Do you have to have a book nook? SHOULD you have a book nook? Come on. No. That’s crazy. We’re so weird.
— Jack Schneider (@Edu_Historian) January 17, 2018
I’ve followed Jack’s Twitter @edu_historian for a while now and this one really caught my attention. This articulates the privilege I feel as a white man, raised in a Protestant home, in a single-income, middle-class, rural community; I’ve never been able to identify what it was that set my experience apart from the experience of others. You can follow the thread above on Twitter but Jack gave me permission to duplicate the text here:
People wonder why SES (i.e. family income/race/parental education/etc.) is such a strong predictor of student standardized test scores. Here’s just one example.
I just grabbed my daughter from school. We came home. She was hungry, and I was able to give her a snack. It’s cold outside and our house is warm. She has no health problems.
We then went into the room we call the book nook. It’s a small room full of books. (So: messaging here about what her parents value, etc.) Time for homework…
I’m sitting next to her writing. She asks what I’m up to. Oh…just writing an essay (again: the message “this is something worth your time, and that your parents will praise you for.”) I ask: what are YOU up to? (BTW: I work a job that allows me this flexibility to be with her.)
She says: “homework.” Totally flat affect. I go: “cool.” Because…well…I did well in school and felt valued in it. So I have no baggage with homework (though I’m not endorsing the homework regime by any means).
A minute later, she says: “dad, I have a problem.” I get all excited. Because I love 2nd grade math. I’m the Michael Jordan of 2nd grade math. So I’m like: “can’t wait to help you.” I give her a hug (that hug does a lot in that moment, it turns out).
We look at the problem. It’s basically an algebra problem. I explain that. Algebra is awesome, I say. It’s like…super big kid math. (She’s fired up and ready to go at this point).
Yadda yadda yadda. We solve for x. No but for real: I show her that every problem has a solution. That learning is fun. That dad values this. I tell her she’s smart. I praise her effort. She’s feeling good. This is like a positive feedback loop cyclone.
Meanwhile, she has been writing on a Magritte book. It was the closest thing I had to a clipboard, which she had requested. Homework is done. I’m all like: “yo, you should check out Magritte. He’s crazy.”
Then she’s all like: [insert sound of cultural capital vacuum machine]
We’re happy. Hanging out. School is cool. Be like dad. Books are everywhere. Parents proud. Algebra is dope. So many messages. So much support.
Then she’s like: “hey dad, is being a teacher harder than being a student? Because you have to figure out how to teach the stuff, not just learn it.” And my head almost explodes. Because…wow this kid is now metacognating. Another advantage for her.
While my head is exploding, she puts Magritte away and grabs one of a dozen books we recently grabbed from the library (what with my flexible schedule) or bought (what with my middle class income) or that were given to us (what with our social capital).
And then she’s reading. Which she loves to do. Because…you know…mom and dad have this notion that curling up with a book is a treat.
And people like us are NO BETTER than other people. We just happen to have a household culture/structure that aligns with what is valued/expected in school.
Do you have to have a book nook? SHOULD you have a book nook? Come on. No. That’s crazy. We’re so weird. But this kid is just getting advantage upon advantage as a result of it. Especially since someday our society will pretend that it was her innate ability and hard work that produced her school success. And she’ll reap the rewards of this. Great for her, I guess. So unfair.
By the way we’re now getting ready for dance class. Because, you know, just advantage on top of advantage. (“Put thine own ballet clothes on child! Father doth need to make the tweets!)
Is it the money (because money is a correlate of test scores)? Is it my whiteness (another correlate)? Is it my collection of diplomas (another correlate)?
No. It’s all the stuff that those things tend to align with. The being home. The having a working furnace. The valuing of learning. The positive view of education. The mastery of second grade math. The fondness for books. Etc. Etc. Etc.
But by all means let’s pretend that none of this matters. Let’s pretend that my kid is from the same kind of house as every other kid.
Let’s pretend that her friend [name redacted], who has literally no books in his house, whose parents I have never seen set foot on the schoolground, etc., etc., but who is a LOVELY, SMART, KIND, CAPABLE boy…let’s pretend that he’s no different.
And then let’s praise the school for it’s work with my daughter. And shame the school for it’s work with her friend. And then let’s really praise the schools that have [kids like my daughter] x [a majority of the school population]
And then let’s really slam the schools that have [kids NOT like my daughter] x [a majority of the school population]
And while we’re praising and slamming, let’s also then have some formal rewards/punishments. And maybe let’s make decisions about where we live and enroll our kids in school. Pretending all the while that this is all a school thing, rather than an out-of-school thing.
And then let’s dole out social and economic goodies, based on the false belief that the end results of school (grades, diplomas, etc.) are all the product of choices, effort, talent. Come on, gang. It’s all that other stuff.
I gotta go to dance.
But then, you know…back to just unintentionally (and that’s really one of the keys…that this stuff just all flows from different kinds of advantage) giving my kid every privilege w/r/t her education.
You know…healthy dinner, more reading, lots of rich vocab chatter from two grownups (who are not generally sick, stressed, etc., who speak the dominant language, etc.)
Every. Damn. Day.
And then I get people coming at me with “oh but that’s a bad school” or “oh that’s a good school” and never step foot.
Thank you for sharing this personal reflection about some time with your daughter Jack. I think your writing has helped me understand a greater need in our public schools than I was open to seeing before.
Jack has written an article for The Atlantic that is related to the ideas in this post. Find it here: https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2018/01/what-school-funding-debates-ignore/551126/
He is promoting a new book as well! I have not personally read this book yet. https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Test-Scores-Measure-Quality/dp/0674976398/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494342328&sr=8-1&keywords=beyond+test+scores