After World War II, American higher education sought to promote upward mobility for new student groups, with varying degrees of success. But in the decades that followed, the nation’s most selective colleges routinely ignored or turned away thousands of talented working-class and poor students from both rural and urban areas.
These colleges are finally acknowledging the persistent challenges facing such students. More of them, including the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, where I work, have started offering free or sharply reduced tuition to low-income students and have established offices to support them academically and socially.
But do selective colleges truly understand the struggles low-income students face when they are surrounded by high percentages of undergraduates from much wealthier families?
In this special report, we look at diversity through a somewhat novel lens — that of geography. Our coverage examines how a college’s location affects its mission, its ability to recruit students and faculty members, and its campus culture.
Last year students in one of my courses, “The Experience of Social Class in College and the Community,” wrote essays exploring class experiences from their family lives, K-12 education, communities, and undergraduate years. Some 45 current and former students in the course — who had grown up in poverty and the working class, as well in wealthy and middle-income families — contributed to an anthology I edited with Aubrey Schiavone called Social Class Voices: Student Stories From the University of Michigan Bicentennial (Michigan Publishing, 2017). In recent decades we’ve heard a lot about race and gender differences on colleges campuses, but we’ve heard much less about the struggles and advantages related to social class. Our anthology aims to help students, faculty members, and staff members better understand such issues. It presents stories of isolation and determination, honestly told by those born into poverty and the working class.
Students from disadvantaged backgrounds attend highly selective colleges with great expectations. But because their families may value group needs over individual aspirations, campus traditions of middle-class individualism and competition can feel alien. Most working-class students, who are typically the first in their families to attend college and often come from rural areas, haven’t lived outside their communities before. They’re understandably cautious when interacting with peers from comfortable, suburban areas. Here are some of their voices, from passages included in the anthology:
Nathan Boorsma, a recent graduate in psychology, who grew up near Grand Rapids, Mich.: “At the beginning of each new semester, ice breakers are inevitable. Coming from a rural community, I was always excited to share something different. I would proudly tell classmates my hobbies, including riding dirt bikes and the interesting fact that I raised pigs for five years. I saw how quickly I could be labeled the class redneck.”
Zachary Tingley, a senior political-science major, from the small town of Stryker, Ohio, wrote that he was “surprised with the wide variety of food,” such as risotto with garlic-basil tofu and stuffed quinoa peppers, and realized it was meant to appeal to wealthier students. “I never ate this before.”
Sean Smith, a recent graduate in sociology, from Grand Rapids, Mich., who is black: “I met children of black professionals and thought there was an assumed camaraderie among all black people, but I learned that I couldn’t always rest on that assumption. Middle-class blacks were accustomed to navigating white spaces. Some didn’t even acknowledge I was there. When it was time to pick partners for group presentations, they’d look elsewhere, even when I was right next to them.”
Many students gradually become aware of the inevitable upward mobility that comes with a college degree. But many say they struggle to talk with family and community members who don’t understand what they’re studying. They’re caught between the social class they hope to join and their own heritage. Many wonder what’s been gained and lost, as these comments illustrate:
Lauren Schandevel, a senior public-policy major, from Warren, Mich.: “I still straddle the line that separates my life in college from my life at home. I’m studying topics my parents can’t pronounce. Sometimes it feels like we’re speaking completely different languages, reconnecting only when I give brief summaries of my schoolwork before reverting back to acting as though I never left.”
Ivy Augustine, a new graduate in English and German, from Jackson, Mich.: “This isn’t my first scholarship Donor Dinner, so I know the routine: Eat some hors d’oeuvres (which I now pronounce correctly) and chatter pleasantly. If anyone didn’t know any better, they’d swear we were born into this social circle. … There are always small tells. A girl uses the wrong fork. A guy with rumpled slacks laughs too loudly. But that doesn’t matter here. We’re all mutts, not quite belonging to any one social class.”
Ryan Vennard, a senior political-science and sociology major, from West Alexandria, Ohio: “The social-class divide is akin to a ceiling made out of tar. Even if you fight your way thru the layers of tar, you’re marked and stained by the tar. You will always be dirty and separate from those who never had to fight thru the tar. … I will never belong.”
More-privileged students, too, show a clear understanding of social class, as their comments reflect:
Corinda Lubin-Katz, a 2011 graduate in sociology, who grew up in Oxford and Hamden, Conn.: “I remember a moment with one of my closest friends. … Her family was having a tough time and she was consistently sending money home, something that was the opposite of my experience. My family sent me money.”
Andrea Tillotson, a junior majoring in philosophy, politics, and economics, who grew up in Hudsonville, Mich., and in Guatemala City: “At the University of Michigan, the majority of students come from families with means: economic means, political means, and social connections of all types. I am one of those students. I never really wanted for anything. I forget other students don’t have this luxury.”
Natsume Ono, a junior majoring in architecture and urban planning, from Ann Arbor: When a professor reminded students not to litter on the floor, a classmate who “reeked of privilege” pointed out that that was the janitor’s job. “No! I wanted to scream. As a decent member of society, you should respect janitors by cleaning up after yourself.”
Some selective colleges and other groups are making efforts to help talented students from economically disadvantaged families. The American Talent Initiative, established in 2016, now seeks to admit, with financial support, an additional 50,000 high-achieving, low-income students to 290 of America’s highest-ranked colleges. This year the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor made public its “Go Blue Guarantee,” providing free tuition to admitted in-state students whose families earn less than $65,000 per year. Michigan has also established a new support office called First Generation Student Gateway. And the University of Chicago recently announced full-tuition scholarships for low-income students, as well as expanded financial aid and support programs for first-generation students. Support offices for low-income students can go a long way in helping them develop a sense of belonging and connection, as long as those services don’t isolate students from wider campus environments. Efforts involving one-on-one contact with knowledgeable staff members send powerful messages that colleges value the presence of talented students from disadvantaged backgrounds.
As leaders of selective colleges embark on the long-overdue task of enrolling more such students, they might also reflect on why it has taken so long to do so. It is important for those who work and study on college campuses to understand that class distinctions persist. To ignore them is to overlook the causes and results of being poor and working class in America.
Dwight Lang is a lecturer in sociology at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor. He is working on a history of first-generation students at the university.
