Do young people have too much time to think about only themselves?

I spent the weekend in a skilled nursing center with my 95-year-old father, and I met a young person, James, who at age 26 has done more inspiring work than many of us will do in a lifetime. His story makes me wonder about a couple of things, the first of which is whether this slower path to adulthood might just be giving kids a little too much time to focus on themselves–and how we might transform this slower path into something more. Read the full post over at Psychology Today.

His and hers: Six tips for a happy marriage

This holiday was a big one for Rex and I. We celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary on Christmas Eve. Twenty-five years ago, we took the El down to City Hall here in Chicago and tied the knot in front of a judge. It was a lovely ceremony–just the three of us. I think the judge said a few kind words of luck and we took the escalator up from the basement and out into the empty Loop for a breakfast at Petros diner and later a flight to a beach house in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where my family was waiting, unsuspecting. We sprung it on them at happy hour and had a fabulous impromptu wedding dinner of fresh fish and a “wedding pie” for dessert.

Twenty five years later, Rex and I took the El down to City Hall to retrace our steps, but alas, Christmas Eve was on Saturday this year and City Hall was closed. Petros was closed as well. But it didn’t matter. We were still together in the empty Loop.

And now we’re off to Buenos Aires to celebrate, so the blog will be on hiatus until Jan 10 or so.

But before we go, and without sounding too sanctimonious I hope but with 25 years of it under my belt, here’s my 6 tips for a successful marriage, followed by Rex’s 6 tips:

My list, in no particular order:

  1. Marry a decent person with a sense of humor.
  2. Learn to change. Marriage is about two people. That means your way of doing things butts up against someone else’s equally good way of doing things. And life will throw curve balls. Adapt.
  3. Learn to let it go. In the heat of the moment, take a breath, hold your tongute, and force yourself to laugh (at yourself usually). Do. not. dwell.
  4. Do things together, even things you personally don’t like.
  5. Don’t think the grass is greener on the other side. It ain’t.
  6. Don’t overanalyze things. It’s really not that complicated. Ever.

And here’s Rex’s list–and seriously, we did not compare before we made this list!

  1. Don’t just settle for someone because you think no one who is right for you will come along.
  2. Recognize that relationships start from a sexual attraction but its the emotional attachment that lasts for the long haul. But don’t let the physical die altogether.
  3. Marry someone you like. (see #2–it’s surprising how many people miss this one)
  4. Don’t carry a grudge. Everybody has differences.
  5. Be willing to compromise.
  6. Don’t obsess about things because there are no hard and fast rules.

There’s no secret to a good marriage, if you ask me. It’s just learning to be happy with life however it comes at you. And it’s nice when it comes at you with someone whom you’ve grown to love so deeply.

So what are your tips to good marriage or partnerships?

We’re losing our sense of “we” in an iSociety

A few years back, a professor I know asked her Civics 101 students what “public” meant to them. Their answers are telling. To them, public meant poor people. Public housing, public assistance, public schools.

I thought of that as I read the latest salvo against our public schools, in this case the offers by private profiteers of a “choice” to dodge the public schools and flee to the safety of online courses–as chronicled in Lee Fang’s article for The Nation, and Stephanie Saul in the New York Times. It’s just the latest–but perhaps the most damaging– in a long line of retreat from public goods and into the arms of a world tailored to our unique selves.

This steady disappearance of the public systems we take part in daily is for many a sign of progress. But in this headlong race to privatize everything–and its cousin, tailoring everything to our circumstances, we risk losing the very fabric that stitches us together in a society. We risk losing the “public” spaces; the “we” in a rush for the “me.”

The daily interactions in public spaces, whether on a public bus, at the park, on our sidewalks and highways, in a classroom, at the doctor’s office, or at the DMV, are shared experiences, and ultimately meritocratic. Even Bill Gates has to renew his driver’s license. Our interactions remind us what we have in common with others–sometimes others we would not otherwise meet. The rules (wait your turn in line) and customs (say thank you to the bus driver) reflect back on us the order of our ideal society.

Public education is one of the most prominent of these public goods. It is in school that we learn to be part of a society, to share, to exchange, to take turns. It is where we forcibly shed the individual myopia and ego, where we first realize that there are better soccer players or spellers than us, or that not everyone is waiting with bated breath to hear our answer. It is where we realize that some kids have it harder than others.  We learn our ABCs and 123s, of course, but it is the physical togetherness and a shared experience that binds us. It is these shared experiences that make us feel so bound to our “Class of 1992″ or that makes us cheer wildly for our football team. It is this communal glue that provides us with an identity beyond ourselves.

When we whittle away at this public-ness, we run into trouble. When we carve ourselves off from public spaces via experiences tailored to our preferences and income level, it will nudge us ever closer to little islands of privacy–and disconnect us from the larger good. We will buy our way into a “concierge” medical service so we don’t have to “suffer” through a waiting room. We will gate ourselves off in our “own” communities so we don’t have to live next door to someone who might opt for pink flamingos in the yard. Or we can skip the classroom altogether and learn what we want online. The latter has been in the news of late as private corporations rush to offer “choice” to school children and their families through online classrooms.

The latest push to give children a choice to learn online instead of in a classroom is couched in language that suggests they will be rescued from the grip of the public. “Kids have been shackled to their brick-and-mortar school down the block for too long,” Ronald Packard, CEO of K12, Inc., a private company offering online courses (for a fee), told the New York Times, adding that for the first time, every child, regardless of where he or she lives, has a choice. (One hears in that choice a choice to withdraw).

Beyond the question of whether a private company, with a bottom line to attend to, can truly educate all children (aka, the public), there is the question I’ve been clumsily trying to make and that Tony Judt in Ill Fares the Land puts so much better: The “one-size-fits-all” public services, he says, might have had their faults, but “their provision was universal, for good and ill they were regarded as a public responsibility.”

There is no equivalent of a public bus or a public classroom online. In fact, the online communities are the exact opposite of public spaces. We self-select into the online worlds, balkanizing by interests, splintering down to the most specialized slices. You don’t have to ride with someone who is talking too loud, or who is softly weeping with her face to the window, or who is reading a book you never heard of. You might run across those ideas or people online, but you don’t have to sit with them for 30 minutes—time to wonder, to sympathize, and yes to fume. You click and you’re gone. Some will say that’s the exact reason they love the internet, or private taxis. They don’t have to be bothered. It is why we live in gated communities as well. In those havens, we don’t have to brush up against humanity if we don’t want to.

But the atomized “me” worlds that we retreat to are not community. They are not the building blocks to a society with a purpose and a sense of “we.”

If we can buy our way out of public spaces, or if we can tailor those “public” spaces to our own interests and prejudices, then what becomes of the larger purpose of building and sustaining a society? How do we convince people to sacrifice for a larger good? It gets harder, that’s for sure. Just look at the military. Without a national draft–a truly public experience– we have relegated the duty (yes, that old-fashioned word) to a smaller and smaller group doing endless tours of duty. Meanwhile the majority of us, untouched by it, don’t support– or protest– the wars. My 90+-year-old parents, who lived through WWII and its example after example of shared sacrifice, grow wistful at the memory. It was hard, but everybody was on the same footing. Everyone sacrificed. No one was able to buy a toaster. No one. And it was that sense of shared sacrifice that built a stronger society.

While libertarians likely cheer this “less public/more private” thinking, Judt reminds us that “the reduction of ‘society’ to a thin membrane of interaction between private individuals …was first and above all the dream of Jacobins, Bolsheviks, and Nazis.” And any society, wrote Edmund Burke, that destroys the fabric of its state, will soon be “disconnected into the dust and power of individuality.”

I fear that dismantling has been well underway for far too long. As the students in my friend’s class reveal, “public” is, in their minds, already “the other”—the “they” as Nietzsche put it. We have rushed headlong into a privatized, personally tailored world of a “we” and “they” — devoid of an “us.”

The stunted mobility of millennials might be a boon for small towns?

Young adults are staying put. Is this good or bad?

At a time in life that is traditionally the most mobile, young people in their 20s are forced by circumstances to clip their wings. A recent report by the Brookings Institution finds that Americans of all ages are not moving as much, mainly because of the recession and the housing collapse. When you can’t sell your house or don’t have the savings to move after a layoff, the options shrink pretty quickly. In fact, mobility is at its lowest point since 1948.

For young people, the constraints are slightly different. For the younger set, those ages 18-25, the lack of jobs coupled with college debt makes taking a risk and moving to Dallas or Phoenix or Atlanta a little scarier. It’s a vicious Catch-22 for many. They’re out of work, and a job pops up in a distant city, but their college loans on top of rent make moving impossible. So they’re stuck living at home with their parents and no job. That makes their personal economy grind to a halt.

Here’s a couple of charts that tell the story. In the graph on the right, the highest bars belong to young adults in their 20s– the “lifeblood of the economy” as the Brookings report puts it. The tan bars in the chart on the right are pre-recession mobility trends by age, and the blue bars are post-recession. Look at that drop for 20-24 year olds especially.

Source: Brookings Institution

So what are the consequences of this? Less risk-taking, for one. More “settling” and running in place. For young people, it’s a tough situation, especially if they’re tied to areas with sluggish job growth, which is many areas these days– or in a home whose value has plummeted. This latter group of homeowners could be particularly vulnerable to foreclosure because they are at an early point in their career, earning less, in less secure jobs, and more than likely have started a family (thus the need to put down some roots and buy a house).

Being stuck with a house that has lost a lot of value or that won’t sell for a decent price means that these young people will likely tough it out, perhaps passing on a job offer elsewhere or clinging to a thankless job because they feel they have no choice.

On the other hand, the rural brain drain might be staunched for the next several years. For a long time now, small towns in rural America have been losing their young people to the sexier big cities. (One of the more intriguing books on this topic is Hollowing Out the Middle.) Their exodus has created a huge problem for these small towns dotting the landscape. I’ve watched as my own hometown, population 1,000, ages. My dad, who still lives in town, plays cribbage every Wednesday with four of his friends. The “young one,” as he tells it, is 84. Dad is 95, and he’s not the youngest.

So perhaps the lack of mobility will have a silver lining for towns like this– the best and the brightest will stay put, and the low cost of living might begin to attract those with college loans that make it impossible to live in the “big city.” I’ve already noticed an uptick in articles about city dwellers who abandon the ship to set up a creamery or a brewery or an art studio in a small town. More power to them. Maybe they’ll bring the needed life to small-town America.

 

 

A bird, a hunt, …and new memories in the making

Alas, a rerun, but with a new ending this time. …

* * *

Thanksgiving is a great holiday. Food, no religion, no gift-giving pressure. Growing up, Thanksgiving was about getting out the good china, polishing my grandmother’s silver, and filching black olives from the appetizer tray–one for each finger tip. The windows steamed up, pots clanked, and my sister muscled through the  potatoes with a wire masher to the clackety-clack rhythm of a horse in a trot on a city street. Oh, who’s kidding whom? It’s a tense disaster of a day in our family.

The day would start innocently enough, with a parade on tv, and the big hunt about to commence. Bob White and his glam wife Ellie, would arrive from “the cities” in their 1970s-flotilla Lincoln Continental–their Bloody Marys ensconced in cupholders (way before cupholders were de rigeur) and Bob’s revered rifle in the trunk. Bob was a 6-foot 5 Mr Magoo. Always a little tipsy, he was a larger-than-life entertainer. He could tell a joke, improvise boogie-woogie on the piano, and tell a helluva joke. A grain dealer, he spent his days with a phone to his ear and his evenings with a drink in hand at the Little Wagon or Richards in Minneapolis.

But on Thanksgiving morning, he was in Iowa, for the big pheasant hunt. He fancied himself a Hemingway sort, hoping to relive some sort of male-bonding fraternity of his youth.  I’d beg and beg to go along, and more often than not I got my wish. It was more about being where the fun was than killing a poor pheasant, because as we all know, men have more fun than women on holidays. And my mother was not having fun in that kitchen.

Her turkey is seared in our memories. It would begin about three days before Thanksgiving when she’d put the rock-solid frozen bird in a pan in the garage to thaw out (on the logic that it was cooler in the garage than inside).  When sufficiently thawed, she’d move it in to the kitchen counter for a day because there was no longer enough room in the fridge. There it would sit, all pink-skinned and goose-pimply.

In the meantime (meaning about a week before–she’s’ a planner, that one), she’d cream some onions, bake the sweet potatoes until their skin was dry and cracked (no marshmallows for us), and do something nearly unrecognizable with Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, canned green beans, and onion rings. All of which sat on the counter or in the fridge, uncovered (she has a distaste for aluminum foil or that new-fangled Saran wrap.)

Thanksgiving day itself would start before dawn, when that bird finally went into the oven. From then on, it was nonstop muttering and clanking pots.  We were banned, banned from entering the kitchen. If you dared to enter, asking, say, for some more nuts, the glare alone would drive you back to the television room nut-free. “What do you want more nuts for?” she’d bark. “They’ll just spoil your dinner.” (That, I believe, was the point. We’d been here before).

In the midst of this somewhere, we hunters would return, glorious in our prize. We’d have generously plucked the birds already, and Bob White–not understanding the code of behavior–would stride into the no-fly zone and plop the newly dead birds into the sink. OMG.

Any kitchen on Thanksgiving is a choreographed dance that only the host knows, and it’s best to take on a task like folding napkins or filling water glasses. I learned this valuable lesson at a tender age 8. Bob White never, ever figured that out.

My mother would take that pheasant, slam it into a pan, and shove it in the oven, with the pellets still poking out of its skin. She was having none of it.

Finally, a few hours later, Sally would be summoned to mash the potatoes and we’d know the moment was near when the bird would come out of the 275 degree oven, where it had been for the past 8 hours. Right behind it were the pheasants, now about one-third their original size, browned to a crisp.  “Dad,” she’d bellow, her voice dropping an ominous octave, “come and carve the [bleep-bleeped] bird.” A twinkle in his eye, and a wink, he’d kick down the footrest on his Lazy-Boy and say (with what I now think was a hint of dread), “I guess it’s time to eat.”

The kitchen was a scene of war-torn chaos. Dad in one corner, man-handling the bird with a blade that hadn’t been sharpened since 1948. Bob White looming, crest-fallen over his destroyed pheasant. Mom dodging people to get the green beans reheated while realizing she forgot to put the bread in the oven. Sue, my other sister, would be trying to wrest some semblance of order out of it all. And Elli, wise Ellie, would be sitting at the table, cracking a joke with a cocktail in her hand.

Dutifully, we’d take our seats at the table, where the sweet pickles, hunks of celery (bite-size were never in her vocabulary), and one remaining olive sat lonely on the “salad” plate. We’d tuck into the food, then someone would remember to say grace. We’d try to recall the words to a prayer and resort to “good food, good meat, good God let’s eat,” and we’d begin. Ten minutes later, done–with a few stray bb’s on our plates to attest to the grand hunt that morning. The bird? Well, we’re a family of dark meat eaters if that’s any signal.

After dinner, we girls would wash the endless dishes, cracking a window to let some air in the steamed-up room. Eventually a group of us hardy souls would take a walk, shivering in the moonless night, our voices carrying for seemingly miles in the crisp air. Back home, the table cloth would come off and a card game or a game of Pit would commence, a second round of food would make its way from the fridge, but eventually, like any holiday, it would end for another year.

I realize now that about as quickly as we ate that meal, time has passed. Bob and Ellie are both gone now, as are my sister Sue and her husband Jerry. The house  where we all grew up is owned by another family making its own memories. Dad shuffles down the hall with the help of a walker. The piano is silent.

But, gradually, we make new memories. This year, my niece-in-law Sunny is cooking the meal out at the family “ranch,” which once belonged to Sue and Jerry and is now where she and Eric (of birthday cake fame) live with their own kids. That house is filled with its own memories, of Jerry’s “put it on a cracker” happy hour concoctions, of Sue’s tidy kitchen and scented candles. Eric is shaking up tradition and planning to deep-fry the bird (no worries, he’s also one of the volunteer fireman in town). Tara, his sister, is bringing her own four kids, and my sister Sally’s son and wife and their kids are joining later.

The thing is, you can’t look back too long or you might miss the joy in the moment.

Fresh housing ideas could serve young adults well

Today’s New York Times takes a fresh approach to the rising numbers of young adults living at home– arguing that by doing so, they’re depriving the economy of a needed boost in spending.

Invoking the famous “paradox of thrift” of John Maynard Keynes, the story quotes the ubiquitous Mark Zandi as saying that each time a new household is not formed, the economy misses out on about $145,000 in spending on things from drywall to brooms. By staying put in their parents’ household to save money, young adults are depriving local landlords, hardware stores, and plumbers of business.

The latest Census reports find that 14.2% of young adults aged 25-34 are living with their parents (or in dorms), up from 11.8% in 2007 when the recession took hold. The number of new households formed has declined sharply since 2007, from about 1.3 million to approximately 900,000 in 2010. Much of this is straight economics: the recession has squeezed everyone. According to Zandi, there should be about 1.1 million more households today than there actually are, a good chunk of this gap is driven by young adults staying put at home.

What struck me about the young man the Times included in the interview–and what we’ve heard in our own interviews–is the notion that renting is throwing money away. AND, the degree that “saving money” is front and center for this generation. Jay Bouvier, whom the Times interviewed, makes $45,000 a year in a secure job but he’s living at home in Bristol, CT, to save up for a down payment. No ramen and roaches for him. It makes you wonder if we haven’t feathered such a nice nest for kids–and raised their expectations of what’s a necessity–that they see no reason to suffer through a three-story walk-up with a shower from 1940 and radiators that clank like the chains of Ebenezer Scrooge.

But before I descend to the “kids these days” fist-shaker, it serves to remind that Bouvier is largely the exception. The recession has hit young people particularly hard. Many are unemployed with college debt hanging over their heads, and living on their own is a non-choice. College graduates are often working in jobs that don’t require a degree, and those with less or no postsecondary education are squeezed out of those jobs as a result. Young men who relied on the construction industry for a decent paycheck are sitting on their hands waiting for the market to recover (the paradox of thrift trickles down). This group– and those without a BA are the majority–is living at home out of necessity, not because they’re saving money for a down payment on a home of their own.

This brings up an issue of housing affordability. A forward-thinking group of architects and urban planners met in New York City recently to brainstorm about housing for a future with a changed demographic. As Michael Kimmelman in Thursday’s Arts Section of the Times reports, most new homes in NYC are designed for nuclear families. Yet only 17% of dwellings in the city are home to two parents raising kids. Young adults are delaying marriage and children well into their 30s, and for all the talk about how many kids are living at home these days, the real story is how much longer people are living on their own today–at both ends of the life course.

The architects and urban planners let their creativity flow with ideas for how to transform current housing to make it more affordable and more communal. Micro-lofts was one idea. Such lofts are about 150 square feet with 14-foot ceilings and a mini-kitchen. They’re clustered around larger communal space with a garden or a big living room. (Think dorms for adults–or more glamorously, hotel living). [Here's some images]

According to “The Tiny House” blog, cities experimenting with small-size suites include “Shoebox Lofts in Portland, Ore., Cubix Yerba Buena in San Francisco, and Moda Apartments in Seattle all have units in the 250- or 300-square-foot range.” Micro-lofts in Vancouver, according to one developer, “Have a fold-down wall bed, and when that wall bed is up, it has a fold-down table. We integrated a workbench with a built-in flat screen TV so that that does not take any room and created a glassy washroom enclosure that functions as a single area — shower, and toilet and sink all in one area.” (Reminds me of the ingenious room design at the Andaz Hotel Wall Street).

Smaller, smartly designed housing that can be built cheaper but not feel cheap is good for both a city’s citizenry and the planet. Denser living leaves a smaller footprint.

All this recalls the work of architect Bertrand Goldberg and his ideas for urban living and industrial design. His Jetson-like buildings (here and here) are typically cylindrical high-rises with pods arranged around a central communal space (for his hospitals anyway). Most famous for Marina Towers in Chicago and numerous hospitals across the country, Goldberg designed for efficiency (a hub and spoke design for hospital floors) and communal living–a city within a city–for residential. At the time (in the 1950s -1970s) he was ahead of the curve. Today’s architects are just following suit and pulling us into the future.

Federal subsidies and a redesign of the mortgage system would be needed to see these ideas get off the ground, but it’s certainly worth the conversation.

Shocking (and growing) wealth gap between young and old

The fallout of this recession on young people just keeps coming. Jump over to Transitions2Adulthood, where I posted a blog on the stark and growing wealth gap between young adults and older Americans. It should give you pause.

What’s so disturbing is how much the gap in net worth has widened over the years. While the median net worth of a household over age 65 grew 42% since 1984, for households under age 35, net worth shrank fully 68%.  Stunning. As I wrote months ago, we must rethink our policies and support young people more as they maneuver these rocky waters.

Some of you out there who have lived through recessions before might pshaw at the prospect that young adults need support. After all, we survived past recessions without any help. Why do they need support?  But the numbers are clear. Trends underway long before the recession– rising college costs, declining wages, eroding benefits, growing inequality– have left us all on shakier ground. A recession as deep and prolonged as this is only piling on risk and hardship, most profoundly for those just starting out in the workforce.

In other words, this one is different because we’re different. Our economy is a much higher-stakes game, and young people relative to retirees have been losing ground. The question is, are the odds of catching up later, in one’s 30s and 40s, shrinking too? The college payoff is declining as wages flatten and college costs rise. Housing values are in the toilet. The things that we count on, in other words, to raise net worth are eroding. Will this gap persist as a result? Only time will tell. Can we as a country afford to wait and see how it turns out? I don’t think so.

 

Investing in children is the best investment we can make

America is the land of opportunity. It was built on the notion that anyone, with hard work and talent, can succeed, regardless of race, class, or sex, and for decades, that opportunity has come alive for many. Generations have embraced the opportunities and built a life that saw their children do better than they had done. Ask anyone, even today amid a grinding recession, and they still fervently believe that with a little hard work, anyone can succeed.

Yet such opportunity has been steadily shrinking for many. As a once young economy matures, upward mobility inevitably slows. Disparities harden. The United States today has less upward mobility than many European countries. The gap between the wealthiest and the poorest grows ever wider, as wealthy parents pay for better education, better health care, better neighborhoods, and even better nutrition than those farther down the economic ladder. And with that widening disparity, opportunities contract for growing numbers of children, particularly those most vulnerable.

As I wrote yesterday, the child poverty rate, at 21%, is hardening inequality. Restoring equal opportunity for children must be the nation’s goal if we are to compete successfully on a global field. As the disparities in wealth and opportunity widen, policies and programs must fill the gap and level the playing field, giving everyone a truly equal shot at the good life.

The policies and programs that help rebuild a true meritocracy must touch all aspects of a child’s life because life’s opportunities spring from a web of influences, from income to education, to health, to families and communities.

Income is one of the most decisive shapers of opportunity in America. A child born into a family struggling in poverty begins life much farther behind the starting line.

Children who grow up in poverty are less likely to do well in school, largely because their families lack the resources to invest in children’s cognitive development—the foundation of education success. These investments range from early care and education programs to music and art lessons. In later years, these investments extend to afterschool programs, extracurricular activities, and, ultimately, higher education.  A recent study finds that poorest families spend almost one-third of what wealthier families spend on enrichment items for their children. As incomes decline amid the recession, this link between income and early investment becomes an ever greater cause for concern.

However, children’s futures do not always turn on money. Good parenting trumps higher income. Increasingly today, however, parents are under stress. When time is stretched thin, when money is tight, when pressures build, good parenting is more difficult. This is particularly true for single parents, who juggle work and childrearing without the help of a spouse. But it is also true for middle-class parents. Parents today commute longer, parental leave benefits are few and far between, and many families face the strain of unstable jobs that pay less and expect more—if they have a job at all. Job loss can lead to more depression and anxiety among parents, which in turn can affect child adjustment and school achievement.

High levels of stress and isolation can also lead to damaging physical abuse or neglect. Children whose parents are facing economic or social stress, who are isolated with few friends or neighbors to call on, who are young or single are more often victims of child abuse and neglect, often as infants, which can cause irreparable physical and emotional harm. Sadly, the rate of child abuse and neglect has been rising during the past several years. Traumatic stress during childhood has a lasting effect on the regions of the brain responsible for emotion regulation, among other harms. Abuse and neglect has also been shown to produce higher incidence of depression, substance abuse, and criminal activity among adults.

Physical and mental health also affects opportunities. A child whose mother abused drugs or alcohol during pregnancy or failed to get vital prenatal care risks important developmental delays. The developing brain is in various “sensitive stages” during pregnancy and the first few years of life. If nutrition is lacking, or substance abuse is ongoing, or other stresses are present, the brain can be indelibly scarred. Once certain circuits in the brain are mature, it is much more difficult to modify them with experience.

Even where a child lives—his or her neighborhood or community—can influence opportunities. Exposure to chronic stress in dangerous neighborhoods is one explanation for the pronounced health disparities by income. Neighborhoods are where schools are located, and schools in low-income neighborhoods tend to underperform those in higher-income neighborhoods, for a host of interrelated reasons, leaving children with fewer tools to effectively compete.

Creating Opportunities, Maximizing Potential

These hurdles to opportunity—so complicated and intertwined—seem at times insurmountable. Yet they are not insurmountable. Biology is not destiny, and environment—especially the family environment—can be changed. Indeed, a recent study finds that family characteristics explain much of the difference in children’s educational outcomes, and changes to parenting practices and home environment can make a real difference. In-home visiting, where a nurse or other professional visits new mothers in vulnerable situations and helps out, has a proven track record in bolstering parenting skills. The Highscope Perry Preschool Project included just 1.5 hours of weekly home visits yet its impacts on children were long-lasting.

Even the supposedly hardwired brain isn’t impervious to the right stimulus. Many functions of the brain, for example, love nothing more than to learn and adapt. Indeed, the areas of the brain that handle high-level cognitive and emotional functions have a long developmental trajectory—in some instances they are not fully formed until the early twenties. Therefore, even if the child gets off to a poor start, exposure to positive experiences can in some instances help to counterbalance the negative.

Likewise, the effects of poverty are not insurmountable. Evidence shows that with additional income, families increase their spending on learning-related items and activities.  For instance, in the New Hope antipoverty experiment, which supplemented family income with a small stipend similar to the EITC, families used the money to enroll children in child care, afterschool activities, and other enrichment programs.

Other research finds that find that a $1,000 increase in family income leads to improved math and reading test scores. Given these findings, two programs should receive continued support. The Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) both supplement income and help families make ends meet and alleviate the strain of poverty.

Even without raising income, we can alter a child’s path by helping him or her build the skills needed to take advantage of future opportunities. Improving child nutrition, as WIC and other services do, can help children build a foundation for healthy development. Programs that encourage prenatal care and breastfeeding also contribute to healthy development in those critical months and early years.

One of the most important steps to equalize opportunity is to expand quality preschool and afterschool programs. Head Start, Early Head Start, and similar high-quality early childhood programs lead to significant leaps in IQ and cognitive ability among children. Even though the IQ advances level off later, other benefits remain. Children in the Highscope Perry Preschool Project, for example, earned higher test scores at age 10 even thought their IQ scores were not any higher on average. They did better because the program had also focused on those equally important the socio-emotional skills such as perseverance, self-control, motivation, self-esteem, among others. Yet Despite the proven track records of quality preschool and quality early child care on children’s opportunities, high-quality child care is also financially out of reach for too many. A poor single mother would have to spend 45% of her income for full-time child care at a licensed child care center.

These and many other supports have been shown to fill the gap between what the child inherits and what opportunities await. So much happens early in life to, if not cement, then shape the course of our lives that it is short-sighted not to invest during this critical stage when the return will be great. The dividends to both children and society, in other words, accrue for a lifetime.

Not everyone starts from the same gate. Some have farther to run just to cross the starting line. But all children should have the opportunity to run the race.  And with continued support, we can ensure that happens.


Here’s my sources for the above facts:

Jane Waldfogel et al., “Fragile Families and Child Well-Being,” The Future of Children, 20(2)(2010): 87-112.

Greg Duncan and Jeanne Brooks-Gunn, Consequences of Growing Up Poor (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1997).

Greg Duncan and Richard Murnane, Whither Opportunity (Russell Sage Foundation, 2010).

The short-term job loss effects are from Ann Huff Stevens and Jessamyn Schaller, “Short-Run Effects of Parental Job Loss on Children’s Academic Achievement.” (Davis, CA: University of California, Davis, 2009).

Christopher Boccanfuso et al.,  “Ten Ways to Promote Educational Achievement and Attainment Beyond the Classroom.” Research to Results Brief 2010-16. New York: Child Trends, July 2010.

Greg Duncan, Aletha Huston, and Thomas Weisner, Higher Ground: New Hope for the Working Poor and Their Children (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2007).

A secure adulthood begins at age 2

The inequality of opportunity has been on my mind lately. America, after all, is a land of opportunity, or so they say. I still believe it is, for many. But not all. And here’s why, in a number. 21.5%. One in five. That’s the share of children born in poverty today. The actual number is 6.7 million, the highest number since 1962.

Equality of opportunity is, in short, the definition of social justice. Yet as two indicators profess, we as a country have lost sight of that standard bearer. Our nation’s child poverty rate lands us third from the bottom in a list of 31 developed countries. Only Turkey, Chile, and Mexico have higher child poverty rates than the United States. Our ranking on public spending on early childhood education as a share of gross domestic product ranks us in the bottom one-third. (To be truly sobered, check out this chart by Charles Blow.)

Children in America are the poorest group of citizens on many measures. Poverty and a lack of investment in early childhood have insidious effects on life chances. Children in poverty are more likely to do poorly in school and drop out, have unintended pregnancies early, and earn lower wages. In their mid-twenties, they are less likely to be employed. Poverty’s long reach extends to the next generation. Children born into poverty are more likely to repeat the pattern with their own children than those raised in more economically stable families. That Medicaid—the health insurance program for low-income families—now pays for 40% of births in the United States indicates just how many kids are starting at a severe disadvantage in life. For them, and through no fault of their own other than the bad luck to be born to a struggling family, opportunity is hard to grasp hold of.

Failing to invest in children early in life is simply short-sighted. Such investments pay strong dividends later, in a more educated workforce, healthier families, lower crime, and a more engaged citizenry. The Nobel laureate economist James Heckman finds that investments in children before age 5 are the most cost-effective of all investments. Every dollar invested returns up to $300 over a child’s lifetime through better outcomes in education, health, sociability, economic productivity, and lower crime.

Yet in that we are failing our children. States have historically borne the fiscal responsibility for children after age 5, yet state spending on education and other services has not increased since before 2008. Ironically, prison costs in some states leave even less for early education. And as the federal stimulus money runs its course, it is likely that states will cut even more.  For programs serving children under age 5–the most critical years–the federal government is the main source of funding, and there, too, investments are in jeopardy. If projections hold, less than 8% of the federal budget will support children by the end of the decade. Less. than. 8%. It’s clear where our priorities lie.

If there is a pie to be divided, it behooves states to give the biggest piece to children—our future. Many interests will vie for the smaller pie. Many will bolster their claim for money with evidence that their program or their tax break works. But rarely has research been as definitive as it is on the benefits of early childhood investments.

Tomorrow I’ll write about what we can do to make sure that kids get off on the right foot and have an equal shot at opportunity.  But for now, the plight is simple: invest in the youngest children first.

6.7 million children are entering the race far behind the starting line. In Illinois, where I live, 600,000 children are in poverty. More than 33,000 homeless children were enrolled in Illinois public schools, a 27% increase since 2007-08. We can do better. We must do better.

Voices beyond Occupy Wall Street: very little sympathy

I had two conversations yesterday with 20-somethings, one still in college and one a recent grad who is now working. Both were unsympathetic to the Occupy Wall Street protests. Both thought the protests were too fringe, led by people who did not represent them or reflect their values.

In the first chat, a student in his final year of undergraduate work in New York City, was interviewing me about student debt. As we talked, however, I got the impression he wasn’t enthralled with the protesters, or sometimes even his own generation.

Lurking behind the conversation was a sentiment I heard later in the day over a cocktail with a young woman in her first job out of college. She was hesitant to embrace the motley crew on Wall Street–especially on this issue of student debt–because she felt people go into things with their eyes wide open and shame on them if they don’t read the fine print on their loan papers and get themselves into deep hock as a result. We have free will, she pointed out.

A child of immigrants, she believes firmly in the “pick yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality. Her parents, who came here with nothing and some serious roadblocks ahead of them, nevertheless managed to become quite successful in the embrace of America. If they can do it, so can most people, she thought. She acknowledged that the playing field is not always level, but she countered, the opportunities are there if you have the ambition and drive to make it happen.

Both she and the young man were put off by the privilege they saw at the protests. The protesters, they thought, had the luxury of being there because they could afford not to work. Some had even quit their jobs to go to the park and take part–such recklessness proved both their privilege and their disconnect from the mainstream.

They were both put off by the demands of some protesters to wipe out the debt, to forgive the debt 100%. Both said–and I paraphrase–don’t you think if you have to pay something back, you’ll appreciate it more? There was little sense that debt was burdensome (of course, both had the luxury of parents who paid for their school). Both I think felt that the issue was a back door for freeloaders to not have to pay for their mistakes.

Neither, I think, believes the country is in as dire straits as it is. Both are too young and optimistic to believe that anything dire will happen to them if they just work hard and play by the rules. I hope that’s the case. But I fear it won’t be. The country is at a point where many of our past derelictions of duty are coming home to roost. We’ve failed to keep up our roads and bridges, we don’t invest in R&D, we’ve allowed our schools to wither, we’ve allowed inequality to gallop ahead and with it blocked opportunities for too many, we’ve buried our head in the sand on immigration policy and force the next innovators to leave the country after we’ve educated them, and we’ve replaced a modest safety net with a you’re-on-your-own workforce and social life. All of these problems were once collective problems. We used to rally as a country and find solutions. Now we separate like oil in water to our factions of discontent. As Thomas Friedman said recently, we have to start looking hard at these issues as a collective challenge. If we do, we face a tough decade; if we don’t, we face a  lost century.

If one thing came through loud and clear yesterday in those two conversations, it was the notion of individualism. There wasn’t even a whiff of a sense of duty to the social contract among us all.  A collective responsibility has been so washed clean in their minds that it’s a non-issue, not because they disagree with it, but because it does not register, period.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We are shaped by our surroundings and our moment in history. This generation came of age among the most free-wheeling, libertarian, no-holds-barred capitalism since the 1920s. They also came of age in an era of identity-driven politics: gay rights, women’s rights, black feminist gender rights, forgotten white men’s rights, animal rights, … you name it, the list goes on. So it’s no surprise that individualism and a distaste for “free rides” and slackers resonates so with these two young people. (This history also helps to explain the gentle anarchy that reigns in the Occupy Wall Street protest. How can you find common ground to form a platform when there are so many issues clamoring for attention and a generation who has been raised on free-wheeling individualism?)

We have splintered into increasingly narrow interest bases and as a result have sacrificed the more social view of a life bound together.  That “social contract” doesn’t mean that the slackers get a free ride. But shouldn’t it include a sense that when the weakest link suffers, we all suffer? Whether this generation will agree with that is a question waiting for an answer.