Unequal Childhoods - Annette Lareau [58]
For about twenty minutes, Katie works on her word list while her mother periodically reminds her to eat her breakfast and to get ready for school. Katie doesn’t ignore her mother. She does as she is told, but at a snail’s pace:
Her mom says that she should get a donut. Katie gets a donut and begins to slowly eat it . . . Her mother says, “You need to get dressed.” She then asks, “What do you want to wear? You only have a few outfits here. Most are at Grandma’s.” She continues, “Do you want to wear your pink sweatsuit?” Katie says, “No, it makes me look fat.” Her mother replies, “You aren’t fat.” Katie doesn’t answer.
Katie finishes the list but declares that now she has to copy it over. Ms. Brindle doesn’t check over Katie’s answers or make any further references to the word list. Since Katie makes no moves toward getting dressed, her mother again calmly reminds her that she needs to get ready for school. Then she tunes in “Good Morning America.” Katie is soon watching the TV program rather than copying over her homework. Ms. Brindle doesn’t object, as there are no rules in the family regarding TV for children.
Katie continues to yawn steadily. She puts the draft list of words on the rug on the floor and props the notebook up on her knees and slowly begins to write. She is moving lethargically. Her mom says, “I am going to buy a pencil sharpener. I am tired of sharpening a pencil with a knife.” . . . Katie looks at the television and then down at her homework. It is slow progress, she seems to be dawdling . . . At 7:44, Katie says, “I’m done.” She stretches, arching her body, and yawns. Her mom says, “You need to get dressed.” Katie doesn’t move. Her mom waits a minute . . . [and then] goes to the closet and pulls out two hangers of clothes . . . With a hanger in each hand, [she] says to Katie, “Do you want to wear this (holding up one hanger) or this (holding up the other hanger)?” Katie says, pointing, “This one.”
Katie continues to watch “Good Morning America” intently. After another, more formal command from her mother, she pulls on her clothes, still watching TV. Her mother sits on the couch, smoking a cigarette. It’s 8:00. Katie is dressed, but her hair still needs attention. This is Ms. Brindle’s job. She brushes Katie’s hair, and after a quick, whispered consultation with her daughter, pulls her hair up into a half ponytail, explaining, “She doesn’t like her hair up, but I like it up.”
It is almost time to go. Katie pulls herself away from the TV, looks around in the dining room area, and then goes to her bedroom for a few seconds. When she returns,
she stands directly in front of her mother (blocking her mother’s view of the television) and asks, “Mom, where’s my book bag?” Her mother looks frustrated. She furrows her eyebrows, sighs deeply, and raises her voice as she says, “That is the key word, your book bag.”
Ms. Brindle joins the search. Standing at the open door to Katie’s room, she points in, looking annoyed. Katie smiles, slips by her mother and retrieves her book bag from her room. At last, it is time to bundle up for the fifteen-degree weather outside, and then say farewell:
CiCi zips up [Katie’s] coat but doesn’t put on the hood. Katie doesn’t have any mittens on her hands . . . CiCi stands and goes over to the door and opens it. Katie goes out first. Her mom leans over and kisses her on the lips, and says affectionately, “Good-bye, monster.”
This sequence of steps took ninety minutes. It is a labor-intensive routine that Katie and her mother enact every single school day (with minor variations) and most weekends (with some modifications). This particular morning, Melmel stayed asleep, but often Ms. Brindle cares for him at the same time—changing his diaper, getting him dressed, giving him a bottle of milk or “Hi-C” juice and then carrying him