A 12th-grader wrote a college admissions essay about wanting to pursue a career in oceanography. Let’s call her Isabella. A few months ago, we edited it in my classroom during lunch. The writing was good, but plenty of 17-year-olds fantasize about swimming with whales. Her essay was distinctive for another reason: Her career goals were not the highlight of the essay. They were just a means of framing her statement of purpose, something surprisingly few personal statements actually get around to making。
The essay’s core concerned the rhetoric that educators had used to motivate her and her peers—other minority students from low-income communities. She’d been encouraged to think of college foremost as a path to socioeconomic mobility. Since elementary school, teachers had rhapsodized about the opportunities that four years of higher education could unlock. Administrators had rattled off statistics about the gulf in earnings between college graduates and those with only high-school diplomas. She’d been told to think about her family, their hopes for her, what they hadn’t had and what she could have if she remained diligent. She’d been promised that good grades and a ticket to a good college would lead to a good job, one that would guarantee her financial independence and enable her to give back to those hard-working people who had placed their faith in her。
Thankfully, Isabella decried this characterization as shortsighted and simplistic. My guess is that only students like her ever have to hear it。
The black and Latino kids I teach live in Inglewood and West Adams in Los Angeles. Their parents are house-cleaners, truck drivers, and non-union carpenters. When administrators, counselors, and teachers repeat again and again that a college degree will alleviate economic hardship, they don’t mean to suggest that there is no other point to higher education. Yet by focusing on this one potential benefit, educators risk distracting them from the others, emphasizing the value of the fruits of their academic labor and skipping past the importance of the labor itself. The message is that intellectual curiosity plays second fiddle to financial security。
While Isabella’s essay acknowledged her lack of economic advantages and portrayed with sensitivity her parents’ struggles, she was eager to focus first on nurturing her intellectual passion. She detailed how her curiosity about sea urchins and other marine life had led to a passion she wants to sustain through college and a subsequent career. College will ferry her to her intellectual destiny, not a financial windfall. She’ll make her life’s work what she wants to do, not just what she is able do。
My students are understandably preoccupied with money. They don’t have the privilege to not worry about it. They fantasize about what their future wealth will permit them to enjoy. They dream about specific models of cars in certain colors and gargantuan houses in particular neighborhoods and opulent meals at their favorite restaurants any time they wish. Many swoon over the East Coast liberal arts colleges they visit on the special trips that my school is thoughtful enough to arrange. Colleges like Swarthmore and Haverford fly students like Isabella out during college applications season. A few are accepted but most attend state schools, which, especially in California, can provide excellent educational opportunities. The irony, though, is that many of these students aspire to go to a liberal-arts school but don’t necessarily understand its significance. They’re drawn to sleepy quads, weathered brick, and cascading ivy, but they are resolutely pre-professional in spirit。
In contrast, at the private school I attended for the last two years of high school, my classmates thought about what they wanted to learn in college, not only what they wanted to become. Some knew medical or law school loomed in the future, but they thought about the work in a different way. My privileged classmates enjoyed money, from what I could tell. A few reveled in their cars and clothes, but most appeared to take it for granted. They didn’t talk about it. Instead, a future doctor talked about working at the CDC to fight public health epidemics. A future lawyer envisioned starting a defense firm to provide a service to the hometown community. Most of us wanted to do something special。
My students’ fantasies of the actual work they’d do in a well-paid professional capacity are vague by comparison—practicing law without knowing the difference between civil and criminal litigation or how to prepare for law school, doing business without an understanding of the nuts and bolts of entrepreneurship. While the vagueness stems from the lack of models in their communities, it also comes from the lack of imagination with which mentors have addressed their professed college plans. Students hear that being a doctor is great because doctors can make money, enjoy respect, and have a great life.They don’t hear that being a doctor is great because doctors possess the expertise to do great things。
When schools deemphasize the intellectual benefits of higher education, students become less imaginative about their futures。
The rhetoric echoes the oft-cited work of Jean Anyon, an education researcher who died in September. Studying elementary schools, Anyon looked at how schools can condition kids for positions in life. She saw that schools teaching the children of affluent families prepared those kids to take on leadership roles and nurtured their capacity for confident self-expression and argument.Schools teaching children from low-income families focused on keeping students busy and managing behavior. A middle-class school deemphasized individual expression and in-depth analysis and rewarded the dutiful completion of specified rote tasks. In each case, according to Anyon, a “hidden curriculum” has prepared students for a future role in society. Some students learn to take orders and others learn to chart a course of action and delegate responsibility. School can either perpetuate inequity through social reproduction or have a transformative effect and help students transcend it。
The rhetoric Isabella has heard about the purpose of college has a hidden message as well. When school environments casually yet consistently deemphasize the intellectual benefits of higher education, students become less imaginative about their futures. According to ACT’s College Choice Report from November 2013, 32 percent of students pick a college major that doesn’t really interest them. The same study suggests that students are less likely to graduate when they do this. As high school educators know, good students have less trouble getting into selective schools than they do graduating from them – especially first-generation minority college students like Isabella and her classmates。
College should be “sold” to all students as an opportunity to experience an intellectual awakening. All students should learn that privilege is connected to the pursuit of passions. People are privileged to follow their hearts in life, to spend their time crafting an identity instead of simply surviving. Access to higher education means that your values and interests can govern your choices. It makes sense that privileged 18-year-olds who have already learned that lesson gravitate to liberal-arts colleges. I would prefer not to live in a country in which rhetoric about the purpose of college urges kids from privileged backgrounds to be innovators and creators while the poor kids who do very well in school are taught to be educated, capable employees. Isabella figured it out on her own – much as she’s managed to ace her classes without academic help outside of school. To achieve this goal more broadly, though, we need to proactively teach our most marginalized students that honing an intellectually curious frame of mind is as essential to leading an invigorating working life as ambition and work ethic.
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一名12年級的高中學(xué)生寫了一篇申請大學(xué)的文章，描述她想要從事與海洋學(xué)相關(guān)的職業(yè)。我們就叫她伊莎貝拉好了。幾個(gè)月前，我們利用午餐時(shí)間在我的教室對文章進(jìn)行了潤色。文章寫的不錯(cuò)，但充滿了17歲少女的幻想，比如與鯨魚結(jié)伴遨游。她的文章與眾不同的另一個(gè)原因是：她的職業(yè)目標(biāo)不是這篇文章的重點(diǎn)，只是完成她目的陳述的表達(dá)手法，這點(diǎn)很令人驚訝，因?yàn)槭聦?shí)上很少用這種方式寫個(gè)人陳述。
文章的核心是圍繞教育工作者的一些言論，他們一直用這些言論激勵(lì)她和她的同齡人——來自低收入社區(qū)的少數(shù)民族學(xué)生。不斷有人給她洗腦，上大學(xué)是第一位的，是改善社會(huì)經(jīng)濟(jì)地位的坦途。從上小學(xué)開始，老師就極力宣揚(yáng)四年的大學(xué)生活能打開機(jī)遇的大門。學(xué)校領(lǐng)導(dǎo)能飛快地列舉出各種統(tǒng)計(jì)數(shù)據(jù)，說明大學(xué)畢業(yè)生和只有高中文憑的那些人在收入方面的巨大差距�？偸怯腥藢λf，想想你的家人，想想他們寄予的厚望，如果能一直努力讀書就會(huì)得到父輩無法擁有的東西。只要成績好，拿到頂尖大學(xué)的錄取通知書，保證就會(huì)有個(gè)好工作，有了好工作，不僅自己經(jīng)濟(jì)上能夠獨(dú)立而且還有能力回報(bào)親友，這些人一直努力工作并且對她充滿信心。
值得慶幸的是，伊莎貝拉批評這類說辭是目光短淺和頭腦簡單。我猜大概只有像她這樣的學(xué)生才會(huì)聽到這些。
我教的那些非洲裔和拉美裔學(xué)生都住在洛杉磯的英格爾伍德和西亞當(dāng)斯。他們父母從事的工作是清潔工、卡車司機(jī)和非工會(huì)的木匠。當(dāng)校長、輔導(dǎo)員和老師一次又一次地重復(fù)著，有了大學(xué)文憑會(huì)改善經(jīng)濟(jì)窘迫的情況，他們并不是指高等教育除了這點(diǎn)就沒別的用處了。但是當(dāng)只專注在獲取這種潛在利益時(shí)，教育工作者們讓學(xué)生注意不到別的事物，他們強(qiáng)調(diào)知識(shí)累積后成果的價(jià)值卻忽略了知識(shí)累積本身的重要性。這種做法傳遞的消息是，求知欲排在經(jīng)濟(jì)保障之后。
雖然伊莎貝拉的文章承認(rèn)她沒有經(jīng)濟(jì)優(yōu)勢也敏感地描繪了她父母生活的困頓，但她盼望能將重心首先放在培養(yǎng)自己的求知欲上。她詳細(xì)講述了對海膽等海洋生物的好奇，這種好奇激發(fā)了她對海洋生物學(xué)的熱情，她希望能在未來的大學(xué)生活和隨后的職業(yè)生涯中一直保持這份熱情。大學(xué)會(huì)把她送到知識(shí)海洋的彼岸，而不是送來意外的橫財(cái)。她要讓自己畢生的職業(yè)是她想要去做的，而不是她能去做的。
可以理解我的學(xué)生們?yōu)槭裁词衷谝饨疱X。他們沒有資本不去擔(dān)心。他們幻想著將來有錢可以讓他們好好享受生活。他們夢想擁有某種顏色的限定款汽車、位于特殊社區(qū)的大豪宅以及隨時(shí)可以在喜歡的餐廳享用豐盛的美食。許多學(xué)生參觀東岸文科學(xué)院時(shí)幾乎為之瘋狂，我所在的學(xué)校用心良苦地安排了很多這種參觀活動(dòng)。大學(xué)申請季節(jié)時(shí)，斯沃斯莫爾和哈弗福德等大學(xué)會(huì)讓伊莎貝拉這樣的學(xué)生飛過去面試。少數(shù)幾名學(xué)生會(huì)被東岸大學(xué)錄取，但絕大多數(shù)學(xué)生會(huì)進(jìn)入公立大學(xué)，尤其是加利福尼亞的大學(xué)，這些學(xué)�？梢蕴峁┝己玫氖芙逃龣C(jī)會(huì)。但具有諷刺意味的是，很多向往文科學(xué)院的學(xué)生不一定了解這類大學(xué)強(qiáng)在哪里。吸引他們的是安靜的校園、飽經(jīng)風(fēng)雨的墻磚和層層疊疊的常春藤，但在內(nèi)心他們已經(jīng)毅然踏入職前教育階段。
與此相反，在我高中最后兩年就讀的私立學(xué)校，我的同學(xué)們考慮的是他們想在大學(xué)里學(xué)到什么，不僅僅只是他們想要從事的職業(yè)。有的同學(xué)知道將來很可能就讀醫(yī)學(xué)院或法學(xué)院，但他們以完全不同的方式思考未來。我那些有錢有勢的同學(xué)很享受金錢帶來的快樂，這點(diǎn)我看得出來。有人喜歡汽車，愛買衣服，但大多數(shù)人似乎覺得這理所當(dāng)然。他們不談?wù)摻疱X。相反，未來的醫(yī)生談?wù)撛诩膊☆A(yù)防控制中心的工作，治療影響公眾健康的流行病。未來的律師設(shè)想開辦律師事務(wù)所服務(wù)家鄉(xiāng)的社區(qū)。我們當(dāng)中的絕大多數(shù)人想要做一些特別的事。
相比之下，我那些希望從事高薪職業(yè)的學(xué)生們對工作實(shí)質(zhì)毫無概念——想當(dāng)律師的不了解民事訴訟和刑事訴訟的差別，也不知道讀法學(xué)院要如何準(zhǔn)備;想經(jīng)商的不知道創(chuàng)業(yè)的各種細(xì)節(jié)。雖然這種茫然的根源來自他們的生活圈子里沒有可以模仿的對象，但也由于缺乏想象力，因?yàn)閷?dǎo)師們已經(jīng)一手包辦了他們自稱的大學(xué)規(guī)劃。這些學(xué)生聽到的是，當(dāng)一名醫(yī)生很棒，可以賺大錢，受人尊敬，能過上富足的生活。他們沒聽到的是，當(dāng)一名醫(yī)生很棒的原因是，醫(yī)生所具備的專業(yè)知識(shí)能讓他們?nèi)プ龊馨舻氖隆?/p>
當(dāng)學(xué)校弱化高等教育對智力發(fā)展的重要性時(shí)，學(xué)生們對未來也變得不再富有想象力。
這類言論也符合大家經(jīng)常提及的吉恩 安揚(yáng)(Jean Anyon)的研究，這位教育研究人員于今年9月去世了。在針對小學(xué)的研究過程中，安揚(yáng)注意到學(xué)校是如何限定了孩子們的社會(huì)地位。她發(fā)現(xiàn)，在富裕家庭孩子就讀的學(xué)校，老師教這些學(xué)生如何承擔(dān)領(lǐng)導(dǎo)角色并培養(yǎng)他們充滿自信地自我表達(dá)和演講辯論。對低收入家庭的兒童，學(xué)校教育的重點(diǎn)放在讓學(xué)生總是忙忙碌碌而且規(guī)矩聽話。而中產(chǎn)階級家庭孩子就讀的學(xué)校弱化個(gè)性展示和深入分析，獎(jiǎng)勵(lì)學(xué)生盡職地完成指定的機(jī)械工作。根據(jù)安揚(yáng)的研究，學(xué)校針對不同情況制定的“隱性課程”為學(xué)生們量身定制了未來的社會(huì)角色。有些學(xué)生學(xué)會(huì)服從命令，其他學(xué)生學(xué)會(huì)規(guī)劃執(zhí)行方案并且層層落實(shí)責(zé)任。學(xué)�？梢酝ㄟ^社會(huì)復(fù)制讓這種不公平延續(xù)下去，或者選擇努力變革從而幫助學(xué)生超越它。
伊莎貝拉聽到的大學(xué)目標(biāo)這類言論還潛藏了一個(gè)信息。當(dāng)學(xué)�？此齐S意但不停弱化高等教育對智力發(fā)展的重要性時(shí)，學(xué)生對未來也變得不再富有想象力。根據(jù)2013年11月ACT(美國大學(xué)入學(xué)考試)的大學(xué)選擇報(bào)告，32%的學(xué)生選擇了他們并不真正感興趣的專業(yè)。這份研究還表明，做出這種選擇的學(xué)生順利畢業(yè)的可能也較小。高中老師都知道，好學(xué)生考取重點(diǎn)大學(xué)不難，但順利畢業(yè)就難說了——尤其是少數(shù)民族的第一代移民[微博]大學(xué)生，比如伊莎貝拉和她的同學(xué)們。
大學(xué)應(yīng)該向所有學(xué)生“灌輸”的是，有機(jī)會(huì)體驗(yàn)知識(shí)帶來的覺醒。所有的學(xué)生都應(yīng)該知道，享有特權(quán)與追求愛好息息相關(guān)。人們有權(quán)利按照心靈的指引生活，用生命打造自己獨(dú)具的特性，而不僅僅是為了生存。接受高等教育意味著你的價(jià)值觀念和興趣愛好可以左右你的選擇。享有特權(quán)的這些18歲孩子們已經(jīng)得到了被文科學(xué)院吸引的教訓(xùn)，這很正常。我不愿生活在這樣的國家，夸夸其談大學(xué)的目的就是讓有錢有勢的孩子成為革新者和創(chuàng)造者，而品學(xué)兼優(yōu)的窮孩子則被教育成有知識(shí)的合格打工者。伊莎貝拉靠自己明白了這個(gè)道理——就像她沒有上過校外輔導(dǎo)班門門功課照樣拿優(yōu)一樣。但為了讓更多的學(xué)生也同樣明白，我們需要主動(dòng)告知我們最被邊緣化的學(xué)生，想要擁有愉快的職業(yè)生涯，培養(yǎng)好奇心和求知欲以及保持進(jìn)取心和職業(yè)道德都是缺一不可的。
