They decided to have a baby when he made it clear that he would “love her forever,” and at this time she is unaware that he will be leaving her shortly after the child is born. She can’t work right now (nobody wants to hire someone about to need maternity leave)…and even once the baby is born, she’s not sure how she’d be able to make enough to pay for the daycare that it would require for her to keep working.
NOW…you need to understand. This isn’t fiction. These are not only two real stories…but Jane’s story was nearly the same story as a thousand of her classmates. Oh, the details differed. Some kids only had one parent. Some were already in gangs or already pregnant. Some went home and would sit and drink and do drugs WITH their parents. Some kids’ parents FORBADE them from going to college. Some were being told by their parents that what they were learning was “useless” and were ENCOURAGING them to drop out. Some of the kids never got their homework done…because they were already working a job to support their parents or the babies they prematurely had.
It’s time for America to WAKE UP. These stories…they become our children’s stories and echo throughout generations in America, sealing the fate of millions before they even reach the age of eighteen; Leaving people no options, no choices but the most meager of subsistence scenarios. THIS is what Obama talks about changing. THIS is the dialogue we are trying to start. The disease that is poverty, like any other, requires first that “we acknowledge that we have a problem” and only then, working together on what is considered a shared plight, can we fix it.