Academics and Journalists

I'm not a well-known academic (at all).  That's because I haven't published (much) in academic journals.  It's also because I've chosen not to have a traditional academic career; I've chosen (with all the expected harm to my professional life) to work part-time as an adjunct rather than pursue a tenure track job.  Though I have loved being able to spend more time with my children than most (if not all) of my tenure-seeking friends have had with theirs, my professional choices have, to a certain extent, sidelined me as "not a real" academic, a fact that sometimes is quite painful.

I'll never fully be comfortable with it, but it is what it is.

But even if I *had* chosen a tenure-track job, I might have still been marginalized by many of my fellow academics, for one reason:  I prefer and do qualitative -- not quantitative -- research.

Translation:  When I do research, I either interview people or consult lots and lots of newspapers or archives.

It's not that I cannot do statistical analyses or read data.  I learned enough of that to get the Ph.D., did enough of it in the dissertation to prove a decent level of proficiency.  But I knew, very early on, that I was never going to want to sit behind a computer and run statistical analyses.

I'd rather sell shoes.

There is a hierarchy within academia in general, and within social science in particular, that holds that the "smarter" people work with the big data sets and do the fancy statistics, while the rest of us "just interview people".  Or maybe we analyze years and years of news articles or work in dusty historical archives.  In any case, we who do not do heavy statistics are generally looked down upon by those who do.

Graduate students are socialized into this reality in multiple ways.  First, there are more grants and more job opportunities during grad school for those who can crunch data, so if you choose to be a qualitative researcher you truly are the proverbial poor-as-a-church-mouse grad student (and you probably work in a restaurant in your "spare time").  Second, there are more job opportunities  after grad school if you choose to be a number cruncher.  Third, there are more job opportunities outside academia, even for those who (gasp!) don't finish the Ph.D.  All in all, there are some strong arguments for more graduate students to choose quantitative skills over qualitative ones.

But not if you hate the work.

I knew I couldn't be that person.  But I hadn't quite understood the negative effect it might have on my self-esteem until, one day in graduate school, I had the following discussion with other students and a few faculty about types of research and what we liked to do.

"I really like interviewing people, hearing what they have to say and how they perceive their lives."

"But that is just journalism," one statistically-minded (and highly competent) researcher told me.  "How do you know that what you're hearing is true?"

That was the moment I learned just how great the divide is between some qualitative and quantitative researchers and how many in the latter camp use another field altogether -- journalism -- as a way of dissing those in the former.

Prior to that comment, I had not really had any negative opinions about journalism.  In fact, I had seriously considered going to journalism school.  I chose sociology because I perceived that it welcomed people with broad interests.  If there is nothing else true about me, it's that my interests are broad.

But I didn't choose sociology over  journalism; I just decided I wanted to teach college.

This tension between academics (particularly those who do quantitative analyses with large random samples) and journalists has bugged me ever since, and I see it play out among my colleagues in depressingly predictable ways.

I know a certain sociology department with a long history of animosity between the qualitative researchers and the quantitative ones; those in the former group are referred to as "Camp A" and those in the other as "Camp B".  Camp B has more power and more men.  Let's just say that *if* I were in this department as an assistant professor seeking tenure, I'd be in Camp A and have good reason to fear not getting tenure.

I'd also have good reason to fear being compared -- and not with respect -- to journalists.

I'm going to skip the essay on what good interviewing entails, and on how hard an academic has to work to do enough interviews to know for sure that he or she has found a pattern, rather than just an idiosyncratic story.  (Sociologists look for patterns in society, not just interesting stories.  However, interesting stories can lead them to look for patterns -- thanks, journalism!)

Why is it that academics so often dis journalists?

I think academics often see journalistic work as ephemeral, ahistorical and atheoretical.  O.K.  Fair enough. Often true.

And I think that academics worry (with some legitimacy) that students hang onto journalistic accounts of reality without looking at studies of the same thing.  Also true.  They do.  I have to tell my students that they must go read peer-reviewed studies and not "just" rely on what they find on MSNBC or CNN (not that they do not often find excellent stuff there, too -- they do.)  But, to be fair, often news (especially about science) is watered down in the mainstream media because it has to be -- if you really want to understand a study, you have to go read it.  It's up to us academics to make sure our students know this; it isn't journalism's fault that students can be lazy.

Academics become upset that so much of what is put out there is done too fast and without enough analysis.

I wouldn't disagree.

So, turning it around -- why is it that journalists (sometimes) dis academics?

I think journalists' proverbial feathers get ruffled when they hear "experts" discuss politics or situations without having been there.  True.  I do not disagree that some academics (particularly in this media age) LOVE the opportunity to go on TV and see themselves hold forth.  They may not always be as careful and cautious in their analyses as they should be (but I think I could safely say the same about some journalists).

I recently told a colleague how much of my course material was peer-reviewed articles and scholarly books and how much was stuff written by journalists.  I rely quite a bit on articles written in The New York Times or The Atlantic, for instance.  I seek out books written by journalists (such as Nick Kristof or Barbara Ehrenreich) who I think are truly exceptional writers and researchers.  I like finding authors who bridge that journalism-academia divide (Ehrenreich being probably my favorite).

My colleague was a bit surprised at how much I do rely on good journalism for teaching sociology, but he also acknowledged that sometimes the journalistic accounts are easier to read, more student-friendly than the academic ones.

"I guess David Brooks is kind of a sociologist," he said.  "He kinda hovers above all."

I joked that it my next life, I'd be happy to "hover" as a journalist/sociologist.

For now, I have to settle for being an adjunct.

Not all academics dis journalists and I hope not all journalists think we're just a bunch of head-in-the-ivory-tower people who don't respect their on-the-ground work.  Some of us really appreciate their work and use it as inspiration for our own.

I've always been heartened by something a very old (and, ironically, very quantitative) sociologist told me (also during grad school):  "You know, Elaine, you don't have to worry about being "like a journalist".  Some of the best journalists out there would have been great sociologists."

NIMBY and YIMBY

Last night, my Home Owners Association (HOA) announced on their (closed group) Facebook page that there was a meeting at the local high school about a proposed affordable housing project.  The announcement was framed clearly:  "For those who oppose this project...".

Not surprisingly, there is a group of neighbors who have formed an organization to protest this (and other) low-income housing developments in our area.

The Executive Director of the local St. Vincent de Paul, -- one of the partners in this project -- wrote this editorial in the local paper as an attempt to allay people's fears about a relatively large low-income housing development in their area.

Before I lose myself in a discussion of thinly disguised classism, racism and unfounded fears, let me say that I *do* agree the proposed development is rather large (perhaps TOO large) and that it does appear to violate several of the City's Housing Dispersal Policy objectives and goals (one being that no low-income development should have more than 60 units; this proposed one has 101 and there are other projects proposed to go in next to it, meaning that, in the end, the developers could end up locating a majority of the city's poor all in one place).

The Housing Dispersal Policy was written in 1996 and, well, lots of things have changed since then.  It is particularly notable that the policy was based on *1980* Census data -- we're 32 years past that!

While I'm twitchy about a really large low-income housing development *anywhere* in the city -- and particularly since there is more than one planned for the same area -- I fully realize that the demand and need for subsidized housing far outstrips the availability.

I know this not just from statistics like the ones cited in the above editorial, but also from my own friends who struggle to make ends meet.  I recently tried to help a friend find a one-bedroom apartment, with utilities, in  a safe neighborhood, for less than what she is paying now.  We searched and searched and couldn't find one.  She makes "too much" to qualify for any government program -- meaning she likely wouldn't be able to live in this proposed development -- yet she is spending far more than 50% of her income on her rent.

It shouldn't be that way, folks.  She works.  (Like lots of other struggling people!)  She attempts to play by the rules (like lots of other struggling people!).  And she cannot make it without help; when she cannot find it through agencies (which is common, given her "high" income), she has to either earn money under the table or ask friends for help (like us).

There is no doubt in my mind that Eugene needs more affordable housing, that Eugene (like cities everywhere) largely lacks a living wage, and that this vacant lot near where I live is one of the rare ones in the city.  Our neighborhood has the *space* to build this development, whereas most areas of the city do not.

It's also true that there are also other low-income housing developments already on our side of town, so it's not (as some comments on  articles have erroneously claimed) that "all" the people over "there" (here) are "elitist snobs" or "against poor people".  There is, in fact, quite a range of incomes and housing types and options in our neck of the woods -- mansions and large houses next to or near ranch-style homes, small one-story homes, older two-story homes, condos, apartments and rented houses and affordable housing developments.  

Not everyone who opposes the development opposes low-income housing per se.  Many people who oppose this project oppose it on several valid claims:  that it violates the City's (perhaps outdated and still unexplained) no-more-than-60-units rule; it consolidates the poor in one location (ironically far away from where services are located); it potentially adds a LOT more traffic to the area; it potentially adds many students to our already overcrowded schools.  In other words, these concerned citizens might get behind a smaller (60-unit) project, one which puts less stress on already stressed systems (particularly schools).

Others contend that adding students to our schools might be a good thing -- more students bring more money to the schools and *may* make classes *smaller* because, if enough students enroll, schools have to hire more teachers.  This is a theoretical claim that has yet to be proven.  With parents and students and teachers reeling from the effects of our last round of budget cuts (which included closing several schools), few think that the potential addition of hundreds of kids to our neighborhood would uniformly result in many more teachers being hired.  At the very least, it seems likely that class sizes *would* increase, particularly for older students.  But class sizes are already too large -- 39-42 in middle school classes and, depending on the subject, 40-50 per high school class.  As a parent of two kids still in public schools, I share this concern that our local schools -- like schools throughout the city -- are already stressed beyond capacity.

The questions that I have about the development have not been answered anywhere (at least not in articles I've found).

1)  How many people in Eugene currently qualify for low-income housing *and cannot find it in Eugene*?  In other words, are ALL low-income housing units in Eugene currently occupied?  Or do we have some vacant ones?  What *exactly* is the need?

2)  If the need is, indeed, 101 or more units, can we build several smaller housing projects throughout the city, rather than all 101 (or more) in one place?



Simply building more low-income housing *which residents have to pay for* may not solve enough of their problems if *they actually can't find a job to begin with* or cannot afford childcare so they can work in order to afford their housing.  If they don't work, they have no income.  If they have no income, they cannot pay for the housing...  If they have no childcare, they cannot work.

It's all connected, people.

Many years ago, when I was working at Harvard Family Research Project (HFRP), I did research on programs for at-risk families.  In a nutshell, HFRP consistently finds that the best programs -- the ones with the best outcomes for kids and their parents -- co-locate services at one place.

I strongly believe that this housing development should really be far more than just a housing development if we are at all committed to doing something to help people.  But I would argue that it should be on the smaller side (in part because, if successful, one would want to replicate it elsewhere).  This development shouldn't be about making money for the *developer* but about serving people.

A doctor, a dentist, and an eye doctor (who accept the Oregon Health Plan, Medicare, Medicaid, etc.) should have office space on site.   There should be on-site, affordable childcare center (for residents only).  A preschool (perhaps Head Start) should be there, too.  Buses should be plentiful (this, ironically, may be the easiest thing to do -- get a few more LTD buses to the area).

While we're at it, the neighborhood as a whole has been complaining for YEARS that it doesn't have a grocery store.  There's been talk of building a Market of Choice nearby -- but that market, as local and lovely as it is, does NOT serve the needs of the poor.   What grocery store -- not gigantic, but decent-sized -- can we bring to the neighborhood, that could be within walking distance of the development?

We live in a community -- with problems like all communities.  But the NOT IN MY BACKYARD APPROACH doesn't build communities; it erodes them.  At the same time, lack of careful consideration of the complex problems that ALL families have (but which affect poor families more) could easily result in a project that nobody likes -- including those who would qualify to live there.

Bottom line:  I'm not against building affordable housing in my community, but if we do so, we have to be committed to establishing the services (including grocery stores, child care, and schools) that would be required to make this housing development a successful community.

Housing, in and of itself, doesn't do that.

I'll be at the next meeting, proposing something far more ambitious than just housing.  YIMBY -- Yes, in my back yard!

A Halloween Pah-tay!

So...a few months ago, I complained to a neighbor who I barely knew (despite that we live next door to each other) that, well, I hardly knew any of the neighbors.  She agreed that she, too, hardly knew a soul. (I've written about my neighborhood before.)

Next thing I know, she and her husband organized a very nice backyard get-together and invited the neighbors.  She and I have since started to occasionally walk together.  It's nice, you know, to know your neighbors.  I can now identify at least four couples in the neighborhood, even if I cannot always remember what they do or the names of their (grown) children.

They probably can't remember those details about us, either.  Although they do tend to remember the "oh, you're the professors, right?"

I guess we stand out as the nerds of the neighborhood.

That's OK.

A few weeks ago, we were invited to a Halloween party by another set of neighbors that we had met at that summertime get together.  Tonight was the party.  My husband is out of town (giving a talk at Southern Methodist University, in Dallas, TX), so I went alone -- as Marge Simpson.

When I arrived, a few things immediately struck me.  One, these people are very committed to Halloween decor.  Not only was their yard decorated with webs and lighted pumpkins and witches and spiders, but every surface in every room was, too, including the guest bath and the garage.  Two, this couple is very comfortable partying in general, and not just with other couples their age.  The age range for this party was WIDE (teens to grandparents).

There was also a serious amount of alcohol available.  More on that in a minute.

Since I was alone and didn't know anybody other than the hosts, I paid more attention, initially, to the decor:  spider webs and ghosts, spiders and bats, pumpkins and Frankenstein dolls, mummies and witches, orange and black and CANDLES.  Everywhere -- lots and lots of candles.  The house was *perfectly* appointed for a Halloween party.  Impressive.  Even if I owned all that stuff, I wouldn't be half as good at using it.  The woman (who told me she did it all herself) could easily be paid to decorate professionally.  Fantastic decor.  Even the grand piano looked spooky.

Then I paid attention to the food.  Lots of it had a Halloween theme:  "Vampire Barf" (sausages and tomatoes in melted cheese), "Eyes of Newt" (deviled eggs with green-dye yolks and black olive centers), "Cauldron Punch" (some vodka-infused thing with dry ice -- it *looked* good but I didn't try it) and "Guts" (a mixed drink).  Fortunately, for my veganish palate, there were also several trays of veggies.  And candy corn.

I love my candy corn.

Then, of course, the costumes:  big ol' Popeye, Roman man in toga with *very sexy* Roman woman in *very short* toga, caveman and sexy cave woman, bumblebee and sexy ladybug, gangster with sexy clown, SWAT ("Sexy Woman Assault Team") woman, Dr. "Shots" with sexy nurse, Sexy Dorothy and the Tin Man, Mexican man, sexy pirate, sexy princess.

You should see the theme here, at least among the women's costumes:  SEX.  And the older women were wearing costumes *almost* as sexy as the college kids.  Almost.  Their skirts might have been two inches longer.  Maybe.

I was a little surprised that a middle-aged couple was also serving jello shots and tray after tray of drinks.

I'm not a prude, but I'm also not much of a drinker.  And somehow I thought jello shots were, well, kinda for college kids?  Guess I was wrong.  They went fast.  And certainly not just to the under 25 crowd.  In fact, a high school principal was thoroughly enjoying them.

The party started at 6:30 (though I got there closer to 7).  When I left at 9:30 (to get home to the kids), the party was in full, loud, fraternity-like swing.  Garage doors open.  Music BLASTING.  People dancing.  Fog machine working overtime.  Drunken revelry definitely starting to show.

College kids groping each other's asses right in front of their parents.

That last bit struck me as odd as the 50-year-olds downing jello shots.  But I cannot help but wonder what else I would have seen had I been able to stay longer.

It was fun and underscored to me that *I need to get out more*.

Hopefully, next year we'll be invited again.

I really want another chance to wear the wig.