It's Not Fair

I had an entirely different article in mind for this week. I was going to share some of the signs that our movement is taking hold on our campus, and there are so many, but they will have to wait. I knew that CBS Sunday Morning was going to highlight the issue of homelessness on campus, but I didn't know my reaction would be so visceral. (Watch here) The video is amazing and features students overcoming circumstances most of us couldn't comprehend. Sara Goldrick-Rab was featured, and I was grateful that she continues to shine a light on this issue, but mostly I was just angry and sad. Mostly, I was struck by how unfair things are, and I am afraid we will celebrate the heroism of these students (and they are incredible), rather than the insanity of the situation they are in even existing. Let me try to explain.

I graduated from High School in 1988 (That's me with my grandparents below), and I earned my bachelor's degree in 2000. That's correct, it was a 12 year process to get a college diploma. It's a long story that starts at UW-Madison, detours to UW-La Crosse, involves some time wandering the desert (metaphorically), and ends at Winona State University. I don't have a clear story to explain why my path was so crooked and really it doesn't matter. It was all tied up in a giant undiagnosed anxiety disorder, some post-traumatic stress, and my own failings, but what is more interesting to me today is how I was allowed to work through it, and the contrast of those who don't get the same accommodations through an accident of birth. My grandparents (on dad's side) had dropped out of high school as teen parents and worked their way out of generational poverty to the working class. My parents both had worked through some stuff (Mom's story) (Dad's story), but by the time I was off to college, Dad was almost a decade away from a felony conviction and Mom was having a good career (although in an abusive relationship and struggling with addiction). I'm not sharing these personal things to be titillating but to make the point that even in less than perfect circumstances, I had access to things that any of the students we saw on TV this morning should have the equivalent of.

Class of '88

I moved into my Dad's basement at age 21, my Mom's basement at 22, again at 24, and for the last time at 27. All those returns were lined up with bumps in the road that had knocked me off course for a while. Before that last return to school at age 27, I had to deal with default on student loans, non-existent credit, being academically suspended (a couple of times), and deceiving people about all of the above, but I had advantages to overcome those things, and I didn't see those advantages in the video today. I check a whole bunch of privilege boxes and I fully acknowledge my privilege is one of the reasons I was allowed second (and third) chances. But I also had support, which created hope, and hope is a real thing. I had people who would put a roof over my head when I needed one and made sure my belly was full while I retreated and regrouped. They were far from perfect (as was I), but what an amazing asset and I didn't do anything to "earn" it other than being born in the right time and place. Today I was so angry at the contrast between my experience and the ones I saw on TV. How do we know their reality and not do things radically differently? We cannot require heroism to get what you need. We cannot sell education as a strategy to escape poverty and allow these barriers to exist. I was reminded of a great quote from an article I read last year about Hazim Hardeman, a student who came from poverty and became a Rhodes Scholar (Hazim's story). In the middle of the article, Hazim said the most powerful thing. Instead of being addicted to a Horatio Alger myth which probably never existed he reminded us, “Don’t be happy for me that I overcame these barriers, be mad as hell that they exist in the first place.”

Mad as hell is exactly how I felt this morning as I watched a young woman who made it through college living in a van. I thought of the young man I met on the street near my campus last fall. I had introduced myself and was trying to offer some help to those living outdoors, and as I started to suggest perhaps coming to school, he told me he did go to school, at my college, in my division. Sort of like when you buy a new car and you suddenly notice the make and model everywhere, my eyes were opened. I started to meet students doing amazing things while living in cars, shelters, or on the street. I've written about some of them (Andrea) (Sarah) (Emmie), and while they have had some success, I am just as struck by the fact that we can't celebrate their accomplishments without simultaneously acknowledging we have to do more to give them some margin for error. We know the outcomes for students who don't get support for basic needs. We KNOW the stories we heard today are exceptions, and if we don't start knocking down life barriers, we will leave an infinite pool of untapped potential in shelters, storefronts and vehicles. It is simply not acceptable.

So today, I was reminded our poverty informed work is to see if we can make things fair. Creating fairness takes on all kinds of forms. Fairness is knowing and creating resources that meet basic needs. For heaven's sake we cannot celebrate skipping meals and couch surfing as something we expect of students. Fairness is a poverty informed approach which honors student strengths from the moment they arrive on campus and creates a sense of belonging at every...single...opportunity, with intention. Fairness is a poverty informed classroom which meets students where they are and contains flexibility because their lives and circumstances require it. Fairness means we don't require heroism and endless gratitude to get the things people like me received because of a twist of fate. One of my friends on campus would remind me I might really be talking about equity, and that is true. But today, fairness seems like the right word. In a past life I taught second grade, and no one is more tuned into what is fair and what is not than a seven-year-old. Seven-year-old children get angry when things are unfair and today I am angry. It feels like angry might be the right emotion for now. Anger at unfairness is a great way to keep these issues at the forefront and not retreat to places of emotional safety. So let's love the students we have (credit to my friends at Amarillo College:)), but let's stay a little angry too, so we don't forget.