The Educational Inequality That Begins at Home

The Educational Inequality That Begins at Home February 1, 2015

I recently came upon an article titled Teacher: I see the difference in educational privilege every day. I live it. I am disgusted by it. In it the author says this:

Where there is money, there is education. Where there isn’t money, there is excessive testing, lack of curricular options, and struggle. There is the struggle to give students the tools they need to fight their way through a system that is designed to hold them back from the moment they take their first breath, from the moment they try to write their first paragraph. As The Washington Post report states: “A growing number of children start kindergarten already trailing their more privileged peers and rarely, if ever, catch up. They are less likely to have support at home, are less frequently exposed to enriching activities outside of school, and are more likely to drop out and never attend college.” They are, overall, less likely to succeed.

When I was at the conference, I heard confidence in the voices of the two students that spoke; their words were steeped in the self-assuredness of privilege.

Instead of self-assuredness, my teenage students’ voices are already wracked with weariness.

So what do my students need, then? Access to the same funding, opportunities, and “exceptions” afforded to privileged, affluent students.

They need a society and educational system designed to actually meet their needs, instead of a society that passes laws to keep them constantly underfoot and an educational system designed to test them to death and tell them how they are inadequate instead of educating them.

The author is primarily writing about differences between schools—affluent schools can afford to give children opportunities poor schools can only dream of—but also about the differences in what children receive at home. This is something I’ve thought long and hard about, and something that continues to bother me.

My daughter Sally attends a “poor” school. A much higher than average number of children qualify for free school lunches, which is generally how we measure schools’ poverty rate. And yet, Sally’s experience is not identical to that of the other children in her school, because while we have been low income and have been on medicaid, we are what you might call “graduate student poor.” We know that when we come out the other end of academia, we will find jobs and be able to afford a house and a new car.

And that makes our family different.

We take Sally and Bobby to the library regularly, and read to them quite a bit. They love books, and they love learning. We watch Cosmos and other educational shows on Netflix with them. We practice math problems in the shower, and write notes back and forth with Sally to encourage her reading and writing skills. We do science experiments at the kitchen table, and talk about history. (Sally sometimes talks about “the olden days, when boys could not marry boys and girls could not marry girls”)

Sally may only be in kindergarten, but already she has visited museums in four major cities.

Sally may be going to a “poor” school, but the simple act of growing up in our family will give her an advantage over other students, whatever school she attends. And I feel kind of bad about that. It’s easy to talk about “poor” schools and “rich” schools with their unequal funding and the ways kids in poor school district get shortchanged. It is harder, at least for me, to talk about the educational inequalities that begin in the home. Why? Because I am actively transmitting privilege.

Of course, I’d like to see every child have what Sally has. I’d like to see every child grow up in a family that can afford to go to museums, and with parents who have time to invest in their children and who value education and encourage their children to do well in school and dream big dreams. I feel bad about giving Sally a leg up over other children, but it’s not that Sally shouldn’t have these things, it’s that other children should have them too. And in many ways, the first problem—unequal school funding—seems easier to solve than this one.

Last summer I sent a microscope to a friend across the country. Her two daughters were interested in science but money was tight, and we had some to spare. I didn’t do it for the credit, and am hesitant to mention it here. I did it because I felt very strongly that they, as human beings and children with big dreams and interests but limited resources, needed it, and it was something I could do. There’s a neighbor boy we have over quite frequently, who plays with Sally and Bobby, and one time last summer he spent an hour sitting with Sean laboriously making a magnet out of wires and an electric current. At some point, I’m sure we’ll offer to take some of Sally’s friends with us to a museum, or to other activities.

So in the end, it’s not like there’s nothing I can do. I can try to encourage other children who come into my life, offering them validation and, where possible, enrichment opportunities. I can also give to charities that provide underprivileged children with opportunities, and vote for policies that support families in need and promote more school equity.

How about you? How do you approach educational inequality?


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