Introduction
ELINOR OCHS AND TAMAR KREMER-SADLIK
In spring 2000 Kathleen Christensen, program director at the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, traveled to Los Angeles on business. On a Friday afternoon, before returning to the airport, she called Elinor's home number to see if she could stop by. Elinor was at UCLA, and her husband, Sandro, took the call. On arriving at home Elinor was surprised to see a town car parked in front of the house and then to find Kathleen in the living room chatting with Sandro about Sloan endeavors. Kathleen's impromptu visit was occasioned by an exciting research project on American dual-earner middle-class families. The Sloan Foundation had launched a program to investigate the exigencies of raising a family while managing a paid job so that workplaces could better meet the needs of working families. Would Elinor be interested in joining this effort by designing and directing a research project dedicated to this end? Kathleen asked. Thus the UCLA Sloan Center on Everyday Lives of Families (CELF) began.
For months on end a team of UCLA scholars from diverse disciplines gathered to design a study of family life unlike any conducted previously. Anthropologists, who had traveled to faraway field sites, retooled their ethnographic methods for the “natives” of urban Los Angeles. Archaeologists, used to uncovering the material remains of past societies, turned their excavation skills to unearthing the avalanche of possessions filling contemporary American middle-class homes and to deciphering how homes are inhabited as lived spaces. Clinical psychologists, used to analyzing how people behave inside laboratories in short periods of time, developed ways to analyze stress, emotions, and family relationships over days in the midst of chaotic life at home, in the car, and in all sorts of community settings. And education specialists, who had a good sense of teaching and learning in all sorts of classrooms, sought to capture how middle-class parents strove to promote their children's learning—with varying degrees of success—in education-relevant family routines.
Families evince the historical times in which they live. The family is both the crucible of culture—where children first learn what matters in life—and the bellwether of how societal aspirations and concomitant pressures affect the vitality of persons and relationships. This volume offers entry into the private worlds of middle-class families. CELF researchers video recorded weekday mornings when parents woke their sleepy-eyed children and propelled them through routine preparations to get out the door to school and themselves off to work. Their evening video recordings laid bare how parents returning home immediately shed their workday mind-sets to attend to a sea of tasks. And they recorded weekend moments when children crawled into their parents’ bed to snuggle and whisper sweet exchanges or when families lazily made pancakes for breakfast before heading to a soccer game.
The intimate access to daily life granted to CELF researchers exposed the bumps and lumps of raising a family. Inevitably, the rolling cameras caught tensions that flared between couples when collaboration broke down and intransigencies between parents and children when they did not see eye to eye about what needed to be done. While some households ran more smoothly than others, the intent of this volume is not to prescribe a right or a wrong way of being a family but rather to bring to light the intricate work exacted and the bravery demonstrated as parents crafted families, along with the inevitable misfires and dramas that ensued.
THE HISTORICAL MOMENT OF THE CELF STUDY
CELF began its study in the emotional and political aftermath of the searing tragedy of September 11, 2001, when many Americans suffered a sense of heightened vulnerability and craved the trust and intimacy that family can provide. In addition, in October 2002 working parents returned home to televised news flashes of a sniper still at large in the Washington, D.C., area, as the prelude to reuniting with their children in the next room. In 2004, as the Iraq war was in full force, an eight-year-old boy in one of the CELF families told his mother that he feared Saddam Hussein might enter their house and hurt them: “What if he's over here? What if he's in California right now?” “Would you die if he shot you right here, Dad?” In this climate CELF parents were mindful of keeping a watchful eye on children, accompanying them to their after-school organized activities and monitoring their playtime at home. Some wistfully recalled their own, more carefree childhoods, when it was possible to roam the neighborhood unsupervised on bikes or on foot.
At the same time, the years in which CELF researchers documented family life (2002-5) were a period of rapidly rising home prices, heightened consumerism, widening disparities between the super rich and the middle class, and parents burning the candle at both ends—working long and hard toward the American Dream of home ownership and a satisfying family life. CELF parents had jobs, owned their homes, purchased numerous possessions, and paid for educational and recreational opportunities for their children.
As CELF researchers wrote up their findings a few more years into the twenty-first century, parents in the United States were facing a bleaker way of looking at their wallets and their children's economic prospects. In the wake of the 2008 financial meltdown, the confidence in upward mobility and material rewards that dominated the late twentieth century and that CELF researchers documented at the turn of the twenty-first has been repackaged as the Age of Hubris, Excess, and Greed. Wall Street has been the primary target of these attributes, but households all along the great American middle-class continuum also, either out of economic necessity or moral consciousness or both, have recently looked inward, critically, at their lifestyle and consumption habits. Of Wall Street the middle class furiously inquires, “How could you do this?” But the question that some middle-class parents pose to themselves is, “What were we thinking?”
At the time of data collection, CELF researchers did not consider the possibility that they might be documenting a passing social, economic, and cultural era of American middle-class households, but, retrospectively, that may be exactly what CELF findings represent.1 Yet, while some ways of life may ultimately prove emblematic of an era that no longer exists, many of the socioeconomic realities and cultural expectations that CELF captured will continue to influence everyday family practices and challenges in the near future. Parents who work will still—in the midst of a sagging economy—be contending with extraordinarily full days and will still be grappling with norms and expectations generated by their social class. Indeed, as we write this introduction, the press reports that despite the depressed economy, consumer spending is on the rise. In short, family life—especially intimate family life that transpires behind closed doors in the privacy of one's home—will continue to be the key-stone that supports, on one side, the arc of previous assumptions about the way things are supposed to be and, on the other, the arc of present-day pressures, contingencies, and hopes.
PRIVATE LIFE
Private life in the United States is idealized as something that takes place out of the public eye, concealed, protected, and relatively sacred. We have laws and rules of decorum that draw boundaries between public and private worlds. Public life means conducting oneself as expected for an audience, whereas in private life people feel that they can be less conventional and freer to be themselves.2 The eminent sociologist Erving Goffman portrays the middle-class home as a “backstage” region, where family members feel that they do not have to perform for others.3 Certain areas of the house, such as the bedroom and the bathroom, are more backstage than others.
Researchers have been reticent to cross over the public-private threshold to observe the intimate moments of family life in middle-class households. Entering middle-class homes, where privacy is conceived of as a cultural entitlement of the highest sort, was indeed a fearsome challenge for the CELF team. In 2001, when we began our study, parents expressed trepidation that their private lives could become someone else's reality show or might be circulated on the Internet. In response to these concerns, CELF researchers treaded carefully and gratefully. Although we hoped to be a fly on the wall observing the countless engagements that consume families’ waking hours, our physical presence and equipment made that impossible. Sometimes we were able to fade into the woodwork, sometimes we lent a helping hand, and sometimes we were sounding boards to someone wanting to be heard.
In the course of this delicate dance CELF amassed an extraordinarily rich archive of the backstage realms of twenty-first-century middle-class households usually out of bounds to scholars. Thousands of photographs taken by CELF researchers display homes as they are inhabited, filled with casually placed objects. Timed observations tell us how and how often family members used different rooms in their homes at ten-minute intervals. More than 1,500 hours of video recordings capture casual encounters between family members and moments of solitude. In addition, CELF measurements of each family member's stress levels indicate how experiences throughout the day affect their well-being. Finally, in-depth interviews lasting hours bring to light family members’ dreams, convictions, and concerns about health, education, work, and relationships.
CELF FAMILIES
The thirty-two families in our study lived across the vast metropolis of Los Angeles, stretching from the San Fernando Valley to the South Bay and from Santa Monica to Pasadena. Some parents were first-generation immigrants from Latin America, Europe, or Asia; some had moved from the Midwest or the East Coast; some had lived all their lives in Southern California. Most families were headed by a mother and a father; two were headed by gay fathers. The families included biological and adopted children and children from previous marriages. All parents worked, some in professions like law and medicine; others held technical, administrative, or teaching positions. Some had to watch their wallets; others enjoyed more financial flexibility. All were inspired by the middle-class American Dream of buying their own home and filling it with nice things to make it beautiful and comfortable.
Above all else, what united CELF parents was that they were experiencing one of the most demanding times in their lives. They were primarily in their mid-thirties and forties, when their career opportunities were at a pivotal point of growth, determining future earning power. They had two to three children, most of whom were in elementary school. In line with middle-class expectations surrounding childrearing, CELF parents felt that they needed to provide considerable hands-on assistance to their children—not only basic care (feeding, dressing, hygiene) but also homework and chauffeuring to extracurricular activities and play dates. They worried that their parental actions—big and small—were crucial to their children's futures. They devoted a lot of time to thinking about the best path to developing self-esteem, academic success, special talents, and the like. The combination of these home- and child-related aspirations, along with the realities of Los Angeles living—high home prices and dependency on two cars per family—led to continuous commitments of time and money. Yet these involvements defined and enriched working parents’ sense of themselves and gave meaning to their lives.
Let us look briefly at a day in the lives of four of the households in the study.
The Reis Household. Pam and Jerry Reis's household ran like clockwork. Pam used to produce films but changed jobs to have time to “produce” her family with Jerry a lawyer. Both were highly involved in their children's school, sports, and getting them through their activity-packed days. On the kitchen wall hung a special calendar to keep track of their complicated family schedule. As Pam explained, “This is our magnetic calendar that we designed to try to keep this family in order. . . . Like today is the twenty-third. Mike has PE, and later on tonight Allison goes fencing. See, tomorrow, Ally has PE, Mike has tennis, his five-pitch baseball practice, and we have dinner at Bubby's [Grandma's]. Friday, two spelling tests, hockey, Ally goes to school, and Ally has basketball practice. You get the idea.”
With such a busy schedule, there was a lot for Pam and Jerry to coordinate on weekday mornings. For example, one morning we filmed Pam making breakfast while Jerry prepared lunchboxes for school. Intermittently, they checked on the children's progress getting dressed and completing unfinished homework. While Pam ironed clothes for work, Jerry packed duffel bags with sports equipment for afternoon activities and loaded them into Pam's SUV. The SUV itself was an icon of organization—brimming with snacks, drinks, sports paraphernalia in plastic bins, school supplies in zippered bags, and lap boards for the children to do homework in the car. After Pam downed a glass of juice, she confirmed with Jerry practice pickup time, got the kids into the car and on the way to school, quizzed her daughter for her spelling test—all before driving herself to work.
The Sato Household. Debra and Kent Sato's household operated on a different cycle. Debra worked long hours as a municipal executive, which her young daughter, Kate, sometimes found difficult. One afternoon she phoned her mother to ask, “When are you coming home?,” adding, “I miss you,” before hanging up. Debra's work schedule was partly compensated for, however, by Kent's ability to leave his computer programmer job early, pick up the children, and telecommute in the afternoons. While working at home Kent answered homework questions and supervised music practice. At 5:00 P.M. one afternoon he shut off the computer and announced, “I'm off work now.” On some days he took the children to basketball practice; on other days the three played basketball in the yard. On a day when Debra worked late, Kent and the children ate at a fast-food restaurant; on another day when Debra arrived earlier, Kent cooked a simple family dinner. During the meal there was a sense that nothing else competed for the family's attention and time: the food was shared and appreciated; conversation was relaxed.
The Puri Household. In another neighborhood Shanta and Vashkar Puri worked especially long hours and devoted almost all their free time to promoting the educational success of their two boys. Vashkar owned and ran two small businesses, Shanta was an elementary school teacher, and together they managed family rental property. They lived modestly on the ground floor of one of their properties but chose to send nine-year-old Harun to an excellent private school more than an hour away. When Harun and his younger brother returned home from school, Shanta gave them extra homework exercises. In between attending to the demands of several businesses, Vashkar stopped off at home in the late afternoon to see the family and eat a quick meal before leaving again. On Saturdays Shanta drove Harun to an early morning piano lesson, then to one of Vashkar's business establishments, where the Spanish-speaking manager gave Harun a private Spanish lesson. Vashkar explained that knowing Spanish was imperative to being a successful entrepreneur in California.
The Moss Household. In the San Fernando Valley, Jeri and Jeff Moss had the benefit of a nanny to help with their three children—eight-year-old Anna, five-year-old Isaiah, and nineteen-month-old Joshua. Nonetheless, there was plenty to do. Jeri arrived home first from her social welfare job, two hours before Jeff, a middle manager in a small firm. On one afternoon Jeri no sooner walked through the door than she began preparing dinner and helping tired and hungry Anna with her homework while the nanny took Isaiah and Joshua for a walk. Jeri served Anna and Isaiah dinner at the same time that the nanny fed Joshua. Around 6:00 P.M. the nanny left, leaving Jeri to monitor Isaiah taking a bath, Joshua watching TV in the living room, and Anna needing constant help with her homework. Jeri needed to be in three places at once, leading to perpetual movement from room to room. By the time Jeff arrived home Anna's homework was done, the kitchen was clean, and the children were bathed and in pajamas. As he walked through the door, Jeri and the children were cuddled in front of the TV set. Exclaiming “Look who's here!,” Jeri prompted the baby to toddle toward his father. Then she wearily rose from the couch to warmly welcome Jeff home.
The demands depicted across these four family scenes are just the tip of the iceberg. A lot more transpired in CELF households in the aftermath of spending hours in the workplace and school, including the effort of maintaining couple as well as parent-child relationships. Couples had to contend with the practical urgencies at hand and still try to attune to one another's and their own emotional states. Couples—some more smoothly than others—divided the manifold tasks of raising a family. How they did so affected the quality of their relationship. Connecting with one another in the evenings at home was not easy on days when their jobs were particularly stressful.
Figure I.1. CELF mother after work.
CELF cameras routinely documented parents multitasking at home n the evenings, usually a working mother (Figure I.1), running in circles from room to room, checking on a child with a homework problem, monitoring a pot on the stove, tidying up, and redirecting another child who should be doing homework but was instead watching TV or playing video games.4 In the midst of all this, parents also had to take conference calls, check email messages, or prepare files for work. The workplace crept into the home and competed for mental space in the already full schedule of childcare and housecleaning responsibilities.
Looking at scenes from the Reis, Sato, Puri, and Moss households, we are not surprised that a good deal of family life transpired at home. In the CELF study, however, the home was not just the backdrop of family relationships and events; it was a central protagonist in defining middle-class families. Its centrality rested in no small way on its status as one of the jewels of the American Dream, one that required high monthly mortgage payments.5 Beyond the financial outlay, however, the house, including the objects that filled it, shaped family identities and well-being on a daily basis. The CELF study shows what houses look like when they are used and loved—not the idealized, carefully arranged homes featured in architectural magazines but homes packed with sentimental photos, mementos, and all sorts of purchases deemed desirable or necessary. The possessions that filled CELF houses tell us a lot about the kinds of objects that middle-class American families prize (what counts as “taste") and how they want to present themselves to their friends, neighbors, and one another.
What the CELF study also makes clear are the non-American Dream consequences of living in the most materially saturated dwellings in human history.6 Household possessions were so numerous that they overwhelmed houses and flowed into garages, pushing cars onto driveways or streets. Food bought in bulk at mega-discount stores was stockpiled in second refrigerators, cupboards, and garage floors. And children's bedrooms burst with clothes, costumes, trophies, sports gear, books, art supplies, and toys. When Mike Reis described his room, he proudly declared why it is his favorite part of the house: “Here is why: All these toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys and toys. My bed is eventually somewhere. Look at all these toys, though.” What many parents coming home from work realized was that the sheer number of possessions surrounding them demanded attention. Managing clutter and cleaning was a ceaseless activity and, in some families, a source of stress.
Families are profoundly influenced by social understandings of what it means to be a parent, a child, and a spouse and the significance of home. It is all too easy to think of our own ways of being a family as natural and obvious. The contribution of anthropology has been to disabuse us of this occluded vision and offer a view of family as a product of society's cultural values at a particular historical moment. How members of a family act, think, and feel shifts with the winds of prevailing values and practices across generations and communities. The earliest moments of a child's life are organized by cultural ideas about raising children to become competent members of society. These ideas, in turn, inform how parents relate to children and to one another.
In the 1970s one of this volume's coeditors, Elinor Ochs, documented young children growing up in a Samoan village.7 Samoan caregivers encouraged toddlers to pay keen attention to people around them and show respect by doing things for them. By the time they were six or seven, along with attending school, children helped with housework, yard work, infant care, procuring food from gardens, serving meals, fetching needed objects, and transmitting oral messages across family compounds. In the households of middle-class Los Angeles, another cultural expectation prevailed: parents believed it was essential that they accommodate the needs and desires of children well beyond the preschool years.8 CELF parents helped their children in all kinds of tasks—practical, academic, and recreational. Recall, for example, the extensive efforts of the Reis parents in just one morning.
The Reis parents took enormous pleasure in organizing their children's activities. Pam Reis remarked, “That's our time—that's my time with them . . . I'm there for them . . . when they do the things that they do, when they take their lessons, when they learn something new or they—whatever. I'm there for them. That's our time together.” Yet other parents found it quite challenging, on top of housework and job-related commitments, to be so heavily involved in children's homework and extracurricular activities. One CELF mother longingly contrasted her middle-class mothering to the domestic load of her own working mother: “She would come home and cook dinner and that was—that was all she did. See, I come home and cook dinner and help my son. ... I would come home while she was working, [sit] at my desk until six o'clock at night, and do my own homework and finish it. Very rarely she would have to help me.” While the first CELF mother embraced her involvement as an intrinsic part of good parenting, the second, full of nostalgia, reflected on her childhood to question all-embracing, child-centric parenting as a moral imperative.
BACK TO THE FUTURE WITH MARGARET MEAD
It is tempting to think that raising a family at the start of the twenty-first century presents unique challenges, and to some extent that temptation is validated by the staggering sociocultural and economic transformations that brought about the steep rise in dual-earner parents who must manage their work and family in tandem. Yet these transformations have characterized life in the United States for quite a while, and the middle-class family in particular has been positioned as the pivotal institution responsible for fostering an adventurous future generation. In a lecture delivered at Harvard University in 1950 Margaret Mead argued that middle-class Americans raise their children to reject the old and “outstrip their parents” and to be “alert and ready to face a relatively new and uncharted world.”9 Key to Mead's argument was the idea that parents are distinct from grandparents and siblings as caregivers. Parents are old enough to have wisdom, yet still open to change themselves. Mead urged middle-class parents to grow along with their constantly changing children as a new age ushered in television, automation, Sputnik, the arms race, youth culture, and rising affluence.
The difference between middle-class family life in the 1950s and that in the early years of the twenty-first century may be one of scale in regard to gender roles and expectations. While many women joined the workforce during and after World War II, even the intrepid Margaret Mead saw herself as an outlier and depicted mothers simply as beneficiaries of economic prosperity and smaller families, while “the father is making his way, actively, in a world of change and commerce, a world of entrepreneurship and profit.”10 In this perspective, women were assumed to be mothers and teachers, and their singular challenge was to be a creative mentor: “She must give up any over faithful clinging to the particulars of her own past.”11 Since that era radical cultural and economic transformations in U.S. women's roles, rights, and agency in and outside the workforce have reorganized middle-class expectations and realities with regard to what it means to be a life partner as well as a parent.
Mead's insights were child-focused, concentrating on the middle-class imperative to nurture children to invent themselves in a constantly evolving modern world. As this volume reveals, however, the entire household—the couple, father-child, mother-child, and sibling relationships—invents itself each and every day. The chapters that follow take us to the epicenter of the middle-class American household to see how family members dance to the beat of the ever-changing expectations of peers, schools, workplaces, and the media and of one another, and, ultimately, themselves.
NOTES
1. It will, of course, take some time for scholars to systematically discern which domains of middle-class family life have been affected by foreclosures, unemployment, furloughs, and other ramifications of the current economic meltdown and which ideologies and practices perdure.
2. Goffman 1959; Sennett 1974.
3. Goffman 1959.
4. Good 2009.
5. The rise of dual-earner middle-class families in recent decades has been attributed to several factors, among which is the abiding desire for home ownership and the soaring cost of home prices and mortgage payments (Christensen and Schneider 2010; Warren and Tyagi 2003). Regardless of whether parents want to pursue careers, many feel constrained to do so in order to live in a home in a safe neighborhood with decent schools for their children.
6. Arnold et al. 2012.
7. Ochs 1988.
8. See also Ochs and Schieffelin 1984; Ochs and Izquierdo 2009.
9. Mead [1950] 2001, 56.
10. Ibid., 56.
11. Ibid., 59.