Guiding a First Generation to College

Fixes

Fixes looks at solutions to social problems and why they work.

First of two articles.

When Shane Hennings was starting his junior year at Jamaica Gateway to the Sciences High School in Queens, he knew he would go to college even though no one in his family had gone. “My mom and my family always said go and become someone,” he said. “I want to help my mom.”

He assumed that he would go somewhere in the City University of New York system — probably York College, which was in the neighborhood, or a CUNY community college.

“I never thought I’d get accepted to a private school,” he said. “I didn’t understand how to apply” to private school, or even to the State University of New York system of colleges.  And he certain never imagined that he could afford it.

But when I met Hennings earlier this month, he had already been accepted to one SUNY college in Buffalo and another farther north, and was waiting to hear from SUNY’s University at Buffalo and from Canisius, a Jesuit college there with a strong health sciences program (Hennings wants to become an occupational therapist). He’s also waiting to see if the Canisius acceptance comes with a scholarship from New York’s Higher Education Opportunity Program.

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Shane Hennings, center, getting advice from a college counselor at Jamaica Gateway to the Sciences High School in Queens.Credit Nicole Bengiveno/The New York Times

Hennings’s assumptions that his only options were community or non-selective colleges are typical for students whose families have no experience of college. They contribute to a huge and pernicious education gap between high-income and low-income kids. Yes, it’s true that a smaller percentage of poor students than rich are ready for good colleges — poverty is associated with worse grades and test scores. But the gap exists even among students who are ready. About 30,000 students from poor families score in the top 10 percent on the SAT or ACT college entrance exams and yet don’t go to selective schools. And nearly a quarter of low-income students who score in the top 25 percent on standardized tests never go to any college.

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Fractured: A First Date

Private Lives

Private Lives: Personal essays on the news of the world and the news of our lives.

Photo
Credit Maelle Doliveux

I was going out. I deserved it. I’d had lunch — one Diet Coke, two Marlboro Lights and a Chef’s Signature Lean Cuisine. I’d even done two luxurious miles in 24 minutes on the treadmill at the gym down the block. My stomach growled, angry for being empty, but I felt thin and attractive. There’s nothing more dangerous than a girl who feels thin and attractive.

Whiskey made the world a warm hug. Everything and everyone was nice. Addiction, pollution, violence — these were things to worry about tomorrow.

I hailed a cab to Union Hall in Park Slope. It was warm for late October. I was meeting friends. The top floor of Union Hall has fireplaces, leather couches, an indoor bocce court and a library with actual books, where pseudo intellectuals discussed the same three writers (Hemingway, Kerouac, Salinger) between Jaeger bombs. Wrinkle-free gingham button-downs, Wayfarers even though it was dark, boat shoes because we were close to the Gowanus. These guys all went to honorary Ivies and had entry levels at their dads’ companies. The suit factory can produce a fun night. Just don’t expect them to go Dutch on your Plan B.

The line to the bar was long, so when I arrived I ordered two Jack and Diets for myself. The best investment you’ll ever make is a large tip on your first drink. Read more…

How Dwindling Fish Stocks Got a Reprieve

Fixes

Fixes looks at solutions to social problems and why they work.

“My wife told me to sell the boats,” says Brad Pettinger, a longtime trawl fisherman in the Pacific Northwest. “But I said, honey, who’s gonna buy them? At that time we just didn’t have anything.”

The “anything” was fish to catch. Fifteen years ago, America’s vast $50 million Pacific groundfish fishery, which stretches some 1,200 miles from Southern California to the Canadian border, collapsed.

Several critical species — from the spiky, orange canary rockfish to the large lingcod — had dropped to below one-quarter of their natural, un-fished levels. Sharp restrictions were brought in, and the fishery was officially declared an economic disaster. Many fishermen found themselves stranded and facing bankruptcy. “It was a perfect example of too many trawlers chasing too few fish,” says Pettinger, who is now director of the Oregon Trawl Commission. “It was a dark time.”

It’s a situation that has been repeated around the world, as overfishing, habitat destruction and climate change cause fish to disappear from the oceans at alarming rates. According to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization, 90 percent of fish stocks are being exploited at or beyond their maximum sustainable levels.

Overfishing is often seen as a classic case of what economists call the “tragedy of the commons.” Clearly, fishing communities have a collective interest in making sure marine life sticks around; but it’s in each boat’s individual interests to grab as much as possible, as soon as possible. Once a fishery has broken down, fixing it is fraught with difficulties.

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A fishing boat in Gloucester, Mass.Credit Gretchen Ertl for The New York Times

Hostility and distrust among the fishing industry, environmentalists and regulators means progress is often glacial. Rules to limit how much is caught can be hard to implement and often backfire — for example, when quotas force fishermen to discard thousands of tons of perfectly edible fish.

Yet since the turn of the 21st century, something remarkable has happened in United States waters. After decades of shrinking fish populations, some trends have begun to shift.

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Should Therapists Write About Patients?

Couch

Couch is a series about psychotherapy.


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Credit Spencer Platt/Getty Images

When it came time for the pre-publication legal review for my most recent book, I had an idea of what to expect, or so I thought. The book was highly critical of the American Psychiatric Association, a deep-pocketed, fiercely self-protective organization. I took particular aim at its most lucrative product, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. So I figured the review would rigorously investigate whether my account was fair and accurate enough to withstand any legal challenge.

I was right about one thing: The review was a veritable inquisition. But I was wrong about the subject of the lawyer’s concern. It wasn’t the A.P.A. Instead, she was worried, nearly obsessively, about my accounts of interactions with my therapy patients. Read more…

The Perils of Being a Black Philosopher

The Stone

The Stone is a forum for contemporary philosophers and other thinkers on issues both timely and timeless.

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Mark Bradford, Dead Hummingbird, 2015, courtesy Mark Bradford and Hauser & WirthCredit

This is the second in a series of dialogues with philosophers on violence for The Stone. This conversation is with George Yancy, a professor of philosophy at Emory University and author, editor, co-editor of many books, including “Look, a White!” — Brad Evans

Brad Evans: In response to a series of troubling verbal attacks you recently received following your essay in The Stone in December, “Dear White America,” the American Philosophical Association put out a strongly worded statement criticizing the bullying and harassment of academics in the public realm. But beyond this, shouldn’t we address the broader human realities of such hateful speech, and in particular, how this sort of discursive violence directly impacts the body of the person attacked?

George Yancy: Your point about discursive violence is an important one. Immediately after the publication of “Dear White America,” I began to receive vile and vitriolic white racist comments sent to my university email address, and verbal messages sent to my answering machine. I even received snail mail that was filled with hatred. Imagine the time put into actually sitting down and writing a letter filled with so much hate and then sending it snail mail, especially in our world of the Internet.

The alarming reality is that the response to “Dear White America” revealed just how much racism continues to exist in our so-called post-racial America. The comments were not about pointing out fallacies in my position, but were designed to violate, to leave me psychologically broken and physically distraught.

Words do things, especially words like “nigger,” or being called an animal that should go back to Africa or being told that I should be “beheaded ISIS style.” One white supremacist message sent to me ended with “Be Prepared.” Another began with “Dear Nigger Professor.”

The brutality and repetitiveness of this discursive violence has a way of inflicting injury. Given the history of the term “nigger,” it strikes with the long, hate-filled context of violence out of which that term grew. This points to the non-spectacular expression of violence. The lynching of black people was designed to be a spectacle, to draw white mobs. In this case, the black body was publicly violated. It was a public and communal form of bloodlust. There are many other forms of violence that are far more subtle, non-spectacular, but yet painful and dehumanizing. So, when I was called a “nigger,” I was subject to that. I felt violated, injured; a part of me felt broken.
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Is That Even a Thing?

The Stone

The Stone is a forum for contemporary philosophers and other thinkers on issues both timely and timeless.

Photo
Credit John Gall

Speakers and writers of American English have recently taken to identifying a staggering and constantly changing array of trends, events, memes, products, lifestyle choices and phenomena of nearly every kind with a single label — a thing. In conversation, mention of a surprising fad, behavior or event is now often met with the question, “Is that actually a thing?” Or “When did that become a thing?” Or “How is that even a thing?” Calling something “a thing” is, in this sense, itself a thing.

It would be easy to call this a curiosity of the language and leave it at that. Linguistic trends come and go. Why has “That really gets my goat” survived for so long when we have pretty much given up “You know your onions”? One could, on the other hand, consider the use of “a thing” a symptom of an entire generation’s linguistic sloth, general inarticulateness and penchant for cutesy, empty, half-ironic formulations that create a self-satisfied barrier preventing any form of genuine engagement with the world around them.

I don’t want to do either. My assumption is that language and experience mutually influence each other. Language not only captures experience, it conditions it. It sets expectations for experience and gives shape to it as it happens. What might register as inarticulateness can reflect a different way of understanding and experiencing the world.

The word “thing” has of course long played a versatile and generic role in our language, referring both to physical objects and abstract matters. “The thing is …” “Here’s the thing.” “The play’s the thing.” In these examples, “thing” denotes the matter at hand and functions as stage setting to emphasize an important point. One new thing about “a thing,” then, is the typical use of the indefinite article “a” to precede it. We talk about a thing because we are engaged in cataloging. The question is whether something counts as a thing. “A thing” is not just stage setting. Information is conveyed.

What information? One definition of “a thing” that suggests itself right away is “cultural phenomenon.” A new app, an item of celebrity gossip, the practices of a subculture. It seems likely that “a thing” comes from the phrase the coolest/newest/latest thing. But now, in a society where everything, even the past, is new — “new thing” verges on the redundant. If they weren’t new they wouldn’t be things. Read more…

Shopping for Health Care: A Fledgling Craft

Fixes

Fixes looks at solutions to social problems and why they work.

Four years ago, Dave deBronkart spoke at a medical conference, with his face displayed on a giant screen. Afterward, a doctor told him that a spot on his face looked like basal cell carcinoma.

She was right. That cancer was unlikely to spread, but it needed to be treated, and deBronkart’s health insurance policy had a $10,000 deductible. Any treatment, then, would come out of his pocket. How would he find the right treatment at the right price?

The reason deBronkart was attending the conference was that he is an advocate for patient involvement in health care. So he decided that, as an experiment, he would invite proposals on his blog, e-PatientDave. He outlined what he was looking for and asked health care providers to bid for his business.

No one did, of course. “I didn’t expect to get a response,” he said. “Hospitals don’t have a ‘submit a bid’ department. But you hear over and over that patients are the reason for high health costs. I pursued it as far as I could to explore what happened when a patient tries to be a responsible consumer.”

He began calling around to hospitals asking the price of various procedures. “The hospitals said ‘we don’t know; ask your insurance company.’ The insurance company said ‘we don’t know; ask your hospital,’” said deBronkart. “That was when I smelled a great big rat.”

After many, many calls, he chose his surgery: excision, total price $868. Today he is fine.

But his point stands: Health care operates very differently from anything else we buy.

“The actual information I needed in order to be an effective, responsible shopper was by policy blocked from me,” he said in an interview. “It’s not just a matter of lowering costs. It blocks innovation. Somebody does a good job — better quality, better price — but there’s no way for people to discover them.”

There is practically nothing that we shop for the same way we did 15 years ago. We compare prices online, look at quality ratings and reviews, and read about the experiences of others. We have endless information.

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Grieving My Patient’s Friend

Couch

Couch is a series about psychotherapy.

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Credit Peter Marlow/Magnum Photos

Isabella left a package for each of her children to open after her death. Her youngest was only 5 months old, and the other three were ages 2, 4 and 7. She had always wanted a big family, and when she learned, after the birth of her third child, that she carried BRCA1, the so-called breast cancer gene, she and her husband decided to rush to have their last child. Then she would have the surgery that she believed would save her life, a double mastectomy.

But it was too late. Only a month after the baby was born, Isabella was found to have ovarian cancer, and several months after that she passed away.

Naomi, my patient, grabbed a tissue from the box on the little table next to the couch. She had been in therapy with me for six years and I knew her friends pretty well. I especially knew Isabella, who had been her best friend since childhood.

It isn’t unusual for therapists to feel that they know intimately their patients’ friends, lovers and family. In some ways, we get attached to these people, their stories, their successes and struggles. We accompany them at once closely and from far away, as if they are favorite characters in a beloved book.

Isabella was one of these people for me. She was Naomi’s “sister,” as they used to call each other. When her cancer was diagnosed I, too, was shaken and upset, and when she died I silently grieved. Read more…

Philosophizing With Guns

The Stone

The Stone is a forum for contemporary philosophers and other thinkers on issues both timely and timeless.

Photo
Credit Aaron P. Bernstein for The New York Times

In a matter of months, the offices, libraries and classrooms where I work, study and teach at the University of Texas at Austin will become “concealed carry zones” — areas in which people with concealed handgun licenses may carry their weapons. The “campus carry” bill that brought about this situation represents a 50th anniversary gift of sorts from Texas state legislators. For when the law comes into effect on August 1, it will be 50 years to the day since a heavily armed young man ascended the clock tower on campus and shot 45 people, killing 14 of them, in the first mass shooting at an American college.

Campus carry poses a threat to the classroom as a space of discourse and learning even if a shot is never fired.

Following the signing of the bill into law last June, university administrators began to carve my daily environment into armed and unarmed zones: Guns in classrooms? Yes. Guns at sporting events? No. Appalled by this spectacle, I proceeded to do the two things that I have been trained to do as a philosopher: I debated with my colleagues and I wrote a critical essay. Then, having had my little scream into the abyss, I experienced a period of peace.

But now, as August 1 approaches, I find myself drawn back to the problems, both practical and philosophical, that are posed by campus carry. It seems to me that if we care about the future of American education, we must inquire after those things of value that stand at risk on armed campuses. The campus carry bill is, after all, not a peculiarly Texan piece of legislation. It has precedent in other states and, given the political climate, may be emulated elsewhere.
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A Case of Polish-Jewish Relations

Couch

Couch is a series about psychotherapy.

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Belzec extermination camp, 1994.Credit Erich Hartmann/Magnum Photos

When George Nowicki, a prospective therapy patient, called for an appointment, it wasn’t just the name but the heavy accent that identified him as Polish. The accent was familiar to me: I, too, was born in Poland, in a region that is now a part of Ukraine. In anticipation of working with him, I felt both excitement and a sense of foreboding.

Our first session was a brief phone conversation to negotiate scheduling and for me to answer questions about my qualifications, fees and any other matters important to George. He was precise and articulate. He explained that his wife had just left him, unexpectedly, after 30 years of marriage. I sensed that he was cooperative and eager to talk to someone. Read more…