I am an unabashed political junkie, and I have been for most of my life, including childhood. I remember being fascinated by the political process in grade school, excited to learn about the candidates and take part in "mock elections" in school. In high school, I volunteered for the Michael Dukakis campaign, even though I wasn't old enough to vote. When I was finally able to vote in a presidential election, I was away at college, so I voted via absentee ballot. When I say I take this stuff seriously, I'm not joking. And I guess it's pretty obvious that I've always had liberal leanings.
Psychologists (as well as sociologists) are often accused of being liberal, and there is truth in this accusation. In 2015, Behavioral and Brain Sciences published an article on the extreme left leanings of social psychologists, and in this article the authors explored why this lack of diversity harms the field. Duarte et al. posited that this lack of political diversity undermines the field of social psychology because (a) Liberal values and assumptions can become embedded into theory and method; (b) Researchers may concentrate on topics that validate the liberal progress narrative and avoid topics that contest that narrative; and (c) Negative attitudes regarding conservatives can produce a psychological science that mischaracterizes their traits and attributes. I don't disagree with with any of these factors, but I think it is just as important to ask WHY social psychology, and psychology in general for that matter, has become such a bastion of liberality. Are we attracting liberals to our field because that's the only ideology we present, or does studying the human condition make you liberal?
In a fabulous blog piece last year, Elliot Berkman, Assistant Professor of Psychology at the University of Oregon, wrote of his own "conversion" from libertarian to liberal. He wrote:
"Learning about social psychology, about how people actually make important choices, made me aware of the critical role that society plays, through laws and other means, in enabling us to fulfill our values and ideals. This realization pushed me to be decidedly more liberal than I was before. It’s not that studying psychology made me a bleeding heart, but that studying psychology gave me a better understanding of why people do what they do."
Exactly.
In addition to Introductory Psychology, I teach Educational Psychology and Lifespan Developmental Psychology, two disciplines that require, by default, the examination of the contexts in which an individual's full potential is either nurtured, impeded, or outright destroyed. For example, in Lifespan Development, one of the very first things we discuss is the role of high quality prenatal care in healthy pregnancies, deliveries, and infants. I've used many different textbooks over the years and they've all, in one way or another, had to address the lack of universal care in the U.S. and the impact it has on our infant/mother morbidity and mortality rates. There is simply no way to address this without it having a seeming "liberal" slant. But reality is reality. Countries with access to care for everyone, regardless of income, have healthier pregnancies, healthier deliveries, and healthier infants.
In 2009, more than one in four children under the age of six in the U.S. was living in a family under the poverty line; it rises to one in two if we also include "low income" families (Miller, Sadegh-Nmobari, & Lillie-Blanton, 2011). Poverty in the first four years of life has an especially negative impact, as these kids are less likely to graduate from high school, and chronic, untreated illnesses in childhood (as is common among those with low income and no access to healthcare) may contribute to a future of adult illnesses and even premature death (Miller, Chen, & Parker, 2011). Even the smallest increase in income--a mere $3,000 for each of a baby's first five years--can mean an income jump up to 19% once that child is an adult (Duncan, Ziol-Guest, & Kalil, 2010). We can't discuss these topics in class without the issue of healthcare and income inequality being a part of the conversation.
This need to acknowledge inequality in access to resources continues throughout the semester. When we reach the point in the semester where we are covering adolescent development, my students learn that countries with widespread, comprehensive sex education for adolescents have less teen pregnancy and lower rates of sexually transmitted diseases. Next, they learn that midlife career satisfaction is higher in places where individuals can change careers should the interest strike them, without having to fear losing their health insurance. In places where higher education is low cost, or even free, poverty rates are significantly lower than ours, with higher life satisfaction and lower overall rates of mental illness. Are textbook authors supposed to present American rates of these things without cross-cultural comparisons in order to remain impartial, in order to appear as if no "side" is being taken? I suppose they could, but what would that be doing other than to be presenting information without a larger context in which a comparison of what works and what doesn't can be be made? By the time we've reached the end of the semester and are discussing end of life issues, the healthcare issue rears its ugly head once again, as the students learn that a lifetime of low quality, or no, healthcare increases the risks for dementia. Even elderly care is impacted by the lack of universal care--families with the means are able to place their elderly family members in facilities with a wider range of services.
In Educational Psychology, we discuss the role that early childhood experiences plays in academic achievement, highlighting the role of family SES and its impact on school readiness and subsequent performance. One of the readings I assign is about "The Early Catastrophe," which summarizes the groundbreaking study conducted by Hart & Risley that found an undeniable link between family income and children's language abilities, so much so that children from higher income families were found to have heard 30 million MORE words within the first four years of life than children living in poverty. Furthermore, children from families living in poverty were more likely to hear negative directives and punishment-oriented words than their middle to upper income counterparts.
It goes on. As has been so heartbreakingly exemplified in Flint, children living in poverty are more likely to be exposed to lead, which is unequivocally linked with learning disabilities, developmental disabilities, and even significant brain damage. Children without access to regular healthcare are more likely to have untreated ear infections, which can lead to subtle, often undetected hearing loss, increasing their risk for disorders of phonological processing, such as dyslexia, as well as a myriad of other academic struggles. Children without access to regular healthcare and dental care miss more school, causing them to get further behind and increasing the likelihood that they will fail and/or drop out. These are truths, not liberal conspiracies. And yet, teaching about this opens me to the criticism that I am attempting to indoctrinate my students toward a liberal agenda--one that promotes universal healthcare for all, a greater distribution of resources/income, etc. But, am I indoctrinating them, or providing them with a set of facts that they can examine for themselves and contemplate the implications?
I struggle with this, I truly do. I have a sign on my office door that says, "You don't have to think like me, you just have to think." But...if I'm honest, I do want them to see the impact that not having access to healthcare has on a family. I want them to think about why saying that "everyone has the same opportunities to succeed" is simply NOT TRUE. I want them to recognize that there is an inherent unfairness that guarantees greater success for one person merely by the circumstance of her birth, not just by the strength of her character. Does that mean I want them to think like me? Does that make me part of the liberal elite, trying to brainwash generations of people? I certainly don't discourage my students from expressing their own opinions and ideas about this; in fact, one assignment they have requires them to imagine ways in which the lack of access to healthcare can be addressed, and they don't have to just say, "We should have free healthcare." As long as they provide sound, critical thought for their ideas, I'm thrilled, no matter what the idea(s) presented.
I think that from an outside perspective, psychologists and sociologists appear to spend an awful lot of time excusing people's behavior, when in reality what we're doing is trying to explain it. And it turns out that the explanations require a discussion of the systems in which the behavior occurred, which by default, include economic and political ideology. There's just no escaping it.
Liberal professor? I guess I'm guilty as charged. But maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
The Myth of Upward Mobility
So, I've been thinking a
lot about my path in life; I think I'm having some sort of existential-midlife
crisis, if you will, intermingled with what I know about economics, psychology,
etc. In other words, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about how I got
where I am and how not just my life, but how my parents' lives and their parents'
lives and so on are just as much responsible for where I am and who I am. What
got me thinking about all this (not that I don't think about it regularly, but
what got me on THIS particular tangent) is money.
I've been thinking about
upward mobility and how nearly impossible it is in America today. The reason my
bank account will only ever be slightly above what my parents' was, despite my
degrees and good career, is precisely because my parents had very little money.
I had to borrow money to go to college, which I am still paying back; a large
part of my income goes to that so despite making more money than my parents, I
don't actually get to ENJOY it as much as I would had I been able to have my
college paid for in the first place. And that is the rub of income inequality
in America.
Yes, those of us with the intellect and the motivation to better
our lives are given the opportunity to do so, but only at great cost.
I suppose I could have
gone to medical school or taken a different psychological path and chosen to do
therapy in private practice and make a heck of a lot more money than I do now,
but instead, I chose to teach. Granted, if I'd gone to medical school, I
would've graduated with even more debt than I have, but we reward that choice
by providing a very high income. After all, "it costs so much to go to
medical school!" Um, it costs a lot to go to any school. Most PhDs I know
have a pretty high amount of student debt.
Look, I know these were my
choices. I'm not complaining so much as just exploring what choosing a career
that pays me less than I might make otherwise means. What does it mean for
society, for my community? Well, it means that highly qualified and caring
people are helping change other people's lives, which is a good thing. What
does it mean for me personally? That despite having a career that I love, I
will likely never be rich. I'm not saying that's a bad thing (I'm comfortable
and I don't think being rich should be one's goal anyway), I'm just saying that
the notion that everyone has an equal opportunity to rise in SES (to "get
rich") in America is foolish and naive.
However, the baby boomer
generation did indeed have that opportunity--in part because, thanks to the
very generous post-WWII tax base higher education cost very little. A college
degree from the University of Illinois in 1970 cost around $2,000 TOTAL, much
of which could be paid for with work study jobs. Now consider this: the cost of
a college degree has increased 1,120 % since 1978. THAT'S ONE THOUSAND, ONE
HUNDRED AND TWENTY PERCENT. Baby boomers didn't graduate with tremendous debt,
so when they got into the careers that their new degrees allowed them to have,
they did indeed out-earn their parents. By leaps and bounds. Upward mobility
was guaranteed. Furthermore, low cost health benefits were almost always
provided by employers. Automobiles and homes didn't cost 3/4 of a man's take
home income.
And here's where it gets
interesting.
This baby boomer
generation, benefitting from what was as close to socialized medicine and free
education as is possible in the good 'ol US of A, became greedy. As they became
the CEOs and leaders, the battle to fight taxing the rich began. The generous
tax base that allowed this generation to fly out of their parents' SES and
create the first strong middle class in the history of America was destroyed,
and along with it, every subsequent generation's ability to do the same,
including the baby boomers' own children. What's rather baffling to me,
however, is how so many (yes, I know, not all!) members of the baby boomer
generation simply refuse to get it--they just can't understand why a person
can't get a job, or get ahead, or whatever. "You just have to want it
enough!" Um, yes, that used to be true. Truly, it did. But when they chose
to keep more and more of their wealth instead of putting some of it toward the
society that sacrificed to get them there, they essentially said they had no
intention of paying it forward.
I recently read that the
group least affected by the economic downturn in America has been the baby
boomers. Get X and Millennials are not doing so great. From the Motley Fool (2013, so the age ranges
are from 3 years ago): "When adjusted for inflation, the median net worth
of households led by people aged 45 to 54 was 10% lower in 2009 than it was in
1984, according to the Pew Research Center. Those led by individuals aged 55 to
64 -- currently the leading edge of the boomer generation -- was 10% higher in
2009. On the other hand, households led by people between ages of 35 and 44,
which today is the primary age range of Generation X, had 44% less median net
worth in 2009 than the first-wave boomers did in 1984. Those younger than 35
had two-thirds less net worth in 2009 than the same age group did in 1984,
which means that boomers generally had almost three times as much real wealth
(and potentially much more than that, in the case of older boomers) during
Reagan's first term in office as their children did at the start of President
Obama's first term." Baby boomers, who are the children of the greatest
generation, have taken more and are leaving less than any other generation
before them.
Look, I didn't write this
to trash baby boomers per se--I am simply talking about the economic policies
that many have pushed and and supported and how they have hurt so many of their
children and will continue to hurt their grandchildren. And again, I know
this doesn't apply to all. I have many baby boomer friends who are as
appalled by the changes in our economic infrastructure as I am.
Okay, I've digressed a
little into a rant, and that truly wasn't the point of this post. Income
inequality was, so let me get back to it, and why upward mobility is so much
more difficult in today's America.
Children from lower SES
families not only often start out their adult lives in debt, but often start
their adult lives with very few good money management skills
(see http://www.pewtrusts.org/en/projects/financial-security-and-mobility
for some great stats on upward mobility in the U.S). I'm not saying that they
can't get them, and I'm not saying that we are supposed to feel sorry for
people who start out their adult lives in terrible debt, I'm just saying that context
matters. But increasingly, researchers are showing that it truly is nearly
impossible to move up the SES ladder in America any more, mostly because of
economic policies put into place in the last 30 years, but also because so many
lower SES young adults start out already in the hole. When they do begin making
money, a tremendous amount of it goes to pay the debt, instead of going to
build a life. And those poor money management skills? Adults who grew up in
lower SESs are more likely to get into credit card debt, more likely to invest
whatever money they have into risky investments, etc. They are less likely to
save, primarily because they didn't learn how and why to save when they were
growing up--probably because their parents had no money to give them to save,
and their parents had no money to save so there was no modeling of saving.
Even where you grew up has
an impact on the likelihood of accumulating wealth. The county where I grew up is considered "among the worst counties
in the U.S. helping poor children" experience upward mobility, When all else is equal, boys who grow up in low income
neighborhoods and cities with low mobility earn 35% less than boys who grow up
poor but in areas with better records of upward mobility. For girls, the number
is 25%.
And that's why liberals
tend to like economic policies that help the poor. They know that an economic infrastructure that supports lower income families makes it less likely that
the children of those families will grow up to be low income. Policies--and
they have to be aggressive-- that help people go to college at little to no
cost, have affordable health care, etc. HELP OUR SOCIETY IN THE LONG RUN. And it
can't just be "oh, join the military" or "take out a student
loan." Because that just keeps poor kids fighting our wars and poor kids
in debt longer, and less likely to be able to save for their own children's
education, which means the cycle will repeat.
When I was in college, I
always worked a minimum of two jobs. Always. During my freshman and sophomore
years, one of my jobs was working for a stockbroker. He was a very nice man with
strong community ties (his father was a realtor in the area), and he was very nice to me, paid me fairly well, and generally treated me with great respect. I liked my job very much. But one day stands out as a reminder of the separation between us, and I don't mean because I was
just a college student doing his data entry.
He had lost his social
security card and needed to go the social security office to get a new one. He
was ranting about all the dirty people and homeless people who hang out by the
office and how that made him nervous
about getting mugged. He turned to me and said, "I could pay you to do it! I'll
give you all my information and you can wait in line for me." He had just
talked about how he thought it was a dangerous area, how he was afraid of
getting mugged, but his 18-year-old female assistant? Well, clearly, she can't
be worth as much as him so it must be okay. I must've looked a bit mortified
because he soon realized what he had implied, quickly apologized, and then
never mentioned it again. But it had happened. I was a lower class person to
him. I cried my entire way home from work that day, realizing that no matter
how nice I dressed, how well I spoke, my status to him was already set the
moment I took the job. And in a way, that sort of encapsulates the unofficial
class system we have in America. If it was so clear on such a small scale that
I was worth less than he was because I was from a different socioeconomic
status than he was, then we must acknowledge the impact this class separation
has on a much grander scale, and most definitely must consider the impact of
race and ethnicity on class. I was a white girl, but still "not quite good
enough" simply because of where I was from, where I lived, where I went to
high school, and what my parents did for a living.
What would it have been
like for young black man? Oh, that's right, he likely wouldn't have even gotten
an interview for the job at the stockbroker's office.
Poor minority children are
even less likely than poor white kids to grow up and break the bonds of
poverty. The report, "Umbrellas don't make it rain: Why studying and
working hard isn't enough for Black Americans," points out that the
average black household would have to save "100 percent of their income
for three consecutive years to overcome the obstacles to wealthy parity by dint
of their own savings activity." In the United Stated today, it is the
unearned family inheritance that has the greatest effect on wealth
accumulation. Education is no longer the great equalizer. The Republican mantra
of "work hard and you'll get ahead" is simply not fact for the
majority of all Americans today.
Upward mobility? That's an
American dream that is on its last breath.
See:
http://www.nccp.org/publications/pub_911.html
http://www.brookings.edu/blogs/brookings-now/posts/2015/06/raj-chetty-maps-geography-social-
mobility
http://www.fool.com/investing/general/2013/06/29/how-the-baby-boomers-destroyed-americas-
future.aspx
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/05/03/upshot/the-best-and-worst-places-to-grow-up-how-
your-area-compares.html?_r=0
http://economics.harvard.edu/news/new-research-mobility-studies-profs-chetty-hendren-and-katz
http://www.insightcced.org/tag/economicsecurity/
Friday, January 29, 2016
Teaching psychology has improved my life, and my life has improved my teaching
I've been teaching full-time now for almost 20 years. It's crazy to think that I'm old enough to say that, but my age has been increasingly on my mind as I deal with the myriad of aches and pains, both physical and emotional, that are so typical of midlife.
When I first began teaching, I was barely older than most of my students, and since I teach at a community college, I was, in fact, younger than many. Because one of the courses I teach is Lifespan Development, my young age made my legitimacy a tough sell to the students who were older, had more experience, had raised children, and frankly, were much wiser than I. Often, I would find myself reminding my students that I was not teaching a course on parenting, or marriage, or health, but on lifespan developmental psychology. That I hadn't yet had kids had no influence on whether or not I could speak authoritatively on Piaget or Erikson or Valliant. That I was still newly married and hadn't yet faced any marital crisis *surely* had nothing to do with my expertise on why some marriages failed and others worked. In my mind, my presentation of theory would not--and should not--be influenced at all by one's personal life experiences. I was a professor. I would profess, and anecdotes, while nice, wouldn't mean much.
Now that I'm at midlife, a divorced woman raising an adolescent daughter, I think of the young professor I was, and I cringe. What was I thinking? While it's certainly true that one can speak authoritatively on any theory if one has studied it enough, that I thought developmental theories could be understood as separate from how real lives take place is a testament to my own youthful arrogance. (That my student evaluations were as good a they were is surely a testament to my youthful energy!)
Today, when I teach Erikson's stage of initiative vs. guilt, I don't think of some example from a book. I recall my daughter at age 4, serving me breakfast in bed on Mother's Day. Telling her dad that she *could* carry the tray, despite his protestations that it's awfully heavy and she may drop it. "I can do it" she said. From down the hall, I could hear the determination in her voice as clear as day. And as clear as day was the crash of the tray (and the strawberries and the cereal and the milk) as it tumbled out of her little hands. And I remember her tears, her crying that she "ruined it all", and then her smile when I said I was just so very happy that she thought of doing it in the first place that I'd be totally okay with sitting on the floor in the hallway and eating those strawberries with her. So that's what we did. And the gratitude I felt toward her father for letting her try in the first place was felt deep within me as both a mother AND as a psychologist who knew what an important role moments like that would play in her development.
I have so many other examples of how my own life, and the lives of my close friends, have been weaved into my own understanding of developmental theories. Marriage, divorce, raising children, dealing with aging parents, impending retirement, death--these things are not just topics in a lifespan book anymore. The result is that my teaching is richer, more detailed, and plainly, more real. I do a lot more listening these days, because now I know that talking about divorce cuts pretty close when you've dealt with the end of your own marriage. The written description of the pain and loss experienced when someone loses a child doesn't compare to the voice of your student whose son died last year of leukemia. Stories of love and loss become part of how I help my students see the real life application of what they're reading. Telling students that a sure sign you've reached middle age is needing reading glasses takes on a whole new meaning when you've just used yours while taking attendance.
Now more than ever, I am grateful that it is psychology I fell in love with, and psychology I teach, because my own understanding of development--as shallow as it may have been 20 years ago--laid a foundation that has helped me understand my own life in a context greater than I might otherwise be able to do. At the very least, I'd like to believe I'm a better parent for knowing what I know about child and adolescent development.
I was so much more self-assured 20 years ago than I am today, despite the fact that I have so much more classroom and life experience. My own life has humbled me. Gone is the assuredness of pretty much everything. If there's one thing I know now more than I did back then, it's that I really don't know anything at all. I'm figuring it all out as I go, just as my students are. And every now and then, we get to figure it out together.
When I first began teaching, I was barely older than most of my students, and since I teach at a community college, I was, in fact, younger than many. Because one of the courses I teach is Lifespan Development, my young age made my legitimacy a tough sell to the students who were older, had more experience, had raised children, and frankly, were much wiser than I. Often, I would find myself reminding my students that I was not teaching a course on parenting, or marriage, or health, but on lifespan developmental psychology. That I hadn't yet had kids had no influence on whether or not I could speak authoritatively on Piaget or Erikson or Valliant. That I was still newly married and hadn't yet faced any marital crisis *surely* had nothing to do with my expertise on why some marriages failed and others worked. In my mind, my presentation of theory would not--and should not--be influenced at all by one's personal life experiences. I was a professor. I would profess, and anecdotes, while nice, wouldn't mean much.
Now that I'm at midlife, a divorced woman raising an adolescent daughter, I think of the young professor I was, and I cringe. What was I thinking? While it's certainly true that one can speak authoritatively on any theory if one has studied it enough, that I thought developmental theories could be understood as separate from how real lives take place is a testament to my own youthful arrogance. (That my student evaluations were as good a they were is surely a testament to my youthful energy!)
Today, when I teach Erikson's stage of initiative vs. guilt, I don't think of some example from a book. I recall my daughter at age 4, serving me breakfast in bed on Mother's Day. Telling her dad that she *could* carry the tray, despite his protestations that it's awfully heavy and she may drop it. "I can do it" she said. From down the hall, I could hear the determination in her voice as clear as day. And as clear as day was the crash of the tray (and the strawberries and the cereal and the milk) as it tumbled out of her little hands. And I remember her tears, her crying that she "ruined it all", and then her smile when I said I was just so very happy that she thought of doing it in the first place that I'd be totally okay with sitting on the floor in the hallway and eating those strawberries with her. So that's what we did. And the gratitude I felt toward her father for letting her try in the first place was felt deep within me as both a mother AND as a psychologist who knew what an important role moments like that would play in her development.
I have so many other examples of how my own life, and the lives of my close friends, have been weaved into my own understanding of developmental theories. Marriage, divorce, raising children, dealing with aging parents, impending retirement, death--these things are not just topics in a lifespan book anymore. The result is that my teaching is richer, more detailed, and plainly, more real. I do a lot more listening these days, because now I know that talking about divorce cuts pretty close when you've dealt with the end of your own marriage. The written description of the pain and loss experienced when someone loses a child doesn't compare to the voice of your student whose son died last year of leukemia. Stories of love and loss become part of how I help my students see the real life application of what they're reading. Telling students that a sure sign you've reached middle age is needing reading glasses takes on a whole new meaning when you've just used yours while taking attendance.
Now more than ever, I am grateful that it is psychology I fell in love with, and psychology I teach, because my own understanding of development--as shallow as it may have been 20 years ago--laid a foundation that has helped me understand my own life in a context greater than I might otherwise be able to do. At the very least, I'd like to believe I'm a better parent for knowing what I know about child and adolescent development.
I was so much more self-assured 20 years ago than I am today, despite the fact that I have so much more classroom and life experience. My own life has humbled me. Gone is the assuredness of pretty much everything. If there's one thing I know now more than I did back then, it's that I really don't know anything at all. I'm figuring it all out as I go, just as my students are. And every now and then, we get to figure it out together.
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