Garrett continued to excel academically as well. At his parents’ (particularly his mother’s) urging, he took Advanced Placement (English literature, calculus, and economics) and honors-level (physics and history) courses in high school. Garrett graduated with a “weighted” grade point average (i.e., one that balances course grades against course difficulty) of 4.2. His first round of SAT scores, which totaled around 1030–1060 [1550–1590], left him feeling “embarrassed.” “I know that I’m better than that,” he tells me. In the second round he did better with a “mix and match” of 1090 [1640], but he was not able to “crack” 1100 [1670].
In high school, Garrett had dreamed of playing basketball at Stanford or Duke. Although Stanford’s coach did express interest, in the end, he did not make an offer. Garrett could have played basketball at Yale or Brown, but neither provides athletic scholarships, and the tuition alone would have been extremely expensive. The financial burden of attending an Ivy League school, and the drawbacks of playing for a weaker team, led Garrett to choose Villanova. He accumulated significant playing time during his freshman year, and his team advanced quite far in the NCAA “March Madness” tournaments. He also has done well academically (his GPA is 3.3). Garrett’s plans for the future are uncertain. He chose a business major, after briefly considering majoring in math and becoming a teacher. (He says he was dissuaded, in part, by his father’s warnings about dismal earnings prospects “for the rest of your life.”) He hopes to marry and raise a family. He sees that happening fairly far in the future, noting that even twenty-five would be “too early.” When he finishes college, Garrett wants to play basketball for several years, probably in Europe.
Alexander Williams (African American, middle-class) is now a tall, slender young man with a deep baritone voice. We meet at his parents’ house on a sweltering August afternoon. He is at home only by chance. When a health epidemic struck the city where he planned to do a medical internship, he decided to volunteer in the offices of two different local physicians; his mother helped with the arrangements.
Alexander says he has been planning to be a doctor for many years. When he began looking seriously at colleges, he very much wanted to be admitted to a special eight-year combined undergraduate and medical school program offered at Columbia University. He applied to Columbia under an “early decision” provision that would require him to attend the school if he were offered admission. He had earned almost all A’s in high school and, although he felt that he “could have done better” on the SAT, his combined score of 1350 [2030] was strong. This record led his mother to be “pretty sure I would get in,” but his father questioned the wisdom of the early decision strategy. “My Dad was wondering why I hadn’t applied anywhere else,” Alex notes. Fortunately, the single-application gamble paid off. He got into Columbia and its special eight-year program.
When I ask how college has worked out, Alex responds, “I love it.” He reports receiving B’s in nearly all of his courses (Columbia does not offer plus or minus grades). I probe his feelings about these grades and wait while he sits quietly, pondering. Speaking slowly, he says, “I could have done better. But still, I don’t have any regret. I enjoyed myself. I think that I studied a lot. I know I studied a lot.” His father is less content. As Alex puts it, “He knows that I know that I could have done better.”
Reflecting on his freshman year experiences, Alex mentions that the transition to college has been difficult for some of his African American peers: “Some people came from all-Black high schools and they experienced shell shock.” “It wasn’t such a shock [for me]; my high school [was] predominantly white.” He is not active in any of the African American groups on campus, in part because “it can eat up all of your free time.” When I ask whether Alex has been followed around in stores, he grimaces and replies, “Oh yeah, there is nothing you can do about that . . .” In answer to how often he must contend with this problem, he says, “It doesn’t happen that much,” estimating that he is harassed this way a couple of times per month.
Alex drives but does not have his own car. He seems unworried about finances. His parents, whose careers have continued to prosper, give him money, and he also has his own bank account. Alex is anxious to travel and is excited about an upcoming trip to California to visit his girlfriend. He seems content and optimistic about the future.
Youths from Working-Class Families
At twenty, Wendy Driver (white, working-class) is a tall, thin, fresh-faced mother, with an eighteen-month-old daughter, Clara, and a soon-to-be-born son. Wendy’s husband, Ryan, is in the Navy; his submarine job keeps him at sea six months at a time. She became pregnant the fall following her high school graduation, just prior to Ryan’s (already planned) marriage proposal. As a Catholic, Wendy did not consider abortion (“I think abortion is wrong,” she explains). She longed for a big wedding, but she and Ryan “wanted to get married [right away] for the baby.” Her parents helped her arrange two weddings: a small one when she was three months pregnant, and a large, elaborate one when Clara was a year old. Wendy and I meet at her parents’ house, which is about four hours away from her house. When Ryan is gone, she and Clara spend as much time as possible with her parents. Wendy does not drive. She depends on public transportation or relies on her father to facilitate these visits.
Thanks to her grandfather, who paid the $3,000 annual tuition, Wendy attended St. Mary’s, the same all-girl Catholic high school her mother and sisters had attended. This was a great relief to Ms. Driver. She had been extremely concerned about the possibility that Wendy would have to go to the neighborhood high school, Lower Richmond, which has a very poor reputation among the locals. At St. Mary’s, Wendy thrived socially as part of a close-knit group of girlfriends. She worked two jobs (to cover expenses for her cell phone, some clothing, and part of the family’s cable bill) and was involved in athletics. Academically, she continued to struggle. Eventually, she told her friends, “Look, I am retarded. I can’t do this.” The girls pitched in to help her complete projects and other school work. Her teachers accommodated Wendy by giving her oral (rather than written) exams. She reports that her high school graduation was seen as a huge accomplishment: “I went up and got my diploma and all of my teachers that I had stood up and started clapping. My principal gave me a hug and started crying.”
Wendy’s mother very much wanted her to go to college, and the high school counselor helped with the application process. Wendy was admitted to a small Catholic college about two hours away, but in the end, she informed her parents that she was “not going.” In recounting that decision, Wendy tells me, tearfully, that she was afraid she would be unable to do college-level work.
Wendy and Ryan are happy together. She describes him as a “nice guy” who is “really shy.” She also mentions that he had a “troubled” past and “used to drink a lot.” They have a traditional marriage. Ryan does not cook or wash dishes. But he is a devoted father who “help[s] . . . with Clara.” Wendy says she enjoys being a stay-at-home mother. She hopes to “take night classes” someday and earn an early childhood education degree. Her goal is to have a home-based day care business.