Unequal Childhoods - Annette Lareau [32]
At 7:05 P.M. Don said that he was going to go get coffee. He asked Tom (another father) if he wanted any. Tom shook his head. Don asked me if I wanted any. I asked if it would be all right if I go with him (mostly because I was cold). Don said sure. On the way to the store Don said, “I don’t really want coffee. I was just bored. I used to go to all his practices and all his games, but now that he does so much I don’t go all the time. But this was the first practice.”
Mr. Tallinger is eager for the practice to end:
When we get back the boys are taking a break. Don says, “Is it over? We can’t be that lucky.”
The impact of children’s activities takes its toll on parents’ patience as well as their time. For example, on a June afternoon at the beginning of summer vacation, Mr. Tallinger comes home from work to take Garrett to his soccer game. Garrett is not ready to go, and his lackadaisical approach to getting ready irks his father:
Don says, “Get your soccer stuff—you’re going to a soccer game!” Garrett comes into the den with white short leggings on underneath a long green soccer shirt; he’s number 16. He sits on an armchair catty-corner from the television and languidly watches the World Cup game. He slowly, abstractedly, pulls on shin guards, then long socks. His eyes are riveted to the TV screen. Don comes in: “Go get your other stuff.” Garrett says he can’t find his shorts. Don: “Did you look in your drawer?” Garrett nods. . . . He gets up to look for his shorts, comes back into the den a few minutes later. I ask, “Any luck yet?” Garrett shakes his head. Don is rustling around elsewhere in the house. Don comes in, says to Garrett, “Well, Garrett, aren’t you wearing shoes?” (Don leaves and returns a short time later): “Garrett, we HAVE to go! Move! We’re late!” He says this shortly, abruptly. He comes back in a minute and drops Garrett’s shiny green shorts on his lap without a word.
This pressured search for a pair of shiny green soccer shorts is a typical event in the Tallinger household. Also typical is the solution—a parent ultimately finds the missing object, while continuing to prod the child to hurry. The fact that today’s frenzied schedule will be matched or exceeded by the next day’s is also par:
DON (describing their day on Saturday): Tomorrow is really nuts. We have a soccer game, then a baseball game, then another soccer game.
The Tallingers’ commitment to concerted cultivation creates additional labor for them when, as happens every few days, activities conflict. For example, Garrett is on several soccer teams—the “A” traveling team of the private Forest soccer club, the Township soccer team, and the Intercounty soccer team. On Sunday, May 22, Garrett and a friend on his team wait in the car to be driven to the first practice for the Intercounty soccer program. Mr. Tallinger and the friend’s father (Bill) discuss a looming conflict:
Don adds, “I see we have a conflict with soccer practice and tryouts.” Bill says, “The Intercounty seems more pressing since they haven’t had much chance to work together.” Don says, “Yeah, but if you don’t try out, you don’t get on the team.” Bill says, “That’s true. I’ll talk to [the tryout coach] about it.” He pauses and then, turning to walk down the step, looks back and says, “Maybe (winking) we can get special dispensation.” He laughs and Don smiles.
Sometimes, the Tallingers resolve potential scheduling conflicts by adjusting their own work schedules. That they do so reluctantly is clear from Mr. Tallinger’s observation that “there’s something arrogant about soccer. I mean, they just assume that you have the time, that you can get off work, to lug your kids to games. What if you worked at a job that paid an hourly wage?” Other times, Garrett must skip one activity to attend another. For example, the night of the school concert, he makes it to swim practice but not to a soccer game. On Father