Unequal Childhoods

by Annette Lareau

  The fact that I was able to reach 100 percent of the families is a strength of the follow-up study, as is the fact that I gained the cooperation of all of the young adults and most of the parents. Nonetheless, even this small study was labor intensive. In the end, I conducted nearly forty follow-up interviews. Then I arranged to have the interviews transcribed; next came coding and analyzing the data; and finally, the struggle to write up my findings. In short, the project was a major undertaking in which I invested significant time and energy. Nevertheless, I am fundamentally dissatisfied with the data set. Because my criticisms are conceptual they are relevant for other studies.

  Social scientists see a longitudinal follow-up to an ethnography as having many potential virtues, including the ability to assess the degree to which original theoretical conclusions are sustained over time. The in-depth interviews I conducted were revealing, but they provide few surprises in terms of the youths’ and families’ trajectories. Over time, the inequalities in family life grew, rather than shrank. Although some of the working-class and poor families made important gains, the power of social class remained considerable. Hence, the follow-up supports the basic argument of the original study. These are interesting findings, and they may help satisfy readers’ curiosity about what happened as the youngsters profiled in the text grew into adulthood. But, like all other longitudinal studies based solely on interviews, the follow-up has important limitations. The research design precluded collecting the deeper, richer, and, I believe, ultimately more valuable data that come from participant-observation of the rituals of daily life. The original study, because it involved participant-observation across multiple settings, embedded the families and kids in a social context. The longitudinal follow-up isolated the young adults and families from the social context.

  This is a crucial methodological difference.8 With no observations of daily life (and no interviews with educators or other key people), the longitudinal follow-up lacks the critical institutional information and triangulation of data that characterized the original study. This severely limits its value. The lack of institutional checks weakens the interview findings. There was no way for me to confirm the young adults’ portrayal of events; and it was impossible to ascertain the accuracy of information conveyed by family members about key life transitions. And, particularly compared to the observational data collected in the original study, the interviews shed less light on a fundamental point: that differences in social class matter because they provide unequal advantages in key institutions.

  WHAT I WISH I COULD HAVE DONE

  In hindsight, I wish I had visited the kids when most were in their senior year of high school to do observations; gather school transcripts, SAT scores, and college applications; and conduct interviews with key teachers, coaches, and counselors. But even as wishful thinking, it is hard to imagine. It would have been too formidable a task, for a variety of reasons. The nine youths featured most prominently in the book attended eight different high schools; the full sample of twelve covered ten different high schools. In the years since I began the original study, the paperwork requirements for doing research have escalated. Applications to the committee for the protection of human subjects (commonly known as an Institutional Review Board, or IRB) are much more detailed than in earlier years. The IRB must review and approve researchers’ interview guides, consent forms, letters of solicitation to recruit participants, etc. Moreover, the application process for research in schools is cumbersome; the permissions alone typically take many weeks. Likewise, negotiating access with districts, principals, and families involves countless hours and a wide array of challenges.

  As Mitchell Duneier has pointed out, many of the best ethnographic studies have been doctoral dissertations.9 These projects were not carried out by seasoned researchers but by novices who, despite their inexperience, have tremendous advantages. One is that frequently they are at a life stage that allows them to spend an enormous number of hours in the field. This immersion is often crucial for the establishment of rapport with participants and the subsequent development of rich theoretical insights. In the youths’ last year in high school (2001–2), I was still writing Unequal Childhoods. The following year, although I continued to think about beginning another round of observations and interviews for all of the youths, I faced many professional and personal obstacles to undertaking a labor-intensive study. I had significant teaching, advising, and professional responsibilities.10 The normal obligations of family life were heightened by the upheaval associated with the unexpected need for immediate and extensive home repair work. In addition, I faced personal challenges that year, with the deaths of my mother and a close family friend. Qualitative research intrudes further into the researcher’s personal life than does quantitative research, in that vital aspects of qualitative research are interpersonal rather than distanced. Despite my desire to reconnect with the twelve kids and to gather information about the key institutions in their lives, the prospect of launching another major study seemed overwhelming.

  As with the initial study, a key problem presented by the follow-up was that the project was too big. With ethnographies, the more typical approach is to focus on one site—or even one family.11 With twelve families in the original study, Unequal Childhoods was too ambitious; subsequently, the longitudinal follow-up was also overly ambitious, which created complications at every point. If there had been only three families in the original study, I might have managed to gain access to the schools, follow kids around, and re-immerse myself in participant-observation. Doing that kind of follow-up with twelve (or even nine) families was not feasible.

  There are, fortunately, some aspects of the longitudinal follow-up about which I remain enthusiastic. It was very helpful to examine the youths’ trajectory over time. The evidence of continuity rather than deflection in the trajectories is striking. Still, as I have tried to make clear here, there are very significant differences between the information yielded by interviews and the information yielded by participant-observation. Given the labor-intensive nature of participant-observation and the increased institutional demands on researchers, interviews are more common, but, despite some valuable features, interviews are inevitably less revealing about the rituals of daily life than are observations.12

  THE COST OF RESEARCH: REACTIONS TO THE BOOK

  The process whereby I learned what families thought about Unequal Childhoods unfolded over several months. As previously noted, the longitudinal follow-up consisted of in-depth interviews with all of the young adults, their parents, and, in most cases, one sibling. In some cases, such as with the Marshall family, I finished all of the interviews with the family members in the summer and then dropped off a copy of the book in the fall. Other times, I brought the book to the interview, and then when I came back to do another interview, I listened to how the families felt about the book. Some of the time, I heard what family members thought during telephone conversations (usually when I was calling to arrange another interview). Other times we were face-to-face. Sometimes I simply dropped by unannounced a week or so after having dropped off a copy of the book, just to see what the family thought. I usually brought food, such as a cake or a pie, when I came.13 In a few cases, I brought a tape recorder and taped the family members’ reactions to the book. “I want to be sure that I understand exactly what you are saying,” I would say. “Is it okay if I tape?” I also told the families that the second edition was going to include a new section, where I would summarize their reactions. In asking their permission to tape, I explained that I wanted the new section to be as accurate as possible.14

  There were many different reactions to the book. The Brindles, McAllisters, and Marshalls seemed fundamentally “okay” with it. Similarly, the Carrolls, Greeleys, and Irwins, the families who were discussed in the tables and appendices but who were not portrayed in detail in the text, did not have complaints. However, the other six of the twelve families, the Drivers, Handlons, Tallingers, Taylors, William
ses, and Yanellis, were deeply troubled by the book. One family, the Williamses, severed ties with me, as did one mother, Ms. Tallinger. The complaints varied. Some families felt that I had made them “look bad.” Some disputed the accuracy of the claims. Others felt that the portraits failed to grasp core elements of family members’ subjective experience. I invited each of the families to write a summary of how they felt about the book or to edit what I wrote. Only Ms. Taylor wrote something; in addition, the Tallingers edited my draft.15 As the summaries of their reactions (provided in the next section) reveal, there is no obvious pattern by class (or race) in how families reacted. After sharing the reactions of the families, I turn to a reflection on the challenges of doing ethnographic research.

  Reaction of the Middle-Class Families

  The Tallinger Family (white boy/middle-class) The Tallingers objected to the portrayal of their family. At a fundamental level, they felt that I did not “get it” in terms of how much they enjoyed the activities that kept their family so busy. It was fun for all of them. Mr. Tallinger reported that the children had wonderful memories of their participation in activities. It was not labor. The parents also vehemently objected to any hint that they might have favored one child (Garrett) and his activities over another. Indeed, they clearly recalled emphasizing the extent to which they worked to find activities that Spencer might enjoy. A committed conservative, Mr. Tallinger also objected to the book’s concluding chapter, which he found “socialistic.” Ms. Tallinger appeared to feel as if the family had been misused; she indicated in an e-mail message that she preferred not to communicate with me any longer. Garrett gave his father a holiday gift of Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, which discusses Unequal Childhoods. After reading it, Mr. Tallinger wrote me a friendly e-mail.16

  The Handlon Family (white girl/middle-class) The Handlons also were not happy about the book. On the phone, Ms. Handlon said tersely, “I felt it was written by three women who were here for three weeks and who didn’t have kids.” Mr. Handlon elaborated that he and his wife felt that Unequal Childhoods uncritically adopted the perspective of Melanie’s teacher as the only legitimate point of view and thus failed to accurately chronicle the Handlons’ actual experience with educators. Ms. Handlon felt that I had failed to grasp the reality of having children, especially having a child who, every single day, was unhappy about having to go to school. When I interviewed Mr. Handlon, he conveyed this same idea by telling me a story about his choir leader. Until this woman had children of her own, he said, she did not fully understand why choir would not be every choir member’s top priority. For Mr. and Ms. Handlon, a similar kind of inexperience marred Unequal Childhoods. They too felt that I just “didn’t get it.”

  Moreover, Mr. Handlon, stressing “we deliberately kept a slower pace” so that the children would have time to play outside, objected to the portrayal of their family life as hectic. References to their house being messy also felt critical to the Handlons. Mr. Handlon reported, too, that Melanie was devastated by the description of her as “chubby.” He wondered out loud, “What does it really add” to the description? He said it was particularly insulting since another girl was described as “pretty.” He recalled that the physical description of his daughter was a powerful negative experience that led Melanie to “shut down” (i.e., withdraw from a conversation about the book).17 Still, Mr. Handlon did acknowledge that the description of their Christmas Eve felt accurate and that, to this day, when it is hard for Melanie to get a word in edgewise in the busy conversational space of the Handlon family, Melanie will sometimes brandish the point that they are not letting her finish, just as was written in the book.

  The Williams Family (African American boy/middle-class) A few months after I had interviewed Alexander, I stopped by the Williamses’ house to drop off a copy of the book. It was a Saturday afternoon. Mr. Williams was in the yard, raking leaves. He seemed pleased to hold the book in his hand and to see that (after many years) the project had come to fruition. I told him that I wanted to interview him. He seemed open to it. Smiling, he said that the previous spring would have been a better time for the interview, since his wife was traveling frequently. I e-mailed Ms. Williams to set up an interview, but there was never a good time. (Once, I happened to call just as a pipe was bursting and water was flooding the first floor of their home.) I sent an e-mail every three months or so for almost two years. Ms. Williams would say that she was busy or not available then, but that she would give me a call.

  By December 2005, I was thinking of making one final attempt to schedule interviews with Mr. and Ms. Williams. I e-mailed Ms. Williams to ask if there would be time to set up an interview. She wrote to say that the family did not wish to have any further involvement with the project. The note indicated that they felt that objectivity had been “lost” in the “subjective details,” with the result that none of them had been portrayed in an “honest manner.” They felt that the “training” and “maturity” of the researchers was inadequate and not up to professional standards. Ms. Williams asked me not to contact them and, especially, not to contact Alexander in the future; she reported that Alexander also had grave concerns about the portrait. She acknowledged that the family’s decision likely would be “troubling” to me but asked that I honor their request.

  I e-mailed Ms. Williams (with the subject line “confirmation that I will honor your request”) and indicated that I would certainly honor their request, including no longer sending a holiday card and small gift to Alexander. I also apologized for any difficulty the book had caused them. She replied immediately with a brief note wishing me a wonderful holiday season.18

  The Marshall Family (African American girl/middle-class) As with many of the families, I postponed the task of delivering the book to the Marshalls because I was extremely anxious about how they might react to it. I had interviewed all four family members in the summer, but it was November—and the book had been published in September—before I dropped by the Marshall home. I came in the evening, without calling ahead, bringing along a copy of the book. Ms. Marshall answered the door. As we stood, just inside, near the door, she told me in a friendly tone that she had found the book at Barnes and Noble and had already read it. (She had not wanted to wait.) I told her that I was sorry it had taken me so long to get it to her. I asked her what she thought. Shifting from foot to foot and looking somewhat sheepish and embarrassed, she said, “I thought, ‘Is that really me?’ And then I thought, ‘Yes.’” She did not have any complaints. We then went upstairs to see Mr. Marshall, who was recuperating from a leg injury. I told them that some of the families were distressed by the book. Always a jovial and expansive man, Mr. Marshall could not see why that would happen since, in his view, “It complimented everyone!” Somewhat later Stacey wrote me an e-mail. She told me that she had read the description of her family and that it made her “appreciate” how much her mom did for her.19 Unlike some other families, the Marshalls seemed comfortable with the book’s portrayal of them.

  Reaction of the Working-Class Families

  The Driver Family (white girl/working-class) Wendy Driver, Ms. Driver, and Wendy’s stepfather Mack all vehemently objected to the book. The complaints were largely about the interpretation of events and a representation that made them look bad. For example, during my interview with Wendy, she focused on a passage in the book (p. 208) where her parents are described as listening to her but not turning her statements into a teachable moment. She read aloud from the book, in heated tones:

  [When she asks] her family members, one by one, if they knew what a mortal sin is, her mom says, “Tell us what it is. You’re the one who went to CCD.” . . . [They] looked at her as she spoke but neither acknowledged her answer. They waited her out and then returned to watching TV.20

  Then, speaking angrily, Wendy told me:

  First of all, I know for a fact that my mother would never say anything like that to me. They would tell me, like I said, to go get the book and we will, you know, find it,
and if they don’t find it, that you can call my grandma and find it. . . . They wouldn’t blow it off and sit there and just watch TV. When it came to CCD, school work, any kind of work, they took it serious. They just never blew it off the way the, the book is saying.

  Wendy felt the portrayal suggested that her family ignored her: “So you’re basically saying, I’m standing there speaking and they’re going like, ‘Yeah, okay. Sure, yeah,’ and watching TV. And basically ignoring what I’m saying.”

  Similarly, in the description of the racialized character of their family, Wendy complained that I wrote that they drove past a mall to go to one in a white neighborhood (p. 204). She felt that made the family look racist:

  Basically [you are] saying we’re a white family that would rather go to the mall farther away than the closest mall because there’s no black people there. We didn’t go to one mall because they were all white or because it was all black.

  She also noted that she had had a Black friend in elementary school.

  In addition, in Unequal Childhoods, the terms working-class and poor frequently appear in the same sentence. Wendy found that juxtaposition profoundly insulting:

  It made it seem that we were working class but then again we were poor. I’ve never considered us poor. My mom had a roof over our heads and food on the table every night for us since I was little. I never remember my mom ever telling me, “We can’t have dinner tonight,” because we didn’t have no. . . . Maybe sometime we wouldn’t want what she had in the refrigerator, and like, “Mom, can we go out this week?” “No, we’re kind of short this week.” “Oh, ok. Well, let’s eat spaghetti or something.”