Unequal Childhoods - Annette Lareau [165]
Billy Yanelli (white, working-class) lives at home with his parents. He and I meet there. Dressed in long baggy shorts and a T-shirt, he looks simultaneously like his grade-school self and strikingly older. He is heavy set, with clear skin and bright eyes. His buzz cut is gelled to stand straight up. The Yanellis have remained in the same house, in the same white, working-class neighborhood. Financially, the family is doing reasonably well. When Billy was in elementary school, his father’s company unionized, and Mr. Yanelli’s wages increased substantially, as did his benefits. Recently, Billy became an apprentice in the same union.
The behavioral problems Billy had in elementary school continued. He recalls “getting suspended for this and that [in middle school]. Talkin’ back to the teachers, stuff like that, just a problem child.” High school brought more of the same. From day one at Lower Richmond High, Billy had not been optimistic. He says he “knew” immediately that he “wasn’t gonna graduate high school.” He tells me about a “little incident” that led to him being suspended: “Me and my buddy were running around the hallway one time, slamming doors. And then, I slammed the door on one of the teachers and [the teacher] got hit.” (Ms. Yanelli strongly believes Billy was wrongly accused of hitting a teacher and thus unfairly suspended.) He dropped out his sophomore year. Later, he enrolled in a $500 test preparation course for the GED, took the exam, and passed. “It got me in the painters’ union,” he says. “That’s all I cared about.”
Although his knowledge of college is vague, Billy maintains, “Everybody that comes out of college right now is gonna be loaded [become rich].” Still, he is not tempted. He says it is “too late” for him, and, “I already got my heart set on a career. I’m trying to hang with this; I can’t hang with college.” Unfortunately, thus far, Billy’s work experiences mirror his school life: behavioral problems undermine his success. He is on probation in his apprentice program. He walked off a job, and he failed a mandatory urine test for drug use (he had smoked marijuana with friends the weekend before the test). These actions make his job precarious. “It’s like, three strikes, you’re out,” he explains.
Billy feels that, overall, he is “doing better than a lot of people.” He has his GED, a job, and “a nice car.” Although he has not had a serious girlfriend, he and a group of friends enjoy “partying” together regularly. He readily admits, “I’m not perfect,” but “I’m a lot more successful than a lot of people in this neighborhood. I’m one of the top five. I can say that.” When I ask him about his plans for the future, he is optimistic. “Hopefully, have a house, a nice car,” he responds, and then, summing up his vision of the future, adds, “Just working and going, still having fun.”
Youths from Poor Families
When Katie Brindle (white, poor) is eighteen, I visit her in the one-bedroom apartment she shares with her new husband, Dave, and her sixteen-month-old daughter, Nirani. Katie is earning $9.00 per hour working as a maid for a major hotel chain; Dave is in construction. They have been married about six months. Katie is dressed in gray sweatpants and sweatshirt. Her long, straight blond hair is pulled up; her bright pink lipstick, black eye make-up, and long, elaborately painted fingernails give her a stylish look. She has several prominent tattoos including one with the name of her daughter. Katie feels she is doing “great.” A year and a half later, we meet again, this time at her older sister Jenna’s house. Katie and Dave have separated (“When I get enough money,” Katie says firmly, “I’m going to divorce him”), and Nirani, now three, is living with Jenna and her family. Katie is cleaning houses (with her mother) and