The sense of not belonging is strong this week. Based on both research and anecdotal evidence, I understand that it is fairly common for academics from working class backgrounds to feel as if they don’t quite fit in either their professional or familial worlds. Consider titles of these books on the subject: Strangers in Paradise or Caught in the Middle. The back cover text of This Fine Place So Far From Home summarizes the tension in this way, “They [the essays in the book] all have in common the anguish of choosing to hide their working class backgrounds, to keep the language of home out of the classroom and the ideas of school away from home.”
I am the first my family to complete college and only the second of my mother’s six children to finish high school. To say that I grew up in a blue collar home would be putting a positive spin on the realities of poverty. Many of the negative stereotypes about poor, rural, Evangelical Fundamentalists were true of the world where I grew up. I was lucky in that this world was also caring and supportive and placed a great deal of value on education. Some 20 plus years later, the distance between where I am and where I started is vast both geographically and ideologically. For the most part I have made peace with the resulting tension. So why is it bothering me at the moment?
Normally, I make my annual trip home this time of year. This trip is one of the times where my worlds are most likely to come in conflict. The issues related to education are confounded by those linked to rural/urban differences and those of very conservative parts of the country and some rather unconventional worldviews. Usually it is the little things that shine a light on the divide (e.g., the confusion I caused at a grocery store when I asked where to find the couscous and not to mention my search for tofu). Those kinds of disconnects are more amusing than problematic.
There are other ways in which the distance between my current world and that of my childhood is more painful. More than one member of my family has commented that they are afraid to write to me because they don’t think their writing will be “good enough.” Those comments hurt and I despise the thought that I might have done something to plant those seeds of doubt. On the other hand, there are members of my family who see my life in terms of failure for what I don’t have (i.e., spouse, children, a house I own). I view my life as different from but neither better than nor less than that of any other member of my family. In some ways it is easier; in some ways it is more difficult. It makes me neither more nor less valuable as a person.
On the professional side of the divide, I am currently feeling more alien on campus as a result of discussions taking place in the context of creating a new first year general education course. The campus where I teach is largely first generation, rural, and working class. I feel a growing discomfort with how this course is being envisioned and the assumptions being made. This and so many other discussion on campus, center on how college will make our students “better” people and how they should be exposed to ideas that “matter.” The college experience should provide additional tools for success. The college experience should provide opportunities to look at the world in new ways. The college experience should introduce students to a wider variety of ideas. However, there is nothing inherently wrong with who our students when they first walk onto our campus or with the families from which they come. Furthermore, there are plenty of ideas that matter that come from people who do not have degrees or titles or fame. Our students will be different when they finish their education but that doesn’t automatically mean that they will be better people.
I wish that for a meeting or two my colleagues could share this discomfort — not intellectually but on an emotional level. I wish that I could feel confident enough to bring a more personal voice into this conversation without losing the respect of others. I wish there were an easy way to show those who grew up taking college attendance as a given how intimidating the journey can be when you are made to feel as if you are from an entirely different and inherently flawed world. For all the talk of valuing diversity, I wish some folks could hear how arrogant and judgmental our conversations can sound. I wish it was easier to know when keeping “the language of home out of the classroom” and out of meeting rooms is helpful and when it is harmful.
