Thursday, June 23, 2005
poverty
I've been teaching in an inner-city school for two years (one as an intern and one as paid faculty). Now, when I hear a story on the news that "three young males were arrested" for a burglary, or car-jacking, or a drug bust, I turn around and check the mug shots and last names to see if I know any of them. I know that, statistically speaking, a percentage of my students larger than I like to admit will end up in jail. I had a handful of kids get locked up this year. The really sad thing is, they were not bad kids. In fact, I can not think of a single student that I would classify as inherently "bad" or irredeemably lost. I truly believe that, even in high school, these kids are salvageable. Still, statistically speaking, over half of the kids that start my school will not graduate. That translates to a couple hundred kids out on the streets every single year, just from one school. It does not take long for them to become lost and bad, to get killed or locked up.
When I was in school, we had forced integration. Schools were supposed to have a mix of income levels and racial groups, and kids were bused across town in order to provide adequate diversity. In my lifetime, I've seen a shift in the way schools are segregated. In Georgia, there is no more forced desegregation. Schools simply segregate themselves. There are "good" schools and there are "bad" schools. You can look up the school profiles online. "Bad" schools have low graduation rates, low test scores, and a high percentage of kids on reduced or free lunch. They tend to have a large, if not exclusive, minority population.
I live in a transitional area in the city of Atlanta, and I teach at the high school right across the street from my house. Because of its proximity to downtown Atlanta, and its small, historic, neighborhoods full of desirable bungalows, the area is filling up with middle and upper-middle class couples and families. The neighborhood surrounding my school is full of professional couples. Nobody sends their middle class children to the local schools. It is simply not done. That would be insane. Most people explain that the "quality of their children's education would suffer". Their kids go to private school, or they apply to the board and get permission to send their kids to a school in a Northern suburb. Although the neighborhoods are becoming more diverse, the schools in those neighborhoods are becoming less diverse. This creates a downward spiral. As middle class children leave schools, test scores plummet. This causes parents who are concerned about education to feel like they need to take their kids elsewhere. Those of us that have the resources to do better by our own children consider the "bad" schools to be someone else's responsibility. Students in failing schools lose support and resources, and they fall father and farther behind.
A school with over eighty percent of the students on free or reduced lunch is a school in trouble. Poverty makes education difficult. Parents that are part of the working poor do not have the time or the energy to be involved in their kid's daily education. Most of them are working two or three low-paying jobs and taking care of multiple children. The last time I checked, the median household income for my students was around 30,000 dollars a year (and this is for a family living in a large city, where the cost of living is very high), and the median family size was five (which typically means one parent and four dependents). Kids that grow up in poverty are stressed out. They worry about their mothers. They want to start working as early as possible to help make money. They go home and have to watch their younger siblings and cousins and nieces. They lack medical care. When a family is working 60+ hours a week in order to pay the rent and buy groceries, things like glasses for a kid that can't see the chalkboard are an unattainable luxury.
One of the reasons so many low-income students fail to complete high school is a lack of hope. They get trapped. They see their family members drop out, get locked up, get pregnant. They live in a neighborhood full of crime and they join a gang or carry a weapon out of fear. They see door after door slammed in the faces of the people around them. It looks to them like everyone struggles just to survive, and they don't really have hope that there can be other options. Children who are living in poverty have tunnel vision. They dream small dreams.
I was talking with a friend of mine about one of her neighbors who feels a real calling to reach out to the low-income kids in her community. She was frustrated by the fact they they had so many needs, and it seemed impossible to even begin to meet them. I told her that you should never underestimate how much power simply being present and making the kids feel seen and cared about can make. A little bit of hope can go a long way.
My church is located in my neighborhood. It serves a solidly middle-class population. Recently, one of the elders of the church told me that he would like to see me come to a board meeting to talk to the staff about what I think we, as a church, can do to more effectively serve and reach out. When I mentioned this to my mom, she commented that sadly, if an outreach was actually effective and a large number of low-income, minority families began to attend church activities, many middle-class families would be uncomfortable and would begin to leave the church. As much as it angers me, I know that there is truth to her statement.
We are afraid of poor people. Poverty is like a visible symptom of what is often considered a lack of morality. It's okay to build a house for Habitat on the weekend, or volunteer at a soup kitchen, but when it comes to actually living among them, we get nervous. Without a doubt, don't want our children exposed. I realize that those are strong statements, but I confess that I have been guilty of these exact thoughts and worries. I've thought things and made assumptions about people who struggle in poverty that I am ashamed to even put into words.
The one thing I have learned in the past two years is that the basic moral fiber of people does not differ whether you are in the projects or in the suburbs. People are people. People in poverty simply lack the external accessories that signal "goodness" or "safety" to us. Children in a "bad" school are not worse than children anywhere else. They simply have more unmet needs.
The middle-class, worldly response to the problems in education is to demand school choice and do everything possible to make sure that every dollar of their tax money goes directly to the clean, well-equipped schools that their children will attend. If a family can afford it, they seek a prestigious, secular, private education for their children. Sadly, the Christian response to the problems in education is not markedly different. Instead of reaching out, the church talks more and more about closing in when it comes to a response to education. This may help our biological children, and the children of our fellow church-attending parents, but where does it leave all the kids in our communities that spend 8+ hours a day in schools we have abandoned to what we believe is depravity and ineffectiveness? What is our responsibility to those children?
I have no illusions that there is a simple solution to this problem, but I do believe that awareness is a good place to begin a conversation. For better or for worse, public education is one place where we have an opportunity to make a positive impact on the children that are needy. These kids may be poor, and hungry. Many of them have a parent or uncle or brother in jail. They are the least of these. They are hope-sick. I know that they feel like everyone in society is against them, because they come right out and articulate those feelings.
I am not saying that it is wrong for parents to send their kids to a high-achieving school, or a private school, or to home school. I am simply saying that if we, as a church and as the body of Christ, choose to educate our own children outside of public education, we need to be aware of the children left behind.
It will be much more difficult to reach these kids as adults, once they lived eighteen or nineteen years being ignored, once they have dropped out of school or have been locked up. We, as Christians who profess to care about such things, have an opportunity to be hope-givers, grace-showers, and advocates to those that are in desperate need of hope, grace, and advocacy while they are still young enough to dream and believe. I don't want to see the church turn and walk away from those kids. Not when there is so much that could be gained. Not when there is so much to lose.
When I was in school, we had forced integration. Schools were supposed to have a mix of income levels and racial groups, and kids were bused across town in order to provide adequate diversity. In my lifetime, I've seen a shift in the way schools are segregated. In Georgia, there is no more forced desegregation. Schools simply segregate themselves. There are "good" schools and there are "bad" schools. You can look up the school profiles online. "Bad" schools have low graduation rates, low test scores, and a high percentage of kids on reduced or free lunch. They tend to have a large, if not exclusive, minority population.
I live in a transitional area in the city of Atlanta, and I teach at the high school right across the street from my house. Because of its proximity to downtown Atlanta, and its small, historic, neighborhoods full of desirable bungalows, the area is filling up with middle and upper-middle class couples and families. The neighborhood surrounding my school is full of professional couples. Nobody sends their middle class children to the local schools. It is simply not done. That would be insane. Most people explain that the "quality of their children's education would suffer". Their kids go to private school, or they apply to the board and get permission to send their kids to a school in a Northern suburb. Although the neighborhoods are becoming more diverse, the schools in those neighborhoods are becoming less diverse. This creates a downward spiral. As middle class children leave schools, test scores plummet. This causes parents who are concerned about education to feel like they need to take their kids elsewhere. Those of us that have the resources to do better by our own children consider the "bad" schools to be someone else's responsibility. Students in failing schools lose support and resources, and they fall father and farther behind.
A school with over eighty percent of the students on free or reduced lunch is a school in trouble. Poverty makes education difficult. Parents that are part of the working poor do not have the time or the energy to be involved in their kid's daily education. Most of them are working two or three low-paying jobs and taking care of multiple children. The last time I checked, the median household income for my students was around 30,000 dollars a year (and this is for a family living in a large city, where the cost of living is very high), and the median family size was five (which typically means one parent and four dependents). Kids that grow up in poverty are stressed out. They worry about their mothers. They want to start working as early as possible to help make money. They go home and have to watch their younger siblings and cousins and nieces. They lack medical care. When a family is working 60+ hours a week in order to pay the rent and buy groceries, things like glasses for a kid that can't see the chalkboard are an unattainable luxury.
One of the reasons so many low-income students fail to complete high school is a lack of hope. They get trapped. They see their family members drop out, get locked up, get pregnant. They live in a neighborhood full of crime and they join a gang or carry a weapon out of fear. They see door after door slammed in the faces of the people around them. It looks to them like everyone struggles just to survive, and they don't really have hope that there can be other options. Children who are living in poverty have tunnel vision. They dream small dreams.
I was talking with a friend of mine about one of her neighbors who feels a real calling to reach out to the low-income kids in her community. She was frustrated by the fact they they had so many needs, and it seemed impossible to even begin to meet them. I told her that you should never underestimate how much power simply being present and making the kids feel seen and cared about can make. A little bit of hope can go a long way.
My church is located in my neighborhood. It serves a solidly middle-class population. Recently, one of the elders of the church told me that he would like to see me come to a board meeting to talk to the staff about what I think we, as a church, can do to more effectively serve and reach out. When I mentioned this to my mom, she commented that sadly, if an outreach was actually effective and a large number of low-income, minority families began to attend church activities, many middle-class families would be uncomfortable and would begin to leave the church. As much as it angers me, I know that there is truth to her statement.
We are afraid of poor people. Poverty is like a visible symptom of what is often considered a lack of morality. It's okay to build a house for Habitat on the weekend, or volunteer at a soup kitchen, but when it comes to actually living among them, we get nervous. Without a doubt, don't want our children exposed. I realize that those are strong statements, but I confess that I have been guilty of these exact thoughts and worries. I've thought things and made assumptions about people who struggle in poverty that I am ashamed to even put into words.
The one thing I have learned in the past two years is that the basic moral fiber of people does not differ whether you are in the projects or in the suburbs. People are people. People in poverty simply lack the external accessories that signal "goodness" or "safety" to us. Children in a "bad" school are not worse than children anywhere else. They simply have more unmet needs.
The middle-class, worldly response to the problems in education is to demand school choice and do everything possible to make sure that every dollar of their tax money goes directly to the clean, well-equipped schools that their children will attend. If a family can afford it, they seek a prestigious, secular, private education for their children. Sadly, the Christian response to the problems in education is not markedly different. Instead of reaching out, the church talks more and more about closing in when it comes to a response to education. This may help our biological children, and the children of our fellow church-attending parents, but where does it leave all the kids in our communities that spend 8+ hours a day in schools we have abandoned to what we believe is depravity and ineffectiveness? What is our responsibility to those children?
I have no illusions that there is a simple solution to this problem, but I do believe that awareness is a good place to begin a conversation. For better or for worse, public education is one place where we have an opportunity to make a positive impact on the children that are needy. These kids may be poor, and hungry. Many of them have a parent or uncle or brother in jail. They are the least of these. They are hope-sick. I know that they feel like everyone in society is against them, because they come right out and articulate those feelings.
I am not saying that it is wrong for parents to send their kids to a high-achieving school, or a private school, or to home school. I am simply saying that if we, as a church and as the body of Christ, choose to educate our own children outside of public education, we need to be aware of the children left behind.
It will be much more difficult to reach these kids as adults, once they lived eighteen or nineteen years being ignored, once they have dropped out of school or have been locked up. We, as Christians who profess to care about such things, have an opportunity to be hope-givers, grace-showers, and advocates to those that are in desperate need of hope, grace, and advocacy while they are still young enough to dream and believe. I don't want to see the church turn and walk away from those kids. Not when there is so much that could be gained. Not when there is so much to lose.
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