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High-achieving yet underprepared: first generation youth and the challenge of college readiness

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High-achieving yet underprepared: first generation youth and the challenge of college readiness

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Content HIGH-ACHIEVING YET UNDERPREPARED: FIRST GENERATION YOUTH AND THE CHALLENGE OF COLLEGE READINESS by Julia C. Duncheon A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (EDUCATION) December 2015 Copyright 2015 Julia C. Duncheon ii Dedication To the students at Urban Magnet High School who made this research possible. iii Acknowledgements “We’ve had a lot of students go to UCLA, the top students from here, and they tend to struggle. And you’d think it wouldn’t be that way if they were our top students. Like what are we not doing to prepare them, you know? I wonder, what are we not doing?” —Mr. Caraballo, Urban Magnet High School Teacher Ten years ago, I started teaching at Automotive High School, a low-performing school that served a high-needs student population in Brooklyn, NY. Five years later, I had gained the privilege of knowing hundreds of bright, witty, inspiring teenagers who, despite confronting tremendously difficult circumstances in their homes and neighborhoods, came to school seeking self-empowerment and a ticket out of poverty. I had also worked with colleagues—teachers, administrators, counselors, and school staff—who had dedicated their careers to creating opportunities for marginalized youth. And yet, as even our top graduates went on to struggle in college, I found myself frustrated by the same question Mr. Caraballo asked here: what were we not doing? What could we be doing better to prepare our students to succeed after graduation? And so I applied to Ph.D. programs, hoping to advance a research agenda focused on college access and equity for first generation youth. I am, first and foremost, thankful to Dr. Bill Tierney for his guidance and mentorship during my tenure at USC. He has taught me more about research, teaching, writing, and life than I would have thought possible. I am tempted to go on and on, but one lesson Bill has imparted is the value of being concise. Thus I will simply say: I am a better scholar and person today because of Bill, and I will always be grateful. iv I am also indebted to my dissertation committee members. Throughout my Ph.D. studies, Dr. Tricia Burch has challenged me to receive feedback gracefully and enhance the methodological rigor of my work. Dr. Ron Astor was a welcome addition to the committee. His insights helped me strengthen the conceptualization of this study. I would have been lost without the support and wisdom of Diane Flores and Monica Raad in the Pullias Center. Please know how much I appreciate the work you do! To my colleagues at USC who have joined me in coffee shops all over Los Angeles because writing in the company of others is preferable to writing alone—thank you. To my parents, brother, grandmother, and extended family who have believed in me and the work I am doing, even when I didn’t—I am so lucky to have you. If there is such thing as a family lottery, I am quite sure I won. To my husband, David, who has talked me down from many a ledge, listened patiently as I process, offered pieces of wisdom, and who loves me even when I’m at my worst—thank you for being you. Thank you for loving academe as much as you do. You remind me, on the difficult days, why it is worth doing. I love you. And finally, to the teachers and students who have inspired me, from New York to California—thank you for reminding me that we as a society can and must do better. You fuel my optimism that change is possible, that together we can build more equitable, socially just schools. v Table of Contents Dedication ii Acknowledgments iii List of Tables vii List of Figures viii Abstract ix Chapter 1: Preparing for College in a Low-Performing Urban High School 1 Purpose 6 Significance 8 Research Questions 13 Theoretical Framework 14 Organization of the Dissertation 15 Chapter 2: Theorizing Organizational Brokerage, Cultural Wealth, and College-Going Identity 16 Student-Centered Perspectives on College Readiness 16 Beyond Student-Centered Perspectives on College Readiness 19 Social and Cultural Capital and the College Readiness of Urban Youth 26 Integrating Organizational Brokerage and Community Cultural Wealth 47 Chapter 2 Summary 51 Chapter 3: Studying College-Going Identity Development in an Urban High School 52 Research Design 53 Research Method 57 Chapter 3 Summary 76 Chapter 4: Brokering Resources, Constructing Identities 77 vi Setting the Stage: A Tour of Urban High School 80 Part 1: Brokering College-Going Capital for College-Bound Youth 82 Part 2: The Limitations of Brokerage and Implications for Student Identity 134 Chapter 4 Summary 178 Chapter 5: Toward a Sociocultural Conception of College Readiness 179 Research Motivation and Purpose 181 Research Design and Limitations 182 Theory Review: Organizational Brokerage and Community Cultural Wealth 185 Findings 189 Discussion 214 Implications for Policy and Practice 220 Directions for Future Research 222 Conclusion 224 Epilogue 225 References 229 Appendices 265 Appendix A: Information Sheet for Student Participants 265 Appendix B: Approval and Consent Forms 268 Appendix C: Student Interview Protocol 275 Appendix D: School Staff Interview Protocol 277 Appendix E: Focus Group Protocol #1 278 Appendix F: Focus Group Protocol #2 279 Appendix G: Demographic Questionnaire 280 vii List of Tables Table 1: Key terms associated with mainstream conceptions of college readiness 19 Table 2: Key assumptions of traditional social capital theory 28 Table 3: Key distinctions between traditional social capital theory and organizational brokerage 31 Table 4: Key tenets of organizational brokerage 36 Table 5: Achievement indicators for Urban High School and Urban Magnet 60 Table 6: Informants’ demographic profiles and family characteristics 63 Table 7: Informants’ academic, college-going, and extracurricular profiles 65 Table 8: Staff participants’ roles and years working at Urban High School 67 Table 9: Widely used organizational partners, brokerage strategies, and student participants 110 Table 10: Student participation in college access programs and after school activities 114 Table 11: Student achievement as measured by college readiness indicators (grades and courses) 162 Table 12: AP outcomes in Urban High School and Urban Magnet High School, 2013-14 166 Table 13: Student achievement as measured by college readiness indicators (standardized tests), ranked from lowest to highest by combined SAT test score 173 Table 14: Urban Magnet’s brokerage strategies and implications for students’ college- going identities 206 Table 15: Limitations of/barriers to brokerage and implications for students’ college- going identities 211 Table 16: Informants’ college choices and career goals 212 viii List of Figures Figure 1: The elements of an organization as defined by Small (2009) 33 Figure 2: Visualizing organizational brokerage 37 Figure 3: Community cultural wealth, adapted from Oliver and Shapiro (1995), as depicted 46 in Yosso and Solorzano (2005) Figure 4: Organizational brokerage, cultural wealth, and college-going identity development 51 Figure 5: Map of Urban High School’s Campus 82 Figure 6: Urban Magnet marketing materials 87 Figure 7: White board announcement for financial aid workshop 101 Figure 8: Examples of Urban High School’s college access partner organizations 102 Figure 9: Announcements on Ms. Velasquez’s white board 107 Figure 10: Combined SAT scores relative to College Readiness Benchmark, ranked lowest 172 to highest Figure 11: Forms of college-going capital 187 Figure 12: Influences on college-going identity development in students’ organizational 188 context ix Abstract Postsecondary attainment has increased in import and more students from all backgrounds are entering higher education today relative to prior generations. Unfortunately, students who are low-income, of color, and the first in their families to attend college drop out at disproportionately higher rates than their more privileged counterparts. Graduates of low- performing urban high schools face particular challenges persisting in college—even those with strong academic records. Efforts to enhance postsecondary completion have focused on the construct of college readiness (CR), or the preparation needed to enroll in credit-bearing courses and persist to graduation. CR is typically defined as a set of cognitive and non-cognitive skills that students should master. However, a list of universal, reified skills may not account for the complex social, cultural, and institutional factors that shape disparate college pathways, particularly for students from underrepresented backgrounds. This goal of this study is to inform a culturally relevant, context-based conception of CR that accounts for the experiences of urban high school youth. To that end, I investigate the college-going identity development of high-achieving, college-bound seniors of color who attend a high-poverty urban high school. Following Oakes et al. (2002), I define college-going identity as seeing college-going as part of oneself and developing the skills to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural background and community. Specifically, I ask how students acquire and use diverse forms of social and cultural capital to construct their identities, and how the urban high school in particular mediates this process. I draw on ethnographic methods and theories of organizational brokerage (Small, 2009) and community cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005) to foreground the role of sociocultural context in individuals’ acquisition of resources. Findings highlight implications for understanding and improving the CR of high-achieving urban youth. 1 Chapter 1 Preparing for College in a Low-Performing Urban High School “I’m really anxious about the future. I just worry what happens. ’Cause I hear stories that there’s students that are like me when they start off in college, but something happens and they go downhill. So I’m worried I could be one of those students as well. I think about that a lot. I just don’t tell anybody because like, oh man, it makes me uneasy.” —Graciela, Urban Magnet High School Senior, 4.0 GPA “No, porque remember how you gave me Home? Tuve que cambiar esa clase so I need a note for my mom, porque ella va a preguntarme about that grade for AP English.” [No, because… I had to change that class…because she is going to ask me…]. Analucia 1 slipped from English to Spanish and back as she spoke rapidly to her counselor from behind the concessions booth, which she and her peers had set up to raise money for student leadership. “Oh, sí, porque you had Home instead of English and I changed it, sí?” “Sí pero it was after a few weeks, entonces, she’s gonna see the grade on the report card for English--” [Yes, but it was after a few weeks, so...] “Okay, I’ll write you a note. Remind me.” Ms. Velasquez nodded reassuringly as she handed Analucia a dollar in exchange for a Twix bar, and then walked to a nearby table where two students were greeting parents and handing out progress reports. Analucia turned her attention to several classmates who were gathered around, snacking on nachos and chatting about topics ranging from quizzes in Mr. Roberts’ class to last weekend’s Homecoming dance to the 1 All names and titles for individuals, schools, and local programs are pseudonyms. 2 next weekend’s theme park field trip. As the sun set, the numbers of visitors swelled and then dwindled. One by one, the students dispersed to visit classrooms with their parents, serve as translators for non-Spanish-speaking teachers, pick up little siblings, or just head home. The year had started off rocky at Urban High School. In August, the district had introduced a new student records system that failed to run properly for the first month of classes. Unable to access students’ transcripts, counselors scrambled for weeks to organize and distribute over 2,500 schedules. Although seniors were prioritized and received their programs first, many ended up in courses they had already completed while others, like Analucia, were scheduled to go “home”—that is, officially permitted to leave campus—during periods when they should have been in a core class required for graduation and college admission. Meanwhile, Ms. Velasquez was new to Urban, the seventh counselor her seniors had been assigned in four years. Despite arriving to logistical chaos and a new caseload of 300 students, she was approachable, dedicated, and competent; she had mastered almost all their names in the first six weeks of the semester. Ms. Velasquez was assigned to the math, science and technology magnet 2 , the more academically rigorous of the four small learning communities that comprised Urban High School. Most of the magnet students were college-bound and held high career aspirations, like Analucia, who wanted to attend Cal Tech and become an engineer. By the time parent teacher conferences took place in mid-October, students’ schedules had finally been set, but “zeros” and “Fs” scattered across progress reports stood as symbols of lost instructional time. “I think it’s okay though,” Analucia explained, “because I heard that only official report card grades matter for college.” As she and her classmates packed up the leftover snacks, they made plans to stay after school the next day to receive help with their state 2 Participants referred to the magnet school simply as “magnet,” either as a proper noun (e.g., “Magnet”) or an adjective (e.g., “magnet leadership,” which denotes the magnet’s school’s student leadership group). I use the same terminology throughout the text. 3 university applications. Behind them, a white board outside Ms. Velasquez’s office outlined the details of the event. “CSU/UC Application Assistance: Friday, Oct. 17, Rm. 102, 12:40- 2:00pm,” read the large blue letters, an invitation to any senior who happened to walk by. Most students like Analucia and her friends—those who are Black and Latina/o, live in high-poverty urban neighborhoods, and attend low-performing high schools—aspire to obtain a postsecondary degree, but for too many this goal remains unrealized (Roderick, Coca, & Nagaoka, 2011). College completion data reveal ongoing disparities by race/ethnicity, class, and high school region (Addy & Wight, 2012; Kim, 2011). For instance, in 2011, 39% of Whites ages 25 to 29 held a four-year degree compared to 20% of African Americans and 13% of Latinas/os (Aud et al., 2012). Low-income students are six times less likely than their high- income peers to earn a bachelor’s degree by age 25 (Bailey & Dynarski, 2011). Graduates of urban high schools face particular challenges persisting in college, even those with strong academic records (Adelman, 2002). Among high-achieving Black males, for example, attending an urban high school is associated with 82% lower odds of bachelor’s degree attainment relative to attending non-urban schools (Rose, 2013). One challenge is that urban high schools are often located in high-poverty, racially segregated neighborhoods; most of their students are both low-income and of color. A majority of them are also first generation, which I define as students whose parents do not hold bachelor’s degrees (Clauss-Ehlers & Wibrowski, 2007; Pike & Kuh, 2005). As a result, young people like Graciela, the straight-A student quoted at the opening of this chapter who felt “anxious” about her future, may excel in high school but struggle to persist in college. This inconsistency motivates research on urban high schools to better understand the sources of inequitable college outcomes. 4 Efforts to explain educational inequality have tended to reflect one of two broad perspectives. One approach reflects meritocratic ideology through a focus on the individual (Hunt, 2007; Kluegel & Smith, 1986; Lipsitz, 1998). The goal is to identify student characteristics, such as ability, motivation, or behavior, which contribute to educational success or failure (Kane, 1992; Lewis, 1968). The implicit assumption is that achievement is primarily a function of individual effort; this perspective does not deny that educational quality varies across school and neighborhood contexts, but assumes that students who work hard are likely to succeed (Major & Schmader, 2001). This research often frames inequality in terms of the “achievement gap,” which depicts some student groups as higher-performing and others as lower-performing through an emphasis on individual outcomes (Figlio & Loeb, 2011; Kim & Sunderman, 2005). Research from a student-centered lens supports policies and practices designed to identify and remediate low-achieving students. An alternative viewpoint emphasizes students’ contexts in analyses of schooling inequity (Anyon, 1997, 2014; Giroux, 2003). To be sure, individuals possess unique skills, talents, and strengths, and these differences likely play a role in achievement. However, this paradigm highlights ways that social, cultural, and institutional contexts may enhance or diminish students’ capacity to achieve at their full potential (Berliner, 2006; Lipman, 2011; Small, 2009). The assumption is that disparate outcomes result more from varied opportunities to learn than from varied individual characteristics (e.g., ability, effort; Ladson-Billings, 2006). Research from this perspective aims to challenge deficit thinking, whereby low-income students of color who disproportionately under-achieve may be portrayed as intellectually or culturally deficient (McGee, 2013; Valencia, 2010). Scholars have used the term “opportunity gap” instead of “achievement gap” to shift the emphasis from student performance (i.e., assumed innate ability) 5 to the contextual factors that shape students’ ability to perform (da Silva, Huguley, Kakli, & Rao, 2007; Oakes, Rogers, Silver, Horng & Goode, 2004). This body of work tends to encourage change at the institutional level. While educational scholars have increasingly called attention to the importance of students’ contexts, dominant narratives tend to propagate individualized explanations of and solutions for inequality (Anyon, 1997; Apple, 1995, 2001). This pattern manifests in research and policy regarding students’ K-16 trajectories. Efforts to enhance postsecondary completion have focused on the construct of college readiness (CR), or the preparation needed to enroll in credit-bearing courses and persist to graduation (Venezia & Jaeger, 2013). Definitional frameworks outline a neutral set of skills and knowledge all students should master in order to be considered college-ready (Conley, 2012; ConnectEd, 2012; McAlister & Mevs, 2012). This work has been useful to highlight the individual-level factors that support degree attainment. The idea here is that if Analucia and Graciela acquire a particular set of cognitive and non-cognitive competencies, they are likely to realize their college aspirations. However, what constitutes CR depends largely on who students are and what institutions they attend (Carter, Locks, & Winkle-Wagner, 2013; Farrington et al., 2012). Particularly for underrepresented students—those who are low-income, of color, and/or the first in their families to attend college—a list of universal, reified skills may not adequately account for the complex social, cultural, and institutional factors that affect how students navigate the K-16 pipeline. Scholars have therefore recommended examining CR in relation to the lived experiences of underserved youth, which differ from those of students from dominant backgrounds (Castro, 2013; Welton & Martinez, 2014). Pursuing this line of inquiry requires a broader frame of 6 analysis—one that foregrounds the role of sociocultural context in college-going processes and outcomes (Nagaoka et al., 2013). To that end, this study investigates the college-going identities of low-income seniors of color who attend a low-performing urban high school. I seek to understand (a) how students come to see themselves as college-bound, (b) what social and cultural factors shape their identity development, and (c) how the high school context in particular mediates this process. As I elaborate below, identities are both personal and collective phenomena—they are constructed within and mediated by social, cultural, and institutional contexts (Bartlett & Holland, 2002; Gee, 2000). Studying identity thus requires explicit attention to the environments in which individuals are situated. College readiness researchers have also called for more attention to the high school context where students prepare for college (Moore & Shulock, 2010; Rosenbaum, 2001). This study draws on ethnographic methods and theories of social and cultural capital to foreground the role of context in individuals’ acquisition of resources. Findings inform a more culturally relevant, context-based conception of CR among urban high school youth. The remainder of this chapter situates the study in four parts. I begin by describing its purpose and significance. The third section outlines the research questions. I then review the theoretical framework and close with an overview of subsequent chapters. Purpose Studies of what CR entails, how it develops, and how schooling contexts shape its development are needed to bolster the college completion agenda (Nagaoka et al., 2013). The purpose of this dissertation is to better understand what becoming college-ready means for low- income students of color in a low-performing urban high school through a focus on identity. This study makes three principal contributions to extant scholarship. 7 First, student identity development is understudied in the CR literature. Readiness research has tended to emphasize what students have or do, with less attention to who students are (Yamamura, Martinez & Saenz, 2010). Common interventions are designed to address under- preparedness by transmitting the knowledge and skills specified in CR frameworks; often these efforts resemble banking approaches that may be disconnected from students’ out-of-school lives (Castro, 2013; Freire, 1970). Yet how students interpret and participate in schooling processes depends in large part on their identities, or how they see themselves as individuals and learners (Farrington et al., 2012; Markus, 2008; Nunn, 2014). For low-income students of color, whose home culture may differ from that valued in educational institutions and who face marginalization in mainstream society, identity constructions influence academic outcomes in particularly complex ways (Howard, 2003; Nasir & Hand, 2006; Noguera, 2008). Cultural differences and student identities are often omitted from mainstream CR discourses focused on academic skill building (Welton & Martinez, 2014). This study addresses this gap through analysis of urban high school students’ college-going identity development. Second, research on how context influences CR is needed (Carter-Andrews, 2009; Herman, 2014). Although CR is often framed in terms of what students have or do, readiness is a product of students’ interactions with their environment (Arnold, Lu, & Armstrong, 2012). Social and cultural factors interact in complex ways to affect educational outcomes, particularly for students from non-dominant cultural backgrounds (Carter, 2005). Schooling environments also vary substantially by institutional type, size, location, resource level, and student population (Moore & Lewis, 2012; Orfield & Lee, 2007; Oseguera, 2013). Nagaoka et al. (2013) recommended a more expansive understanding of CR that “look[s] beyond individual-level skills to consider the ways students interact with the educational context within which they are 8 situated, and the effects of these interactions on students’ attitudes, motivation, and performance” (p. 46). Others have called for more studies of high school preparation—which explains the largest portion of the variance in college outcomes—to complement existing research on postsecondary settings (Bailey & Morest, 2006; Greene & Forster, 2003; Moore & Shulock, 2010; Nunn, 2014; Rosenbaum, 2001). This study addresses these recommendations through analysis of identity development—I focus on how students’ sociocultural context generally and high school environment specifically shape their college-going identities. Third, student voice can inform research and practice by revealing how educational processes unfold at the ground level (Mansfield, Welton, & Halx, 2012). However, the voices of students are often missing from the education literature in general (Mitra, 2008, Mitra & Gross, 2009) and the CR literature in particular (Byrd & Macdonald, 2005; Reid & Moore, 2008). Although a handful of studies have explored first generation students’ perspectives on CR and pre-college preparation (Byrd & MacDonald, 2005; Collier & Morgan, 2008; Hungerford- Kresser & Amaro-Jimenez, 2012; Reid & Moore, 2008), their samples contained college students exclusively; findings are based on students’ recollections of high school as opposed to their experiences in real time. Investigating how low-income students of color think about college-going while still in high school is crucial to identify contextual influences on CR. This study foregrounds the perspectives of those whose lives are shaped by educational research and policy but whose voices are often unheard. Findings offer insight into how culture and context shape students’ self-making processes and their implications for CR. Significance Several factors motivate research on CR. Below I demonstrate the growing importance of postsecondary attainment and evidence of widespread under-preparedness. 9 Importance of Postsecondary Attainment College readiness has become prominent on the educational policy agenda due to contemporary economic and social trends (Executive Office of the President, 2014; Russell, 2011). Many researchers and policymakers have argued that the modern knowledge-based economy creates greater need for postsecondary attainment—and in turn CR. Of the 47 million job openings projected by 2018, more than two-thirds will require higher education (Carnevale, Smith, & Strohl, 2010). Low college completion rates compromise the nation’s capacity to compete globally and produce lower tax revenues and higher social welfare spending (Bloom, Hartley, & Rosovsky, 2006). A high school diploma no longer enables steady employment, livable income, or social mobility (Dohm & Shniper, 2007). Some scholars have disputed the idea that demand for higher education is growing, suggesting that macroeconomic policies (e.g., lack of jobs, substandard minimum wage) rather than low college attainment rates depress the economy (Anyon, 2014; Schmitt & Jones, 2012). Nevertheless, tertiary degree holders earn higher salaries on average than non-college educated workers, which points to the financial value of higher education for the individual (Tierney & Hentschke, 2007). College completion also confers non-economic benefits. Communities with large proportions of college educated residents experience lower rates of crime and higher rates of civic engagement than those with a less educated population (Baum, Ma, & Payea, 2013). Individuals receive non-economic advantages as well, on average, including higher levels of job satisfaction and better health outcomes. Social equity concerns further motivate the growing emphasis on CR in mainstream discourse (Carter et al., 2013). Larger proportions of underrepresented students are entering higher education today compared to prior decades (Aud et al., 2013). Over 70% of high school 10 completers enroll in some form of postsecondary education or training within two years of graduation (Symonds, Schwartz, & Ferguson, 2011). However, students who are low-income and/or of color are less likely on average to graduate high school, enroll in college, and complete a postsecondary degree than their higher-income White counterparts (Feliciano & Ashtiani, 2012; Kim, 2011). Data on completion and academic outcomes present further cause for concern. Evidence of Under-preparedness and Inequity Despite the importance of postsecondary attainment, attrition rates and academic indicators reveal that too many students are graduating high school unprepared for college. Completion patterns. National data indicate that only around 56% of four-year university students and 30% of two-year students obtain a degree (Symonds et al., 2011). Students who attend selective institutions are more likely to graduate than similar students who attend less-selective institutions (Long & Kurlaender, 2009). Starting at a two-year relative to a four-year college diminishes one’s likelihood of earning a bachelor’s degree (Reynolds, 2012). Higher rates of two-year students report plans to transfer than ultimately do. Underrepresented students experience lower rates of completion on average relative to the general population (Aud et al., 2013; Bailey & Dynarski, 2011). Studies have found a negative correlation between urban high school attendance and bachelor’s degree attainment (Adelman, 2002; Rose, 2013). One problem is that underrepresented students disproportionately attend colleges for which they are over-qualified, and less-selective colleges tend to have lower graduation rates than their more-selective counterparts (Roderick et al., 2011). Even among high-achieving students at the nation’s most selective institutions, however, those who are of color, low-income, and first generation graduate at significantly lower rates than their privileged peers (DeAngelo, Franke, Hurtado, Pryor, & Tran, 2011). Lichtenberger and 11 Dietrich (2012) studied the college persistence of Illinois’ high-achieving high school graduates, as measured by ACT score. Among those who met all four ACT CR benchmarks (i.e., math, English, reading, science), larger shares of White and Asian students earned bachelor’s degrees (84.2% and 85.9%, respectively) than their African American (77.2%) and Latina/o (75.5%) counterparts. These data reveal inequitable completion rates even among high achievers. Academic outcomes. In addition to high attrition rates, academic indicators suggest that too many students are underprepared for higher education. For instance, only one out of four high school students meets ACT CR benchmarks in English, math, and science (ACT, 2012). In addition to low performance in general, gaps by race/ethnicity and class persist. For example, despite an overall 8% increase in CR rates for math and reading in Texas high schools from 2002 to 2009, the 17% gap between White and Latino students remained stagnant and the 15% gap between White and Black students increased to 21% (Barnes & Slate, 2014). Nationally, about 50% of students entering two-year colleges and 20% of students entering four-year colleges do not demonstrate proficiency and enroll in remediation (Complete College America, 2012). Developmental education is associated with increased likelihood of attrition and time-to-degree (Jaggars & Stacey, 2014)—of the two-year college students who enroll in remediation, only 28% graduate. Students who are low-income and/or of color are overrepresented in remedial courses; in the fall of 2006, about 70% of African Americans, 60% of Latinas/os, 45% of Whites, and 65% of low-income students in two-year institutions enrolled in developmental education (Complete College America, 2012). Larger proportions of urban high school graduates take remedial coursework (52%) relative to students from rural (42%) and suburban (38%) schools (Attewell, Lavin, Domina, & Levey, 2006). 12 Implications for College Readiness Research Higher educational attainment has increased in import, yet too many high school graduates—particularly those from underrepresented backgrounds—are entering college unprepared to obtain a degree. These trends have triggered a shift in thinking about K-12 schooling (Bragg & Durham, 2012). Traditionally, high schools have been responsible for making students eligible for higher education. High school students that completed a particular course of study, took required admission tests, and graduated became qualified for entrance into a postsecondary institution (Conley, 2010). Yet high rates of attrition and remediation suggest that eligibility and enrollment are insufficient (Attewell et al., 2006; Johnson, 2012). The emphasis has shifted to completion via the concept of college readiness (CR). Broadly speaking, a college-ready student is prepared to enroll in a postsecondary institution, avoid remedial placement, and persist to degree attainment (Flores & Oseguera, 2013). Yet despite growing emphasis on CR, what exactly college-ready preparation entails is not clear-cut. Scholars have made progress toward identifying college-ready skill sets but also acknowledged variation across individuals and institutions (Conley, 2012; Farrington et al., 2012). Nevertheless, most CR research has focused on the individual as the unit of analysis, which tends to de-emphasize the social, cultural, and institutional contexts that differentially structure opportunity (Carter et al., 2013). The result is a tendency toward individualized explanations of inequitable postsecondary outcomes that assume—implicitly or explicitly—that underrepresented students are in deficit (Welton & Martinez, 2014). Research is therefore needed to understand CR in ways that recognize the experiences and strengths of non-dominant youth, for which inquiry into urban high schools is fruitful. 13 Research Questions This study investigates CR from a perspective attentive to the social, cultural, and institutional contexts of underserved students. Drawing on theories of organizational brokerage (Small, 2009) and community cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005), I ask how high-achieving, first generation, low-income seniors of color develop college-going identities in an urban magnet high school. Three sub-questions anchor the study: • How do students acquire and use social capital 3 to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? • How do students acquire and use cultural capital 4 to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? • In what ways does the urban magnet high school broker students’ access to and use of social and cultural capital? These questions guide inquiry into the sociocultural factors that affect college-going for low- income students of color, with particular attention to school context. As I elaborate in chapter 2, I define college-going identity as seeing college-going as part of oneself and developing the skills to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural background and community (Oakes et al., 2002). The study’s primary aim is theoretical, to broaden existing conceptions of CR to account for the experiences of urban students from non-dominant backgrounds. The secondary goal is to inform future research and policy by highlighting the perspectives of underserved college-bound youth and the value of context-based CR analyses. 3 As I elaborate in chapter 2, social capital may refer broadly to social or organizational ties. 4 As with social capital, I use the term “cultural capital” to refer broadly to its dominant and non-dominant forms, which are further explicated in chapter 2. 14 Theoretical Framework This study draws on theories of social and cultural capital to investigate students’ college-going identity development in a low-performing urban school context. Traditional social and cultural capital theories and recent iterations of these frameworks support analysis of the complex relationships among macro-level structures and micro-level processes. The paragraphs below preview in-depth discussion of these theoretical constructs in chapter 2. Social Capital Social capital represents the relationships, social networks, and group memberships that facilitate the acquisition of resources (Bourdieu, 1986). Social capital theory has been used to explain why first generation students in low-performing high schools may struggle with postsecondary transition (Farmer-Hinton, 2008; Hill, Begman, & Andrade, 2015); their social networks may not include college-educated individuals who can offer concrete forms of support. Recent work by Mario Small (2009) has emphasized the influence of organizational context on individuals’ access to and use of social capital. This perspective considers how the organizations in which individuals are embedded broker their ties to people, other organizations, and resources. I draw on Small’s (2009) framework to situate analysis of social capital and college-going identity formation within the urban high school context. Cultural Capital Cultural capital refers to the cultural practices, values, and knowledge shared by a particular group (Bourdieu, 1986). By culture, I mean the shared “patterns of behavior, beliefs and language” of a social group in a particular setting (Creswell, 2007, p. 68). Pierre Bourdieu (1973) suggested that middle-class White culture is legitimized in mainstream educational institutions, placing students from non-dominant backgrounds at a disadvantage. More recent 15 scholarship has argued that non-dominant communities possess cultural strengths and assets (Carter, 2005), or what Yosso (2005) called community cultural wealth, that can support students’ educational progress but remain under-studied and under-appreciated. I consider the role of dominant cultural capital and community cultural wealth in students’ college preparation. In summary, social and cultural capital theory provides a framework for inquiry into students’ college-going identity development in a low-performing urban high school. I draw on foundational (Bourdieu, 1973, 1986), organizational (Small, 2009), and critical (Yosso, 2005) theoretical constructs to analyze the nature of college preparation and readiness among high- achieving urban youth who aspire to higher education. Organization of the Dissertation This chapter has framed the dissertation via summaries of the research problem, significance, questions, and theory. Chapter 2 reviews prior literature, defines key terms, and explicates the conceptual framework that guides the study. In chapter 3, I describe research design and method. Chapter 4 features data presentation, and I close with discussion of findings, theoretical implications, and pathways for future inquiry in chapter 5. 16 Chapter 2 Theorizing Organizational Brokerage, Cultural Wealth, and College-Going Identity “Who has most influenced my plans to go to college? I would say family and school. Family because they have sacrificed their lives just for me to go to college here. I want to make my parents proud. And with school, the counselors, the teachers, Upward Bound … they provide everything for us.” —Hector, Senior As Hector’s comment suggests, many external factors intersect to shape first generation students’ college-going pathways. Some are community-based (e.g., family) and some are school-based (e.g., counselors). This chapter draws on extant literature to explore how these factors influence the CR of high-achieving low-income students of color. I first clarify how CR is commonly defined in mainstream research and policy. Second, I explicate why attention to sociocultural context is important and how the construct of identity suits this purpose. I then turn to theories of social and cultural capital. I describe the utility of organizational brokerage and community cultural wealth to examine the college-going identities of high-achieving youth in a low-performing urban high school. Student-Centered Perspectives on College Readiness College readiness (CR) is commonly defined as the preparation a student needs to enroll in credit-bearing college-level courses and persist to degree attainment. Researchers have developed frameworks outlining college-ready skills and knowledge, which I synthesize in three categories: cognitive competencies, non-cognitive competencies, and college knowledge 17 (Conley, 2012; ConnectEd, 2012; McAlister & Mevs, 2012). 5 I then review the common indicators used to measure CR. Defining College Readiness Cognitive competencies. Cognitive factors include the content knowledge and cognitive skills required for success in entry-level college coursework. College-ready content knowledge involves understanding key concepts in English, math, science and history (Achieve, 2004; Conley, 2003). Examples of cognitive strategies are critical thinking, problem solving, and research skills that facilitate learning across disciplines (ConnectEd, 2012; Donham, 2014). Non-cognitive competencies. CR also involves mindsets, behaviors, and social- emotional skills that may not be captured by traditional cognitive indicators. College-ready mindsets are the attitudes, beliefs, and emotions that students have about themselves and schooling, such as motivation, persistence, and self-efficacy (Duckworth, Peterson, Matthews, & Kelly, 2007; Kitsantas, Winsler, & Huie, 2008). College-ready behaviors include self-advocacy, study skills, and time management (Britton & Tesser, 1991; Sullivan & Guerra, 2007). Social- emotional skills include teamwork and cultural sensitivity (Achieve, 2004). College knowledge. The third CR category, college knowledge, refers to familiarity with the procedural and cultural expectations of postsecondary education (Conley, 2005; Hooker & Brand, 2010). Examples of procedural awareness include completing application requirements (e.g., taking the SAT), selecting and enrolling in an institution, and securing financial aid if needed (Avery & Kane, 2004; Heller, 2013). College knowledge also entails understanding the tacit cultural norms of higher education (e.g., how to utilize style guides and communicate with professors), which often differ from those of high schools (Collier & Morgan, 2008). 5 Non-cognitive refers here to skills not captured by traditional achievement measures (e.g., standardized tests; Bowles & Gintis, 1976). 18 College readiness indicators. CR is typically measured using academic or cognitive indicators, for two main reasons. First, research has found that academic preparation is a key predictor of postsecondary outcomes (Adelman, 1999, 2006; Long, Iatarola, & Conger, 2008; Perna, 2005). Second, academic indicators are easier to quantify than non-cognitive competencies or college knowledge. CR indicators have supported test- and standards-based CR reform such as early assessment and college for all curriculum mandates (Porter & Polikoff, 2012; Venezia & Voloch, 2012). Common indicators include the number and level of college preparatory courses taken (e.g., Advanced Placement or not), high school grade point average (GPA), and standardized test scores (Porter & Polikoff, 2012). Studies have found that advanced high school course-taking is associated with college achievement (Adelman, 1999; Iatarola, Conger, & Long, 2011; Karp, Calcagno, Hughes, Jeong, & Bailey, 2007). Though high school GPA has been associated with college performance (Astin & Oseguera, 2012), the level of high school courses taken has greater predictive power for college outcomes than GPA (DesJardins & Lindsay, 2008)—that is, a student earning a B in an advanced class may be better prepared than one earning an A in a lower-level course. Researchers have established benchmark scores on college admissions tests that signal a students’ likeliness of doing well in college classes (Wiley, Wyatt & Camara, 2010). College admissions test scores are not the strongest predictors of college achievement, however, and are even less predictive for nontraditional students (Maruyama, 2012; Niu & Tienda, 2010; Sedlacek, 2004). Table 1 defines the major terms associated with mainstream conceptions of CR. 19 Table 1 Key terms associated with mainstream conceptions of college readiness Term Definition College readiness (CR) preparation a student needs to enroll in credit-bearing college-level courses and persist to degree attainment Cognitive competencies content knowledge and cognitive skills that support CR Non-cognitive competencies mindsets, behaviors, and social-emotional skills that support CR College knowledge knowledge of postsecondary procedural and cultural expectations that supports CR CR indicators academic indicators used to measure CR (i.e., high school courses taken, high school GPA, and standardized test scores) Beyond Student-Centered Perspectives on College Readiness Defining and measuring CR primarily based on individual skills and indicators may diminish attention to the external influences that shape college-going processes (Carter et al., 2014; Welton & Martinez, 2014). Below I delineate contextual and cultural factors that matter for students’ CR, first in higher education and then in high school, highlighting implications for student identity. I then define college-going identity specifically and its application to this study. Culture, Context, and Identity in Higher Education Traditional socialization theories posit general stages or elements of the campus integration process (e.g., Tinto, 1993). Critics of this perspective have shown that underrepresented students face challenges that their privileged peers do not, especially at predominantly White universities (PWIs; Schneider & Ward, 2003; Tierney, 1992; Winkle- Wagner, 2009; Yosso, Smith, Ceja, & Solorzano, 2009). For example, first generation students have reported feeling isolated, marginalized, and invisible to their peers and professors (Hurtado et al., 2007; Jehangir, 2010), and struggling to meet implicit academic expectations (Collier & 20 Morgan, 2008). These factors lead many underrepresented students to feel at odds with the postsecondary system, which may contribute to disparate completion rates (Allen, 1991). African American and Latina/o students, who comprise the majority of urban high school graduates, also face unique challenges that their White peers do not. Students of color are less than their White classmates to perceive their institution as supportive (Berger & Milem, 1999). Many racial/ethnic minority students confront hostile racial climates and microaggressions, or subtle forms of racism that occur in everyday interactions (Harper, 2009; Yeager & Walton, 2011; Yosso et al., 2009). Studies of stereotype threat have revealed that African American and Latina/o students often underperform due to fear of being associated with or reinforcing negative racial/ethnic stereotypes (Steele, 1997, 2003; Steele & Aronson, 1995; Walton & Spencer, 2009). Racial/ethnic identity influences academic outcomes in complex ways (Flores-González, 2002; Nasir et al., 2009; Scott, 2003). Some research has found that positive feelings toward one’s racial/ethnic background can safeguard against a discriminatory or unfamiliar campus climate (Harper, 2009; Kalsner & Pistole, 2003). The protective effects of a strong ethnic identity may vary by gender, with stronger effects for women (Iturbide, Raffaelli, & Carlo, 2009). In contrast, Schneider and Ward (2003) found that, for Latinas/os, students with stronger ethnic identifications were less adjusted than those with weaker identifications. Positive feelings and openness toward other ethnic groups (Kalsner & Pistole, 2003) have been positively associated with campus integration. Other studies have shown that sustained community connections and family support may provide underrepresented students with the affirmation needed to persist (Cabrera, Hagedorn, Nora, Pascarella, & Terenzini, 1999; Hurtado et al., 2007); this contrasts the assumption of Tinto’s (1993) earlier theoretical work that suggested students must break ties with home to 21 persist. However, family responsibilities may disrupt educational progress if students feel obligated to sacrifice schoolwork (Hurtado et al., 2007), which lends credence to Tinto’s (1993) theory. Guiffrida (2005) showed that families play a complex role in persistence for African American students; those who dropped out of college reported obligations to help their family, while those who were high-achieving reported high levels of family support. Adopting practices from both one’s home culture and the dominant culture may also support educational success (Carter et al., 2013; Yosso et al., 2009). Though inconclusive, this literature suggests that race/ethnicity, culture, and context intersect to shape educational outcomes. Culture, Context, and Identity in High Schools Secondary schools exert tremendous influence over students’ college preparatory experiences and vary substantially in quality and capacity (Roderick et al., 2009). Scholars have shown how socioeconomic and racial inequality manifest in urban contexts to limit educational opportunity (Anyon, 1997, 2014; Lipman, 2011). Urban neighborhoods experience high rates of poverty, racial segregation, violence, crime, and police brutality, factors associated with low quality schools and low levels of educational attainment (Apple, 1995; Noguera, 2008; Rios, 2011). Since 2000, the share of students who attend high-poverty K-12 schools has grown by 42%; these schools serve roughly half of Blacks and Latina/os and only 5% of Whites (Anyon, 2014). As schools have resegregated, resources remain inequitably distributed across states and districts (Orfield & Lee, 2007). According to The Education Trust (2012), for instance, schools with high concentrations of low-income students of color receive an average of $1,100 less per pupil than schools serving higher-income White students. Low-income students of color are more likely than their higher-income White peers to attend under-resourced schools with less qualified teachers and few rigorous course offerings (Aud et al., 2013; Klopfenstein, 2004). 22 Scholars have pointed out that school is a place where students not only learn academic content and skills, but also “draw upon frames of reference shared with social groups that are important to them to determine how to act and ‘who to be’” and what to expect in their academic futures (Farrington et al., 2012, p. 32; Bettie, 2003; Eckert, 1989; Fine, 1991; Nasir & Hand, 2006). School policies, staff members, curricular expectations, and cultures influence how students perceive formal education, position themselves within it, and develop academic skills and behaviors (Howard, 2003). For example, Welton and Williams (2015) studied one low- performing high school that focused instruction on state exit exams to avoid accountability sanctions, thereby fostering a negative academic climate that undermined college preparation. In contrast to their high-income counterparts, schools serving marginalized students may associate academic success and smartness with putting forth effort (e.g., attending class) and conforming to academic expectations (e.g., completing assignments; Nunn, 2014). In Rubin’s (2007) research on an urban high school, even students considered “smart” were not developing the skills or capital required for college “due to emphasis on rote, low level skills and lack of access to adults who could guide them toward their goals” (p. 244). What is accessible to be learned in a school has significant consequences for students’ identities, academic growth, and educational futures. Race and ethnicity also intersect with high school context in ways that influence disparate academic outcomes (Hatt, 2007; Howard, 2003; Nasir et al., 2009). Non-White youth may choose among—or feel forced into—limited identity categories made available within a particular school context. Scholars have shown how the opportunities afforded to students of color in school (e.g., placement in or exclusion from the advanced academic track) shape the extent to which they identify with or resist formal schooling (Hatt, 2007; Nasir et al., 2009). 23 Deyhle’s (1995) ethnographic research showed that Navajo students who were subjected to assimilationist curriculum in schools were more successful academically when they felt confident in their traditional culture. What CR entails, then, may not be adequately captured in a list of basic knowledge and skills or academic indicators, but requires attention to who students are and how they are positioned within social, cultural, and institutional contexts (Herman, 2014). Extant CR research on urban high schools has documented challenges that hinder high-quality college preparation such as few advanced courses, minimal college counseling, and lack of a college-going culture (Achieve, 2012; ACT, 2007; Corwin & Tierney, 2007; Farmer-Hinton, 2008, 2011; McKillip, Godfrey, & Rawls, 2012; Roderick et al., 2009, 2011; Stephan, 2013; Venezia & Kirst, 2005). However, these factors are portrayed as obstacles to students’ development of CR—defined as a universal set of skills—rather than consequential for how CR is conceptualized in the first place, across different contexts and for different student populations. Broadening College Readiness Research Beyond the Student Mainstream models posit a normative set of college-going standards and locate CR within the individual. Inattention to the nuances of context and culture may inadvertently advance deficit views about non-dominant students who may not demonstrate mastery of college-ready skills upon college entrance (Yamamura et al., 2010; Yosso et al., 2009). The assumption that underprepared students, who are disproportionately poor and non- White, are lacking is implicit in mainstream reform efforts. Many CR interventions in urban high schools embody banking methods that attempt to fill students with knowledge or information (Freire, 1973). Examples include mandating college preparatory curriculum, encouraging test- focused instruction, or distributing college information (e.g., counselors; Barnes & Slate, 2013; 24 Bell, Rowan-Kenyon, & Perna, 2009; De La Rosa & Tierney, 2006). Though well-intentioned, such approaches may fail to connect college-going practices to students’ out-of-school lives or challenge structural inequalities (Castro, 2013). Given that readiness develops vis-à-vis schooling environments, investigating CR in relation to the experiences of low-income students of color in urban high schools is essential (Arnold et al., 2012; Yosso et al., 2009). The construct of identity is helpful to pursue this objective. College-going identity. Research in psychology and sociology has shown that identity development is dynamic and context-dependent (Howard, 2003). It can be characterized as people’s perceptions of themselves combined with their perceptions of how others view them (Markus, 2008). Individuals classify themselves in relation to membership in or exclusion from social categories, roles, groups, and contexts (Burke, 1991; Tajfel, 1982). Because power is inequitably distributed, people’s social positions (e.g., gender, race, ethnicity) shape their sense of who they are and what is possible (Markus, 2008; Weick, 1995). Research has shown that “negotiating a positive identity as a student in many mainstream academic settings is a particularly challenging task” for African American and Latina/o students due to persistent structural racism and stereotyping (Markus, 2008, p. 81; Nasir, McLaughlin, & Jones, 2009). Identity constructions, in turn, shape how people interpret and interact with the world around them, including school (Farrington et al., 2012; Nasir & Hand, 2006; Osborne, 1997). The term college-going identity has been characterized in various ways. Some scholars have used the term as a synonym for CR, or having the competencies outlined in mainstream frameworks (Liou, Antrop-Gonzalez, & Cooper, 2009). Hooker and Brand (2010) said that students with a college-going identity have been exposed to higher education and appreciate the relevance of their high school experience. Other scholars have acknowledged the influence of 25 social roles and contexts on one’s college-going identity. Clemens (2012) defined the construct in terms of capital use: a student who is able and willing to draw on diverse forms of social and cultural capital to negotiate different social worlds. Yamamura et al. (2010) proposed a multidimensional college-going identity that, in contrast to the monodimensional view, recognizes students’ positional identities pertaining to race, class, and gender. I employ a similar approach, borrowing Oakes and colleagues’ (2002) characterization of a multicultural college-going identity: seeing college-going as a central part of oneself and developing the confidence and skills to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural identity and home community (Oakes et al., 2002). This definition acknowledges that for underrepresented students, having the skills to navigate college (i.e., college-ready skills) is necessary but insufficient. Students also need to traverse diverse social and cultural identities to navigate the path to college. College-going identity is useful to analyze both academic skills and students’ positionality within educational institutions. I assume that college-going identity development is mediated by context. Thus I investigate college readiness by examining the social and cultural resources that shape students’ identities within their institutional contexts. I employ constructs from social and cultural capital theory, which I delineate below. Before I proceed, I remind the reader of the study’s intent: to explore how students form college-going identities in an urban magnet high school. Three questions guide the inquiry: • How do students acquire and use social capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? • How do students acquire and use cultural capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? 26 • In what ways does the urban magnet high school broker students’ access to and use of social and cultural capital? I build a conceptual framework for pursuing these questions in the subsequent section. Social and Cultural Capital and the College Readiness of Urban Youth Scholars across disciplines have utilized the construct of capital to understand and explain disparate outcomes pertaining to social class, educational attainment, and well-being. Capital is commonly associated with wealth or financial resources (i.e., economic capital) and knowledge and skills (i.e., human capital; Bourdieu, 1986). However, sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (1973, 1984, 1986) theorized that capital also exists in symbolic forms. These forms, social and cultural, confer advantage to the dominant class via social relations and cultural patterns (Bourdieu, 1973, 1986). Economic, human, social, and cultural capital are related insofar as one form of capital may be converted into another, though this conversion is not guaranteed. Theories of social and cultural capital reflect a diversity of assumptions, emphases, and constructs, but all presume that social ties and cultural practices help explain macro-level inequalities via micro-level processes (Musoba & Baez, 2009; Schwartz, 1997; Small, 2009). I first discuss social capital and then cultural capital. For each theory, I describe its traditional interpretation, application to college-going, limitations, and an alternative framework that attempts to resolve those limitations: Small’s (2009) organizational brokerage for social capital and Yosso’s (2005) community wealth for cultural capital. Last, I offer an integrated framework to study the college-going identity development of high-achieving urban youth. Social Capital Traditional social capital theory. Social capital refers to an individual’s social ties and networks that may facilitate the acquisition of resources (Bourdieu, 1986; Coleman, 1988, Lin, 27 2001). Pierre Bourdieu, James Coleman, and Nan Lin have made prominent contributions to social capital theory. I summarize each theorist’s claims, noting similarities and differences. Bourdieu (1986) defined social capital as “the aggregate of the actual or potential resources which are linked to possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition” (p. 248)—essentially, the resources one gains through membership in a network. He suggested that an individual’s social capital depends on the size of his or her network and the volume of economic and cultural capital its members possess. Upper-class networks are connected to mainstream institutions and provide members with access to material privileges and high-class culture. Bourdieu (1986) pointed out that in order for a group to conserve its accumulated capital, its members “regulate the conditions of access to the right to declare oneself a member of the group” (p. 251). Lower-class individuals do not have access to upper-class networks and shared assets by virtue of their social position— they are unlikely, for example, to live in wealthy communities, work in professional circles, or join elite social clubs. Social capital therefore serves an exclusionary purpose and facilitates the reproduction of the class structure. While Bourdieu (1986) emphasized the relationship between social capital and social reproduction, Coleman (1988, 1990) focused on families and communities. Social capital exists in the relationships between individuals and enables the acquisition of benefits (Coleman, 1988). Coleman (1990) believed actors are rational and “have the capability of bringing [social] capital into being” (p. 317). Trust, obligations, norms, and information were critical concepts in Coleman’s work. People establish trust; one who receives a favor from another is obligated to reciprocate later. Networks and communities establish norms that compel people to help one another, and information represents the knowledge one acquires through his or her ties. 28 Like Coleman, Lin (2001) argued that individuals can access and/or mobilize resources through purposive action, but characterized social capital as embedded in the social structure. He articulated four types of social capital resources: (a) information (similar to Coleman’s), (b) the influence a network exerts on its members, (c) social credentials available through networks, and (d) personal reinforcements. Lin focused on the benefits of social capital, for example, that individuals who use available resources have improved outcomes (e.g., health, employment). Social capital resources must be accessed and utilized in order to produce benefits. These scholars defined social capital in slightly different ways, but they shared three broad assumptions (Miller, Pavlakis, Samartino, & Bourgeios, 2015; Small, 2009). First, individuals establish ties in order to accrue benefits—that is, they exercise some degree of agency. Second, the significance of social capital depends on its consequences (positive or negative). Third, social capital exists in social ties, or connections to individuals and networks. I characterize this body of work as the traditional social capital perspective, and show its main tenets in Table 2. Table 2 Key assumptions of traditional social capital theory Types of ties Social (to individuals) Emphasis Positive or negative consequences of ties Role of agency People form and mobilize ties on purpose to derive benefits Application to college readiness. Social capital theory has been used to analyze college- going processes through a focus on students’ family and school connections (Arnold et al., 2012). Scholars have shown that social capital plays a prominent role in students’ acquisition of college knowledge, or their level of familiarity with college admissions procedures, such as choosing and enrolling in a well-matched institution (Farmer-Hinton, 2008; McDonough, 1997). 29 Pascarella, Pierson, Wolniak, and Terenzini’s (2004) three-year study of first generation college students concluded that participants who were engaged in social networks developed social capital that helped them persist. Students may acquire college-relevant social capital resources through parents, extended family members, siblings, peers, community members, and school- based actors (e.g., teachers and counselors; Bell et al., 2009; Gandara, 1995; McDonough, 1997; Tierney & Venegas, 2006; Wimberly & Noeth, 2004). Different kinds of social networks offer different kinds of support. Networks accessible to high-income students are more likely than those of low-income students to include college graduates who can provide resources pertinent to college-going (Hill et al., 2015). Though poor parents often value and cultivate their children’s postsecondary aspirations, they may not have insider knowledge about how the system works (Bell et al., 2009; Smith, 2008). Social connections available through the school are therefore especially important for first generation students (Ahn, 2010). Stanton-Salazar (1997) has shown that building localized forms of social capital via institutional agents (e.g., teachers, counselors) can help low-income students of color achieve in school. Unfortunately, many youth attend under-resourced schools where counselors have large student loads and few, if any, are trained and available for college counseling specifically (De La Rosa, 2006; McDonough, 2005; Roderick et al., 2011; Stephan, 2013). When well integrated with K-12 schools, external college access programs can provide valuable sources of social capital for first generation youth (Hayward, Brandes, Kirst, & Mazzeo, 1997). However, those programs can only reach a limited number of students. Limitations of traditional social capital theory. Applications of social capital theories in the American context generally and college readiness research specifically tend to focus on 30 individuals, their relationships, and the benefits accrued from those relationships (Small, 2009). This approach has three limitations. The first pertains to the type of social capital under study. By focusing on individuals’ relationships, this literature has often ignored the social capital resources embedded in connections to organizations (Small, 2009). For example, studies of college knowledge often recommend increasing the numbers of college counselors or mentors in low-performing high schools (Stephan, 2013). Ties with better-connected and/or more knowledgeable individuals are certainly valuable. However, relationships with organizations that also provide substantial resources have typically been left out of student-centered social capital research. Second, research that emphasizes the consequences of social ties has largely ignored the processes whereby people form ties (Small, 2009). Extant studies have focused on what people gain (or lose) from social capital; the questions of how and why people develop relationships in the first place have rarely been asked or answered. This gap is significant because the process of tie formation, which depends largely on individuals’ contexts, conditions the nature of and benefits derived from those ties. Third, traditional social capital theory has presumed that individuals are rational actors capable of exercising agency to improve their outcomes (Musoba & Baez, 2009). Prominent theorists referred to (a) effort to sustain relationships (Bourdieu, 1986), (b) investment in social ties (Coleman, 1988), and (c) purposive action (Lin, 2001). These terms imply intention on the part of the actor. By taking for granted people’s capacity and willingness to form ties, social capital research tends to overlook their social and institutional environments (Small, 2009). The contexts in which people are embedded influence their actions, imbue their relationships with 31 meaning, and shape the nature and value of their acquired capital. In some instances, one’s context may facilitate a connection without requiring agency on the part of the individual. Organizational brokerage: The role of context in social capital formation. Recent studies of social capital have called attention to the contexts in which people form ties rather than simply the ties themselves (Small, Jacobs, & Massengill, 2008; Small & McDermott, 2006). In his book, Unanticipated Gains, Mario Small (2009) posited that what people gain from ties—the central question in most social capital research—is related to how people form them. How people form ties depends primarily on the organizations in which they are embedded. This perspective assumes that organizational context affects whether, how, and under what conditions people interact. In so doing, organizations broker participants’ ties, not only to other actors but also other organizations, thus mediating their access to and mobilization of social capital. Understanding how social capital influences individual outcomes thus requires attention to “institutional constraints, imperatives, and opportunities” (Small, 2009, p. 6). Table 3 highlights key distinctions between traditional social capital theory and organizational brokerage. Table 3 Key distinctions between traditional social capital theory and organizational brokerage Social Capital Theory Organizational Brokerage Types of Ties Social (to individuals) Social (to individuals) and organizational (to organizations) Emphasis Positive or negative consequences of ties Formation of ties Role of Agency People form and mobilize ties on purpose to derive benefits Organization can access and mobilize ties for an actor Defining key constructs. Below I define key constructs of organizational brokerage: organization, types of ties (i.e., social and organizational), resources, and brokerage. 32 Organization. An organization is defined as “(1) a loosely coupled set of people and institutional practices, (2) organized around a global purpose, and (3) connected, both formally and informally, to other organizations” (Small, 2009, p. 15). Each aspect of this definition is noteworthy. First, an organization encompasses the actors who comprise it as well as the institutional practices that govern it. Practices fall into two categories: normative, or the formal and informal rules that actors are expected to follow (Nee & Ingram, 1998), and cognitive, or the taken for granted classifications through which actors interpret the world (Meyer & Rowan, 1977). In an urban high school, an example of a normative practice is requiring all ninth graders to meet with the counselor. An example of a cognitive practice is publicly posting students’ grades, which implicitly encourages students to view one another as competitors. Normative practices dictate behavior, and cognitive practices guide meaning-making. Second, an organization may have a defined global purpose, but actors within the organization may have different purposes or different interpretations of the same purpose. For instance, a high school may be tasked with the broad purpose of teaching and learning. However, individuals’ goals may vary; an administrator may prioritize graduation rates, a counselor may focus on students who are struggling at home, and a teacher may be driven to collect a paycheck. Actors’ motivations are nuanced and may differ from the organization’s purported objective. Third, an organization is connected to other organizations through various arrangements. These relationships may be strong or weak, and external organizations may have varying levels of influence on an organization. These organizational ties will influence an organization’s practices and the perceptions and behaviors of its actors. For example, if a community organization partners with a local high school to offer extracurricular activities, students may gain more opportunities to interact after school. 33 In summary, organization is defined as a set of actors and practices (normative and cognitive), organized around a global purpose, and connected to other organizations. See Figure 1 for an illustration of this definition. Organizations influence people’s social ties, organizational ties, and resources, defined below. Figure 1. The elements of an organization as defined by Small (2009) Types of ties. According to Small (2009), people may build social capital resources through two kinds of ties. Social ties are connections to other individuals. This type of tie has received the most attention in social capital research. However, conceptualizing actors as embedded in organizations that are connected to other organizations reveals a second potential source of social capital—organizational ties are connections to other organizations and/or its formal representatives. Resources. Though individuals may obtain a range of resources through their social and organizational ties, I identify four in particular. The first is social support, typically acquired via 34 social ties. Three additional types of resources are made available to individuals through their membership in an organization: (a) information, (b) services, and (c) material goods (Small, 2009). Examples of each type of resource in an urban school might include: (a) fliers with dates for the SAT, (b) SAT tutoring, and (c) an SAT fee waiver for low-income students. Information may also be obtained through social ties. Brokerage. The organizational embeddedness perspective assumes that organizations shape individuals’ access to and use of social capital by brokering. Brokerage is defined as the “general process by which an organization connects an individual to another individual, to another organization, or to the resources they contain” (Small, 2009, p. 19). In other words, a brokering organization connects an individual to people (social ties), organizations (organizational ties), or resources. Organizational brokerage can be categorized in two ways: (a) actor or institution driven and (b) purposive or non-purposive. Brokerage is actor driven when done by a person in the organization. For example, a teacher might ask students to work in groups or a counselor might recommend a student for a merit scholarship. Actors who broker resources for students in a school represent what Stanton-Salazar (1997) has termed institutional agents. Brokerage is institution driven when it occurs through normative or cognitive practices. For instance, a high school might require all seniors to take the SAT (normative) or sponsor weekly spirit rallies (cognitive). The second category, purposive or non-purposive, refers to whether organizational brokerage occurs intentionally. Purposive brokerage takes place when the actor or institution knowingly connects individuals to people, organizations, or resources. An example is when a counselor refers a student to a college access program. Non-purposive brokerage is unplanned or 35 accidental. For instance, a school might place English language learners together in a separate class. While the school’s objective is to support language acquisition, it inadvertently increases students’ opportunities to form social ties with similar peers. How organizations broker social capital. Effective brokering organizations have certain characteristics (Small, 2009). Whether people build strong social ties depends on factors such as duration, or the amount of time they spend together and homophily (Merton, 1936), or the tendency for people to spend time with similar others. These conditions may be organizationally induced via brokerage. For instance, organizations may foster repeated, durable interaction, institutionalize trust (e.g., by encouraging cooperation and minimizing competition), provide opportunities for members to spend time together, which are optional, or create inducements, which are not. In a school, for instance, students might be invited to attend an after school pizza party, or they may be required to work in groups. Whether actors gain organizational ties depends on whether an organization maintains partnerships with diverse, resource-rich organizations. Organizations operate within and across fields, or systems of interconnected organizations with common attributes or goals (DiMaggio, 1983). The education field, for instance, includes K-12 schools, colleges and universities, the city and state departments of education, teachers’ unions, and testing companies. Small (2009) identified four mechanisms for brokering organizational ties: (a) storage, or displaying information (e.g., fliers on a bulletin board), (b) validation, or confirming members’ right to receive a resource (e.g., college admissions test fee waivers), (c) referral, or referring a member to an outside organization (e.g., social worker), and (d) collaboration, or working with another organization to provide a resource (e.g., financial aid workshop). 36 Access to and mobilization of resources. Traditional social capital theory distinguishes between access to resources and mobilization of resources to make sense of differential outcomes (Lin, 2001). Whether and how the social capital available to an individual improves his or her outcomes depends on how he or she uses it. The assumption is that actors exercise agency to access and mobilize capital in order to obtain benefits (Small, 2009). The organizational embeddedness perspective suggests that organizations shape resource availability and usage (Small, 2009). Organizations rich in capital may mobilize resources for their members, thereby providing unanticipated gains in the absence of individual agency (Miller et al., 2015). Notably, the extent to which people benefit from brokerage differs based on their circumstances. On the one hand, actors are willing and able to exercise agency to varying degrees. On the other hand, brokerage mechanisms that merely enhance convenience for one person may significantly improve the well-being of another; resources are “compartmentally relevant and problem specific” (Small, 2009, p. 154). Wealthy individuals are generally less likely than their low-income counterparts to need or utilize organizational brokerage. The key tenets of organizational brokerage are presented in Table 4. Table 4 Key tenets of organizational brokerage Definition of brokerage Process whereby an organization connects actors to social ties, organizational ties, and resources Types of brokerage Actor driven or institution driven, purposive or non-purposive Mechanisms for brokering social ties Repeated and durable interaction, institutionalization of trust, opportunities, inducements Mechanisms for brokering organizational ties Storage, validation, referral, collaboration In summary, individuals are embedded in organizations, characterized by a particular set of institutional practices, and organizations are embedded in broader institutional contexts 37 (Small, 2009). Traditional social capital constructs that focus on individuals and their ties emphasize individuals’ actions over the contexts that shape or give meaning to those actions. Organizational brokerage considers how and why individuals develop social capital to better understand what they gain as a result. This study probes the schooling context in which students form ties to make sense of their accrued benefits. Figure 2 provides a basic illustration of organizational brokerage, whereby the organization is connecting an embedded actor to other individuals (i.e., social ties), organizations (i.e., organizational ties), and their resources. I now turn to literature on cultural capital theory. I return to organizational brokerage at the end of the chapter to summarize the key theoretical constructs that frame the study. Figure 2. Visualizing organizational brokerage Cultural Capital Traditional cultural capital theory. In addition to social relations, symbolic capital manifests in cultural forms to shape patterns of inequality (Bourdieu, 1973). Cultural capital is traditionally defined as the cultural resources (e.g., language practices, styles of dress, 38 knowledge about school) that reflect the values and preferences of the dominant class (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977). As a reminder, culture refers here to the shared “patterns of behavior, beliefs and language” of a social group in a particular setting (Creswell, 2007, p. 68). Bourdieu (1986) specified three forms of cultural capital: (a) the objectified state, or physical objects that represent high-class culture; (b) the embodied state, or familiarity with and appreciation for high culture; and (c) the institutionalized state, or academic credentials and qualifications. Institutionalized capital can be exchanged in the labor market to obtain economic capital. For instance, a bachelor’s degree can be used to secure a higher-paying job. Social and cultural capital are closely related because one can be used to gain the other; individuals rich in one form tend to have greater access to and/or capacity to acquire the other. Though often characterized as appreciation for highbrow culture, Bourdieu’s conception of cultural capital may also be interpreted as a range of skills that help people adapt to different sociocultural contexts (Lareau & Weininger, 2003). Cultural capital enables the dominant class to maintain power through symbolic violence, which is “exercised upon a social agent with his or her complicity” (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 167). How an individual actor becomes complicit in his or her own oppression is explained by habitus, which I discuss next. I then address three additional concepts relevant to Bourdieu’s cultural capital theory: field, practice, and social reproduction in education. Habitus. Bourdieu (1973, 1984) developed the concept of habitus to illustrate the mutually reinforcing relationship between the social structure and individual action. Habitus is a set of durable dispositions, or propensities toward certain styles of knowing, interpreting, and behaving, that dictate how an individual interacts with the world. Habitus can be conceptualized as a person’s identity, as it is shaped by one’s context and also influences one’s behaviors. 39 Dispositions are acquired over time through one’s original social and cultural conditioning. Bourdieu (1986) acknowledged the potential for habitus to evolve over time with new experiences, but suggested that habitus is grounded in one’s original social and cultural conditioning and tends to generate similar practices even when external conditions change. Habitus is the internalization and physical embodiment of objective structure (Nash, 1990, p. 434), and constrains individuals to behave in ways that contribute to social reproduction (Musoba & Baez, 2009). Field. A field refers to the official and unofficial norms that govern activities within a social space (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992). Fields organize particular forms of capital, human relations, and social positions according to local rules (Thompson, 2008). Where people are positioned depends on the extent to which their habitus and accumulated cultural capital are congruent with the expectations of that field. As Edgerton and Roberts (2014) explained, “the value of cultural capital is field dependent and relational, as are habitus and practice” (p. 15). Fields can be more abstract, such as politics, or more concrete, such as a public school. For the purpose of this study, I conceptualize a field as the urban high school, or organization (Small, 2009), within which students develop their college-going identity (i.e., habitus). Practice. Practices are actions, or an individual’s behavioral repertoire (Edgerton & Roberts, 2014). They derive from the interaction of one’s habitus with one’s cultural capital in a specific context or field. Bourdieu (1984) depicted these relationships in his formula for social practice: (Habitus x Capital) + Field = Practice. Social and cultural reproduction. Bourdieu (1973) theorized that cultural capital helped to explain how schools contribute to social reproduction. The school’s role in reproductive processes is not overt, however—schools are neither directly connected to the economic elite nor 40 plainly reflective of the dominant society. Rather, schools are symbolic institutions that “reproduce existing power relations more subtly through the production and distribution of a dominant culture that tacitly confirms what it means to be educated” (Giroux, 1983, p. 267). Educational institutions (i.e., fields) embody the cultural patterns of the dominant class and legitimize certain ways of knowing, speaking, and behaving. Dominant cultural capital is also privileged through mainstream curriculum, which transmits certain types of knowledge (e.g., Western history) and excludes others (e.g., Black history). Upper-class cultural practices are neutralized rather than explicitly taught (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977; Bowles & Gintis, 1976). Students from lower-class households who do not acquire dominant cultural capital at home are therefore at a disadvantage relative to their upper-class peers (Lamont & Lareau, 1988). Schools are likely to “perceive students who possess the habitus of the dominant classes as evidence of ‘readiness’ for school knowledge, and perceive students who possess the habitus of the dominated classes as evidence of a deficit of the child or the home” (Nash, 1990, p. 436). By institutionalizing the ideologies and practices of the dominant class, schools reproduce existing power relations (Bourdieu, 1973). Application to college-going. Traditional cultural capital theory has been applied to the college-going patterns of underserved youth. Sablan and Tierney (2014) identified two primary ways scholars have examined the relationship between cultural capital and educational outcomes. One measures participation in high status culture outside school, such as attending plays or museums (DiMaggio, 1982; DiMaggio & Mukhtar, 2004). A second strategy focuses on the nature of students’ and parents’ engagement with formal schooling institutions, based on variables such as student attendance and parent involvement (Lareau & Weininger, 2003; Roscigno & Ainsworth-Darnell, 1999). Qualitative research has considered how college access 41 programs enhance students’ college knowledge, using familiarity with higher education as a proxy for cultural capital (Auerbach, 2004). This body of work has suggested that possessing higher levels of cultural capital—conceived in relation to dominant cultural practices and institutions—positively influences students’ postsecondary trajectories (Callahan & Chumney, 2009; DiMaggio, 1982; Kaufman & Gabler, 2004; Strayhorn, 2010; Tramonte & Willms, 2010). Scholars have also examined the concept of habitus in relation to college access and success (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992; Clegg, 2011; Dumais, 2002; Nash, 1999). Nash (2002) described an educated habitus, or having the desire to learn and be viewed as an educated person. Individuals who develop an educated habitus exhibit high educational aspirations and motivation, mindsets associated with postsecondary success (Nash, 2001). Students with an educated habitus might also be inclined to demonstrate college-ready behaviors such as time management (Nagaoka et al., 2013). Educated habitus implicitly attributes desiring to be educated to the cultural values of the upper class. Other research has highlighted the complex relationships among students’ contexts, or fields, and their cultural capital formation (Perna & Steele, 2011; Perna & Thomas, 2006). One study of differentially resourced high schools showed that social class and a school’s “organizational habitus”—or culture around college-going—intersect to influence educational opportunity (McDonough, 1997). Deil-Amen and Tevis (2010) found that how students interpret college admissions tests depends on their habitus and cultural capital, which form in relation to familial, schooling, social, community, and racial factors. They argued that low-performing schools shape students’ habitus by encouraging them to attend college but also inflating their sense of preparation; “these altered perceptions may have supported students’ college-going 42 aspirations, yet these same perceptions put them at risk of failure once enrolled” (164). This research considers traditional conceptions of cultural capital in light of students’ contexts. Limitations of traditional cultural capital theory. Three limitations of traditional cultural capital theory are relevant to the study of non-dominant student groups in urban schools. First, Bourdieu’s focus on the capital of the dominant class implicitly depicts lower-class cultures as a homogenous entity, defined solely by their distinction from dominant culture (Giroux, 1983). Yet non-dominant cultures are nuanced, dynamic, and diverse, and race/ethnicity, gender, and class intersect in complex ways to mediate individuals’ acquisition and use of capital. Second, scholars have critiqued Bourdieu’s theory of cultural capital for framing non- dominant students and communities as deficient (Giroux, 1983; Massey, Charles, Lundy, & Fischer, 2003; Yosso, 2005). Because the cultural capital of the upper class is privileged in mainstream institutions, the tacit assumption is that other forms of capital do not exist or do not hold value. Students from dominant backgrounds are viewed as culturally wealthy and students from marginalized communities are viewed as culturally poor (Lareau, 1987). Deficit thinking assumes that minority youth under-achieve because (a) they lack normative knowledge and skills and/or (b) their parents do not value education (Yosso, 2005). This perspective attributes unequal outcomes to students rather than institutions, and encourages interventions to remedy the cultural deficiencies of low-income students of color by transmitting dominant cultural practices (Musoba & Baez, 2009). Deficit views (e.g., culture of poverty; Lewis, 1968, 1975; Moynihan, 1965; oppositional culture; Fordham & Ogbu, 1986; Ogbu, 2004) remain pervasive in research and policy despite widespread critique (Carter, 2005; Grantham 2006; Harper, 2009; MacLeod, 1987; Perry, Steele, & Hilliard, 2003; Ryan, 1976; Stack, 1974, Valentine, 1968). 43 Third, traditional cultural capital theories tend not to acknowledge other forms of symbolic capital possessed by non-dominant groups (Yosso, 2005). Scholars have argued that non-dominant communities possess cultural assets and strengths that, while not valued in formal school settings, may support students in a variety of domains (Carter, 2005; Lareau, 2003). Ignoring the sources of cultural capital that exist in marginalized communities deprives non- dominant peoples of their capacity to exercise agency and resistance against their own oppression (Giroux, 1983; Lamont & Lareau 1988; Musoba & Baez, 2009). Although some of the research referenced above acknowledges the importance of students’ contexts, it nevertheless tends to adopt a limited view of cultural capital tied almost exclusively to upper class values. Community cultural wealth: Challenging deficit views of urban youth. As part of a growing body of research on non-dominant cultural capital (Carter, 2005, 2010; Lareau, 2003), community cultural wealth addresses the limitations outlined above. Yosso’s (2005) cultural wealth framework broadens and challenges traditional cultural capital theory by highlighting the rich and varied forms of capital cultivated within racial/ethnic minority communities. I describe (a) research on non-dominant forms of cultural capital generally, (b) the influence of critical race theory (CRT) on Yosso’s (2005) framework, and (c) and the types of community cultural wealth. Non-dominant cultural capital. Scholars have advanced the idea of non-dominant cultural capital to highlight the cultural strengths of students of color (Carter, 2003; Dixon- Roman, 2014; Tierney, 1999). This literature identifies cultural capital possessed by non- dominant groups that may not be privileged in formal educational settings but that nevertheless offers value. Carter’s (2003, 2005) work characterizes non-dominant cultural capital as the tastes, understandings, linguistic tools, and interactional styles prevalent among lower-income communities of color. She contrasts this type of capital, which is devalued in school settings, 44 with dominant cultural capital, or the codes and symbols of the upper class described by Bourdieu (1984). Carter’s studies of African American students revealed that youth use dominant and non-dominant forms of capital in different ways in different contexts; students who she termed “cultural straddlers” are able to navigate cultural practices to succeed academically. Research on cultural integrity (Tierney & Jun, 2001) and funds of knowledge (Moll, Amanti, Neff, & Gonzalez, 1992) has also spotlighted the cultural resources of students of color and the importance of school environments that honor non-dominant students’ identities. Yosso’s (2005) cultural wealth framework extends this scholarship by drawing connections to structural racism and specifying types of non-dominant cultural capital. Critical race theory. Community cultural wealth draws on critical race theory (CRT), which exposes and challenges racism in American society. According to Solorzano (1997, 1998), CRT has five central goals: (a) acknowledge racism as a defining aspect of U.S. society that manifests in American institutions; (b) challenge the notion that schools can be meritocratic or racially neutral; (c) advance social justice in schools; (d) recognize the lived experiences of students of color as legitimate knowledge; and (e) reach across disciplines to analyze racism in historical and contemporary contexts. Yosso’s (2005) capital framework highlights the cultural strengths of students of color to counter racist ideologies and practices in schooling contexts. Forms of cultural wealth. Community cultural wealth refers to “an array of knowledge, skills, abilities and contacts possessed and utilized by Communities of Color to survive and resist macro and micro-forms of oppression” (Yosso, 2005, p. 77). Rejecting the assumption that non- dominant students enter school with deficiencies, this framework posits six forms of capital or cultural wealth that exist in marginalized communities. These forms of capital include: 45 o Aspirational capital - the capacity to develop and sustain hopes for the future, even in the face of barriers; nurtures a culture of possibility o Linguistic capital - the cognitive and social competencies required to communicate in more than one language and/or style o Familial capital – knowledge forms that are rooted in awareness of, respect for, and connection to one’s family, community, and cultural heritage o Social capital - networks of people and community resources o Navigational capital – ability to maneuver through social institutions designed to privilege the dominant group o Resistant capital - awareness of the structures of racism and the skills and motivation to challenge and/or transform oppressive structures The idea is that students of color draw on diverse cultural resources that are often ignored in traditional cultural capital research focused on White middle class culture. These non-dominant forms of cultural capital potentially empower students of color to overcome oppressive schooling structures and succeed in school. For instance, scholars have studied how Chicana/o parents maintain high hopes for their children’s educational attainment, despite lower outcomes on average among this student population, which cultivates aspirational capital (Auerbach, 2007; Gándara & Contreras, 2009; Solorzano, 1992; Yamamura et al., 2010). Research has also shown that speaking two languages can strengthen students’ knowledge base and cross-cultural awareness (Faulstich Orellana, 2003), language- and code-switching skills (Prior & MacWhinney, 2010), cognitive control (Garbin et al., 2010), and academic achievement (Flores-González, 2002; Hébert & Reis 1999; Yosso 2005), examples of linguistic capital. Kinship ties in communities of color foster familial 46 capital by modeling values of caring, providing, and coping in the face of hardships (Delgado- Gaitan, 2001; Lopez, 2003; Rueda, Monzo, & Higareda, 2004). People of color have historically relied on their social capital networks to negotiate mainstream institutions (Gutman, 1976; Stanton-Salazar, 2001). Researchers have shown how students of color draw on social and psychological skills (e.g., resilience) to negotiate institutional spaces that may be hostile or oppressive toward non-dominant students (i.e., navigational capital; Pierce, 1995; Solórzano & Villapando, 1998). Communities of color also hone resistance capital via strategies, behaviors, and attitudes that challenge the status quo and preserve self-dignity in the face of systemic oppression (i.e., resistance capital; Freire, 1970, Solórzano & Delgado Bernal, 2001; Solórzano & Yosso, 2002). Figure 3 depicts the forms of cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005). Figure 3. Community cultural wealth, adapted from Oliver and Shapiro (1995), as depicted in Yosso and Solorzano (2005) 47 Several studies have employed a community cultural wealth framework to explore college-going processes. Liou, Antrop-Gonzalez, and Cooper (2009) examined how Latina/o youth acquired high-stakes information necessary for college going. Findings indicated that students in under-resourced urban schools typically attributed their academic achievement to cultural wealth provided by family networks and community-based programs. Another study explored middle- and higher-income students’ experiences with college preparation in the Young Black Scholars (YBS) program (Jayakumar, Vue, & Allen, 2013). Participants reported more positive associations with YBS than their high school, which was less likely to recognize and connect Black students’ community cultural wealth to their postsecondary futures. Achinstein, Curry, Ogawa, and Athanases (2014) explored school-community boundary-crossing in a high school serving a low-income Latina/o population. Findings indicated that community-relevant curriculum and partnerships with community-based organizations helped the school mobilize students’ cultural wealth in ways that enhanced teaching, learning, and civic engagement. Despite some empirical studies of community cultural wealth, how—if at all—low- income students of color employ non-dominant cultural capital to develop college-going identities within a low-performing urban school remains unclear. Yosso’s (2005) constructs are useful to pursue this line of inquiry while resisting deficit views of students of color. The final section below explains how organizational brokerage and community cultural wealth jointly inform the current inquiry. Integrating Organizational Brokerage and Community Cultural Wealth This study investigates how students draw on social and cultural resources to develop college-going identities, foregrounding the role of the urban high school as an organizational broker. I integrate theories of social and cultural capital, organizational brokerage, and 48 community cultural wealth into a single framework, which I explain in detail below. Before I proceed, I briefly remind the reader of the research questions and key concepts. To explore the college-going identity development of first generation seniors in an urban magnet high school, I consider three questions: • How do students acquire and use social capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? • How do students acquire and use cultural capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? • In what ways does the urban magnet high school broker students’ access to and use of social and cultural capital? The concepts of CR and college-going identity are central to this study. Typically, CR is framed as a combination of cognitive competencies, non-cognitive competencies, and college knowledge. These factors are portrayed as neutral and located within the individual, which has potential to de-emphasize the role of context and culture in college-going processes. The construct of identity, defined from a sociocultural perspective, acknowledges the role of context and culture in shaping individuals’ self-perceptions. College-going identity refers to seeing college-going as part of oneself and developing the skills and confidence to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural identity and/or community (Oakes et al., 2002). Exploring college-going identity formation requires foregrounding the contexts and cultures of urban youth and thus moving beyond traditional theories of social and cultural capital. Organizational brokerage shifts attention from individuals and their ties to the organizational contexts that influence tie formation (Small, 2009). Cultural wealth challenges traditional, deficit-minded notions of cultural capital to highlight ways that non-dominant 49 cultural resources may support students’ school success (Yosso, 2005). I draw on organizational brokerage and community cultural wealth in tandem to explore how the urban high school context intersects with students’ cultural backgrounds to shape students’ capital accumulation, and in turn their college-going identities. I review key constructs from each perspective and the constructs used in the integrated framework. With respect to social capital and organizational brokerage, individuals are embedded in organizations, which are embedded in organizational fields (Small, 2009). Organizations serve as brokers by connecting members to other individuals (i.e., social ties), organizations (i.e., organizational ties) and resources (i.e., social support, information, services, and material goods). Brokerage may be actor or institution driven, purposive or non-purposive. Mechanisms for brokering social ties include: repeated and durable interaction, institutionalization of trust, opportunities, and inducements. Mechanisms for brokering organizational ties include: storage, validation, referral, and collaboration. The assumption is that while actors may intentionally access and use capital, organizations may also mobilize capital for them, providing unanticipated gains. Throughout the text, I use the term social capital to refer to social ties, organizational ties, and resources acquired through them. With respect to cultural capital and community cultural wealth, individuals may acquire two forms of cultural capital: (a) dominant cultural capital, or that associated with upper-class practices and valued in mainstream institutions, and (b) non-dominant cultural capital (i.e., cultural wealth), or that cultivated in communities of color but not always recognized in mainstream institutions. Excluding social capital, which I address more broadly via organizational brokerage, cultural wealth exists in five forms: (a) aspirational, (b) linguistic, (c) familial, (d) navigational, and (e) resistant. Habitus can be conceptualized as a student’s identity, 50 shaped by one’s internalization of cultural capital within particular fields. Practice refers to how students act, or how they demonstrate college-ready skills and behaviors. Cultural capital is used as an umbrella term to signify dominant and non-dominant forms. I employ the terms non- dominant cultural capital, community cultural wealth, and cultural wealth interchangeably. To combine these perspectives, I argue that organizational brokerage affects one’s access to and use of not only social capital but also cultural capital. I refer to social and cultural capital together as college-going capital. College-going capital may be community-based (i.e., cultural wealth) or school-based (i.e., social ties, organizational ties, and dominant cultural capital). The organization is the urban high school, composed of actors (e.g., administrators, teachers, counselors) and institutional practices, embedded in an organizational field. I assume a student enters the urban high school with community cultural wealth. The school employs various brokerage mechanisms to connect students to school-based capital. Social ties confer social support. Organizational ties confer services and material goods. Both types of ties may be sources of dominant cultural capital. Dominant cultural capital refers to skills, indicators, and discourses associated with CR in mainstream research and policy. I suggest that the school’s effectiveness as a broker of school-based capital depends in part on how it responds to students’ community-based capital. Finally, students’ access to and use of college-going capital, as brokered by the school, will influence their identities. This framework is presented in Figure 4. 51 Figure 4. Organizational brokerage, cultural wealth, and college-going identity development Chapter 2 Summary This chapter reviewed research and theory relevant to the college pathways of high- achieving first generation urban youth. Relative to their peers from privileged backgrounds, low- income students of color face unique barriers in educational institutions that may impede postsecondary opportunity. Studies of CR that foreground sociocultural context are needed. I employ organizational brokerage and community cultural wealth to analyze the college-going identity development of non-dominant students in an urban high school context. I now turn to method in chapter 3. 52 Chapter 3 Studying College-Going Identity Development in an Urban High School “I want to understand the world from your point of view.” —James P. Spradley (1979) I sat to the left of Natalia as she scrolled through the search results on the College Board website, commenting that she did not want a large campus. We had spent the better half of the period reading about out-of-state private colleges and their application requirements. “Miss?” she declared out of the blue. As always, Natalia was looking at me with her eyes aglow and her smile wide. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you are the nicest Caucasian I’ve ever known!” Daisy, who had been working on her government homework at the next table, interjected before I could speak. “Natalia! Oh my gosh! You don’t say stuff like that!” “What?” Natalia replied, still grinning. “Who cares? She’s one of us now!” I spent one school year at the research site, working with students as a college mentor and researcher. I was an outsider—a white middle class woman and former teacher who shared neither the participants’ cultural background nor their educational experiences. Yet as Natalia’s comment suggests, I was not always viewed as an outsider by the students, who welcomed me into their spaces, shared with me their personal stories, and sought my advice. This vignette highlights one challenge of doing ethnography: how does a researcher balance the need to gain insider perspective with the obligation to step back and draw—to the greatest extent possible— unbiased conclusions? How does a researcher, in Spradley’s (1979) words, understand the world from another’s point of view? 53 These questions speak to issues of trustworthiness, or truthfulness, which I attend to below. This chapter illustrates how I operationalized the study. First, I discuss the research design in light of the research purpose, highlighting the suitability of qualitative inquiry generally and ethnography specifically. Second, I outline the methods used to collect and analyze data, ensure trustworthiness, and negotiate my role. I close with a chapter summary. Research Design The goal of the research is to pursue a conception of CR attentive to the influence of context and culture on college-going processes. I examine how low-income seniors of color draw on social and cultural resources to develop college-going identities in a low-performing urban high school. Because self-making processes are context-dependent (Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain, 1998), analyses occur on two levels: the individual (e.g., students’ perspectives, interpretations) and the organization (e.g., school staff, policies, and programs). Qualitative Inquiry How a researcher conducts a study depends on what he or she wants to learn (Creswell, 2012). For example, quantitative methodologies are useful to investigate whether particular conditions lead to particular outcomes. Quantitative studies of CR have yielded important insights. Scholars have shown, for instance, that academic preparation in general and high school curriculum in particular are key predictors of postsecondary outcomes (Adelman, 1999, 2006; Perna, 2005). Some researchers have quantified dominant social and cultural capital (e.g., the number of college graduates in a student’s network, the number of visits to a college campus) and found that students with more capital tend to have better college outcomes (Engberg & Wolniak, 2010; Roscigno & Ainsworth-Darnell, 1999). These studies have identified factors that affect postsecondary performance but have not revealed the how or why. Questions such as what 54 college preparation looks like, how students access capital, what obstacles they face, and/or how they respond to them require a qualitative approach. Exploring the lived realities of urban low-income students of color requires a qualitative design. The qualitative tradition privileges the experiences and perspectives of everyday actors as tools for understanding the world (Bogdan & Biklen, 2007; Denzin & Lincoln, 2005). Qualitative research is also designed to understand processes, such as the process through which students develop college-going identities, and contexts, such as the urban high school context in which students learn (Creswell, 2012). Qualitative researchers make explicit theoretical and methodological justifications for their selection of a particular site and sample, which I delineate in part 2 of this chapter (Jones, Torres & Arminio, 2006). Purposeful sampling maximizes the collection of data relevant to the research questions (Creswell, 2007). To examine how students construct college-going identities in an urban high school, I employ the tools of ethnography. Quasi-Ethnography Ethnography may be characterized as the study of culture (Geertz, 1983; Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007; Miles & Huberman, 1994; Wolcott, 1999), or the shared “patterns of behavior, beliefs and language” of a social group in a particular setting (Creswell, 2007, p. 68). The goal is to understand linguistic and cultural practices through which actors in a given space make meaning (Spradley, 1979). Ethnography is fitting for the present study given that identities are mediated by the sociocultural contexts in which individuals are embedded. How college-bound students make sense of themselves depends in large part on the shared meanings and practices attributed to college-going within their high school context. Studying the culture in which students prepare for college facilitates understanding of their social and cultural capital use. Consistent with my intent to foreground student voices, ethnographic research seeks the emic 55 perspective; it assumes participants have valuable insider knowledge (Slembrouck, 2005). Ethnographers spend significant time in the field to acquire rich data. Prolonged engagement affords the researcher flexibility to shape the inquiry process as data are collected and analyzed (Erickson, 1973; Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007). Ethnography requires careful attention to writing. Cultures are dynamic, nuanced, and situated in particular social and political contexts (Holland et al., 1998). The challenge is to “adequately display the culture (or, more commonly, parts of the culture), in a way that is meaningful to readers without great distortion” (Van Maanen, 1988, p. 13). One strategy is to provide what Geertz (1973) termed thick description, or describing the particulars to illustrate the whole. Ethnographers must also determine how to incorporate their voice in their research report (Clifford & Marcus, 1986). Van Maanen (1988) discussed the importance of writing style for conveying cultural meaning. I draw on two styles from his typology: realist (i.e., traditional social science) and impressionist (i.e., descriptive vignettes; Van Maanen, 1988). Doing ethnography. This subsection describes generally what methods ethnographers use to collect and analyze data and why. In the next part of the chapter, I outline how I applied these methods to the questions under study. Collecting ethnographic data. The principal method of ethnography is participant observation, whereby the researcher both observes and interacts with participants in their naturalistic setting (Adler & Adler, 1994; Angrosino, 2007, 2008; Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007; O’Reilly, 2005). An ethnographer “actually goes ‘out there’ [and] draws close to people and events” (Van Maanen, 1995, p. 3), an approach that helps uncover local knowledge (Denzin, 2009; Geertz, 1983). The nature of ethnographers’ participation varies depending on the situation, setting, and time in the field (Hatch, 2002; O’Reilly, 2005). In the field, researchers 56 rely on informants to offer insight into the cultural practices of a research setting (i.e., meanings of activities, insider language; Denzin, 2009). Conducting participant observations supports localized understandings but also requires caution to avoid “going native,” or losing the research perspective (Emerson & Pollner, 2001; Hatch, 2002). Ethnographers use fieldnotes to record their observations and interpretations (Atkinson, 2001). Fieldnotes may include descriptions of settings and events, transcriptions of participants’ dialogue, and diagrams or visual representations (Bogdan & Biklen, 2007; Emerson, Fretz, & Shaw, 1995). Spradley (1979) recommended three strategies for writing fieldnotes: (a) using participants’ language; (b) recording dialogue verbatim rather than paraphrasing; and (c) recording details in concrete rather than generalized terms. Hatch (2002) suggested focusing on what appears important to participants. The researcher’s impressions should be bracketed. Interviews are another source of ethnographic data. They are usually semi-structured with open-ended questions that invite lengthy responses (Kvale, 2007; Merriam, 2009). Spradley (1979) identified three categories of ethnographic interview questions: (a) descriptive, which elicit basic information about the setting, (b) structural, which explore the organization or components of insider knowledge, and (c) contrast, which seek cultural meaning by clarifying similarities and differences. Probing questions may be especially useful when interviewing teenagers, who tend to provide brief responses (Clydesdale, 2007). Focus groups can elicit data that may not emerge in one-on-one interviews (Morgan, 1997). Finally, ethnographers employ document data to glean insight into the culture under study (Denzin, 2009; Plummer, 2001). Analyzing ethnographic data. Because ethnographers seek to interpret cultural patterns from the emic perspective (Erickson, 1977), they employ a more subjective or inductive analytical process. The goal is to “reconstruct the categories used by subjects to conceptualize 57 their own experiences and world view” (Goetz & LeCompte, 1981, p. 54). Data analysis should occur iteratively with data collection, which allows the researcher to shape the research process to maximize the utility and relevance of fieldwork (Miles & Huberman, 1994). Ensuring trustworthiness. To ensure the trustworthiness, or truthfulness, of a qualitative study, researchers should meet four criteria: (a) credibility, whether the findings are “true,” (b) transferability, the extent to which the findings can inform similar phenomena in other contexts, (c) dependability, whether the findings are consistent and repeatable, and (d) confirmability, whether findings can be verified (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). I chronicle the strategies I used to ensure trustworthiness in part 2. Having suggested the suitability of ethnography and its methods to meet the aims of the present study, I now outline how I applied them. Research Method In this section, I first address criteria and outcomes for site selection and sampling. I then review methods of data collection and analysis, and finally issues of trustworthiness and researcher roles. I close with a chapter summary. Site and Sampling Criteria for site selection. Four criteria guided site selection: (a) location, (b) student need, (c) school performance, and (d) college-going opportunities. First, I considered only schools located in high-poverty neighborhoods. Second, I considered only Title I schools where the majority of students qualify for free and reduced lunch and are non-White. Third, I considered only schools designated low-performing by the state, which means not meeting proficiency benchmarks as measured by AYP (Adequate Yearly Progress). Fourth, I considered schools that promoted opportunities for students who were high-achieving and hoped to attend college (e.g., AP courses, “college-going” mission, etc.). 58 Site profile: Urban Magnet High School. This study took place at Urban Magnet High School, a magnet program affiliated with a low-performing high school, which I call Urban High School, and located in a large urban district in Southern California. Urban High School is divided into three small learning communities (SLCs) and a magnet school. Urban High School and Urban Magnet have distinct school codes and operate independently in some respects. Urban Magnet has its own mission, assistant principal, counselor, and teachers. It also has its own set of classrooms. At the same time, students in each school share the same campus, calendar, bell schedule, extracurricular programming, and some classes and staff members 6 . Though Urban Magnet and each SLCs has its own assistant principal, all report to one principal. As a consequence, the magnet school was the primary research setting, but the lines between Urban Magnet and the host campus were sometimes blurred. I gained access though a program called Mentoring Pathways to College (MPC), which matches first generation college-bound seniors in high-need high schools with college-educated adult mentors who offer application assistance. Location. Urban High School is located in the heart of a high-poverty urban neighborhood that was once predominantly African American but has shifted since the 1970s due to immigration from Mexico and Central America (Hunt & Ramon, 2010). Latinas/os now comprise the majority of the population. The region has experienced crime reduction over the past few decades but still confronts high rates of unemployment, poverty, and gang violence relative to other parts of the city (Gold & Braxton, 2003). Roughly 40% of households earn incomes less than 20 thousand dollars, and less than 3% of residents over age 25 hold a bachelor’s degree (L.A. Times, n.d.). 6 For example, some courses such as Physics are specialized and only taught by one teacher on campus, so all students taking that course are assigned to the same teacher, regardless of school affiliation. 59 Student need. District data indicate that Urban High School’s student population of about 2,500 students is roughly 90% Latino and 10% Black. English language learners comprise about one-third of the population, students with disabilities 15%, and reclassified fluent English proficient 45%, meaning students who were previously classified as English Learners. Urban Magnet serves about 300 of the 2,500 students on campus. Of those students, roughly 95% are categorized as Hispanic and 5% Black. About 10% were Spanish speakers with an official English Learner (EL) designation during 9–12 grade 7 . Consistent with the larger school’s population, over 90% of Magnet students live below the poverty line 8 . Notably, a recent needs assessment ranked Urban High School’s campus among the highest needs schools in the district based on measures of student performance (e.g., test scores, suspension rates) and neighborhood conditions (e.g., access to health care; Advancement Project, 2014). Students who attend the highest needs schools are more than five times as likely as their counterparts in low-need schools to be exposed to gun violence. School performance. Urban High School is one of the district’s lowest performing schools and underwent a controversial reconstitution policy within the past five years. According to district data, Urban met only 1 of 18 criteria for Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP) in the 2012- 13 school year and only about 35% of students on Urban High School’s campus graduate eligible for admission to the state’s four-year universities. These figures reflect the average performance of all 2,500 students on campus, including Magnet students; the district does not disaggregate the Magnet school’s outcomes. Internal data from the Magnet school reflect higher achievement on average than the host school, though its Academic Performance Index (API) score is still shy of 7 This figure does not include students who were previously EL but reclassified before 9th grade. 8 This statistic is from an internal Magnet school evaluation from the 2013–2014 school year. 60 the state’s proficiency benchmark (800 out of a possible 1000). Table 5 compares available achievement indicators for each school. Table 5 Achievement indicators for Urban High School and Urban Magnet Achievement Indicator Urban High School (incl. Urban Magnet) Urban Magnet High School % graduating in 4 years 60 95 % meeting or exceeding proficiency in English 25 50 % meeting or exceeding proficiency in math 10 20 API score (out of 1000) 620 790 College-going opportunities. I focused on Urban Magnet in particular, as opposed to, for example, its host campus, because the program purportedly caters to college-bound youth. Magnet programs were originally developed to facilitate integration, but have not fulfilled this purpose (Orfield & Frankenberg, 2013). Rather they have mostly become known for offering an alternative to traditional schools, specifically by attracting and/or admitting higher achieving students. Urban Magnet boasts a focus on science, math, engineering, and technology (STEM) and an emphasis on college preparation. The school encourages students to take college- preparatory curriculum and reports that the “vast majority” of its seniors are accepted to four- year universities. Students can take up to 10 different Advanced Placement (AP) courses at Magnet or the regular school. Below, I describe sampling criteria and outcomes. Criteria for student sampling. Criteria for purposeful sampling of student participants included: (a) demographics, (b) high achievement, and (c) college plans. First, I sought participants who were of color, low-income and would be the first in their families to obtain a bachelor’s degree—a criterion that was met by virtue of using Urban Magnet as the research site. 61 Second, sampling high achievers was necessary given the problem motivating the study: even among high-achieving high school graduates, college completion rates are stratified by race/ethnicity and class (Lichtenberger & Dietrich, 2012; McGee, 2013). I operationalized high achievement in part by sampling from the Magnet school. Unlike a select number of district magnets with a “gifted” or “highly gifted” designation, Urban Magnet does not have specific admissions requirements (e.g., grades, test scores). All students in the district are eligible to apply. Nevertheless, because the school requires an application, Urban Magnet enrollment is a useful proxy for high achievement. Researchers have documented a self-selection process whereby students who self-identify as high-performing, who have experienced past school success, and/or whose parents are cognizant of school choice options are more likely to apply to choice schools (e.g., magnets or charters; Hoxby & Murarka, 2009). Magnet high schools also tend to draw students who were enrolled in higher academic tracks in earlier grades. To further differentiate high-achieving students among those enrolled in Magnet, I selected participants earning at least a 3.0 grade point average (GPA), completing the A-G college preparatory curriculum 9 , and taking at least one Advanced Placement (AP) course. Third, I needed participants who were college-bound in order to study college-going identity development. Due to the emphasis of the CR agenda on bachelor’s degree attainment (Barnes & Slate, 2013), I characterized college-bound as eligible for and actively applying to the state’s four-year universities and/or private colleges. Thus I selected students who were: (a) in the process of applying to four-year colleges and universities (e.g., selecting schools, taking college admissions exams, filling out applications, writing personal statements), (b) meeting the 9 The A-G curriculum is a set of courses required for admission to the University of California (UC) and California State University (CSU). A-G includes a minimum of 3 years of Math, 4 years of English, 2 years of History, 2 years of Lab Science, 2 years of Foreign Language, 1 year of Art, and 1 year of an elective. Students must pass A-G courses with a C or better to be eligible for UC/CSU admission. 62 minimum academic requirements for UC/CSU admission, and (c) receiving college-going support from one or more college access programs (e.g., enrolled in Upward Bound, attending college application workshops). Participation in college-going activities available at Urban and through outside organizations signaled that students were serious about attending college. Sample profile: Students. I recruited participants through my role in the MPC program, employing purposive, convenient, and finally snowball sampling. Upon selecting Urban as the research site, I committed to mentoring all MPC students at that school. I drafted an amendment to the program’s existing IRB clarifying how and why I would conduct research with MPC students. I was then able to include MPC students in the study conditional upon their verbal consent (See Appendix A for the student information sheet). In early fall, I recruited 14 Magnet students for the program. As I spent more time on campus, I recruited additional seniors likely to take advantage of mentoring. Ultimately, 25 Magnet students participated in MPC and all consented to participate in the study. By virtue of their eligibility for MPC, all 25 met the three sampling criteria specified above. Below I profile participants’ demographics, achievement, and college plans, focusing on the 15 informants whose selection I explain below. Demographics. The total sample of 25 included 9 males and 16 females. All were of Latina/o descent, but their attachment to their heritage varied, and their families had been in the U.S. for different periods of time. Three participants were undocumented. All except one were living below the poverty line. Of the 25 participants, I selected 15 informants—6 male and 9 female—for reasons I elaborate below. Their demographic profiles are presented in Table 6. 63 Table 6 Informants’ demographic profiles and family characteristics Name Sex Race/eth 1 Parents born Family at home Lang at home Parent jobs Parent ed Alex M Hispanic/ Mexican Mexico Mother, two brothers Spanish/ English Food Packager Some High School Analucia F Hispanic Mexico Mother, father, two sisters Spanish/ English Unemployed Elementary School Bryan M Latino/ American Mexico Mother, father, brother, sister Spanish/ English Housekeeper/ Construction Worker High School Carmen F Hispanic El Salvador Father, stepmother, two brothers English/ Spanish Mechanic High School Cindy F Latina El Salvador Mother, stepfather, one brother Spanish Gas Station Manager AA Daisy F Latina/ Hispanic Mexico Mother, father, two brothers English/ Spanish Mechanic/ Store Owner High School Daniel M Hispanic El Salvador/ Mexico Mother, sister Spanish Factory Worker Middle School Edward M Hispanic El Salvador/ Panama Mother, father, three brothers English/ Spanish School Aid/ Janitor College in Panama Emi F Hispanic El Salvador/ Mexico Mother, father Spanish Unemployed Elementary School Graciela F Chicana/ Mexican American Mexico Mother, father, sister English/ Spanish Steel Worker Middle School Hector M Hispanic El Salvador Mother, father, brother, sister-in- law, two nephews Spanish Housekeeper/ Construction Worker Middle School Juan 2 M Hispanic Mexico Mother, father, brother Spanish Food Vendor Some College Natalia F Hispanic Mexico Mother, father, brother, sister Spanish Port Truck Driver Middle School Paz F Hispanic/ Latina El Salvador/ Mexico Mother, father, sister Spanish Gardener/ Factory Worker High School Ximena F Hispanic/ Mexican American Mexico Mother, father, two brothers, two sisters Spanish Welder High School 1 I recorded participants’ race/ethnicity based on their self-reports. 2 Juan was born in Mexico and was the only undocumented student out of the 15 informants. 64 Achievement and college plans. I employed stratified purposeful sampling (Miles & Huberman, 1994) to select informants based on three criteria: (a) achievement level, with some earning all As and others earning mostly Bs and some Cs, and varied SAT scores (b) college plans, with some applying to less selective CSUs and others applying to selective private schools, and (c) extracurricular and college access program participation, with some heavily involved in school and others spending more time at home or work. Among these participants, seven became key informants: Analucia, Daisy, Daniel, Graciela, Juan, Natalia, and Hector. A final consideration in informant selection was rapport. Profiles of informants’ achievement, college plans, and program participation are shown in Table 7. I categorize students’ college goals according to institutional type/system: CSU, UC, Liberal Arts College, or Private University. 65 Table 7 Informants’ academic, college-going, and extracurricular profiles Name GPA (out of 4.0) AP Courses Taken SAT (out of 2400) College Goal Extracurricular Participation College Access Program Participation Alex 3.0 5 1700 UC Low Low Analucia * 3.8 6 1580 Priv Univ High High Bryan 3.4 4 1290 CSU Medium Low Carmen 3.1 4 1350 CSU High Low Cindy 3.4 5 1460 UC High High Daisy * 3.2 4 1200 CSU High High Daniel * 3.83 5 1600 Priv Univ Medium Low Edward 3.9 6 1460 Lib Arts Coll High High Emi 3.9 5 1310 Lib Arts Coll Medium High Graciela * 4.0 6 1610 UC High Low Hector * 3.0 3 1440 CSU Medium Medium Juan * 3.48 5 1570 UC Low Medium Natalia * 3.5 5 1310 UC Medium Low Paz 3.76 4 1330 CSU Low High Ximena 3.7 6 1510 Lib Arts Coll High Medium * Denotes key informant Criteria for school staff sampling. Because the school plays a key role in students’ self- making processes (Farrington, et al., 2012), I also sampled school employees to gain insight into students’ CR. Sampling was restricted by the size of the Magnet school and staff, which only includes one administrator, one counselor, and about ten teachers. Thus I sampled purposefully based on one criteria: the adult’s role in the building. Students interact with different types of school staff in and out of the classroom (Nunn, 2014), and how staff members perceive students’ college-going needs may vary depending on their professional role and expertise (Duncheon, 66 2015a). Thus I included participants who occupied different roles in the school: administration, counseling, teaching, and college outreach. I also sought variation among teacher participants, such as the subject taught and the course level (e.g., AP vs. college preparatory). Because the Magnet school has one teacher per grade per subject, my goal was to, at minimum, sample the seniors’ core subject teachers. Sample profile: School staff. The final staff sample consisted of 12 adults who worked with student participants in varied professional capacities: the assistant principal of Urban Magnet High School, the Magnet counselor, one Urban counselor who had previously served as college counselor, seven teachers (English, Math, Physics, Government/Economics, US History, Biology, Art/Music), the district’s college access liaison, and one college access program representative who worked in the Magnet Office. I list the staff participants’ roles and years at the school in Table 8. Securing access to school staff, who were not affiliated with the MPC program, required a proposal submitted to the district, for which I received approval in December 2014 (See Appendix B for IRB approval and district consent documents). The next section outlines methods of data collection. 67 Table 8 Staff participants’ roles and years working at Urban High School Professional Role Job Title Years at Urban 1 Administration Assistant Principal 3 * Counseling Guidance Counselor 1 * Former College Counselor 14 Teachers English Teacher 6 Math Teacher 12 Physics Teacher 9 Government/Economics Teacher 20 U.S. History Teacher 25 Biology Teacher 13 Art/Music Teacher 5 College Outreach District's College Access Liaison 1 College Access Program Liaison 2 1 This figure represents years working on Urban’s campus, not necessarily in the magnet school. Many teachers began teaching in the regular school and moved into the magnet after 5-10 years. * These staff members had worked at Urban High School for several years about a decade prior, and then went to other schools before returning. This figure indicates only the years since their return. Data Collection Data collection spanned from late August 2014 to the end of the school year in May 2015. The most intense period of fieldwork occurred from September to February. I collected data via participant observations, interviews, focus groups, and documents. Participant observations. I completed 240 hours of observations, of which 160 hours occurred between August and December. The bulk of my fieldwork took place at the school. I conducted observations at Urban three times per week on average. What time I arrived at campus and how long I stayed depended on participants’ schedules. I observed students in the Magnet 68 office or computer lab, spaces students frequented during their off periods 10 . Each week, students arranged at least one meeting with me to work on their applications. These meetings doubled as mentoring and participant observation. I helped students create lists of potential colleges, register and study for admissions exams, brainstorm and revise personal statements, and complete applications. When I did not have meetings scheduled, I observed participants in the offices or other common spaces, attending college events, working on their college applications, studying for classes, and spending time with friends. I answered questions and observed their interactions with each other and school staff members who came and went. After school, I would either meet with students to provide college help or observe them in their activities. Several students were part of the student leadership group, for instance, which planned movie nights, fundraisers at local restaurants, and monthly potlucks for magnet students and their families. Many participants attended tutoring at least once or twice per week. Others attended application workshops and campus visits sponsored by college access programs. When not participating in a scheduled activity, the students often stayed on campus just to spend time together and work on their applications. I conducted a handful of weekend observations when the students had college- or school-relevant activities. I also accompanied the counselor and student participants on recruiting events, such as a parent meeting at a local middle school. Since much of my time was spent helping students apply to college, I developed diverse strategies for recording fieldnotes. At times I would take handwritten notes in my notebook. I also used my iPhone to record observations in the “Notes” application. Participants assumed I was texting or checking my email. Other times I typed fieldnotes into a Word document on my laptop. This third strategy was ideal because I could record the most verbatim dialogue, but 10 By off periods, I mean either service periods, when the student was assigned to help the counselor, or home periods, when the student was permitted to leave campus. 69 worked best when I was sitting apart from participants. Handwritten notes were later typed and iPhone notes emailed to compile all fieldnotes in one electronic file for analysis. Interviews. I conducted formal one-on-one interviews with all 25 student participants (See Appendix C) and informal follow-ups with each informant between September and February. The interviews were semi-structured and ranged from 46 to 122 minutes with an average duration of 66 minutes. I allotted space for rapport building and relevant side stories or digressions if/when they arose. With participants who were more reticent, I relied heavily on probing. With those who spoke more freely, I interjected to refocus on the protocol. I scheduled interviews with students at their convenience, either during an off period or after school. Given that most of the interviews took longer than an hour, roughly half were completed across two or three separate meetings. Interviews were frequently conducted outside in the courtyard and cafeteria areas, which were empty during non-lunch periods and allowed for confidentiality. I also conducted formal one-on-one interviews with the assistant principal, counselors, and six teachers (See Appendix D). Interview questions addressed staff members’ perceptions of what college readiness means, how the school prepares students for college, and how students see themselves. Staff interviews were scheduled between January and March. These interviews were also semi-structured and lasted an average of 60 minutes, with durations spanning from 19 to 128. I scheduled staff interviews based on the participants’ availability. These interviews were conducted in empty offices and classrooms and via Skype. All formal interviews were audio recorded and the files were sent to an external transcription service. I listened to each recording at least once to review the completed transcripts and correct any possible errors. When questions arose regarding what was said or 70 meant, I sought clarification from the participant. All participants were invited to review their transcripts directly but only one student chose to do so. Focus groups. In addition to one-on-one interviews, I conducted four focus groups with student participants between October and January. The first two focus groups used the protocols included in Appendices E and F, and the second two were informal discussions of current events and student reflections 11 . Focus groups were designed to elicit data not uncovered in one-on-one interviews or observations and to support triangulation. They ranged in size from five to nine students. I included students who (a) represented a range of achievement levels and college goals and (b) were available and interested in participating. Focus groups were audio recorded and I completed the transcriptions to ensure commentary was attributed to the correct speaker. Because the students enjoyed the focus groups, we continued gathering informally on Fridays after school. In February, for example, I initiated a book group with seven participants who were interested. We spent two Fridays discussing the first few chapters of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, but then attendance waned and we stopped meeting. These Friday groups offered insight into students’ academic backgrounds, abilities, experiences in and out of school, and their reflections on college, living in a low-income urban neighborhood, and society more generally. Documents. I collected and analyzed a range of documents, both physical and digital. Documents provided insight into students’ academic progress, family life, cultural backgrounds, and identities as well as their school context. I distributed and collected demographic questionnaires from each participant (See Appendix G). I also obtained copies of their academic transcripts and college documents (e.g., EOP applications). Personal statements were a rich data 11 One focus group took place shortly after the Mike Brown shooting in Ferguson, MO and we spent the afternoon discussing their experiences with police and perceptions of the Black Lives Matter movement. Notably, students had not had sustained opportunities in any of their classes to discuss/analyze the events in Ferguson and/or the region’s historical and contemporary context. 71 source; I met with students as they drafted and revised their essays. Other physical documents included scholarship essays, job applications, class assignments, and financial aid forms. Electronic sources provided additional data. Examples included emails, text messages, Facebook posts, Instagram pictures, and tweets. Though participants’ social media use varied substantially, I studied the content of active users. I also compiled document data on Urban High School generally and Urban Magnet specifically such as data summary sheets, internal evaluations, and school report cards from the district. Urban’s website had information on the SLCs, staff and faculty, school schedules, after school activities, and graduation and college eligibility requirements. Urban Magnet’s website detailed its STEM-focus, college-preparatory mission, and other program information. On campus, I collected physical documents such as fliers and handouts distributed to students and/or parents or available in the magnet office. I particularly focused on those relevant to college going (e.g., SAT testing deadlines). I also took pictures of announcements written on the white board in the office. Documents were collected and organized by topic and date to facilitate data analysis. Data Analysis Data analysis took place concurrently with data collection. During my hour-long rides home from Urban, I reflected aloud into an audio recorder. I noted additional observations and possible interpretations, which I later reviewed and/or transcribed. I employed Miles and Huberman’s (1994) three stages of iterative data analysis: (a) data reduction, (b) data display, and (c) conclusion drawing/verification. The first stage entailed organizing, simplifying, selecting, summarizing, and memoing about data. I organized data in different electronic folders by date and based on their source—fieldnotes, interview and focus group transcripts, documents, and memos. Physical documents were organized by hand. I maintained documents such as 72 interview transcripts and fieldnotes in their original forms, even if large portions appeared irrelevant after the fact. To focus on a particular chunk of data, I created separate documents so that I could always reference its original context. Transcribing, coding, and creating categories were also part of the data reduction stage. I developed a short list of broad a priori codes based on theory and literature (e.g., types of community cultural wealth) that I used in conjunction with open coding. I completed additional cycles of coding to develop initial categories. I did not utilize data analysis software but instead used Microsoft Word to compile data by code and then category. The constant comparative method helped to identify relationships and refine categories as more data were collected and analyzed (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). Rereading and revising categories of data supported stage two (data display; Miles & Huberman, 1994). Data display involved generating “an organized, compressed assembly of information that permits conclusion drawing and action” (Miles & Huberman, 1994, p. 11). I employed charts, matrices, networks, and other visual organizers to help make sense of the data. I created graphic organizers by hand or in Microsoft Power Point. In the third stage, conclusion drawing and verification, I developed interpretations and employed various strategies to verify them (e.g., returning to fieldnotes, analytical questioning). I relied on a strategy termed analytical questioning (Neumann, 2006) to assist with each stage of analysis. This approach uses three levels of questions to engage with and interpret data. The first level directly addresses a specific data point, for instance: what does this student say the school has done to help him or her access college-going information? The second level helps construct categories. For example, what brokerage strategies does the school use to provide students access to college-going information? The third level of questioning buttresses analytical claims, such as: How does the school enhance students’ access to college-going information? 73 How does the school impede students’ access? Why? Analytical questioning was also useful to guide memoing, which I did throughout the data analysis process. Trustworthiness and Researcher Roles As mentioned earlier in the chapter, trustworthiness refers to four criteria for ensuring the rigor of qualitative research (Guba, 1981; Lincoln, 2001; Tierney & Clemens, 2011). I elaborate on the strategies used to ensure each criterion below, and then discuss researcher roles. Credibility. The first is credibility, or whether the data and interpretations are plausible to participants. Triangulation, member checks, prolonged engagement, and the constant comparative method (discussed above) help to enhance credibility (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). I relied on two primary forms of triangulation: data triangulation, or using multiple data sources to offer insight into a person, setting, or phenomenon, and methodological triangulation, or employing multiple approaches to data collection (Mathison, 1988). Collecting data about each participant and the school over several months enabled triangulation across sources. For example, I observed students in different settings, such as the college office, tutoring, and Magnet community events after school, and at different times of the school year. I also used multiple methods such as interviews, observations, and documents, which facilitated methodological triangulation. For instance, observations of bulletin boards in the Magnet Office, participants’ comments during focus groups, and the school’s website all suggested that preparing students for college was one aspect of the program’s mission. I conducted member checks via informal conversations with participants. I asked about what was said in interviews, what was observed in the field, and how I was interpreting data. Member checking was particularly important given that my educational background and demographic characteristics were unlike those of the student participants. Prolonged engagement 74 entailed visiting the research site multiple times per week for several months. Though a longer timeframe is desirable for ethnography, I was limited to one school year. Transferability. The second criterion for trustworthiness is transferability, or the extent to which findings may be used to understand similar phenomena in other contexts. One strategy to improve transferability is thick description, or writing with as much detail as possible so as to accurately depict the research setting (Geertz, 1973). Throughout this manuscript and particularly in chapter 4, I strove for detailed and careful writing. Dependability. Third, trustworthiness involves dependability, or showing that findings are consistent and replicable (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Dependability concerns whether the process of inquiry is logical given its purpose, and requires recording the research process and tying the design to the research questions. I have shown in this chapter how design and method were aligned to the study’s questions. For instance, interview questions asked how students categorized themselves (i.e., identity), related to their family and culture (i.e., community cultural wealth), received college support from peers, school staff, and outside organizations (i.e., social capital) and made sense of CR (i.e., dominant cultural capital; See Appendix C). Confirmability. Confirmability—making sure the findings are verifiable and, to the greatest extent possible, unbiased—is the fourth criterion (Lincoln & Guba, 1985; Miles & Huberman, 1994). Consistent with Lincoln and Guba’s (1985) recommendation to develop an audit trail, I documented and retained all aspects of the research process (e.g., raw data, protocols, notes, memos, etc.). As specified above, all data, coding schemes, and graphic organizers were carefully organized to illustrate how the research process unfolded and how findings were derived. Reflexivity, or attentiveness to the research context and the researcher’s role, is also important to confirmability, which I elaborate next. 75 Positionality and subjectivity. Because complete objectivity is not possible in qualitative research, the goal is to diminish bias (Angrosino & Mays de Perez, 2000; Peshkin, 1988). Attention to one’s positionality, or “the connection between the researcher’s socially constructed identities and those of participants,” is crucial (Jones et al., 2006, p. 79). I was particularly concerned with my positionality given the research focus on culture. I am a white, middle class woman and former urban high school teacher. Students who are low-income and of color experience marginalization in ways I do not. Using Fine’s (1994) strategy, “working the hyphen,” I considered how my positionality shaped the research process and discussed these issues with participants in formal (e.g., focus groups) and informal (e.g., conversations) settings. I also considered how my dual role as a researcher and mentor influenced subjectivity. As participants’ MPC mentor, I was actively involved in all aspects of their college application process, from editing personal statements to deciphering tax documents. I was a resource broker. My mentoring shaped the data, my interpretations, and perhaps even students’ perceptions of themselves. I employed two strategies to diminish potential bias. First was writing. I did reflexive memoing and bracketing when reviewing fieldnotes and other data (Hatch, 2002). Second, I was intentional about offering the same outreach opportunities to all students. Recognizing that personalities vary and some students are more inclined to ask for help, I made extensive efforts to reach out to all participants via email, phone, text, and office summons. Whether, how, and why participants responded to my outreach provided insight into their college-going identities. For instance, among those who were less responsive, some were unable or unwilling to meet specified application criteria, and others were relying on different programs for help. Certain students were highly responsive and reached out on their own. Focusing on how participants utilized MPC allowed me to, in some sense, control for my involvement as a mentor. 76 A final challenge pertained to switching roles. For example, I often hesitated to request an interview with a student who was desperately concerned about his or her personal statement. This challenge lessened over time as participants completed their applications and I became more comfortable soliciting their help with the study. Later, I struggled with removing myself from the research setting to focus on writing (Lofland & Lofland, 1995). I gradually decreased my campus visits and remained available to students via email, text, and phone, but students and staff made it clear that my physical absence was noticed. Chapter 3 Summary Chapter 3 has addressed how I operationalized the study via discussion of research design and method. I ask how first generation students use social and cultural capital to define themselves as college-bound in an urban high school. A secondary concern is whether and how the school shapes this process by engaging in resource brokerage. A sociocultural perspective on identity formation as context-laden and culturally-bound suggests the utility of ethnography to explore the research questions. Data were collected via participant observations, interviews, focus groups, and documents. Data analysis occurred concurrently. Ensuring trustworthiness and negotiating my role were central priorities throughout the inquiry process. At the start of this chapter, Natalia defended her comment about my being a “nice Caucasian” by suggesting that “she’s one of us now.” Her comments reveal less about me as the researcher and more about the students with whom I spent the past year. These young people welcomed me into their world with open hearts so that I might better understand the college- going trajectories of first generation urban youth. I turn now to the data, where I invite the reader inside the walls of Urban Magnet High School and the lives of its college-bound seniors. 77 Chapter 4 Brokering Resources, Constructing Identities “I want to go to college because I just want to succeed. I want to be educated, most importantly. I think being educated is important.” —Paz, Senior “We are here from a program called MPC, Mentoring Pathways to College,” my colleague Miguel explained to a room of 14 seniors, all Latina/o except for two, who were Black. Each wore a burgundy or grey polo shirt, as required by the school. “If you participate in our program, we provide you with support throughout the college application process, writing personal statements, financial aid, things like that.” Motioning to me, Miguel continued, “This is Julia, and she is going to be the MPC mentor here at Urban. We’re going to tell you a bit about MPC and then you can ask any questions you have.” It was 11:32 in the morning, twelve minutes into the students’ lunch period, on a Thursday in late August. We stood by the door of the SLC2 Computer Lab, located in the back of campus near the counseling office. Always open and typically unmonitored by a specific staff member, the spacious room had a bright atmosphere despite the lack of windows. Posters from various postsecondary institutions, from large public state universities to small liberal arts colleges, lined the top of one wall. Another wall featured a handful of college pennants. Fliers with useful information such as lists of no-loans schools and SAT testing deadlines were posted near the entrance. A long table cluttered with paper and a mostly empty bookshelf lined the back of the room. A white board ran the length of the wall behind us, although nobody seemed to use 78 it; the writing was old and faded and there were never dry erase markers handy. The lab was furnished with 26 computers and 2 printers that ran somewhat inconsistently. When not reserved for teachers’ use or online credit recovery, the SLC2 lab was the place students came to receive college-going support. One-to-two days a week, staff from college access programs spent the day in the lab, offering application assistance. On occasion, representatives from local colleges and organizations gave presentations during lunch to any students who were aware and interested. Such was the case on this particular morning, when Miguel and I had visited to recruit seniors for our mentoring program. After the presentation and a brief Q&A, we filed out of the computer lab behind the students, commenting that the turnout had been rather disappointing. We glanced down the outdoor hallway and noticed an open door with a large colorful sign: “Magnet Office.” “That must be for the other school,” Miguel commented. “Maybe we should go recruit there?” Twelve students were sitting or standing around the small rectangular office—some perusing open textbooks, some waiting to meet with the counselor, and the rest chatting quietly. We described MPC to the counselor, Ms. Velasquez, and she warmly gathered the students’ attention. Two girls named Daisy and Carmen, who I later learned were active in senior leadership, smiled and nodded enthusiastically as we spoke. When we finished, a tall thin boy with a shy grin introduced himself as Francisco, gushing that he was “really excited” we had come because “I just don’t know anything about college but I know that I want to go.” Paz, quoted at the start of this chapter, filled out a sign-up sheet and politely thanked me for coming. I made plans to come back early the following week, emphasizing how excited I was to work with them. As we walked out the door, I overheard Daisy saying, “She’s just so sparkly!”, a word that signified “happy or good,” and one that I came to hear often in my time at Urban Magnet. 79 Recall the study’s intent: to investigate how low-income students of color use social and cultural capital to develop college-going identities, and how the school in particular brokers these resources. College-going identity is defined as seeing college-going as part of oneself and developing the confidence and skills to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural identity and/or community (Oakes et al., 2002). I use the term community-based capital to denote cultural wealth. School-based capital refers to social ties, organizational ties, and dominant cultural capital. Together these forms comprise what I am defining as college-going capital. In preview, I highlight the study’s three findings. First, students used diverse forms of college-going capital to construct college-going identities, but especially relied on dominant cultural capital. Second, the school enhanced students’ school-based capital, in part by bridging students’ community-based capital. Third, the school’s effectiveness as a broker was limited, which had consequences for students’ college-going identities. In particular, students interpreted college-going capital within the confines of Urban’s local context and graduated with an inflated sense of their own preparation. This chapter illustrates these findings by way of cultural data—interviews, personal histories, narratives, and observations. I offer a glimpse into the social world of Urban Magnet High School and the lives of its college-bound seniors. Following a brief description of the school setting, I organize data presentation in two parts. First, I exemplify how students drew on diverse forms of capital to construct college-going identities and how the school brokered those resources. Second, I address the limitations of brokerage, highlighting implications for students’ identities. 80 Setting the Stage: A Tour of Urban High School Urban High School was in the midst of a large remodeling project. The original red brick façade of the main building was now covered in metal screens, creating a modern office look. The name of the school appeared in large red block lettering over the entrance. Three sets of double metal doors, two of which remained locked throughout the school day, formed the main entry. Just inside the open door on the left, one or two school aides were stationed at a desk, ready to sign in guests and sign out students permitted to leave campus. Beyond the desk on the left were the main offices. To the right was a three-story building with a recently remodeled interior that contained classrooms for the main school. Straight ahead was a large outdoor courtyard. Grass covered an area about half the size of a soccer field on the immediate right, where students threw a football or played soccer during lunch. Farther down was a non-running fountain and a paved area covered in round red picnic tables. Plastic umbrellas at each table and scattered trees provided sanctuary from the California sun. At the opposite end, painted block letters spelled Urban’s mascot across the top of a cement building that housed the gym. The section of campus to the left of the courtyard, formerly home to the library, traditional classrooms, and portables, had become an active construction site. A temporary chain link fence with green screens demarcated the border. Hammering and clanging sounds echoed from the site, stifling conversation among passersby. The noise level varied day-to-day and typically went silent or unnoticed during Friday lunchtime rallies. Across from the construction site was the cafeteria, a mostly outdoor space filled with long tables and benches under a cement awning. To the left was the indoor cafeteria, also 81 containing long rectangular tables, a space where participants attended after school tutoring with Upward Bound and held Magnet community potlucks when the weather was cold. At the end of the courtyard, a path ran behind the cafeteria to another section of campus, home to the PLC2 computer lab, the main school counseling office, and the Magnet Office. At the end of the road was a separate building with its own classrooms and set of portables—it was in this space, hidden in the back right corner and somewhat detached from the main school, where Urban Magnet students attended their classes and spent the majority of their time. Adjacent to the Magnet buildings were a garden and a community health center that offered free services to Urban students. A series of athletic spaces formed the back perimeter of Urban High School: tennis courts, a softball field, a football stadium, and a baseball diamond. See Figure 5 for a map of Urban High School’s campus. 82 Figure 5. Map of Urban High School’s campus Part 1. Brokering College-Going Capital for College-Bound Youth “How would you describe yourself?” and “How do you think society would describe you?” were two questions I asked each student participant. Students’ responses indicated varying degrees of attachment to their Latina/o culture and community. Daniel commented: Well I don’t know, I think, because a lot of people will say like, “What are you? Are you Hispanic?” But I don’t know, I just tell them I’m American, from here. Because I like the KEY 1. Main entrance 2. Main office 3. Main school classrooms 4. Quad 5. Construction 6. Gym 7. Cafeteria 8. Magnet office 9. Magnet classrooms 10. Garden and community health center 11. Athletic fields 12. Parking lots 13. Back entrance, locked during school day 8 1 3 2 3 3 4 7 9 5 5 11 12 12 12 12 6 13 9 10 83 culture that the United States has and I’m not really into the culture from my parents as much. I guess the food, that’s pretty much it. We don’t go to church, we don’t celebrate Cinco de Mayo or anything like that. Juan, an undocumented student who was born in Mexico and moved here at the age of four, responded: Well, I'm very proud of being an immigrant, which is really weird, because most people go, “Oh don’t call me an immigrant.” But yeah, I love being an immigrant. I think that's one thing that has helped me a lot, because […] I’m like, “I am an immigrant, so I need to work harder. I have to succeed. There is no other choice for me.” Some students reported feeling highly connected to their Latina/o heritage despite being born and raised in the United States. As Ximena shared, “I’m a very, uh, Hispanic person. Like my culture is really strong. When it comes to Mexican, like I prefer Mexican food. I like their festivities so my culture, it, it’s there. And it’s Mexican. And my language, my first language is Spanish.” Explaining her determination to never give up in school, Natalia explained: “We’re from Jalisco, Mexico, and there’s a saying that says ‘Los de Jalisco no se grajan,’ which means we don’t back down. It’s a slang term.” Students often spoke Spanglish with one another at school, as well as with some Latina/o staff, slipping easily between Spanish and English. Carmen reflected that her attachment to her cultural and ethnic roots varied depended on whom she was with. “There will be times where race doesn’t matter but then there’s situations where… Even though I was born here, I have that family connection and the fact that I go to El Salvador often. I have that pride to say, ‘I am from El Salvador.’ I feel good about it.” Graciela reported that how she identified changed after she took a Chicano Studies class at a local community college: 84 [Prior to the course], I identified myself as a Hispanic. Reason being because I’m Mexican and so-and-so, and I celebrate all these traditions that most Mexicans do. But now […] I define myself as a Chicana because I’ve known the struggles that we have gone through, and yet we are still fighting. Daisy pointed out that others’ perceptions of her tended to vary from her own. “Well, I’m Hispanic, I guess I’m a Latina, but when people listen to me talk they think I’m White and I don’t know why, I get offended. I’m like, ‘Why do you think I’m White?’” A handful of students, like Cindy, rejected social classifications: “I guess the way [my mother] has raised me hasn’t given me that mentality that I can define myself as this, this, this. I don’t categorize myself as anything.” Emi echoed this sentiment, “I don’t celebrate anything from any culture. I don’t even celebrate Christmas.” While students differentially identified with positional identities pertaining to culture and race/ethnicity, all participants identified with achieving in school and going to college. When I asked them to describe themselves as students, their answers were similar. Paz, for instance, self- defined as “very dedicated” and Natalia as “proactive.” Daniel defined himself as “a top student,” explaining, “I guess I’m very intelligent and I do my work.” Participants’ social media accounts often reflected their identifications with school achievement; Daisy posted pictures of her peer group to Instagram with the hashtags #scholars and #professionalscholars. Although some participants acknowledged that their performance “depends on the subject” or “is a little lower than it could be,” by and large students described themselves as high achieving or possessing high potential to achieve. As Cindy reflected, “I guess I'm a procrastinator as a student, but I see myself as someone who’s smart, and who actually pays attention.” All participants intended to earn a bachelor’s degree. 85 How did these youth come to see themselves as top students who would attend college? This section illustrates how students accessed and mobilized diverse forms of social and cultural capital to develop college-going identities and how the school played a central role in this process. I present data around three themes that spotlight each form of school-based capital: “Magnet Family” (social ties), “They Bring People In” (organizational ties), and “Scholars” (dominant cultural capital). Students’ use of community cultural wealth—in particular aspirational, navigational, and familial—is reflected across all themes. My intention with part 1 is to portray the social world of Urban Magnet High School in the manner in which its actors interpreted it. I am not, in other words, attempting to convey “truth” so much as emic knowledge and participants’ meaning-making. In part 2, when I discuss the limitations of organizational brokerage to support students’ identity development, I take a step back to provide a bird’s eye view of Urban Magnet High School and its students in the broader context. “Magnet Family”: The Role of Social Ties Ms. Velasquez spoke into a standing microphone at the front of a large auditorium at Central Middle School. Five Magnet seniors—Carmen, Cindy, Daisy, Emi, and Hector—were lined up side-by-side behind her. Each had just presented in Spanish about their experience at Urban Magnet, except Emi, who was too shy to speak and opted just to stand with her peers. The speakers reflected on the benefits of their program, pointing out that “our teachers are on top of us,” and “the Magnet Office is always open.” Four rows of ten chairs lined each side of a center aisle, filling the front half of the auditorium. Over 50 parents and their children sat in the audience. A few parents and middle school students stood on the sides and at the back, two with strollers and one cradling an infant. Families listened intently as Ms. Velasquez encouraged them to apply to Urban Magnet: 86 “Para mí, creo que la mayor distinción que hay es el sentirse como si son parte de familia los alumnos. En cada grado que están ellos todos se conocen, y todos los maestros conocen a los alumnos…” (For me I believe the major distinction that there is [between Urban High School and Urban Magnet High School], is the feeling as if the students are part of a family. In each grade they all know each other, and all the teachers know the students…) Ms. Velasquez and the seniors had come to Central on a Friday night in November to recruit Urban Magnet High School’s next freshman class. She had treated the students to dinner at Panda Express prior to the event, where Daisy had gushed that she was “so excited to have something to do on a Friday night,” prompting affirmative nods from her friends. At the back of Central’s auditorium, they had arranged a table displaying brochures and information packets about Urban Magnet for prospective students and parents. A large board described extracurricular and academic opportunities, the “Advantages of the Magnet,” and “Student Expectations” (See Figure 6). The last bullet on the “Advantages” list read: “Students are highly motivated and college prepared with rigorous curriculum.” A slide show of pictures played on a laptop, showcasing students and teachers at a variety of events. After the presentation, parents approached the table and the Magnet students joined them, pleased to answer their questions and hand out red pencils bearing the school’s name. 87 Figure 6. Urban Magnet marketing materials Magnet staff and students alike referred to the school community as a family. Students developed strong social ties with peers and adults in the building, which provided various forms of academic and college-going support. While the youth emphasized the school’s intimate size and dedicated staff, the adults tended to attribute the close-knit community atmosphere to the students. As the former college counselor remarked, “All of them are Latino or African American and I think one of the characteristics of those cultures is [being] very community- oriented. You know, it’s not as individualistic as [European] American culture.” The physics teacher similarly observed: “Family is really important to them and they bring that camaraderie, I don't know if that’s the right word, but they really stick up for each other it seems like. You don’t see cliques forming or… It just seems like in Magnet that everybody is like a family.” Students’ strong family values were evident in the way they spoke about their immediate and extended kinship networks. Judith, for instance, was an undocumented student from Mexico who wore glasses and loved to dance. Most of her social media posts were pictures of family, particularly her two younger siblings. She recalled her favorite memory from a road trip to Texas to celebrate Christmas with her aunts, uncles, and cousins: 88 Our car broke down, and we were stuck on Williams, Arizona and it was snowy, it was during the winter, snowing and so cold, and it was a good and a bittersweet moment. Because we were stuck in a motel, a hotel, no, an inn. And you could tell my parents were really scared, but I just enjoyed the moment, because we finally had some family time together […] and it was like you could feel the care of that family and, I don’t know, I think you could tell we were really close, the relationship, how the bond that we have is like so fun, and it’s like my siblings were there, and… only my dog was missing. All participants identified at least one family member as having influenced their life in significant ways. For Graciela and Paz, their older sisters were pillars in their lives, and Cindy spoke of her close relationship with her mother. Alex described spending most of his out-of- school time with his mother and brothers, either running errands on the weekend or watching movies. Friday night, he explained, was movie night: “It’s movies all night until the next day. Just me and my little brother.” Reflecting on who had most influenced him, Alex said: My mom. I heard her talk about her fear of being alone with just me and my brothers originally. [But] she was able to pull through and still support us even without my dad alongside. She kept us stable and together and I really admire that. After elaborating on his admiration for his mother, Alex continued: My older brother [has influenced me too]. Even though he hasn’t been the smartest, he hasn’t made the best decisions, but I can see that he’s determined to be something better in life. I think that’s inspirational because if I’m a little better than him academic wise with the grades, I can do what he can do and go further or we can go further together. 89 Alex’s comment that he would be able to go further than his brother or “we can go further together” embodies the kind of community orientation and caring that participants exhibited, not only for their relatives but also for their friends at school. Social ties among peers: “We encourage each other.” Students at Urban Magnet demonstrated high levels of caring for one another personally as well as academically. As the physics teacher had surmised, participants did not form cliques. Bullying and exclusionary behaviors were largely unheard of. Cindy admitted that two students in particular were “mean,” but continued, “however, because they do like have a soft nice friendly side to them, we keep in communication.” Other students agreed, emphasizing that they were all friends; as Carmen said, “being in Magnet you have the opportunity to be part of different people’s groups.” Participants’ interactions substantiated their reports of inclusivity and friendliness. At the winter formal on a Saturday in February, for instance, students attended the event as a large group, even those with significant others. Popular Latin music blasted through the speakers, and students sang along, breaking into salsa or merengue. Students formed a large circle to allot space for everyone on the dance floor. They cheered for any peer who entered the middle to dance—regardless of his or her skill level. Those who were sitting alone at tables along the side were approached by a friend or two and invited to dance. Students also cared for one another’s academic progress, helping each other with assignments, recalling teachers’ instructions, and exchanging study techniques. At Upward Bound tutoring every Monday, participants studied for Mr. Roberts’ economics tests. Daisy once advised Vanessa to recall the definition of a “traditional economy” by thinking of “quinceañera,” a celebration in Latina culture when youth turn 15. Cindy described a finals week when she had been too lazy to study, and Daisy spent her lunch period quizzing her with flashcards. 90 Students’ friendships and peer networks largely revolved around school and college aspirations. When asked when and how they spend time together, participants explained that most of their social gatherings were tied to school events or obligations. Analucia explained: Usually the events we have for Magnet like the potlucks or staying after school together and like, um, what else? And it’s funny because we say, “Let’s go to the movies,” and stuff, but that never happens, and the times that we have fun it has something to do with school or school events or stuff like that, football games. Frequent conversation topics also pertained to school or college. Daisy—who was particularly cheerful and full of school spirit—responded enthusiastically to the question, “What do you talk about with your friends?” with: “Oh my God, all we do is talk about leadership or college, or where we’re applying to. And what we’re going to do and how successful we’re going to be.” As usual, she grinned from ear to ear as she spoke rapidly, revealing a full set of braces. Paz, who was much more reserved, offered a similar response in her characteristically quiet tone, pausing to reflect between words and sentences: “We usually talk about what we’re gonna, like what we’re gonna do after high school. […] Or sometimes when we need help on something we’ll help each other.” Male students were more likely than their female counterparts to talk about video games with their friends or, as Daniel reported, “nothing specific we talk about everything.” But most still mentioned school. Juan commented: “Well, we mostly talk about either school, other friends that are not with us at the moment. Yeah, um, we talk about video games. We talk about life in general, just like ‘What are we going to do after school is over?’” According to Edward, “We always end up talking about school in a way. Also we talk about each other’s interests, a favorite band or stuff, something like that.” 91 Observational data corroborated students’ self-reports about their academically oriented peer groups and friendships. When participants spent time together outside class, it was at a school-sponsored activity—either a fundraiser student leadership, a community event such as a movie night or potluck, or a college-related workshop or opportunity. Students often asked me to stay after school on their only free afternoons—Fridays—so we could all “hang out and talk about college,” or so I could, in Daisy’s words, “ask us more questions about our school!” Conversations in the Magnet Office typically focused on upcoming assignments and tests, school events like winter formal, or college concerns. One time, while filling out his application to New York University at one of the office computers, Daniel solicited the advice of the four other seniors present—three male and one female—as to how he should answer some of the short- answer questions. “Guys, I shouldn’t put ‘video games’ as my favorite pastime, right? That would sound bad, right?” Certainly, the students also spent time gossiping about their teachers, friends, and significant others, but school was a primary focus because students had little opportunity outside the building to interact. One reason for this pertained to the neighborhood. Like many of the girls, Emi reported that her parents hardly let her out of the house due to safety concerns; when the students did spend time together, it was at Urban Magnet. Participants spent most of their time when not at school with their siblings, parents, and/or extended family. That students devoted much of their social conversation to educational topics also speaks to the fact that they were a self-selected group—they had chosen to attend a magnet program and bonded around a shared identity as high-achieving, college-bound youth, one that, in their view, distinctly differed from that of youth in their neighborhoods who joined gangs or ditched class. 92 Indeed, talking about school and college was a way they distinguished themselves from students in the regular school, who they perceived were more prone to negative behaviors. In one focus group, participants were lamenting community problems such as gang members or dropouts. I asked how they were able to stay focused on academics. Graciela replied, “I think it’s pretty much people who have a common goal. Like we all have the common goal to—” “Go to university!” exclaimed several voices in unison. “—So what we’re supposed to do,” Graciela continued, “is that—the same thing.” In this exchange, “we” referred not only to the group of friends present that afternoon but, more broadly, students in the magnet program. Peer support was especially evident around the college application process. When I asked Paz who had been most influential in helping her prepare for college, for instance, she responded, “I’ll say … My friends. I think we encourage each other. Like we all hang in a group and we’ll talk about college and that’s how I stay informed.” Students also served as each other’s cheerleaders as they navigated the application process. Milestones were celebrated communally, as on this afternoon in late-November in the SLC2 computer lab: “Okay! Sent! Submitted!” Daisy threw her hands in the air and jumped out of her chair. The room erupted in applause as Ms. Velasquez and the seven other students present began clapping and cheering. “You did it, Daisy!” Vanessa said, leaning across her computer and extending a high- five. Other students offered hugs and congratulations. “I feel so relieved!” Daisy exclaimed. 93 “Nice job!” Ms. Velasquez gave an affirming nod and warm smile, and then turned her attention to the students still sitting at computers. “Is anyone else ready to submit? Who else needs their application checked? Remember that either I have to check it, or Julia, or Mr. Ruiz.” “And I can help someone now,” added Daisy, “since I’m done with mine.” This type of social support was common in Magnet. Most participants worked on and submitted their applications at school, with their friends and at least one staff member present. Students both received and offered help, like Daisy, who celebrated her own accomplishment for only a few moments before offering assistance to her peers. In the spring semester, a similar pattern emerged around the FAFSA. At one Saturday financial aid workshop, three students were present who had submitted their forms the afternoon before. I asked why they had come and Analucia replied, “Oh well we just came to help the other students and parents.” Vanessa added, “Plus it’s something to do together on a Saturday.” High levels of peer support helped to cultivate a culture of pride and possibility around college-going. One afternoon, when several students were confiding that they felt stressed about applying and being admitted to college, Natalia boosted morale: But you guys we have to remember also though, that it doesn’t matter where you go, so long as you do what you gotta do, and we’re determined, no matter where we go it’s gonna be a good college. Regardless of if you go to a prestigious college or not so known college, anywhere you go, you should be proud of that, that you’re going. These peer ties were especially important because participants’ parents typically did not have the time, knowledge, and financial resources to oversee the college application process at home. The students built their own support system at school, where they could depend on one another. Adults in the building also played a critical role, which I discuss next. 94 Social ties to staff: “They’re here to help us in anything.” The culture of kinship was embraced and reinforced by the staff, who showed dedication to students’ lives in various ways. Staff members often sponsored and attended activities such as athletic games and community potlucks. On one occasion, the students requested the assistant principal’s presence at a movie night to watch Disney’s Frozen; he brought his four-year-old daughter who, clad in her blue Elsa dress, sent giggles around the room as she sang along with every song. Students described feeling that the adults in the building genuinely cared for their well- being. According to Cindy, “We get one-on-one not only with our counselors but with our teachers. Like my AP U.S. History teacher [from] last year still asks me how I’m doing, what’s going on.” Edward contrasted his horrible experience in middle school, where he felt teachers did not care for students, with his experience at Urban: “High school was way different. Especially in the magnet community since it’s just much smaller. The [teachers] even put more [effort], especially Mr. Anderson. For every homework assignment he’s like, ‘Why didn't you submit it? Is something wrong?’” Perhaps one of the clearest examples of staff’s devotion to students is the story of how the two most senior teachers stayed through the reconstitution of Urban High School in 2010. Reconstitution, part of the broader accountability movement initiated by No Child Left Behind, is a process whereby a struggling school is closed down and reopened. Typically the staff is let go and required to reapply for their jobs. While the reconstitution of Urban reportedly led to a higher graduation rate, the magnet school was still recovering from its negative repercussions. Mr. Roberts, who had been at Urban High since 1994 and Urban Magnet since 2004, was a central player at the school. His name came up in interviews and conversations with both students and staff, and he was often found in his classroom or on campus from early in the 95 morning until late into the evening. While offering a brief history of the magnet program, he confided that Urban’s reconstitution “decimated us.” When staff were asked to reapply for their jobs, 7 out of the 10 Magnet teachers felt “this was like the last injustice” and left the school. He characterized their frustration: “I’ve put up with lack of funds, I’ve put up with lack of supplies, I’ve put up with this carousel of administrators. I’m done.” Unfortunately, he continued, “students were lost in the turmoil” as well. He had initially considered leaving the school too, but then Mr. Anderson and I got talking, and it was like, you know, if we leave, there’s nobody left. The program’s gonna die. And we had put a lot of time and a lot of energy and sacrifice into it, and we’d hate to see this fall apart. We felt bad for the kids. [...] We agreed basically that we were gonna stay together and the social studies department will be solid and we’ll try to hold this school together so that’s where my increased role in the school started. Mr. Roberts’ increased role included, among other duties, spearheading staff and student recruitment, sponsoring the student leadership group, and coaching the softball team. He and Mr. Anderson, whom I discuss in more detail later, remain a stabilizing force at Urban Magnet. That student participants felt supported and cared for by the Magnet staff was evident in the way they spoke about them. Hector was a 17-year-old senior, the youngest of three boys, and the first in his family to pursue a four-year college degree. He spoke openly about his cousins’ involvement in gang life, his own battle with depression, and his love for running as a coping mechanism. I once asked Hector what he did for fun with his friends. His face immediately lit up as he jumped into a story about playing computer games with his peer group and teachers: During school, during lunch, you’ll find me in the one spot, the best room ever, 5-3-0, which is Mr. Kyle’s room. If we're not talking about physics we’re talking about a game 96 that he introduced to a bunch of us. It’s called Hearthstone. It’s an online card game. It involves skills—that’s what Mr. Kyle says—and what we call the good luck. […] We had one tournament before Thanksgiving break, and two teachers, they played with us. It’s just amazing. We have so much fun. For Hector and his friends, Mr. Kyle’s willingness to open his classroom to them at lunch and participate in computer games was a source of joy and “a good distraction,” as Hector later said. School staff often recounted their genuine commitment to students’ well-being, many characterizing their roles as “role models,” “caretakers,” or “parents.” Adults in the school building also appreciated their students’ ability to persevere despite facing challenging circumstances at home. The assistant principal shared, “You know a lot of students still have a very strong history, their upbringing […] to be able to share some of the challenges and adversity that they go through. It’s a lot of stamina… with that.” Several staff members highlighted students’ resilience as a primary strength. As Mr. Kyle said, “This resiliency they possess is absolutely incredible to me. The top kids have this strength, this resiliency, this tenacity that I had never really experienced or seen before.” Students’ ability to overcome adversity and staff members’ concern for their well-being manifested in observational data as well. During the fall semester, for instance, Carmen’s backpack was stolen from the SLC2 computer lab. After several of us searched for it—to no avail—she said, “Well, that’s okay. It’s just a bag. There wasn’t much money in my wallet. I’m just bummed about losing my notebooks, and my personal statement draft.” She spent the weekend rewriting her personal statement, which had not yet been typed at the time it was taken. Weeks later, when I asked Carmen which adults in her life were most influential, she mentioned 97 the assistant principal, Mr. Ruiz. “He treats me like his daughter,” she explained. “When my backpack got stolen—I don’t know if I told you—he gave me 20 dollars.” A number of staff members reported feeling especially connected to the students because they, too, had grown up in difficult circumstances. The former college counselor reflected, I think a lot of the teachers [and] faculty members know where their kids are coming from and actually a lot of them have been in their shoes. And so they sympathize and they really encourage. They really believe in the students, for the most part. Students also reported that many of the staff members had similar upbringings. According to Cindy, “I mean even the principal and a lot of the teachers grew up in the same neighborhood, so they have some knowledge of where we come from.” The Magnet counselor Ms. Velasquez reflected on her experience growing up in poverty and transitioning to college, explaining, “I think that’s why I connect with the students so much because I know that, it sounds really cliché, like ‘If I could do it, you could do it too!’ But in reality that really connects me to them.” Students adored Ms. Velasquez, who they reported was “the best” of all their counselors and also, according to Daisy, “so sparkly!” Her warmth and kindness radiated across a room, and she set clear expectations for the Magnet Office—such as signing in at the door and filling out a request form for one-on-one meetings—without ever yelling or raising her voice. If students did not complete a request, they would not be seen. If a student did, he or she could expect to be greeted as follows: “[Student name], we have an appointment, yes? Come on back, babe.” One afternoon in October, when Ms. Velasquez was still new to the school 12 , she was chatting with a group of seniors in the Magnet Office about the new records system and difficulty printing transcripts, which the students needed for their college applications. Joking 12 As mentioned in chapter 3, Ms. Velasquez had started her career at Urban High School over a decade prior. She began as a teacher and then moved into counseling, and then changed schools. She returned in the fall of 2014, so was new to the student participants in the study, but not to the campus and more senior staff members. 98 that she “was ancient”—which really meant early 40s—she shared that she thought the old system worked perfectly well. Students’ concern about their transcripts eased into casual questions about the new system and her experience as a counselor. “Do you like your job?” Analucia asked. “I do,” Ms. Velasquez replied, “I love it. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t. When I start acting like I don’t, you tell me that it’s time to quit or retire!” The culture of caring embodied in peer-staff relationships fostered possibilities for academic and college-related support. Magnet staff dedicated time and effort to students’ academic growth in and outside of the classroom. Two to three days a week, most students in the sample stayed after school for academic tutoring with a variety of teachers who made themselves available on a weekly basis. As Daniel explained, “Thursdays I get home like at 6:30 because I have Calculus BC after school and then I have AP Physics after school so that’s like [at] five.” Cindy and her boyfriend Oscar regularly attended AP Spanish tutoring on Monday afternoons. Mr. Roberts’ classroom was another place the students frequented, seeking help on AP Government and Economics. Student participants generally recognized and appreciated their teachers’ willingness to provide support. As Natalia explained, “The teachers in Magnet, like Mr. Roberts, he stays until we tell him he can go. Like, he’s here to help us in anything.” Adults at Magnet also provided college-going support in various ways. Student participants cited teachers’ pep talks and motivational speeches as helpful. “Sometimes our teachers tell us about what college was like for them,” Paz commented, “and that’s always informative.” Alex shared that his English teacher required the students to draft personal statements, which is where he received the most help: “She fixed it herself and everything.” According to Juan, “All the teachers and all the counselors I’ve had, well not all, like I said, but [college is] the thing that they really have been helpful with, because I didn’t know where to 99 start. I didn’t know where to look for [information].” One afternoon in March I entered the counseling office to find the former college counselor on the FAFSA website at her desk. “I’m finishing the FAFSA and Dream Act for a few kids. They didn’t get it together and they won’t finish otherwise. I don’t usually do this, but, for some of them, they just need a little boost.” Document data conveyed the magnet school as a close-knit community as well. According to the program’s website, “The staff at Urban Magnet School works together as a family to ensure that your child is successful.” The school cultivates a “nurturing and a safe environment” that prepares students to meet their college and career objectives. Notably, the sense of community in Magnet was at times reinforced in juxtaposition to the main high school. “The students know and we preach all the time,” the government teacher explained, “you are part of this Magnet family. This is not like the regular school. We are holding you to a higher standard.” When students characterized the high level of social support they received at Magnet, they stressed that, in Ximena’s words, “I don’t think the students in the regular school, from talking with them, I don’t think they get the same thing.” “They don’t,” Edward agreed, “They really don’t.” Shaking her head, Carmen added, “I don’t even think they know who their counselor is.” The next section considers the role of outside organizations in students’ college- going identity formation and how the school brokered those connections. “They Bring People In”: The Role of Organizational Ties Thirteen students responded to the announcement on the white board outside the magnet office (See Figure 7). As was typical, this workshop was organized on a Tuesday professional development day, when students were dismissed early so the staff could attend meetings. While fall workshops had focused on the CSU and UC applications, the concern in January shifted to financial aid. 100 The C4 computer lab was a large but stuffy room with light blue walls and no windows, one of two classrooms at the top of a stairwell behind the cafeteria. Desktop computers lined one wall opposite that with a teacher’s desk and a white board. Next to the teacher’s desk was a locked cabinet full of laptops for students to use at one of the five round tables in the center of the classroom. Chairs were stacked atop two round tables where no one was sitting. In addition to Ms. Velasquez, who was overseeing the event, and myself from MPC, five adults had come to provide assistance: two from the Education Empowerment, two from After School Enrichment (ASE), the after school program provider, and one from City-School Education Partnership. At least three of the adults appeared quite young, likely in their early 20s. I had not seen the volunteers previously; the students seemed only to be familiar with the staff members from ASE. Ms. Velasquez quietly sighed that there were far more adults than needed given the turnout. She did not know four of the five, whom had been sent by their organizations for this specific event. Two students, Cindy and her boyfriend Oscar, were working on desktop computers. The rest were occupying round tables and using school laptops. Emi, Analucia, Daisy, and Natalia sat together with two remaining chairs open for adults. Five female students shared an adjacent table. One male student sat separately, accompanied by an adult volunteer. Folders, cell phones, and the contents of ASE’s “Power Packs”—raisins, crackers, and juice boxes for students involved in after school activities—were scattered across the tabletops. Several students were referencing a handout supplied by the former college counselor, step-by-step instructions for completing the FAFSA. Five students were going through the process—some for the third or fourth time—of resetting their login passwords. Natalia was waiting for her mother to return her call so she could 101 ask for financial information. Paz sought my assistance with submitting an additional essay to a private school, having realized she did not have her father’s tax return. The majority of students spent the workshop dealing with logistical obstacles—forgotten user IDs and passwords, unknown social security numbers, unofficial reports of earned income. A few, who had brought the proper documents from home and sat next to a mentor, finished their Dream Act, FAFSA, or CSS Profile applications, an accomplishment that was met with characteristic applause. Figure 7. White board announcement for financial aid workshop Numerous programs partnered with Urban High School to provide college-going resources. Present at the financial aid workshop described above were representatives from four different programs; the adults nearly outnumbered the seniors. In the words of the former college counselor, “There’s a lot of outreach from a lot of different organizations.” The Magnet assistant principal, Mr. Ruiz, explained that many programs “partner up with us in a lot of ways and provide a lot of resources and support to assist students with the whole college process.” 102 There were so many outside programs providing services that staff at Urban could not always keep track. When I asked Ms. Garcia, the former college counselor, how these partnerships formed, she replied: Well some of them are grants. Some of them are grants like the Gear Up, the Upward Bounds, they’re all grants they write, I think with the help of some of the people here. They’re specifically for Urban. And some of them, they just … I don’t know how you guys got in here, but we’re grateful. I don’t know how that works, but that’s … When people think [of the inner city], we’re in the middle of it. So they want to rescue and they want to help, and so we’re here, and we’ll take it. You know what I'm saying? We’ll take it. [...] but it’s not like we, you know [go out and get them]. They just come. The result was a large number of programs that offered some kind of college-going support at Urban Magnet. Figure 8 shows some of the organizations that worked with student participants. Figure 8. Examples of Urban High School’s college access partner organizations URBAN HIGH SCHOOL Early Academic Outreach Program (EAOP) Local Community College Community College Upward Bound Private University Upward Bound Mentoring Pathways to College (MPC) After School Enrichment (ASE) Community Scholars Program (CSP) Gear Up City-School Partnership District College Access Liaison 103 Perceptions of program benefits. Participants recognized that multiple organizations were available, and often cited these programs as the most beneficial form of school-based college-going support—regardless of their level of involvement. As Daniel said, “Even though it’s not the best school, they have a lot of programs to help you out… even though I don’t really go to any.” Almost all the students referenced external organizations when I asked how the school had helped prepare them for college. Cindy offered, “I guess the tutoring that they hold after school—not necessarily the teachers, but the different programs that they offer here. Like ASE offers tutoring as well, or they actually let Upward Bound come here. That really helps.” Paz provided similar commentary: “I think the programs that have come here, like Upward Bound, MPC, and National Honor Society too. They all talk about college.” She paused, adding, “Cause I’ve heard a lot of [older] people say, ‘Oh, my school never had these programs.’ Now that I do, it’s like oh, I have the opportunity to get the help.” Hector concurred: “The things that have helped me the most is Magnet. They bring people in such as yourself, the Upward Bound Program, to help us with college, like college applications, informing us on everything.” Outside organizations often provided academic help in addition to application support. Some programs enrolled students in college courses to expose them to college-level standards. Cindy described how in the community college courses she took through Upward Bound, “they expect a lot from you” and “you’re supposed to keep on top of your own things”: Like I remember, during the political science class we took this summer, it was the end of class, and we were all packing up. [The professor was] like, “Remember that your paper is due next week.” And I was like, “What? She didn’t even tell us anything.” And then one student actually asked and then [the professor] was like, “It was in the syllabus. You didn’t look at the syllabus?” So that whole week, I had to work on my research paper. 104 In her college course, Paz recalled, the professor “didn’t really care if you guys turned it in, or if you guys didn’t turn it in. And the work has to be there at the time they wanted it.” Graciela had taken a community college course the summer prior and reported in one focus group about the strict requirements for the ten-page paper assignment. I actually had to write a ten-page report for my class over the summer. My class was Chicano Studies 4, it was an introductory course. And the report was 50% of your grade. [...] and literally, like, I did not know--, I looked at her guidelines and they were really specific. Like I had to cite sources, if I plagiarized one little quote or piece of a sentence, she’ll automatically mark it down. And then, I had to do it over this article that I read. This description suggests that Graciela found the paper requirements overwhelming, because she “did not know,” for instance, how to cite sources. She went on to explain how she earned an 86 on the paper and, as the only high school student in the class, received accolades from the professor. “I felt really inspired from doing that.” Organizational ties to community colleges were valuable to expose students to postsecondary expectations around citations and deadlines. Some programs were especially demanding of students’ time. When I asked Edward why he thought some first generation students do not graduate from college, he cited inadequate preparation. He continued, “Like for me, I became prepared through like Private University Upward Bound and the Community Scholars Program.” The Private University (PU) Upward Bound Program was fairly intensive, requiring students to attend Saturday workshops throughout the school year that offered support in math and English and college admissions test preparation. The Community Scholars Program (CSP) was a well-resourced organization that helped low- income students apply to private liberal arts colleges and then provided full scholarships. Edward was part of a cohort of 30 selected from a handful of local schools; only two were from Urban 105 Magnet, and Edward’s classmate had dropped out earlier in their senior year when her grades dropped. He worked hard to maintain a high GPA and remain eligible. “Like I had my moments where I was like, ‘Oh my God, can I even do this?’” he recalled, “when I was worried that I was going to get kicked out.” Those programs boosted Edward’s confidence regarding his ability to transition to college successfully. He mentioned feeling a little worried about his science skills, but then added that with PU Upward Bound and CSP, “I’m pretty much covered.” Though some participants perceived that certain organizations were more useful than others, which I elaborate in part 2 of this chapter, they more often emphasized program benefits like tutoring and application support. Notably, most students spoke in abstractions when characterizing what they learned through these programs. As Judith stated, “The program that I’m in has prepared me because I took college courses from there and […] I would visit colleges as well, and I would have more knowledge about colleges and what to do.” Forming organizational ties: Brokerage. How students ended up in one program or another depended on a variety of school and individual level factors. The school worked to connect students to college-going resources in various ways. Workshops like that described in the vignette above were one of the most common. These were events sponsored by Urban’s staff, typically the counselors, and one or more partner organizations, which came to the school to provide college-relevant services. Workshops were typically held in a computer lab where students could access the Internet, either in the C-4 lab or the SLC2 lab described earlier. In the fall, college workshops focused on filling out UC and CSU applications, and in the spring, on completing financial aid. Typically the same students attended these events each semester, though a school-wide push to encourage FAFSA completion sparked a large turnout in February. The school hosted two Cash for College financial aid events that included a presentation in 106 Spanish for parents. The result was that 80% of seniors school-wide had completed the FAFSA or Dream Act by late February, according to Ms. Garcia. The completion rate was 97% in the Magnet program, as stated in an internal end of year report. School staff emphasized the importance of workshops and other strategies for connecting students’ to college-going resources. The assistant principal Mr. Ruiz remarked: we provide them with ongoing workshops so they’re very informed as far as the difference between the various colleges, UCs vs. CSUs, community colleges, privates, what-not. And we make every effort to make sure that they’re informed in terms of the process, deadlines and all that, FAFSA. Workshops provided access to resources for students unable or unwilling to join a program. Alex for example did not participate in any programs, but relied on some school-sponsored college events or sought assistance from friends and his older brother who had applied to college: The FAFSA workshop here at school, I was volunteering there and right after that they had a FAFSA workshop [somewhere else] and some friends went and I asked them to help me. And also my brother has filled [FAFSA] out before. I had all those influences. Urban also sponsored field trips to local colleges, often chaperoned by Ms. Velasquez and/or the former college counselor. In the spring, the school initiated a partnership with a local community college to offer two college courses for free on Urban’s campus. The counselors also arranged for outside programs to give presentations about the services they offer. Such was the case for Miguel and me, when we first went to Urban to recruit for MPC. Whether students joined organizations depended in part on whether and how they learned about them. Students typically received information about these opportunities in two ways. The first was passive and involved making information available to students. Programs, workshops, 107 presentations, and fieldtrips were advertised via morning announcements, fliers posted across campus, and announcements written on Ms. Velasquez’s white board (See Figures 7 and 9). Paz mentioned how fliers helped her become aware of opportunities: “When I see a paper and I see a flier that they’re talking about, I go, ‘What is that?’ I get interested and I look for it.” The second was more active and involved a staff member issuing a referral or extending an individual invitation. Carmen explained how counselors, administrators, and teachers encouraged students to take advantage of program opportunities: “When they offer programs, they will be like, ‘We’re having [a college preparatory math and science club],’ and ‘You guys should come!” Figure 9. Announcements on Ms. Velasquez’s white board 108 Passive strategies were particularly common but were also less likely to motivate a response, as illustrated in the following focus group exchange about Upward Bound. Analucia was one of three Urban Magnet students to join PU Upward Bound, an intensive program that Edward described above. Her friends were enrolled in a community college-sponsored (CC) Upward Bound, which they viewed as less comprehensive. They were insisting that they had never heard about the PU-affiliated program, to which Analucia responded: Analucia: Well it’s not my fault that when I asked you guys to join it you guys didn’t want to. Multiple: Girl you didn’t ask us! Analucia: I told everyone! And even Mr. Anderson had a little sign on his wall. Emi: Who reads the wall? Analucia: I do! All: [Laughter] Analucia: You need to read your walls! Because you know there might be an opportunity on there. Natalia : I don’t remember you talking about it ever. Analucia: Really? The only person that joined me was Monica. Daisy: That’s different you guys are always hanging out. Analucia: You still need to read your walls. Analucia became aware of PU Upward Bound by reading the walls in her teacher’s classroom, which prompted her to seek out more information. After the laughter about wall- reading had subsided, I asked the other students how they had come to join CC Upward Bound. Daisy: I got a summons about it. 109 Cindy: Because that was the first year they had started it up. Emi: We had to fill out an application. Daisy, Cindy, and Emi signed up for CC Upward Bound after they were actively summoned out of class and sent to the program’s advisor. Individual summons often facilitated organizational ties. Such was the case with Edward, who benefited from a referral to the Community Scholars Program. Receiving a personal summons from the Magnet counselor prompted students to respond, an intervention that had not taken place for the PU-sponsored Upward Bound program. Some of the widely used programs are displayed in Table 9, along with the brokerage strategies the school employed to help participants form organizational ties. 110 Table 9 Widely used organizational partners, brokerage strategies, and student participants Early Academic Outreach Program (EAOP) After School Enrichment (ASE) District College Access Liaison City-School Partnership Private University Upward Bound Community College Upward Bound Mentoring Pathways to College 1 (MPC) Gaining Access Open Open Open Open Application and Interview Application Application Brokerage Strategies Fliers Presentations Word-of- mouth Workshops Fliers Presentations Workshops Fliers Presentations Word-of- mouth Workshops Fliers Presentations Word-of- mouth Workshops Fliers Presentations Referrals Fliers Presentations Referrals Fliers Presentations Word-of- mouth Who participated and/or utilized services? Analucia Alex Alex Alex Analucia Cindy Analucia Bryan Analucia Cindy Analucia Edward Daisy Carmen Carmen Carmen Daisy Bryan Emi Cindy Cindy Cindy Emi Carmen Hector Daisy Daisy Daisy Natalia Cindy Juan Emi Emi Emi Paz Daisy Paz Graciela Graciela Graciela Daniel Ximena Natalia Hector Paz Edward Paz Juan Ximena Emi Ximena Natalia Graciela Paz Hector Ximena Juan Natalia Paz Ximena 1 I include only participants who initially submitted an application, not those whom I recruited later. Forming organizational ties: Agency. Whether students took advantage of opportunities also depended on the individual student’s ability and willingness to exercise agency, or his or her navigational skills. Because many of these special programs required an application, in the words of the former college counselor, the “students kind of self-select.” Some were highly skilled at taking initiative and identifying college support, especially in the absence of parental guidance. 111 Reflecting on the strengths of his highest performing students, one middle-class teacher remarked, “they’ve learned to seek out these resources that most kids would just take for granted. I mean, when I was applying to college, my parents just did it for me.” The majority of participants were involved in one or more programs and practiced help- seeking skills—like Hector, who religiously attended activities for CC Upward Bound and praised the program as “amazing,” or Natalia, who joined MPC and regularly called me with application questions. Emi joined almost every program she could find and consulted four different mentors for help with her personal statements. Within programs, participation tended to vary; while some participants like Ximena rarely attended Upward Bound tutoring, for example, Juan and Daisy steadily attended twice per week in accordance with the stated expectations. Analucia was a particularly resourceful student who, as illustrated by her tendency to “read her walls,” found ways to identify and take advantage of organizational ties. The daughter of Mexican immigrants and the youngest of three girls, she had long brown hair and typically wore a maroon hoodie baring Urban Magnet’s name. Analucia was intelligent, quietly confident in her own skin, and excelled in physics. She described herself as hard-working, competitive, and helpful: “I think [Mr. Kyle will] say I’m helpful as well because whenever we have tutoring, if he’s busy with other students... everyone, if they have questions and stuff, they ask me.” Analucia’s family faced particular challenges making ends meet. Ms. Velasquez and I were once discussing the socioeconomic challenges students face when she shared: Speaking of poverty, Analucia’s father only gets 1000 dollars [a month] for social security. You know he’s battled with leukemia since Analucia was I think in the 5th or 6th grade. So he’s been on social security and that’s the only income. Her mom does take care of a few children here and there so she gets paid cash, like 400 dollars a month. 1400 112 dollars! They have never asked for public assistance. They’re paying mortgage. They’re raising kids--, those kind of kids, like Analucia. I don’t know how. Meanwhile, Analucia insisted, “I try not to think about life in terms of obstacles.” She admitted that waking up early every Saturday for PU Upward Bound was exhausting, but “I think about all the help I’m going to receive and that I should take advantage of it. So I have to suck it up.” Analucia also participated in Tech Camp, a highly selective four-week program at a nearby prestigious university for high school students interested in engineering. When I asked her how she learned about that Tech Camp, she recounted: Umm . . . the counselor invited the director and he made a presentation about it and when I saw it I didn’t think . . . I was just like, “I’m never going to get into this,” you know, but I gave it a try! And I’m glad I did because it was worth it. But I think I was one of the few [Urban students who applied] because I didn’t hear of anyone else applying. I asked her what happened after she saw the presentation. “My math teacher Mr. Martinez helped me. He wrote my recommendation letter and he was telling me how to fill [the application] out.” Analucia took initiative to apply to the program and seek help, and benefitted from her teacher’s assistance. Such behaviors led Ms. Velasquez to suggest that there was something unusually special about certain students as opposed to certain programs: “And Analucia, I don’t know if Analucia didn’t have Upward Bound, if she still wouldn’t be as successful as she is. I think that Analucia is so resourceful in different ways that she would still excel. I don’t know.” Some participants sought resources outside of Urban with guidance from family members. Graciela’s older sister, a sophomore at a local state university, helped her register for a Chicana/o Studies course at a local community college and process the material. “I reflected on [my class] every day with my sister because she also took a similar class at [her college].” While 113 many participants had older siblings, most were not enrolled in college or they were struggling academically. Graciela’s circumstances thus differed substantially from those of her peers, who relied primarily on the school for ties to college access programs or postsecondary institutions. Other students were less active help-seekers. Often, students’ lack of involvement in programs contradicted their stated intent to participate. Take Francisco, whom I introduced at the beginning of this chapter. He had approached me when I first presented to Magnet students about the MPC program, emphasizing his need for college-going support and desire to join. He did submit an application and was enrolled in MPC. However, he did not attend a single event or formally meet with me once throughout the year, despite my repeated emails and casual check- ins in the hallway. Others such as Juan and Daniel joined MPC only after I recruited them in person, even though they had seen the application earlier in the semester. Sometimes external circumstances limited students’ capacity to utilize program- sponsored college-going opportunities. Time was one factor. For instance, more students took advantage of workshops held on weekends, when they could bring parents and siblings. Some students had commitments that prevented them from participating in programs with strict attendance requirements. Such was the case with Carmen, who traveled to El Salvador over the summers. Others had work obligations, like Daniel, who worked at K-Mart and contributed a portion of his paycheck to help his mother pay rent. Some went home after school to help their parents. Juan was needed to babysit his two-year-old brother while his parents worked. Others volunteered, like Paz, who helped care for children at a nearby elementary school. Some students simply made a habit of going home on weekdays. Alex spent most of his time with his siblings and mother, when she was not working. Table 10 shows students’ college access and extracurricular program involvement. 114 Table 10 Student participation in college access programs and after school activities Name College Access Programs After School Activities and/or Work Alex EAOP Magnet Newspaper National Honor Society Volunteer at Library Analucia ASE All Student Body Leadership EAOP Magnet Leadership MPC 1 National Honor Society Private University Upward Bound STEM Club Tech Camp Math and Science Program Bryan EAOP ASB Leadership JROTC Drill Team Carmen EAOP Gardening Internship MPC Magnet Leadership National Honor Society Softball Tutoring Cindy Community College Upward Bound All Student Body (ASB) Leadership EAOP Magnet President MPC National Honor Society Tutoring Daisy Community College Upward Bound Magnet Leadership EAOP Magnet Leadership President MPC National Honor Society Daniel EAOP Guitar Club Job at Kmart Math and Science Program Tutoring Volunteering at Library Edward Community Scholars Program Cross Country Private University Upward Bound Guitar and Music Production SAT Preparation Program Magnet Leadership National Honors Society Soccer Running Club Track 1 I list the program MPC only for students who initially submitted an application in September, not for those whom I recruited and who joined later in the semester. 115 Table 10 (continued) Student participation in college access programs and after school activities Name College Access Programs After School Activities and/or Work Emi ASE Magnet Leadership Beat the Odds National Honor Society Community College Upward Bound STEM Club EAOP Running Club Education Empowerment Tutoring MPC 1 Yearbook Graciela EAOP Magnet Leadership MPC Marching Band: Clarinet and Trombone National Honor Society Tutoring Hector AP Readiness Football Community College Upward Bound Running EAOP Tutoring STEM Club Juan Community College Upward Bound Family Childcare EAOP Magnet Leadership National Honor Society Natalia EAOP Magnet Leadership MPC Magnet Newspaper National Honor Society Tutoring Paz Community College Upward Bound National Honor Society EAOP Volunteering at Elementary School MPC Ximena Community College Upward Bound ASB President EAOP Youth Empowerment Program MPC National Honor Society Community Health Organization 1 I list the program MPC only for students who initially submitted an application in September, not for those whom I recruited throughout the fall semester. Regardless of their level of involvement, students’ perceptions about the wide availability of programs were consequential for their college-going identities. First, students’ perceived that they had plentiful college-preparatory opportunities at their disposal. Juan complimented the school’s efforts to keep students informed: 116 The counselors […] give us all this information that sometimes you don’t want, but that you have in hand just in case, you know like college field trips, college application seminars, stuff like this. All this stuff, like programs outside of school, programs inside of school. There’s nothing that you can say that’s not there for you. Because they perceived that help was available, they assumed it was the student’s responsibility to seek it out. For example, when I asked Juan if anything had prevented him from being as prepared for college as he wanted, he answered, “Myself.” He went on to explain, “I don’t take the opportunities that are given to me. So like, MPC. I never applied to it. I had the flier and I’m like ‘Oh, I should apply to it... probably not.’ Yeah, it’s myself mostly. I have the opportunities but I just don’t take them.” Juan had in fact taken advantage of some opportunities. He was a member of CC Upward Bound who regularly attended after school tutoring and school- sponsored college presentations. He was also responsible for taking care of his baby brother once he arrived home. Nevertheless, Juan perceived that if he was not college-ready, it was because he had failed to take full advantage of opportunities. Daniel expressed a similar perspective. Interestingly, he had attended a suburban high school during 9th grade that he perceived offered better preparation than Urban, but still maintained that success was a product of hard work. “If you want to succeed, you can succeed anywhere. But, it’s like, it’s just you. You have to use your resources if you need them, you have to use them as best you can to get where you want to go.” According to Hector, “[The school] provide[s] everything for us, so I feel like they’ve done everything they can to get us prepared for college. They have the resources. This school has them. You just got to look for them.” 117 This notion that college-going resources were accessible but had to be sought was prevalent among the students. Ximena was one of the few participants who acknowledged that some students have an easier time doing so than others: Because we have [the resources], but it’s hard to find them. And it’s hard for a person, like--, me I guess because I’m out there looking for stuff, usually it’s easier for me. But seeing it from other students, it’s hard for them to approach someone to help them, to approach a program and to take advantage of it. While some participants supposed that not all students were equally able or willing to seek help, they still perceived that it was available. Consequently, when students utilized program resources, they believed they were taking important steps toward becoming college-ready. As Cindy stated, “I mean, the programs are there. It’s just, it’s upon the student to take advantage of them. So I mean I try to take advantage of as much as possible.” In addition to social and organizational ties, dominant cultural capital in the form of CR indicators and rhetoric was particularly significant for students’ college-going identities. Again, the school drew upon students’ community wealth to help broker resources. I present these data next around the theme “Scholars.” “Scholars”: The Role of Dominant Cultural Capital The Magnet office was often quiet in the afternoon. Sandwiched between the outdoor hallway and the back office, where the assistant principal and counselor worked, this office was participants’ home base. The small rectangular room contained a table with four chairs by the entrance and a large fish tank and a desktop computer along the wall to the right. Opposite the fish tank were four additional computers and a printer. Behind them was a large red bulletin board with the heading “Dare to Dream.” A variety of informational fliers and hand-written 118 notes were pinned to the board, bearing messages such as “College... the way to success!” and “College will change your life!” On this particular Thursday during eighth period, five students were present. These were seniors who had a service period with the counselor and, when not assigned administrative tasks, spent their time on homework or college applications. Next to Vanessa, who was taking notes from her economics textbook, two classmates chatted quietly. “What do you usually get on your econ packets?” Judith asked. Juan thought for a minute, “Usually 40 or 42 out of 50.” Meanwhile, Natalia was trying to register to retake the SAT. She held a fairly strong GPA of 3.6 but was concerned that her first composite SAT score of 810 out of 1600 on the math and verbal sections would be an impediment to admission at a selective university. Emi called me over to ask why, when she added the As from her two community college courses, the CSU application system did not register an increase in her overall GPA. Minutes later the bell rang and Daisy and Carmen walked into the office discussing the upcoming ACT. “Don’t worry,” Daisy was saying, “It’s just one part of the application. Plus you took a bunch of APs so the colleges will see that too. And you joined clubs.” College aspirations and college talk. Participants’ concern for the various aspects of their college applications grew from their shared aspirations to attend a postsecondary institution. Their college aspirations were motivated in large part by their families. As Juan said, “my parents are really excited [for me to go]. That’s their dream really. That’s what they're working for, and hopefully I can show them that all their hard work was not for waste, you know?” For some, like Edward, going to college “wasn’t like another alternative choice.” Analucia stated: I mean I knew that one day in my life I was going to go to college. I think if I wouldn’t have had like parents or siblings [that were] so supportive, I would have not wanted to go 119 college whatsoever, but now I’m glad that I do because then I have that thinking since I was small that, “Oh, I’m going to go to college one day.” I think that since I was small, I had that culture that I was going to go. Students cited a variety of reasons for wanting to pursue a college degree, often rooted in their desire to make their families proud or better their life circumstances. Hector described a cousin who was involved in street life and killed by a rival gang five years prior. He had often spent time with this cousin before his death. Hector explained: He would always tell us, this [gang] life is horrible. Do something, educate yourself, go to college, get yourself out of this box that we live in. And even though some people saw him as a bad man or this or that, I see him as someone who very [much] impacted my life. Because of him, he’s one of the reasons why I want to go to new places, and graduate high school and go to a university, and make my parents proud. Daniel wanted to support his mother: “My mom only made it to sixth grade, so she’s always telling me to take advantage of my education and stuff. So I’m just like I want to get a very good job, like over $100,000 salary at least, so then I can help her out.” Alex also referenced his mother as well as his desire to grow personally: More than anything to better myself as a person. As they say, education is power. [It] will make you stable in life so I would say there wouldn’t be no need to worry economically, other than loans maybe […] and because I think it would make my mom proud and she sees that all her struggles haven’t been in vain. That’s what motivates me more. Others, like Daisy and Ximena, emphasized their desire for new experiences and opportunities to take interesting classes: “I want to learn more!” 120 Students’ internalized common ideals around the importance of going to college: that it was a ticket out of poverty, that it would empower them to support their families financially, and that it would make their parents proud. These beliefs reflect aspirational capital on the one hand and American values around social mobility on the other; education was seen as opening doors and opportunities that would not be available otherwise. Students’ social media use further suggested that college-going was a central part of their identities. Not all students actively used Facebook—they explained that Instagram and Snapchat had become the preferred platforms—but those who did often posted status updates about the progress of their college applications. Natalia was the second oldest of four siblings still at home. Her older sister had two children, another sister was a sophomore at Urban Magnet, and the youngest child was a toddler boy that her family had adopted from the foster care system. She was the first in her family to apply to college. She was sweet, insecure about her height and her standardized testing ability, and quick to ask questions about assignments or applications, sometimes before fully reading the instructions. Her father worked as a port truck driver and she proudly recounted participating in protests with him on behalf of the Teamsters union. She cited this experience in her personal statement for college as one that helped her “find her voice.” She wrote, “when I was bullied in middle school for being overweight, I came to question my self-worth, but my father has taught me that you cannot let anyone take away your dignity and pride.” Natalia’s social media posts, written in a mix of English and Spanish, reflected pride in her Mexican heritage, devotion to her Catholic religion, and excitement about college. I first learned of her acceptance to UC Davis on Facebook, where she posted a picture of her admittance notification email with the following status: “Got accepted to UC Davis! Yeeiiiii :) # oneworld # onedavis # aggies .” 121 Emi was a reserved student with short hair and glasses who earned mostly As and aspired to attend a private liberal arts school, particularly a women’s college. As an only child, she reported that life at home could be lonely, and she was grateful for her two dogs. Though she rarely updated her Facebook wall, in mid-March her page came alive with updates about college acceptances, such as: “I got accepted to Mills College. Omg I cant believe it I am so happy my first private college admission. — ! feeling happy.” Students’ college aspirations were reinforced by “college talk” at Urban Magnet High School. The program’s official expectations as listed on its website included: “Keep an open mind about going to college; this is what we are preparing you for.” On the district’s school portal, the description of Urban Magnet read: “We prepare our students to be both career and college ready.” An evaluation prepared by Ms. Velasquez characterized Urban Magnet as “a college preparatory program that provides students with a highly structured academic program, emphasizing the education and personal skills necessary for college while allowing the pursuit of individual interest in math, science and technology.” College messages were reinforced on bulletin boards in the Magnet Office and in teachers’ classrooms. Mr. Caraballo, the biology teacher, posted lists of his ninth graders’ dream schools. Students shared how their teachers, particularly the English teacher Ms. Davis, liked to tell stories about their college experience. Analucia, who emphasized having a culture that she would go to college “since she was young,” also cited her school as an important influence: “Especially like, my school, Magnet, and my middle school, I remember it always pushed that one day you’re going to go to college.” One math teacher reflected, “What I think we are doing well is just all the rhetoric like, ‘You have to go to college. It’s important.’ We’re really emphasizing it. Counselors, teachers, everyone.” 122 Thus the school emphasized higher education in mission and rhetoric, from marketing to bulletin boards to the staff’s messages of encouragement. These discourses helped Urban Magnet students internalize the idea that they were college-bound. As Natalia said: “Our counselors and our teachers, they actually want you to go to college. That’s the main goal of Magnet.” CR indicators. Given the school-wide emphasis on college-going, CR indicators— measurable data points such as test scores, grades, and course types—were a common topic of concern among participants. Many had learned of these indicators before arriving in high school. At Urban Magnet’s recruiting event at Central Middle School, for example, the first question a parent asked during the Q&A was how many AP courses were offered. Ms. Velasquez answered: Right now we have English in the 11th and 12th and AP Art History, also AP Calculus, also AP U.S. History, AP Government and AP Physics…[we offer] 10 total, and the advanced Spanish classes are part of the AP program as well. When I asked participants what high school students should do to get ready for college, they offered similar answers. Graciela explained: “According to my high school, college readiness means taking AP classes, staying after school for tutoring, um, taking the SAT, the ACT, pretty much just studying... And also researching all the colleges, to see which one you like.” According to Juan, “As a student I need to pass all my classes, A through G requirements, SATs, ACTs, you know, stuff that every counselor tells us to do.” His perception that “every counselor” had told them the basic college requirements is telling. Daniel, like many of the other participants, emphasized the importance of not just taking admissions tests and hard classes, but also earning a “high SAT and high GPA.” Participants recognized that these indicators mattered for college and, as the vignette above illustrates, used them to gauge their own performance. Earning top grades or scores was 123 worn like a badge of honor, and the opposite became a source of self-doubt. Natalia constantly sought reassurance about her SAT because she felt “a little bit insecure.” Juan described feeling “amazing” when he earned As on his history tests and Daniel proudly recalled a perfect score on a physics exam. Paz discussed how earning an A in U.S. History made her feel good because she had “one of the toughest Magnet teachers.” Analucia also cited her A in AP Government as a point of pride, a pleasant surprise given that she had “not been doing well”—that is, earning B’s—on the tests. Luis explained how “during every test that was always my objective, to always score a perfect score” in trigonometry. Even students who acknowledged procrastinating or “being lazy” admitted that they worried about their report card. Said Alex, “I always get it done and it’s because I do worry about the grade.” Notably, information that students received about CR indicators—or at least how they interpreted it—was not always accurate, a challenge I discuss in greater depth in part 2. How participants felt about their achievement usually depended on the relative performance of their peers. For instance, Analucia described herself as a hardworking and competitive student: “I try to get the best grades in class, especially to make my parents proud and stuff.” Alex confessed that “in honesty, when I first saw my SAT score I bragged about it a lot because other people would have scored lower.” One student in particular, Graciela, was acutely attentive to her performance relative to her peers. The younger of two daughters in a two-parent household, Graciela had valued her status as a high-achieving student since primary school, when she was first placed into a magnet program. Though she suffered from depression that caused her to miss several weeks of school during 11th grade, she prided in her ability to cope with her disease. Close with her family, she spent her weekends on a local state university campus studying with her sister, who was a 124 sophomore. Her social media accounts reflected her studious and driven approach to school; “Urban Magnet Class of 2015” and “High Honors Student” were the taglines on her Instagram profile. In October, she posted a picture of a test decorated with a large blue “A” and the comment “well done.” Her caption read: “Finally got that A after 5 chapters later on my #APGOV test! This would be my 2nd A. #apgovtest #thatathough #scholar #seniorproblems.” Acknowledging her tendency to be competitive, she explained: In AP Government, we take tests every two weeks or so, and then we get the score right after. I usually ask people, “What did you get?” Then there’s always a person that says, “I got a higher score than you.” And I’m just like, “Okay. This means I have to study harder.” Graciela’s competitive approach did not appear spark tension, in large part because she, like her peers, genuinely encouraged her classmates to achieve. In the spring, after Natalia posted her plans to visit UC Davis, Graciela posted the following note of support: “Have fun during your three day stay at UC Davis! I hope you will love the campus! Be safe! See you next week!” Indeed, participants seemed to compete with each other in friendly, supportive ways. Juan, for example, wore a big smile when he told me, “I'm constantly using words, big words that I usually won’t use, to try to sound smart.” Staff members reinforced this culture of friendly academic competition, posting students’ grades or publicly recognizing individual accomplishments. At one community potluck in November, teachers and parents cheered as students accepted awards for highest achievement, most improved, citizenship, and perfect attendance. Mr. Kyle, the physics teacher, organized an annual science fair that lasted several weeks, required a long written report, and awarded prizes to the top groups. Science fair awards boosted students’ egos and winners were honored in Urban Magnet’s newspaper. 125 Students therefore relied primarily on CR indicators to gauge their readiness for college, based in part on their peers’ relative achievement. These achievement measures—the types of courses they took, the grades they had earned, and their test scores—represent traditional ways of speaking about and evaluating CR in research and policy contexts, or dominant cultural capital. Being “Magnet”: The significance of labeling. That participants paid particular attention to indicators of academic achievement was unsurprising; students at the magnet school represented a self-selected group of urban youth. Although Urban Magnet did not set any admissions criteria in terms of minimum achievement, an application was required—a step that was not necessary to attend a traditional district school. As one science teacher stated: “There’s a big difference [between Magnet and regular students], just in applying, just in the name, [because] the magnet symbol has been around for so long.” Document data further substantiated the significance attached to the “magnet” designation. According to a recent internal evaluation of Urban Magnet, the school “was established in 1980 to counteract low academic achievement and overcrowded conditions in [the high-poverty region of the city].” The report continues, “Among our goals was to raise the number of students achieving high school graduation, college/university acceptance and overall preparation for a future beyond high school.” For students and staff familiar with the public K-12 system, the “magnet” label connoted a focus on highly gifted, achieving, or motivated students. Urban Magnet thus tended to attract students who sought a more academically rigorous school experience. Some started in the regular school and made the decision to switch into the magnet school, like Edward, who transferred after two weeks. Alex made a similar choice: I signed up [for Magnet] during the ninth grade because I thought it was a better opportunity seeing that in the regular classes the students were all sorts of crazy. The 126 classes were loud. It was hard to concentrate. I remembered my aunt telling me that in the magnet program the students are more toned down and everything. I was like, “You know what? I don't think this is for me.” I came across to the other side, the Magnet Office, and asked for the application. Filled it out and transferred. I just went and did it. And when I got there, everything was settled down, it was quiet. By virtue of enrolling in the program, participants demonstrated navigational skills and distinguished themselves from their peers in non-magnet programs. As the physics teacher explained, “It’s not necessarily that the [magnet] kids are smarter. It’s like a selection bias. Because they’ve decided to go to the magnet that means that they’re actively interested in their education or they have parents who are.” Indeed, some participants shared that their parents had signed them up. Both Hector and Cindy’s mothers had submitted the Magnet application—in the beginning of 9th and 10th grade respectively—without asking them first. Though initially unhappy with the decision, both reported feeling grateful that they attended Urban Magnet. Hector, for instance, regularly accompanied the counselor to recruiting events to motivate middle school students to apply. The magnet model therefore made it possible for students to align themselves with the school’s high-achieving, college-going mission. Urban Magnet students were “scholars”—a term that Daisy originated in 11th grade and that had since become common in all the seniors’ lexicon. “I don’t know why,” she shared, “but I was just sitting in Mr. Martinez’s class one day and I thought to myself, we’re all scholars!” Carmen elaborated on what participants meant by “scholar,” with the caveat that “everyone might have their own definition.” She explained: If you have to stay after school for something that’s educational wise and you stay, that’s a scholar. If you participate in these college workshops, that’s scholar. If you’re really 127 friendly and you’re good with all the teachers, you’re a scholar because you’re able to maintain that connection between the teachers. If you can manage your time you’re a scholar. If you have commitment and responsibilities and you fulfill them you’re a scholar. That’s my definition. Participants’ confidence as scholars and future college-goers was strengthened in light of their perception that students in the regular (non-magnet) school were under-achieving. The “magnet” designation bolstered students’ confidence in their academic ability and potential to succeed in college. Students like Graciela who had been in magnet programs since primary school proudly mentioned her school placement when she described herself as studious and high- achieving. Natalia had the opposite experience—she had been moved into a magnet class in fifth grade and was promptly removed because “my teacher said that I didn’t belong in a magnet class ever because I wasn’t capable of doing anything.” Citing the experience as hurtful and difficult to forget, she said her current academic standing offered some solace: “I’m on the verge of graduating with high honors in a magnet school. So like, it’s a total slap to [that teacher]. I just wish I could be in front of her face and just show her my diploma.” At Urban specifically, students reported over and over again their perception that the magnet program was more academically rigorous than the regular school. According to Hector, “our [magnet] teachers, they expect us to work, while in regular Urban not so much. Like, you do your work, you don’t do the work, it doesn’t matter so much.” Ximena speculated, “I can slack off in [regular Urban] and still receive an A but I can’t slack off in my [Magnet] AP English class or AP Calculus because it would hurt my grade.” Like with her magnet peers, Ximena’s perception that Urban Magnet was more rigorous shaped her interpretation of her college preparedness. Recounting how her brother’s girlfriend had dropped out of UC Irvine, she 128 said, “It’s hard coming from [a high-poverty urban neighborhood], maybe not from, from magnet schools like me. But usually from regular schools I’ve seen a lot of students drop out because the rigor is just too much and they’re not used to it.” Graciela shared a similar sentiment when I asked her how the school had helped prepare her for college. Noting that she had different answers for Urban and Urban Magnet, she explained, “In general, Urban, I believe they don’t prepare everyone. Like they prepare them just enough to just graduate high school. They just tell you, ‘Pass all your classes with a C or better. You’ll graduate high school.’ Whereas, in my Magnet school...” She paused and thought for a few seconds. “Our personnel encourage us to pass our grades with a B or higher and if we can an A, and to take AP classes, but not so much that you get overwhelmed.” The way students and teachers spoke about the difference between the schools revealed that participants’ identities as high-achieving, college-bound students were largely constructed in opposition to their non-Magnet peers. In one focus group, several students described what they perceived to be a rivalry between the Magnet and the regular school: Graciela: I heard there’s certain hate toward like, us, I don’t know exactly how it started but they had this whole thing like “Magnet sucks. Magnet’s not really smart. This and that!” But I mean that’s been existing for a long time, even since like my elementary school. I just think that it’s pretty childish. Cindy: I mean coming from my perspective, I was in regular Urban [before I moved to Magnet], there was some hostility like “Oh, you’re in Magnet now? Oh you think you’re all that?” And I was just like, “No it’s just 129 Magnet. I mean, I’m still Cindy whether I’m in regular Urban or Magnet Urban.” Emi: Not even the regular teachers like Magnet. Cause my philosophy teacher wanted to kick all the Magnet kids out of his class to make space for the regular kids. Carmen: You learn to cope with it because you know you’re better. Not all students explicitly adopted Carmen’s viewpoint that Magnet students were “better”—and Carmen actually had one of the lowest GPAs in the sample, earning Ds in Government and Calculus during the fall semester that had to be retaken in adult school. Yet this dialogue is still telling. The discussion revealed the type of conflict often associated with tracking, whether by groups within classrooms, course levels, or schools. Participants perceived hostility from their peers and even teachers in the non-magnet school. On the one hand, they insisted that Magnet and “regular” students were no different, but on the other hand, took offense to the idea that “Magnet’s not really smart.” As Carmen quipped, “You know you’re better.” Later in the conversation, Cindy explained how the principal interacted differently with students from each program: So the principal was walking by, and there was a Magnet student who said “Hi” to him and he was like, “Hi,” and then a regular student, and I think he was ditching, was like “Hey!” And the principal did a whole handshake with him. And I was like, “Where was that for the Magnet student?” Carmen shook her head disapprovingly. “Like you have a ditcher and a scholar.” A few of the other students nodded in agreement. It is worth noting that Cindy did not specify what led her to assume that this student from the regular school was “ditching”—just that he was “regular.” 130 Participants’ construction of non-Magnet students as “ditchers” functioned to reinforce their distinct identity as “scholars.” Of note, I did not observe the principal interacting with Magnet students because he did not spend time in their section of campus. In the more than 200 hours I spent in the Magnet area before, during, and after school, I did not see the principal once. I did see him from afar in the main part of campus during lunchtime rallies or passing periods, often chatting with students I did not recognize. Teacher participants similarly reported that, in Mr. Roberts’ words, the principal “has basically left us alone.” His hands-off approach pleased these staff members, who felt unfairly micro-managed by former principals. These data lend credence to Cindy’s perspective that the principal may have appeared to be friendlier with non-Magnet students; he spent more time on the main campus and allowed the magnet school to run mostly on its own. Students described feeling that the school—both Urban and Urban Magnet—reinforced high- and low-achieving designations. When I asked Edward if he felt the school classified students in any way, he described a time he was not placed in an honors class, but should have been. “I was looking at the people in honors and they’re just... I’m smarter than some of them!” He continued, “Even the teachers said, ‘Oh, honors is just a label. Don’t take it that way.’ But... I think that’s one way they categorize people.” Graciela contemplated, “I can’t say ethnic group because the majority of this school consists of Latinos and African Americans, rarely a white, a Caucasian. But I could say how well you do in school could be a way the school classifies you.” Magnet staff members implicitly and explicitly fueled the “us versus them” paradigm. One example surfaced in the way adults talked about Urban Magnet, which they often framed in juxtaposition to Urban. When I asked the assistant principal of Magnet, Mr. Ruiz, how the school supports students’ CR, he commented: 131 I can tell you that, that our Magnet school here really focuses on providing a rigorous curriculum. [...] So I know that even our 2.7 GPA students have received enough quality instruction to be able to survive in the college environment. I’m not sure that that same criteria would apply to the rest of the school. [There a student would need] maybe 3.0 and above, because of the rigor of the curriculum. In this instance, I had not specifically asked about college preparation in the larger school, but comparing appeared to help Mr. Ruiz make sense of what was happening in Magnet. Similarly, when I asked teachers to describe their students, responses such as “The magnet kids or the ones in the regular school?” or “It’s easier to talk about Magnet students relative to the regular kids” were common. As one teacher surmised, “The biggest difference is the number of kids who want to achieve and are hoping to go to college is much bigger in the magnet school than over there. [In the regular school] it was more the exception than the rule.” At other times, staff reinforced a “ditchers vs. scholars” narrative overtly. Mr. Roberts explained that the regular school did not disaggregate data on the Magnet students, which was a source of ongoing tension: What Urban has done for years in an effort to boost their scores, their image, is they roll all of our numbers in [with theirs]. So we had like a 96, 97 attendance rate. Well theirs is like 83, 84. So they roll ours in and all of a sudden they’re up to 90 and they look better. In recent years, he explained, the Magnet staff asked the testing coordinator to provide separate data on their students. “And we’re like, ‘Now we can use this. We can go over to Central Middle School and say ‘Okay look, our API score is 200 points higher [than Urban’s]. Your children are going to get a good education if they come here.’” 132 Marketing the Magnet program as distinct from—and superior to—the rest of the school was a fundamental recruitment tool. As the counselor Ms. Velasquez explained to parents at the Central Middle School meeting: Instead of focusing on the negativity that you might have heard in the community about [Urban High School], enter our website and see that the scores the [Magnet] students have obtained on the state exams are on the same level as the schools in [wealthier] areas. Comparisons between Magnet and traditional Urban also surfaced in official school reports and surveys. For instance, the 2014-2015 student-parent survey included the question: “I feel the instruction in the Magnet school is stronger than in the resident (regular) school,” which 92% of the students affirmed (58% of students responded “strongly agree” and 34% “agree”). Ninety- eight percent of parents agreed with the same question. Teachers who had taught in both school settings substantiated students’ perceptions about instructional rigor and behavior, suggesting that non-Magnet students tended to be less academically motivated and focused. In terms of classroom management, for instance, Mr. Caraballo shared, “the challenges are far greater in the regular school.” Mr. Roberts explained how Magnet students react when they take passport classes, or classes that Magnet and regular students take together such as electives or physical education: [Magnet students] have said, “Mr. Roberts, oh my god those kids are horrible!” And I’m going, “I know! Don’t you appreciate what you have here? They’re terrible!” And [the students say], “The teacher, we don’t do anything!” And I’m like “I know! I used to teach over there. I know how horrible [those kids] can be! That’s why I appreciate you guys.” 133 This explicit denouncing of students in the larger school (i.e., as “terrible” and “horrible”) was not common across staff participants. Nevertheless, students did pick up on the notion that Urban Magnet was superior relative to Urban. As Mr. Kyle, who taught physics, reflected: A Magnet program really is a way of tracking without tracking. Because you’re saying, look if you care about your future and you care about your education, go to Magnet. And we—the teachers is what I mean when I say we—generally reinforce that perspective. Like we say, we’re Magnet. We’re not like them. The reason the kids are like that is because of us, because we’re putting those words in their mouth. [...] And um, that’s what’s funny. If you talk to the [non-Magnet] kids, they talk shit about the Magnet kids. After a pause, he added, “but really, I mean, if we didn’t say we were Magnet, we wouldn’t really be, if that makes sense.” Mr. Kyle’s view of the Magnet program differed substantially from that of Mr. Roberts— the former saw “Magnet” as simply a label that facilitated selection bias, whereas the latter framed Magnet as distinctly better than the larger school, owed in large part to what the Magnet staff was doing. Other participants echoed both of these perspectives. Yet all the staff members’ suggested that, in one way or another, the Magnet label had implications for the program’s identity and, in turn, that of the students. The tendency to compare across schools, for example, shaped how students perceived their readiness for college. While teachers had differing opinions about how students viewed their own readiness, with some expressing concern that the students were “scared” or “insecure,” most suspected that the Magnet label boosted their confidence. Mr. Martinez, a math teacher, 134 pointed out that CR indicators likely influenced how participants perceived their preparation because they could compare to their peers: A lot of the [Magnet students’] SAT scores are not at the level of the average student who attends for example UCLA, [but] they are way above the average of Urban, so they kind of have something to compare. Like, “Well I’m way above average here, so I’m doing well,” you know? A science teacher similarly shared, “I think that the Magnet students, they see themselves as prepared because compared to the people next to them [in the regular school]—they see the people next to them and they think they’re prepared.” In summary, students drew on diverse forms of capital to construct college-going identities: community cultural wealth, social ties to peers and staff (i.e., “Magnet Family”), organizational ties (i.e., “They Bring People In”), and dominant cultural capital (i.e., “Scholars”), as embodied in CR indicators, discourses, and achievement labeling. Being part of the magnet school and at or near the top of their class was most consequential for how students made sense of their CR. Urban Magnet served as a broker of school-based capital by fostering a small, close- knit community that recognized students’ cultural wealth and promoted college-going, particularly relative to the regular school. Part 2. The Limitations of Brokerage and Implications for Student Identity Part 1 examined how students used diverse forms of capital to construct college-going identities and how the school served as a resource broker. I privileged participants’ perceptions of Urban Magnet High School to illustrate how they made sense of their world, which is crucial to understand how they made sense of themselves. Part 2 examines ways in which the school’s brokerage efforts were limited and the implications for students’ identities. I present these data in 135 three sections, focusing on each category of school-based capital: (a) social ties, (b) organizational ties, and (c) dominant cultural capital. In short, participants had minimal exposure to the academic, cultural, and socioeconomic diversity that existed outside of their school and neighborhood. For a variety of reasons discussed below, the school was limited in its capacity to overcome students’ isolation. Participants interpreted college and their preparedness in relation to the local context of Urban High School. As a result, despite some general anxiety about being first generation, they graduated with an inflated sense of their CR. Barriers and Limitations: Brokering Social Ties Ms. Velasquez and I sat across from each other at a small Thai restaurant in a modest suburb ten miles west of Urban High School. We had scheduled time on a Wednesday afternoon to chat about the students and my study, and decided to meet in her neighborhood. She was reflecting on how her children’s upbringing differed from her own. She described experiences she provided for her three boys—reading every night, helping them complete homework, visiting their school—that she had not had growing up. “I was never read to. My parents never spoke English. They just knew that I needed to get an education because they knew that that was the only way that I would have a better life. But they didn’t know what to do to support me.” Her personal history paralleled that of her students in many ways. Born to Mexican immigrants in a high-poverty neighborhood not far from Urban, Ms. Velasquez had attended low-performing K-12 schools and was the first in her family to earn a bachelor’s degree. She recalled her experience transitioning to college, pontificating about the meaning of CR: A college-ready student at Urban needs to know that your experience is going to be very different from anyone else’s. And it could be Urban or it could be [any] high schools around [the inner-city]. You’re just a different person. You really are. So regardless of 136 what your IQ is or your GPA, you are different. And you may stand out a lot. And it’s usually not in a positive way. She pointed out, however, that students did not have enough exposure to different people and different contexts to evaluate the quality of their academic and non-academic experiences. The students don’t know that much. They don’t know what a real [suburban] high school looks like and how it functions. Where every kid has their own laptop. Where every kid has paid tutoring. Where the parents pay four or five hundred dollars for the kids to do some activity after school. [Urban students] don’t know that that’s how other people live. So I don’t even think… She leaned back in the booth, nodding slightly. “I don’t even think that they realize how disadvantaged they are.” Pausing, she added, “Just like I didn’t.” The section on social ties in part 1 showed how students and staff felt part of the “Magnet Family.” Indeed, the school brokered strong social ties from which students derived personal and academic encouragement. The challenge was that Urban Magnet was racially and socioeconomically segregated, which limited the types of social ties students could form. Though participants knew teachers and counselors from different racial/ethnic and socioeconomic groups, the school could not connect them to peers from diverse backgrounds. Thus Magnet students did not comprehend that they were going to be “very different” in the postsecondary context because of where they came from. In what follows I describe how students were segregated in a low-income neighborhood and low-performing K-12 schools, which prevented Urban Magnet from brokering diverse social ties, and the consequences for their college transition and college-going identities. 137 Neighborhood segregation as a barrier to brokering social ties. Magnet students all grew up in the surrounding neighborhood or similar neighborhoods characterized by high rates of crime and violence, racial segregation, and extreme poverty. In Mr. Roberts’ words, “There’s a whole lot of stuff around here that [students] have to contend with. There’s so much crime and so much violence and so many things that could get in the way.” Students relayed stories about socioeconomic hardships or family struggles that, while indicative of extreme disadvantage, they perceived as normal. It was not uncommon for students to work part-time jobs or take on childcare responsibilities to help their parents pay the bills, like Daniel who worked at K-Mart and Juan who babysat his little brother. Natalia described how her family—her parents, sister, and baby brother—her older sister’s family, and her aunt’s family lived all together in a small home they had split into three sections. Undocumented students were often living apart from loved ones. Juan had not seen his older sister since he moved to the U.S. at the age of four. Carlos had not seen his mother since 8th grade, when she was deported one morning while he was at school. Daisy was the student who had introduced the word “sparkles” into the Magnet school’s common language. Always wearing a smile, she referred to people, places, and events as “sparkly” when they felt happy or positive. She also went home every day to an empty house because both of her parents and her older brothers worked until late at night. Though Daisy’s father picked her up after school and dropped her off at home before returning to his job as a car mechanic at a local shop, her parents rarely attended events at Urban, including those she organized as president of student leadership. Her older sister Val, who had been her closest confidante and cheerleader for much of her childhood, had recently gotten married, moved out of the house, and had a baby. Her brothers had barely finished high school—one had done a short 138 stint in prison—and Val had dropped out of community college, so Daisy was going to be the first in her family to pursue a four-year degree. Although her parents were proud of her postsecondary ambitions, she confided that she could not really talk to them about her plans because “it’s like they don’t get it.” She explained, “They don’t know what college is. They think it’s like no big deal. So I didn’t want them to know [when I got my first state university acceptance] because I know they wouldn’t really understand. Like, ‘Oh good job, Daisy.’ But like, no! It’s not that easy!” Daisy and I were the only people in the office that afternoon and she suddenly burst into tears. “I just feel so alone,” she confessed. “I am completely and totally alone.” While her family circumstances might have led her to disengage academically, Daisy responded instead by becoming more involved: planning leadership events, attending Upward Bound, and encouraging her friends to study. Staying at school was, after all, preferable to being home alone in an unsafe neighborhood. Indeed, participants’ often encountered threats to their physical and psychological well- being outside school. According to a 2014 evaluation of Urban Magnet, “over the past four years there have been +220 homicides within a two mile radius of the school.” Hector remembered losing his cousin to gang violence. Judith’s house was broken into and all her family’s belongings stolen. Paz described being followed by a strange man on the street. One afternoon a few students were describing life in their neighborhood. Graciela recalled a drive-by shooting at her next-door neighbor’s in which the bullets sprayed her house. She recounted: The officer came and inspected our house and sure enough, there were like three bullets in our living room. And the thing was my uncle was sitting near that place… So I actually 139 could have lost my uncle, all because of a careless incident. And that just makes me really mad and frustrated, actually. Graciela’s use of the word “frustrated” to describe this particular situation was striking, as it seemed to understate the severity and unfairness of the situation. Her use of the word “careless” to describe gunshots fired at the wrong house seemed similarly understated. Carmen remarked that there had been three shootings near her house this year. In one of those instances, “the [shooter] actually came to our house. He ran through our front gate, and my dog bit the person, he kinda dragged him, so the cops came and got him. So you know, I’m thankful for my dog.” Like her friend, Carmen seemed to downplay the gravity of the experience with her comment about being grateful for her dog. Tellingly, she continued, “[But] when it happens that often, when it does happen, it’s like no big deal no more.” Graciela nodded in agreement, adding “Lately I’ve been doing my homework and stuff and I hear like ‘Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!’ And then, I’m just like”—she paused to roll her eyes—“‘Oh okay, here they go again…’” These data reveal students’ incredible resilience, but also suggest that students had in some ways become inured to experiencing high levels of stress. Mr. Roberts explained how, from his perspective, local safety concerns compromised teaching and learning, “I try to tell them you know put your blinders on and try to ignore the helicopter outside and try to forget the announcement that just said we’re on lock down.” He shook his head to suggest the absurdity of his statement, contrasting his students’ experience with that of his daughter in her middle-class suburban high school. “As much as I’ve been around [this neighborhood],” he continued, “I’ve become more exposed but I still don’t understand.” For his students, though, it was a different story. “They hardly notice helicopters because it’s such a common sound.” Ms. Velasquez 140 elaborated on this idea: “They’ve dealt with all this stuff, that they don’t even… It’s like, [what they’ve gone through] is trauma, it affects the development of the brain and how your brain works, but [for the students] it’s just like, ‘Well it happens to everyone.’” Indeed, as far as the students knew, it did happen to everyone. All of their friends and classmates faced similar traumas outside of school. School segregation as a barrier to brokering social ties. Participants also had similar encounters with the educational system. The students with whom they went to school represented a relatively homogenous population. All Urban Magnet students were of color. The far majority, about 95%, were Latinas/os whose first language was Spanish. All were eligible for free and reduced lunch. Ninety percent of Magnet students lived below the poverty line, according to administrative data. Middle class students did not attend Urban High School. Mr. Ruiz explained that in theory, magnet schools can enroll students from anywhere in the district. “We are open enrollment to anyone. So we can have someone from [the wealthy part of the city] come here.” I asked if that had ever happened, if students from different neighborhoods had ever attended Urban Magnet. “Well, no,” he responded, “not that I’m aware.” Despite a policy that on paper encouraged diversity, Urban Magnet was not able to expose participants to students from more privileged backgrounds. As a result, participants viewed their experiences in low-performing K-12 schools as normal and adequate. One conversation in particular illustrated this reality. Natalia and I were sitting in the Magnet Office looking at her personal statement draft for a private university. Gabriel, a handsome senior who was known for being a class clown, approached our table and took a seat. “So Miss,” he said to me, “What exactly are you studying?” I explained that I was 141 completing my Ph.D. in Urban Education Policy and I study college access. “Basically,” I elaborated, “I’m interested in how to help students in urban schools go to college.” “So you mean crappy schools like this? No wait, you mean schools in the hood like this?” Gabriel asked, nodding as he flashed a mischievous grin. “Well,” I responded, “I tend to think of it as schools that are under-resourced, so schools that don’t have as many resources as schools in other places.” Both students gave me a puzzled look. “Do you guys feel as though Urban is under-resourced?” “No not really,” replied Natalia. Gabriel shook his head in agreement. “Not for what we’re used to.” Although Urban was ranked among the neediest schools in the district, most students did not view it as such because they had not been exposed to students and schools in wealthier districts. Reports about classroom supplies, discipline issues, large class sizes, and scheduling conflicts embodied stereotypes about urban high schools. Analucia cited the need for new textbooks, showing me the tags on all the pages: “I think that distracts students from actually reading the story or the book.” Cindy pointed out how the disruptive behaviors of some of her classmates detracted from learning: Even if you’re a good student, and you do your things, if there’s students who don’t want to do anything, or don’t expect anything from their life, and they’re in the class, they keep you from learning anything, because they’re so loud, and they’re distracting the teacher, or they’re causing problems in the class. Although Urban Magnet had smaller class sizes on average than the regular school, participants sometimes sat in rooms with up to 40 students. In one interview, I expressed surprise to hear a teacher’s caseload was 220 students, and he chuckled, “I guess you don’t know how 142 dysfunctional Urban is.” Students had incomplete schedules for the first few weeks of school because the new records system failed, as described at the beginning of chapter 1. Daniel was once clarifying why he got a C in Constitutional Law, and he alluded to a scheduling conflict: It was kind of dumb ’cause I was taking typing class, Computers, and then two months in[to the semester] they just switched me to Constitutional Law, a class that 11th graders take. The reason why [they switched me] is because there wasn’t enough room [in the computer class]. I had been there from the beginning and they were putting 9th graders in so they just kicked me out and put me in Constitutional Law. That was just so ridiculous. He went on to explain that when the programming switch was made, nobody informed him. He continued, “They told me I was absent for like six days and I had said ‘Why am I getting absences?’ So I told my computer teacher and he said, ‘Oh you’re not in my class anymore.’” He rolled his eyes and shrugged, expressing annoyance but not surprise. “You know, Urban.” Magnet students’ homogenous social ties affirmed their experiences as ordinary, which in turn skewed their understanding of postsecondary opportunity structures. Participants assumed that the circumstances they regularly confronted in school—large class sizes, scheduling disruptions, outdated materials, and discipline problems—were the norm. Reflecting on this problem, Ms. Davis commented that she wished the students had more opportunities to see other places and meet other people: “I think it’s nice to get out and see. I don’t think, I think being in this area and not leaving to venture out… it makes you feel limited.” Implications of homogenous social ties for college transition. Several staff members highlighted challenges that Urban students were likely to encounter in college because they had not been exposed to students from other schools and neighborhoods. Many of these concerns were related to race, ethnicity, and class dynamics. The assistant principal Mr. Ruiz said: 143 I think a lack of exposure to diversity, real diversity, [is] a huge weakness not on the part of the students but just the system, so when they go to college they do face that as a culture shock. Oh my goodness I’ve never seen so many Asian people or White people in my class, you know? It’s just what it is. That’s just the nature of it. Ms. Velasquez offered similar commentary based on her statement that Urban students would be different, and reflecting on her own experience as a Latina: “Especially because of how we look, we’re going to stand out anyway. Maybe not so much in California but if we go [to college] anywhere else, we will. I think [our students] will struggle regardless of how well prepared they are.” This sentiment surfaced in Mr. Caraballo’s comments as well: “A lot of times when they go [to college] they’re probably the minority in the school. [So it is] not only the fact that they’re not ready educationally but they don’t feel comfortable. They feel like maybe they’re the outcasts wherever they go.” These adults perceived that participants were likely to face difficulties because they would be underrepresented as racial/ethnic minorities at most postsecondary institutions—an experience that Urban Magnet students had never had. The physics teacher Mr. Kyle echoed this concern after reflecting on the advantages he had received coming from a middle-class white family: What [Urban students are] not ready for is the cultural shock of that transition, especially if they go to a private university or a UC. They’re not prepared for the shock of being surrounded by people who are from privileged backgrounds. […] They’re going to have difficulty in terms of feeling out of place and feeling doubt whether they belong. I don't think that we’re preparing them for that, that shock of the transition. But how do you prepare them for that? I don’t know if you can. 144 Like his colleagues, Mr. Kyle surmised that Urban students might feel isolated being surrounded by peers from privileged backgrounds for the first time. He worried that the school had not prepared students for this aspect of the transition—but questioned whether it even could. Isolation from racial/ethnic and socioeconomic diversity also limited participants’ perspective on their relative educational opportunities. Ms. Velasquez described realizing that her privileged peers in college had had far more advanced academic experiences than she had: Like, damn, all my friends in college have read all those books. I haven’t read those. I’m willing to read them. But, the way that they’re interpreting the book is different because they may have already read it twice or three times, so the way that they’re looking at it is different. Versus my first time, when I may just be looking at [the text] literally. Mr. Martinez pointed out that Magnet students’ were prepared “given the type of training that they’ve had.” He added, “And the type of training that I’m talking about is the extra enrichment that a middle class student will get versus an inner-city student doesn’t get.” Magnet students could not conceptualize the type of enrichment that middle class students received and the extent to which their educational background at Urban differed. Participants recognized in the abstract that college transition would involve social adjustments. Some students like Cindy surmised that she would not have much time for friends because of work and studying. Hector worried about the social aspects because he was shy at first. “The only problem [for me] is going to be making new friends, because I kind of like, I don’t like just going up to [new people and saying], ‘Oh, hi.’ That's kind of strange to me.” Many students specifically acknowledged that the student population in college would be more diverse. Alex spoke about “getting ready to go into the new environment. Apart from leaving this environment you’re also going somewhere else where not everyone’s going to be 145 like you.” For participants, the idea of diversity was enticing more than intimidating. When I asked Paz what most excited her about going to college, she answered, “I think it’s meeting new people from different backgrounds. Here it’s just Latinos and African Americans. Over there I’m going to meet other people. I think that’s pretty cool.” Daisy shared a similar perspective: I think college is going to be fun because I get to meet new people, and it’s going to be diverse. People from different states, different schools, different cultures, different family backgrounds. And I know that I'm not going to be the only one that’s alone. They’re going to miss their family, too. And, yeah, I’m excited for that. Daisy’s genuine excitement about meeting people from different backgrounds reflects a sort of naiveté about cross-racial/ethnic/socioeconomic interactions on college campuses. She also anticipated that college transition would be similarly challenging for all first year students: “They’re going to miss their family, too.” This assumption lends credence to Ms. Velasquez’s point that Urban students were not cognizant of their disadvantage and did not anticipate being “different” from their future college classmates. In summary, although the school cultivated a strong sense of family internally, the school’s isolation in a segregated low-income neighborhood prevented participants from forming diverse social ties. Unable to broker diverse social ties, the school could not prepare Magnet students mentally and emotionally for the experience of being underrepresented on a college campus. Theoretically, outside organizations may have helped by broadening students’ access to postsecondary contexts. Through these programs, participants were exposed to the academic and cultural aspects of higher education to varying degrees. However, various factors limited the school’s capacity to broker students’ organizational ties, which I turn to next. 146 Barriers and Limitations: Brokering Organizational Ties Carmen was a friendly, outgoing student who was highly involved in school sports and Magnet leadership. She lived with her father, stepmother, and two younger half-brothers. She and her mother, who had her at age 15 and had since had three more children that, according to Carmen, “she can’t even afford,” did not see each other that frequently. Carmen had been a straight-A student in middle school but her grades dipped in 9th grade. Now she earned a B average. Carmen did not apply to CC Upward Bound because she spent summers visiting her grandmother in El Salvador and could not commit to all program requirements. She described her grandma as her motivation because “she thinks really highly of me. She always says: ‘Carmen, I know you’re going to make me proud, you’re going to college.’” One day Carmen and I were chatting about her college applications and she explained that she was less worried about her grades and test scores because she had lots of extracurricular activities. She elaborated, “I am pretty sure there are students who have a 4.0 or maybe higher and they probably don’t get accepted because… I’ve been told a lot that extracurricular activities [are] a huge part of your acceptance. I think about it a lot.” “Where have you heard about extracurricular activities being so important?” I asked. “Today, Miss Brenner told me. Or maybe it was Miss Jasmine.” “The lady that was here today helping?” “Yeah, her. She told me because we were putting in my extracurricular activities [for the CSU application] and I had told her my GPA, which was a 3.3, and my SAT scores, and then she told me, ‘It’s okay, your SAT scores are college eligibility. Your extracurricular activities are excellent. That plays a huge role.’ Especially ’cause like, extracurricular activities show that you work well with others, you’re very independent, stuff like that.” 147 Carmen had sought help from one of the many people who came to Urban to provide college application assistance. Regardless of what was actually said during their conversation, Carmen’s takeaway was that extracurricular involvement was as important, if not more important, than her course grades and test scores. Miss Jasmine may have been trying to ease Carmen’s anxiety about her prior academic performance, but Carmen did not have the knowledge with which to interpret this nuance. In her view, she had spoken to a college-educated adult in the computer lab and gained a clearer understanding of the college admissions process. Part 1 revealed that Urban Magnet “brought people in” to help with college-going, which led students to perceive a wide availability of support. Yet despite the plethora of organizational partnerships, inadequate resources and variable program quality minimized the potential value of organizational ties. As evidenced by my conversation with Carmen, participants had inconsistent access to high-quality college-going information and/or insufficient support making sense of the information that was available. These challenges and their implications for students’ college- going identities are explored below. Inadequate resources as a barrier to brokering organizational ties. When I asked the assistant principal Mr. Ruiz if there was anything he wished the school could do better to help students prepare for college, he chuckled. “Are you offering me money? A better budget?” He elaborated on his desire “to be able to just expose our ninth graders as they come in as freshmen to the college life.” Unfortunately, he continued, “we’re a bit restricted because of budget so we can’t afford college trips until maybe 11th grade.” Due to limited funding, the school and its partners focused on supporting students with basic requirements in their junior and senior years, such as registering for the SAT, submitting state university applications, and filling out FAFSA. 148 Budget limitations also motivated the closing of the college center two years prior. During participants’ freshman year, Urban devoted a large classroom to college and career education. The college center was open all day and students visited during lunch, home, or service periods. The center was closed when they started 10th grade. The former college counselor and now guidance counselor, Ms. Garcia, explained why: “Before, they used to have one counselor for about 600, 700 students, because of the college counselor. Now, there’s one counselor per about 300 students.” The smaller loads made it easier for guidance counselors to address a variety of student needs, but students no longer had a central place to go for information about college. Ms. Garcia had also been responsible for organizing college field trips. She noted that there had been fewer since she switched to guidance because she had less time to coordinate them. “College is done, it’s being done,” she explained, “but students might have to wait. It’s not the full focus.” Some students recounted benefits of the former college center, mainly that it helped broker organizational ties. Edward had connected with PU Upward Bound because he frequently visited there: When we had a college center here, that was really good, like I would go to the college center every day. [...] That’s how I found like PU Upward Bound and all that stuff. It was like you could get all the connections in there. It was a network center. So yeah, I loved that place but it went away now. Note that Edward did not complain or take offence at the closing of the college center, but simply acknowledged that he had “loved that place” and was disappointed it had closed. 149 Analucia too had become affiliated with PU Upward Bound because she spent time in the college center. Though she initially saw a sign on the wall in Mr. Anderson’s classroom, as discussed in part 1, the college center was where she made the connection. She explained: When we were in 10th grade the school had barely [just] changed from tracked [year- round scheduling] to traditional. And at the beginning it was only A track that had PU Upward Bound. And I knew about it because I used to help in the college center my summer of 9th grade, and the [PU Upward Bound] guy was always there so I got to know him and I got in. But that year when [the school] became traditional, he didn’t do presentations so nobody knew about it. Analucia’s experience suggests that the school did not always broker organizational ties systematically; she was lucky to have developed a relationship with the program’s representative while volunteering in the college center. Given that he did not do presentations that year, she may not have connected with him had she not been in the right place at the right time. The college center maximized the likelihood that students would form organizational ties. Without what Edward called a “network center” and a designated college counselor, no one appeared to be monitoring students’ participation in college access programs. According to Ms. Velasquez, It’s supposed to be one of the assistant principals overseeing [the partner organizations]. But [the after school coordinator from ASE] is the liaison for all of these people. And he could just be as loosey-goosey as the providers that he’s trying to keep in check. So I think it’s like, “Oh well I defer that to the assistant principal,” and “Oh well I defer that to the after school coordinator.” 150 Whether the person responsible was less than competent or simply overworked, the result was that nobody supervised outside programs; school staff rarely knew which students were being served, which services they were receiving, and whether those services were beneficial. Variable program quality as a barrier to brokering organizational ties. Given limited resources and students’ high level of college-going need, Urban welcomed outside organizations non-discriminately. In some cases, however, these partners hindered effective resource brokerage, and Urban staff and students inherited the consequences. For example, disorganization higher up in the school system or on the part of partner organizations sometimes prevented tie formation. I once encountered Ms. Velasquez in the hallway outside the Magnet Office during passing period, pacing back and forth and scanning the students passing by. “Can you believe this?” She motioned toward a stack of papers in her hand, explaining: This is an application for a really great conference that the district puts on. It’s a leadership conference for Chicano youth, 3 days, for 11th graders with leadership potential. It’s a fabulous opportunity. But when did I receive this application from them? Today. Do you know when it’s due? Tomorrow. How am I supposed to find the right kids—and how are they supposed to complete the application—in one day? They’re supposed to get recommendations and write essays. They can’t do that in 24 hours. Another example pertained to the school’s partnership with a local community college to offer two free college courses on Urban’s campus. After the district’s college access liaison spent days recruiting students, a miscommunication led the professor to arrive on the wrong day; a week of instruction was lost and enrollment declined. Mr. Ruiz perceived that outside programs did not always communicate well with administrative staff and were not always aware of what goes on in schools. “I often think that a 151 lot of groups, they don’t understand the educational system, how the system works. And so, it’s hard to be a full team player.” Ms. Velasquez expressed her view that “a lot of these programs are just a bunch of BS.” She observed that outsiders bring the “latest trend” to the schools because they want to help. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean that how the idea gets branched out to the kids is meaningful or useful.” She continued, “what I see, and what I hear when I talk to the other counselors, is that some of these people [who come in] are just plain lazy.” In other cases, program liaisons were well intentioned and hard working, but just not that experienced, or “very green.” Ms. Velasquez cited Melissa, who worked at Urban for one of the TRIO programs, as an example. She remembered a time when Melissa encouraged 10th grade students who had failed history to make up the course at community college, an option that Ms. Velasquez immediately vetoed. “They failed their regular class! Why am I gonna send them to community college to take it? It’s not credit recovery. You send the kids to community college for enrichment, not to retake a class.” She appreciated that Melissa was connected to the students and anticipated improvement over time. Nevertheless, Urban Magnet staff perceived that outside organizations were not always well trained or knowledgeable about what students needed. The variation in organizational quality influenced the type of college-going support participants obtained. Students perceived that some programs were more comprehensive than others, as illustrated in the following focus group discussion. We were sitting in a circle in the SCL2 computer lab on a warm Friday afternoon. I had ordered several pizzas and the students agreed we had more than we could eat. Ten were present: Cindy, Daisy, Emi, Carmen, Analucia, Graciela, and Natalia. Edward and Bryan had come at the beginning but had to leave early for soccer and JROTC, respectively. Oscar, Cindy’s boyfriend, was reading in the corner of the 152 room. We had just finished discussing academic and social life at Urban Magnet, and I shifted the conversation to talk about preparing for college. Julia: So the next question is: what people at the school have most helped you prepare for college? Analucia: I think Upward Bound. Cindy: ’Cause you had a good one. Daisy: You have a good Upward Bound. Carmen: She has Private University (PU) Upward Bound. Emi: We have Community College (CC) Upward Bound. Daisy: Like on the UC application when they asked me if there’s any organizations that helped me with college apps I put none because CC Upward Bound has not helped me at all. While Analucia reported that PU Upward Bound had helped her immensely, not all participants perceived their programs to be as useful. As Daisy commented later, “I can assure you there’s totally a difference between [Analucia’s] Upward Bound and our Upward Bound.” Emi added a story about their CC Upward Bound mentor using an iPhone to Google answers to her questions about college applications. Cindy recalled how another mentor, who had just transferred to a CSU from a community college, told them that CSU applications required personal statements, which was not true. “I mean she’s at a CSU!” exclaimed Daisy. “Shouldn’t she know what it takes to get in?” CC Upward Bound also did not include Saturday workshops like its counterpart at the private university. The students did not always realize the variation across these organizations until they had spent time in them, however; most did not know, for instance, that a program associated with an 153 elite private university might offer greater resources and prestige than one associated with a community college. Thus, while a handful of students like Analucia and Edward became connected to selective postsecondary institutions, this was the exception rather than the rule. Implications for students’ college preparation. Insufficient resources and inconsistent program quality had implications for students’ college preparation and identity development. For instance, not all students were able to access college counseling. As Ximena said: I think our counselors are prepared but they, there’s too many students, so it’s hard for a student to go to a counselor. […] And sometimes you’ve never met your counselor because you don’t… You’re passing your classes with a C average so the counselor is not looking at you because they’re saying “okay they’re passing.” But you don’t know if you’re taking rigorous classes or if you’re college prepared. She worried that many students were not receiving enough personalized attention with the college-going process because counselors did not have time. Given limited funding, the school and its partners prioritized the nuts and bolts of the application process. As discussed in part 1, school-sponsored college events addressed logistics such as SAT registration and FAFSA completion. These interventions were crucial because students and parents needed help navigating these requirements. As a result, though, participants often equated the idea of being prepared for college with completing these logistical tasks. Most students characterized workshops as the most beneficial form of school-based college-going support, as opposed to, for example, AP curriculum. Hector praised the Upward Bound program because “they’ve done an amazing job, informed us about FASFA and due dates. They helped us finish applying for colleges. They reviewed our admissions for EOP. They did everything for 154 us.” He perceived that Upward Bound’s help with submitting applications on time amounted to doing “everything” for him. These data illustrate that students developed a somewhat superficial understanding of CR. As Mr. Kyle shared, “They think that there’s this formula for success and if I just do this, this, and this I’ll be successful. But I just don’t think they have a clue. The only experience they have is oh, I’ve got to fill out these forms and then I can go to college.” Carmen’s comment substantiated this claim: “College-wise, I’m becoming more responsible because you have to be on deadline after deadline after deadline.” Variable program quality meant that students had varied access to high-quality college- going support. Although students who joined programs generally benefited relative to those who did not, not all programs were created equal. Some program participants, for instance, were relying on mentors who were nearly their age and/or did not seem to understand postsecondary requirements. Most students who took college courses also attended local two-year colleges. These students perceived that their professors had higher expectations than most of their high school teachers and they gained some perspective on college academics. However, community colleges did not offer the same exposure to academic rigor as the more selective four-year colleges they hoped to attend. For instance, most students earned As and Bs in their college courses, even when, like Cindy described earlier, they started the final paper one week before the deadline. They were also enrolled in classes like “Speech 101” and “Personal Development” more often than content-heavy classes like political science. These experiences consequently tended to boost students’ confidence about their potential rather than help them realize the academic challenges they were likely to encounter in four-year institutions. 155 Unfortunately, students and their parents did not always have the resources they needed to assess the quality of available organizations and information. Ms. Velasquez offered insight into this problem, suggesting that her students’ parents, like her parents, wanted to help their children educationally, but did not always know how: Parents know they want their kids to be educated […] so they do what they know how to do, which is, “okay I’ll apply for Magnet because I hear that’s a good thing.” Or, “Okay you can stay after school for tutoring because they say that’s a good thing.” But they don’t know the quality of tutoring. [My sister and I] were being tutored by high school kids who were just as far behind as we may have been, but my parents didn’t know that. They just wanted us to get help. A similar trend appeared to be taking place around college-going. Given these limitations, most students did not acquire high-quality, consistent, and accurate information about or sustained exposure to higher education. Instead, they relied on isolated snippets of information from different sources and gained only a superficial understanding of higher education. This reality contrasted students’ assumptions about the availability and value of college-going support at Urban. A similar trend emerged in terms of academic preparation, which I discuss below with respect to dominant cultural capital. Barriers and Limitations: Dominant Cultural Capital “Actually I’m going to have say no,” said the U.S. history and sociology teacher, shaking his head. “Do you want to know why?” After spending a few months observing, interviewing, and mentoring student participants, I had begun reaching out to their teachers. All had agreed to do an interview except one, who informed me of his decision in the middle of the Magnet office 156 on a Tuesday afternoon. Caught off guard, I was still formulating a response when he repeated his question. “Do you want to know why I don’t want to interview?” Mr. Anderson was a late middle-aged white man with a full head of gray hair who had worked at Urban Magnet for most of his teaching career and was slated to retire in a couple years. The students adored him, often referencing his class as one of the best and recounting his inspirational pep talks. He was as dedicated to the students after school as he was during—I often saw him cheering students on at the softball games or dishing out turkey at the Magnet community potlucks. “There is no pressure at all for you to participate,” I said, glancing around the office to check if students were paying attention. “But you’re welcome to explain why you don’t want to.” Mr. Anderson began critiquing the high number of researchers who come into the school, take what they need, and leave without giving back. He lamented that the teaching profession was under attack and pointed out that in other countries, educators are revered. I mentioned that I appreciated his frustrations, that I had been a teacher, and was spending lots of time mentoring the seniors. Still suspicious of my trustworthiness because, in his view, I could not be separated from the institution I represented, he conceded only slightly: “Well go ahead and ask me your questions. You can ask me right here while I make these copies. This can be our interview.” Aware that we were in a public space, I offered a summary of the study: “Basically, I am interested in how students prepare for college, and how the school helps them get ready.” Mr. Anderson straightened out a stack of papers on the top of the copier, placed them in the machine and hit the start button. “Here’s what I’ll say about the education system. The kids are babied. We baby them. The teachers baby the students, we do too much for them, and then they expect things to be done for them. There’s no motivation. And outside programs like the 157 Gear Ups and Community Partnerships only make the problem worse.” He walked past me and entered a back closet to get more printer paper. I followed him. “Let me give you an example,” he continued, grabbing a ream of paper from a shelf and ripping off the plastic wrapping. “Gear Up. They are servicing the sophomores. That’s their cohort. A few weeks ago they come into my classroom—the middle of my class—and they’re putting these little trinkets, these little prizes on the desks of some of my sophomores. And I ask what they’re for. And so they do this little announcement and it turns out that they’re for all the students who were passing their classes. Passing.” He paused and looked at me. “Ds are passing.” He became more animated, using his arms to gesture as he spoke. “They weren’t doing anything to celebrate my A students. They weren’t recognizing them. And so all my top students are watching as my barely-passing students are being rewarded and I’m wondering, what message does this send?” He walked out of the closet, loaded fresh paper into the copier, and turned to look at me. “Now you’re asking about kids being college-ready. Here’s the thing: everyone is afraid to say that students need to be held accountable and parents need to be held accountable. No one wants to say that. Instead we’re babying them—we’re literally giving them trinkets for passing. What is that preparing them for?” Even as most staff members struggled to raise standards, the data revealed a lowering of expectations school-wide due to external and internal constraints. As a result, the dominant cultural capital (e.g., CR rhetoric, indicators) to which participants had access did not necessarily signify academic readiness for college. Students’ self constructions as “scholars” held salience within the walls of Urban High School but not necessarily in relation to more privileged high schools or postsecondary contexts. 158 External barriers to brokering dominant cultural capital. One challenge stemmed from accountability policies that emphasize indicators such as graduation rates and state standardized tests. As discussed in part 1, Urban High School was closed and reopened in 2010 due to poor performance. Reconstitution prompted the school to switch from a six-period schedule, which is standard in California high schools, to an eight-period schedule. Students could now make up failed classes during the regular school day and still graduate on time. Some adult participants characterized the new schedule as lowering standards. Mr. Kyle said, We enable kids to fail. We say, hey, look, it’s okay if you fail your classes. It’s okay if you fail every single class in ninth grade because we’re going to give you an extra two periods per semester and you can literally make up an entire year of school. But, the graduation rate did increase a lot so more kids are graduating. I’ll give credit to that. This increase in the graduation rate came with costs for high-achieving students. First, creating more periods meant less time for each class. According to a 2015 program evaluation from Urban Magnet: “Due to the poor academic performance of the host school, a 2x8 scheduled was implemented and forced upon the Magnet school. This resulted in 1/3 less contact hours in the core subject areas of science and social science.” One teacher cited the same concern: “we lost about 33% of the instructional hours, poof, gone. So I’m having to teach the same amount of curriculum with 33% less time. It ends up being hours lost.” Student participants had 33% less time to learn the content for an AP Calculus class, for instance, than their counterparts in higher performing schools with a six period schedule. This quandary led Mr. Kyle to lament what he saw as an overemphasis on “measurables” like the graduation rate. He said, “You can’t measure the fact that I stopped doing labs in my class because there’s no time to do labs anymore. We’re 159 not doing lab reports. We’re not doing experiments. And so it’s like, sure, my students can pass my class [and graduate], but I’m disadvantaging them.” Second, having an additional two periods per day meant that high-achieving students were assigned to a variety of non-core elective classes. According to student reports, some of those electives were useful or interesting such as sociology and psychology, and others were a waste of time such as cosmetology and computers. Daisy and her friend Karina reported that in cosmetology, they either painted each other’s nails or simply sat around for the duration of the period. Students were also enrolled in a “Home” period, when they were permitted to leave campus, or a “Service” period, when they were assigned to help a staff member. These course assignments consumed hours of time each semester that students did not spend working on basic academic skills like reading, writing, and math. These trade-offs suggest that school-wide efforts to raise the graduation rate may have inadvertently hindered college preparation. For instance, when I asked teachers what the school could do to strengthen students’ CR, one said: “I mean, you’ve got to choose your battles. We want them to graduate from high school first. I’d say most of our resources go into that and college becomes this afterthought.” The assistant principal, Mr. Ruiz, shed further light on this tension between lowering dropouts and graduating college- and career-ready students. “You can’t do one without the other, that’s the basic premise.” He explained: We’re trying to graduate students first because without graduation you can’t send them to UCLA. So that’s the whole idea. Can we graduate them? And then at the same time, can we nurture the students who are more solid academically and send them on their way? The closing of the college center, discussed in the prior subsection, further signified that graduation was the main priority. As Ms. Garcia explained, “I’m now dealing with attendance 160 issues, discipline issues, people who are not going to graduate. A lot of that takes a lot of time, so there isn’t as much time [for college].” Nevertheless, evidence revealed growing efforts to address college preparation. Mr. Ruiz recounted a controversy around an online credit recovery program that he purchased. “The question that counselors brought to my attention was, ‘Well, you know, some of the [online] courses may not be A through G approved 13 , so why would students take them?’” The implication was that enrolling students in a make-up class that did not count as college- preparatory was doing them a disservice. His counselors’ concern stemmed from the district’s increased emphasis on a “college for all” curriculum at the high school level. Though its full implementation had encountered some delays, the district’s new stated policy required all high school students to complete the courses required for UC/CSU admission. As the counselor Ms. Garcia reported, “There’s a big push from the district [to make everyone A-G eligible]. There’s, of course, the other side, like a lot of kids may not graduate because of it. But they’re really raising their standards.” Another example of increased concern for college-going pertained to college admissions testing. Mr. Kyle recalled efforts to register all seniors for the SAT a few years prior, when the school had a college center and counselor. He elaborated: For a while we were so like, “College readiness! College readiness! Everyone’s going to go to college!” We would have every single kid basically take the SAT. But then our graduation rate is so low that a lot of the kids would take the SAT and then they wouldn't even graduate from high school. 13 As mentioned in chapter 3, “A through G” refers to the college preparatory curriculum requirements that make a student eligible for admission at the state’s four-year institutions—the UC and CSU. 161 He paused to reiterate how remarkable that statistic was: “We had more kids take the SAT than graduate… It just shows you that we were so focused on getting them ‘college-ready’ that we didn’t even get them high school ready.” His point was to highlight the absurdity inherent in having all students take a university admissions exam when they are not even on track to earn a high school diploma. These data suggest that some of the school’s efforts to increase college preparedness, however well intentioned, were superficial and/or insufficient. In this case, Urban was making all seniors take an SAT test without ensuring that they (a) were passing their classes and otherwise eligible to attend university, and (b) wanted to go. Similarly, the counselors’ increased concern for enrolling students in A-G coursework was important, but for high-achieving, college-bound students, simply enrolling in A-G courses was not enough. First, even though all participants had fulfilled or were fulfilling A-G requirements, many were not enrolled in the types of senior-year courses most likely to support college transition. For example, only 8 of the 15 informants were enrolled in science their senior year, 2 of those were in a one-semester elective (physiology), and 1 informant was not enrolled in any math class (See Table 11). Second, the high-achieving students who aspired to attend college were already spending less time in A-G classes like English because they were in courses like cosmetology. Thus the school’s CR efforts, however well intentioned, were often at odds with larger policy goals and structures—such as the eight- period schedule—that prioritized the needs of struggling students. I refer back to the other data in Table 11 later in the text. 162 Table 11 Student achievement as measured by college readiness indicators (grades and courses) Name GPA AP Courses Taken AP Exams ERWC 1 Science Grade 12 Highest Math College Courses 2 #Passed / #Taken Alex 3.0 5 1 2 -- -- Calc AB 1 (CC) Analucia 3.8 6 0 2 -- AP Physics Calc AB 1 (CC) Bryan 3.4 4 0 2 -- -- Calc AB -- Carmen 3.1 4 0 1 -- -- Calc AB -- Cindy 3.4 5 1 3 -- Physiology 3 Trig 4 (CC) Daisy 3.2 4 1 2 -- Physiology 3 Trig 4 5 (CC) Daniel 3.83 5 2 3 Yes AP Physics Calc BC -- Edward 3.9 6 1 3 -- AP Physics Calc AB 1 (U) Emi 3.9 5 1 3 Yes AP Physics Calc AB 4 (CC) Graciela 4.0 6 2 3 -- -- Calc AB 1 (CC) Hector 3.0 3 0 1 Yes AP Physics Calc AB 3 (CC) Juan 3.48 5 2 3 -- -- Calc AB 1 (CC) Natalia 3.5 5 0 3 -- -- Trig -- Paz 3.76 4 1 2 Yes -- Calc AB 4 (CC) Ximena 3.7 6 1 2 -- AP Physics Calc BC 4 (CC) 1 ERWC is a remedial college-preparatory course for students whose scores on the California State University Early Assessment portion of the 11th grade state test indicated they were not yet proficient in English Language Arts. 2 In this column, CC refers to courses taken at community college and U denotes a university. 3 A one-semester-long elective course; not A-G approved. 4 Completed in 11th grade; not taking a math senior year. Some student participants also perceived that—even in Magnet—emphasis was placed on the goal of high school graduation. When I asked Graciela how the school could better prepare students for college, she answered: Motivation. Like in general, the whole school, and Magnet--, well, not so much Magnet, but some Magnet and in general the whole school needs motivation. Like they tell [the students] from day one in 9th grade, “Oh, yes, as long as you get Cs or better, you guys 163 will do fine and graduate.” So it’s just pretty much--, that doesn’t give enough motivation because that makes the students feel like, “Oh man, they didn’t want me here in the first place. Why should I even be at school?” High-achieving Urban Magnet students hoped to be competitive at some of the top universities state- and nation-wide, but they were attending high school in a context where the instructional expectations were often lowered to satisfy minimum accountability standards (e.g., raising the graduation rate). While the district’s push to mandate “college for all” initiatives were drawing more attention to college-going, it still was not the priority. Internal barriers to brokering dominant cultural capital. The climate of low expectations reinforced by school-level policies such as the eight-period day was also evident in some classrooms. Students perceived that they were not always held to high standards, especially in certain courses. Numerous participants lamented feeling unchallenged in AP English, where they had only been asked to write three short essays all year—one of which was based on watching the movie Raisin in the Sun rather than reading the play. This particular assignment required quotes, but students did not have the text. In describing her AP courses, Analucia stated: “It’s Government, Calculus, Physics, and AP Literature, but Literature, it just, it doesn’t even feel like an AP class. I feel like that class is like a regular class.” On one Friday afternoon, several students nodded knowingly as Cindy described her experience in junior AP English Language, taught by the same teacher. “I would do my essays the night before, there would be like 25 minutes that I would spend on it. [Before that], I wouldn’t even think about it. So it’s a 25-minute essay, and [the teacher’s] comments are: ‘Good thesis.’ ‘Good grammar.’” At this point two of Cindy’s classmates added, in unison, “Good supporting details!” Laughter ensued. 164 Alex shared similar concerns about the English classes but also offered perspective on the school as a whole: Sometimes I feel like the school expects less from us. Sometimes. Not all but some teachers think our academic ability is lower than it really is. I don’t know if anyone else has told you but the AP literature class and that teacher, I find it too simple compared to the rigor we’re expected to be in. Daniel echoed this sentiment when boasting about his ability to easily earn As in physics class during his junior year: Sometimes you don’t have to study a lot because you can remember everything, but not at a level that we should to prepare for AP exams. But the teacher had to [teach that way] because of the students--, most of the students were taking Algebra II or Geometry. So [the math level] was below what it should have been [Trig] to prepare us for AP Physics. Though he prided himself on his easy As and at times perfect test scores, he recognized that his ability to do so well without studying meant that he was not being adequately challenged. Daniel had actually spent his freshman year commuting to a school in a suburb 30 minutes away, where he gained some perspective on Urban’s relative quality. He explained that his 9th grade Biology teacher assigned an essay a week, more writing than he did as a senior at Urban. However, he adapted to his environment: “When you go over there, you adapt--, at least I did, I adapted to their level. Then when I came here [to Urban], I adapted too, but it was lower. When I was over there, I was still like one of the better students. But it was harder.” He went on to characterize Urban as a “joke” because “it’s too easy here.” He recognized some of the complexities that contributed to lower rigor, alluding to classmates with less advanced skills. “The teachers are so into helping them that they lower the standards so they can 165 meet them, while we were already meeting the standards before, so we don’t even have to try anymore.” He continued, “But if we’re here [at Urban] and we are already at the top, we’re already better than most of [the students], so, how can we be as good as [students at better schools] if we are not getting the option?” Daniel expressed frustration with what he perceived as low standards at Urban. However, he remained confident in his ability to “adapt” to higher ones if need be, as he had in 9th grade. Notably, district data did not suggest that his suburban high school was significantly higher performing than Urban Magnet; the schools’ API scores were in the same range. That participants acknowledged feeling unchallenged in some of their AP courses was at odds with the general reports of high academic rigor in the magnet program, especially relative to the host school. Interestingly, not all data substantiated the widespread assumption that Urban Magnet was more college preparatory than Urban. For example, AP passing rates did not vary substantially between the two schools. Table 12 presents data on AP testing from the spring of the 2013-2014 school year, when participants were juniors. Magnet students out-performed their peers in the regular school on some AP exams (e.g., U.S. History), but not others (e.g., English Language). In total, Magnet students had a two-percent higher passing rate—but this does not reflect a clear, significant pattern across tests. 166 Table 12 AP outcomes in Urban High School and Urban Magnet High School, 2013-14 Test Calculus AB English Language 2 English Literature U.S. History 2 Spanish Language 2 Totals 3 School Ubn. Mag. Ubn Mag. Ubn. Mag. Ubn Mag. Ubn. Mag. Ubn Mag. # Passing Scores 1 4 1 10 3 3 3 13 8 151 38 226 62 # Tests Taken 34 16 101 33 97 19 50 27 166 39 650 166 Passing Rate 12% 6% 10% 9% 3% 16% 26% 30% 91% 97% 35% 37% Note: Ubn stands for Urban High School (traditional campus) and Mag. stands for Urban Magnet. 1 AP exams receive scores from 1–5. A score of 3 and above is considered passing. 2 Participants took these tests as 11th graders. 3 Totals include other tests not shown in this table. This figure denotes the total number of AP test-takers at each school during that testing period, and the resulting pass rates. These data call into question the pervasive rhetoric about more rigorous academic preparation in Magnet relative to regular Urban. The Magnet program did perform better when comparing overall achievement (e.g., API scores; 620 vs. 790), but the API score is based on measures of basic high school proficiency (e.g., state standardized test scores, exit exam pass rates). High school exit exams, for example, are written at a 10th grade level. AP exams, by contrast, are aligned with college-level curriculum. Magnet students may therefore have been meeting minimum state standards at higher rates on average than their counterparts in the regular school, but basic proficiency does not equate to CR. The figures in Table 12 imply that magnet and non-magnet AP courses were comparably rigorous and/or that high-scoring test-takers attended both schools. Participants’ shared perception that non-magnet classrooms were more difficult to manage may have reinforced their assumption that magnet courses were harder. Another internal challenge stemmed from the fact that staff members had different ideas about what it meant to be ready for college. Mr. Martinez emphasized literacy and math: “They need to be able to read and comprehend difficult texts, and numeracy, they need to understand 167 how numbers work.” The English teacher surmised that a college-ready student needed a “comprehensive reading level. Ability to write clearly. How to pull out text-based sources in their writing. Time organization. Self-motivation. And research.” According to Mr. Caraballo, “I think college readiness for me is being able to do college work. Being able to compete.” He also emphasized research skills. Ms. Garcia highlighted the fundamentals of reading, writing, and math, but added that students needed to be resourceful, empowered, and resilient, or “have that kind of attitude.” Mr. Roberts stressed the importance of time management and not over- committing to work or extracurricular activities in your first semester. The assistant principal Mr. Ruiz spoke of CR in terms of indicators and requirements such as A-G courses, completing the FAFSA, and recovering lost credits. While all staff members mentioned academic skills at a minimum, no consensus existed regarding exactly what skills, or what students might need beyond academics. Some adults contemplated that what CR means depends on the specific student or student population. Ms. Velasquez for example surmised that college-ready for privileged students meant mastering academic skills, but college-ready for Urban students meant “being 100% committed to being successful and willing to ask for help.” That teachers and staff had varied interpretations of CR was unsurprising given that, according to some adult participants, a school-wide college-going initiative was lacking. “I think there’s no consistency class to class,” Mr. Caraballo worried. “We try to do whatever we can in our classes, but as a whole school, college readiness, I don’t think we do much to be honest with you.” Mr. Kyle expressed the same concern: “I don’t think the school is doing anything. It’s mostly the teachers who are driving the college readiness aspects of things.” Most teachers were making concerted efforts to support students in their own classrooms. Mr. Roberts, for example, required all seniors to complete a “Life Plan,” a 40-50 page report about their future college and 168 career goals. Though the research students conducted for this assignment largely amounted to Googling, they did gain experience structuring a long paper over the course of several weeks. Thus despite the emphasis on college-going in the school’s mission, staff were not always on the same page about what that meant or what students needed. Mr. Martinez, for instance, expressed his fear that going to a four-year college was being presented as the only acceptable option for all students: ’Cause I’ve heard a lot of students [say], “Oh my counselor told me not to got to community college because of this reason,” instead of telling them what are the drawbacks of going to community college and what happens to students who fall into those pitfalls and how to avoid them. He suggested that a more nuanced message for students about their postsecondary options would be preferable. Reflecting on whether Urban students were prepared for postsecondary transition, Ms. Davis commented, “I guess that’s all relative in, some are university-ready, some are community college-ready. I definitely think they’re all college-ready, just different levels.” The variation in teachers’ conceptions of CR meant that what they prioritized and expected of students varied substantially across classrooms. Implications for students’ academic readiness. The overall climate of low expectations and inconsistent messaging had consequences for students’ academic readiness. On the one hand, they sensed that they were unchallenged and adjusted their work habits accordingly. Many students did not always study or complete assignments because they did not have to. In Ximena’s words, “I don’t usually do homework.” A few students, like Graciela and Daisy, devoted hours of time to studying, while others, like Alex and Juan, reported a tendency to procrastinate or do the minimum. On the other hand, participants internalized positive messages about their 169 preparation through Magnet’s achievement rhetoric, even when it contradicted their experience with a specific course or teacher. As Juan said, “At [Urban Magnet] you’re always challenged, you’re never, there’s never a time that you can let go like ‘this is an easy class’ or… They really push you.” One afternoon a group of girls were describing their perception that the Magnet school was “really rigorous” and their teachers “expected a lot.” When I asked what they meant by rigor, they cited the science fair as an exemplar. I pressed for further explanation: Analucia: You have to write up a long report. Natalia: Last year it was nine pages. 2000 words. Cindy: And the project counts as like at least 5-10% of your final grade. Graciela: That’s actually the reason why so many people got their grades lowered, because they quit [the science fair] mid-way. Cindy: I quit last year. Once I hit that lab report, I was like, “Naw, I’ll take my C.” Carmen: I did too. I mean I was on top of my science project. But once that lab report came and it was nine pages I was like, “Nope. I’m out!” In this instance, refusing to complete a nine-page writing assignment for a major project was not portrayed as inconsistent with experiencing rigor or, by extension, being “scholars.” Another example pertained to Mr. Roberts’ Life Plan assignment, a 50-page report required of all seniors, documenting their postsecondary plans. Almost all participants, including some teachers, identified the Life Plan as a rigorous and important assignment, evidence that Urban Magnet was college preparatory. In Alex’s words, “the Life Plan helps you structure yourself and know what you want to do and how it is you want to get there.” A few students, 170 including Analucia and Daisy, started their assignments early. Graciela emailed me rough drafts to review weeks in advance. Yet the majority waited until right before the deadlines, leaving little time for thorough research or revision. On one Wednesday afternoon in March, for example, Carmen informed me that several participants were skipping school the next day to complete the second part of their Life Plans, 10-15 pages typed and double-spaced, because no one had started and it was due to Mr. Roberts on Friday. Thus even while students perceived the significance of the Life Plan because, according to Ximena, “it’s the biggest paper I will have written so far,” many did not practice effective research and time management skills. Examples such as this led teachers to worry that participants were underprepared for college. As Mr. Martinez, an alumnus of Urban High School, reflected: I think a lot of this college awareness has already reached them, so they do have that goal, but they just don’t know how they’re going to get there. Especially some of them that have these lofty goals like, “Oh I wanna go be a doctor.” Well, I mean, you gotta do some homework, you know? Homework is important. Mr. Caraballo expressed the same concern, comparing his schooling experience as a Latino in the same city to that of his students. He had attended a magnet high school as well, but his program had competitive admissions standards and a more diverse population, including first, second, and third generation college-goers. He explained: I knew when I was in high school that one C—that could completely throw you off from getting into UCLA. One C and people were crying. And here [at Urban] you’ve got students with a 2.5 GPA and they want to go to USC. He pointed out that while many of his Magnet students were more motivated, they were accustomed to earning easy As in most of their classes. “So they think, ‘Well I’m gonna go to 171 college and just by doing my work, get As. And [I’m going to] study for a test for like 30 minutes and get an A.’ While you know in some high schools, students study for three or four hours to get a C.” While Mr. Martinez and Mr. Caraballo raised concerns about homework and studying, other teachers reported that most Magnet students were still developing content area skills. Many adults commented that because students were English language learners, literacy was especially challenging. According to the assistant principal Mr. Ruiz, “There’s always that struggle with basic vocabulary, and just being able to articulate ideas. So we may have some students who have to take those remedial courses to really be ready for the core.” Several adults shared this perspective. As Mr. Roberts said, I mean as earnest as these kids are, a lot of them are not up on the skills where they need to be and where they should be. Some of them are gonna struggle when they get to college and they might even need to take some remedial classes. But they’ll try. Achievement data confirmed that despite participants’ high-achieving status at Urban, many had not yet reached college-level proficiency. For example, the 15 informants passed, on average, fewer than half of the AP tests they took (See Table 11). Most passing scores were in AP Spanish Language, for which students tended to earn 4s and 5s out of 5. Only 3 out of 33 test-takers in Magnet passed the AP English Language exam in 11th grade, earning scores of 3, the lowest passing score. Interestingly, Daniel was the only informant to pass the AP English Language exam in 11th grade, yet he was also one of only four placed in the ERWC remedial English class his senior year (See Table 11). College admissions testing revealed a similar pattern. Only 5 out of the 15 informants met or exceeded the CR benchmark for the SAT (See Figure 10). Their average CR rate of 172 33.3% was therefore lower than that of SAT test-takers in California (42.3%) in 2014 (College Board, n.d.). Notably, however, participants out-performed the state’s Hispanic test-takers, who met the benchmark at a rate of 21.0%. In comparison to the average scores statewide, 6 of the 15 informants scored higher on the SAT; 4 of the 8 students who took the ACT met or exceeded the average score (See Table 13). Figure 10. Combined SAT scores relative to College Readiness Benchmark, ranked lowest to highest *The SAT Benchmark score of 1550 (critical reading, mathematics and writing sections combined) indicates a 65% likelihood of achieving a B- average or higher during the first year of college (College Board, 2011). 173 Table 13 Student achievement as measured by CR indicators (standardized tests), ranked from lowest to highest by combined SAT test score Name SAT Reading SAT Math SAT Writing SAT Combined ACT Composite Daisy 420 380 400 1200 15 Bryan 490 370 430 1290 -- Emi 420 480 410 1310 -- Natalia 450 380 480 1310 17 Paz 470 400 460 1330 18 Carmen 450 440 460 1350 -- Hector 450 550 440 1440 -- Edward 460 540 460 1460 19 Cindy 530 440 490 1460 -- CA Avg 1 498 510 496 1504 22 Ximena 540 520 450 1510 -- Juan 590 490 490 1570 26 Analucia 460 580 540 1580 23 Daniel 520 590 490 1600 22 Graciela 540 490 580 1610 23 Alex 540 620 540 1700 -- 1 Sources for average scores: College Board (n.d.) for the SAT; ACT (n.d.) for the ACT. Thus while participants were among the top students at Urban, their testing indicators signaled under-preparedness relative to the wider college-going population. As Ms. Velasquez commented, “I think the kids even though they’re more committed and they’re hardworking and they’re higher academically than the rest of [Urban’s] population, they’re still disadvantaged because they still lack what kids in [my middle class] neighborhood have.” Some teachers tried to warn students that college academics would be more challenging. As Mr. Roberts shared: 174 They might be better than everybody else [in the regular school] but in a sense that brings its own set of problems. I have to remind them all the time, this is not your competition. You can’t just be better than everybody else here. You have to be better than all the kids from other places who have all the advantages you don’t have. Though participants listened earnestly to these warnings, they did not have enough perspective with which to make sense of them. They relied on the stories of their teachers and older peers, citing the importance of generic skills like studying and time management. Cindy offered, “Ms. Davis is always talking about how you have to learn how to balance your time, like college can be fun, but you also have to do everything that you need to do first.” Several students recounted a story Mr. Roberts told his classes. He was driving to campus to submit a final paper and his car broke down in the rain. When he finally arrived at the professor’s office, she refused to accept his work. The lesson, participants recounted, is that your professors in college will not accept any excuses—you have to submit your work on time. Natalia recounted hearing about workload from a former Magnet student: I heard college is a lot of reading. This girl, she goes to UCLA. I asked her how’s college. She’s like, “It’s good.” She said--, this is a quote--, she said, “It’s a shitload of reading. Like 100 pages a day or so.” I’m like, “Wow! I can’t even read five!” The concept of having 100 pages of reading each day was overwhelming for Natalia because she had never been expected to read that much. She knew that college would be more challenging academically than what she was used to, and she could cite “100 pages a day” as an example, but she did not have a concrete sense of what that really meant. Students therefore struggled to move beyond abstractions because their experience was mostly confined to Urban’s academic context. Those participants who had opportunities to take 175 community college courses gained some perspective on, for instance, syllabi and style guides. Still, these encounters with college coursework were inconsistent and often brief. Students still had superficial conceptions of the college experience. Consider, for instance, this excerpt from Graciela’s Life Plan, written for Mr. Roberts class: One of my main goals for the next year would be to be enrolled in a four-year university at University of California, Irvine, working towards my Bachelors of Science in Nursing. My short-term goals include completing my general education requirements with a C or higher. That way, I will be able to focus on my requisites for my major. Of course, I also envision myself studying for midterms and attending study groups with my peers. Her understanding of higher education was confined to a list of generic steps such as selecting a major and studying for midterms. While it is likely that second or third generation college-bound students might produce a similar list, they are likely to also have more perspective on postsecondary academic demands, through either high school courses or parental insight. Implications for identity: Overconfidence and insecurity. As students struggled to reconcile Urban Magnet’s achievement rhetoric with the abstract messages they heard about college, their college-going identity constructions reflected a blend of overconfidence and insecurity. A few students expressed certainty about their readiness, like Daniel. “Yeah I’m ready. I’m ready for anything.” According to Bryan, “I feel like I’m going to do good in my classes. I feel like I’m going to do very good.” More often, students’ views of their CR were more nuanced. Many participants anticipated that they would need to alter their study strategies to be successful in a college environment. According to Judith, “I think I need to get better at study skills once I enter college. I don’t know how to study.” Cindy specifically referenced managing time, “I do think I’m ready, 176 but, I guess I just have to work on my time management, like I’m a big procrastinator, so… I guess that’s the only thing I have to work on.” Others cited academic areas in which they felt more or less prepared. Ximena explained, “I think, I think I am [ready for college]. I might need a little bit more help, like my writing skills and my speaking skills. But, like, my math skills, my cognitive skills, they’re there.” Edward said, “I think I’m, I'm ready for anything that involves math and science.” Analucia confessed that she felt worried about her writing skills: I know they have like a lot of research papers [in college], and I don’t think I’m ready for research papers, especially with our English classes. Because all we do is read texts and understand them, like the meaning behind the words, and… that’s why I think my writing is so bad, because I’m not exposed to like, a teacher being strict about it. Analucia was one of the few students to draw an explicit connection between the quality of her high school preparation and her ability to complete college-level work. Most students supposed that their high school courses were rigorous, but college would be more challenging, so they would simply study more. When I asked Analucia if she felt ready for college, she paused to reflect. “I don’t think I am. I don’t think I am, because…” She stopped again before continuing: I don’t know, I feel like college is like so technical, like advanced, and I feel like my school doesn’t have that much resources that [it] would want to provide us and I feel like if I go to college like I’m going to feel so lost. I don’t know. That’s how I see it. I’d say I’m half-ready. She was not the only student to admit feeling insecure. However, Analucia’s level of self- reflection in relation to her school context made her an outlier relative to her peers. 177 For most participants, their anxiety stemmed not from a concern that the school had underprepared them, but rather from their first generation status—they simply did not know what to expect overall. As Daisy said, “I feel like I am ready, but then I’m scared.” Paz confessed, “I’m scared, honestly. I don’t know how I’ll handle it.” Graciela also questioned her capacity to succeed, despite her pride in being “High Honors” at Urban Magnet. I quoted her at the start of chapter 1: I’m really anxious about the future. I just worry what happens. ’Cause I hear stories that there’s students that are like me when they start off in college, but something happens and they go downhill. So I’m worried I could be one of those students as well. Graciela actually spent hours studying for her classes and graduated as Urban Magnet’s valedictorian. She had also taken a community college Chicano Studies course and frequently visited a local university campus with her older sister. She was, arguably, one of the better- prepared students at Urban Magnet. Yet she feared that she might be one of “those students” who “goes downhill.” Notably, she did not articulate these feelings until an interview in early spring, when I asked her: “What is something you haven’t told anyone, but think about a lot?” Hector commented that he would have to stay “mentally strong” to persist in college: “if you go to a college mentally weak, you might get homesick and be like what am I doing here? If you’re mentally strong, you’ll get homesick and be like, I’m here because I want to help my parents or I want to help my family, I want to be someone.” Alex also opened up about his insecurities attending college as a first generation student. He worried about failing his family and community, a fear that many of his peers shared but did not always express with such clarity. When I asked if there was anything that worried him about college, he articulated a distinction between the real and the abstract: 178 Maybe not making it through. Because I might think myself able to get through it but there’s a difference [between] being there and saying you can do it. I don’t know. That’s one of my fears, not making it. Because so many people might depend on me and just to give up… Alex looked down, lowering his voice. “That’s scary sometimes.” To summarize part 2, the school was limited in its capacity as a broker. First, racial and socioeconomic segregation prevented the school from fostering social ties with students from diverse backgrounds. Second, insufficient funding and variable program quality lessened the potential value of organizational ties to meet all students’ needs. Third, a general climate of low expectations diminished the relative significance of dominant cultural capital. Unfortunately, participants did not have the perspective with which to evaluate their preparation in light of these challenges. Though many felt insecure about traversing uncharted territory as first generation students, most graduated feeling confident in their level of preparation from Urban Magnet. Chapter 4 Summary This chapter has presented data on Urban Magnet’s brokerage and students’ college- going identity development in two parts. First, I suggested that students drew on multiple forms of capital to construct their identities, but especially dominant cultural capital, as captured in CR indicators and achievement rhetoric. The school brokered school-based capital—social ties (i.e., “Magnet Family”), organizational ties (i.e., “They Bring People In”), and dominant cultural capital (i.e., “Scholars”)—in part by drawing upon students’ community cultural wealth. Second, I described impediments to organizational brokerage that limited students’ ability to use school- based capital to become college-ready. I now turn to chapter 5, where I revisit the findings in light of the theory and literature reviewed in chapter 2, and consider the study’s implications. 179 Chapter 5 Toward a Sociocultural Conception of College Readiness “Typically college-ready would mean that you’d have the prerequisite knowledge to be successful in the college setting, so you can write essays, you can do math like algebra, you have the general work ethic and responsibility to be successful in an academic setting. That would be the general definition. Now for Urban kids you have to add on to that. You will not have any parental support. You will not have any money. You will have to find transportation. These are issues that an Urban kid’s going to have to worry about that normal kids don’t. To be college- ready then would mean that they’re going to have to deal with this… It’s going to be extremely, extremely challenging.” —Mr. Kyle, Teacher Here Mr. Kyle outlines some of myriad hardships that first generation students face in higher education. CR is typically defined as a set of cognitive and non-cognitive competencies that individual students possess (Conley, 2012), and measured according to academic indicators such as grades, courses taken, and test scores (Porter & Polikoff, 2012). Yet as Mr. Kyle and the prior chapter suggest, a list of skills may not account for the particular obstacles low-income students of color must overcome to prepare for and succeed in higher education. Participants’ background characteristics (e.g., race/ethnicity, socioeconomic status, first generation status) and their organizational context interacted in nuanced ways to limit postsecondary opportunity, despite the fact that they were top students at Urban Magnet High School. 180 This study was motivated by the need for more CR research on college preparation in urban high schools and the lived experiences of low-income students of color (Nagaoka et al., 2013; Welton & Martinez, 2014). I sought to understand (a) how high-achieving students come to see themselves as college-bound, (b) what social and cultural factors shape their identity development, and (c) how the high school context in particular mediates this process. To that end, the inquiry focused on the college-going identity development of college-bound seniors in an urban magnet high school. College-going identity is defined as: seeing college-going as part of oneself and developing the confidence and skills to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural identity and/or community (Oakes et al., 2002). As I explained in chapter 2, identities are constructed personally and collectively, within and in relation to social, cultural, and institutional contexts (Bartlett & Holland, 2002; Gee, 2000). Making sense of identity necessitates explicit attention to the environments in which individuals are situated. I employed ethnographic methods and theories of organizational brokerage (Small, 2009) and community cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005) to explore how high-achieving college-bound seniors develop college-going identities in an urban magnet high school. Three sub-questions anchored the study: • How do students acquire and use social capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? • How do students acquire and use cultural capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? • In what ways does the urban magnet high school broker students’ access to and use of social and cultural capital? 181 This chapter reviews the key aspects of the study and examines the data in light of the main theoretical constructs introduced in chapter 2. I first provide a summary of the study’s purpose and design, acknowledging methodological limitations. Next, I review the study’s theoretical framework. I then synthesize the data and findings based on the theories of organizational brokerage (Small, 2009) and community cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005). I proceed to a discussion, where I revisit and answer the research questions. I discuss implications for college readiness theory, policy, and practice, and finally directions for future research. Research Motivation and Purpose Recent economic trends have increased the relative value of a college degree, prompting a policy emphasis on postsecondary attainment (Carnevale et al., 2010; Russell, 2011). Yet even as more students from all backgrounds are entering higher education, completion rates remain stratified by race, class, and high school region (Aud et al., 2013). Part of the problem is that what it means to be college-ready—particularly for first generation students from marginalized backgrounds—remains unclear (Carter et al., 2013; Duncheon, 2015b). Researchers have identified student-level competencies that support college success (Conley, 2012; McAlister & Mevs, 2012). Yet this literature has tended to emphasize what students have or do, with less attention to who students are and where they learn (Yamamura, Martinez & Saenz, 2010). Studies of college preparation at the high school level are also needed to understand and improve disparate postsecondary outcomes (Moore & Shulock, 2010; Nunn, 2014; Rosenbaum, 2001). To address these areas, this study investigated CR among high-achieving youth in an urban magnet high school by way of students’ college-going identities. I focused on how students accessed and used social and cultural capital to define themselves as college-bound, foregrounding the role of the school as a broker of these processes. The purpose was to inform a 182 broader conception of CR that moves beyond a set of reified academic skills to recognize the role of sociocultural context in students’ K-16 trajectories. Research Design and Limitations I employed a quasi-ethnographic approach to study the college-going identities of high- achieving college-bound youth in an urban high school. Ethnography, the study of culture, aims to understand the shared linguistic and cultural practices of actors in a given social space (Geertz, 1983; Spradley, 1979; Wolcott, 1999). Given that identities are mediated by the sociocultural contexts in which individuals are embedded, a quasi-ethnographic approach was fitting. The study took place at Urban Magnet High School, a small school of 300 students with a math and science focus and college preparatory mission. Four criteria guided site selection: (a) neighborhood location, (b) student need, (c) school performance, and (d) college-going opportunities (e.g., mission, AP course offerings). Urban Magnet is located on the campus of its host school, Urban High School, which serves roughly 2,200 students. Though the schools are technically separate, students share the same principal, bell schedules, lunch periods, extracurricular activities, and some classes. I utilized purposive sampling to identify student participants based on three criteria: (a) demographics (low-income, of color, first generation), (b) high achievement (3.0 and above, enrolled in AP courses), and (c) college plans (eligible for and applying to four-year universities). I also used convenience sampling through my mentoring program and snowball sampling to identify additional participants. Twenty-five seniors (out of 75 total in the magnet program) participated in the study, 15 of which became informants (6 males and 9 females). Seven of those students (3 males and 4 females) became key informants. I also sampled 12 adults 183 affiliated with the magnet school: 7 teachers, 2 counselors, the assistant principal, and 2 staff members involved in college outreach. The magnet counselor also became a key informant. Data collection took place from September to May via four methods: participant observations, interviews, focus groups, and document analysis. I logged a total of 240 observational hours, spending two-to-four days a week at the school from September to January with more sporadic visits in the spring. I conducted formal semi-structured interviews with all student participants and nine adults, and follow-ups with each informant. Four formal student focus groups took place from October to February. I also analyzed hard copy and digital documents relevant to the school (e.g., district reports) and the students (e.g., transcripts, personal statements, social media accounts). Data analysis occurred concurrently with data collection and involved three stages: data reduction, or coding and organizing the data, data display, or graphically making sense of the data to facilitate interpretation, and verification and conclusion drawing (Miles & Huberman, 1994). Data analysis was done by hand (as opposed to qualitative data analysis software); I relied on handwritten notes, charts, and graphic organizers, Microsoft Word documents, and Microsoft Excel workbooks to categorize data and develop findings. Neumann’s (2006) analytical questioning technique further supported data analysis. I utilized five primary strategies to ensure trustworthiness (Tierney & Clemens, 2011): triangulation, the constant comparative method, member checks, peer review, and thick description. I triangulated data across different sources (e.g., interviews, observations) and across different time periods and participants. The constant comparative method was used to identify patterns and outliers in the data (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). I solicited feedback from participants 184 (member checks) and other researchers (peer review) regarding my interpretations and/or writing. Finally, I applied thick description to enhance transferability of findings. Limitations I underscore three methodological limitations of the study. The first is time. Ethnographic research demands prolonged engagement in the field (Spradley, 1979). I was engaged in fieldwork over the course of one school year, while participants were finishing their high school requirements and applying to college. More time would have strengthened the trustworthiness of the research, for example, had I been able to begin following students during their sophomore or junior years, and/or continued tracking participants through their college transition. The second limitation concerns sampling. Among those seniors in the magnet school who met sampling criteria, I could only include those who were willing to participate. The sample reflects a self-selected subgroup of high-performing, college-bound students. In terms of adult participants, the teachers I included served the majority of 12th graders. However, some student participants were taking passport classes taught by non-Magnet teachers. With the exception of the former college counselor, to whom many Magnet students directed their college-related questions, I did not sample staff from the regular school due to time limitations. Doing so would have helped to contextualize the perspectives of magnet-affiliated students and staff about the relationship between the schools. Finally, though I observed their events (e.g., tutoring, workshops) and had informal conversations with them during participant observations, I was unable to formally interview staff members from external programs, which would have added perspective on students’ organizational ties. Third, researcher positionality is an issue that requires careful consideration in any study. My identity as a white middle-class woman inevitably shaped my relationships with participants 185 and the way I interpreted data. I employed various strategies to lessen bias, including reflexive memoing, discussing these issues with participants, and seeking their feedback. Another challenge pertained to navigating my dual role as researcher-mentor. I was often the individual who was mobilizing dominant cultural capital for students (e.g., helping them edit their essays, complete applications). The assistant principal and counselor at times treated me as a quasi- college counselor, particularly during the fall semester when I spent a substantial amount of time at Urban. While my mentor role facilitated access to data, it also blurred my status as an insider/outsider in Urban’s school community. It is impossible to surmise how students’ college pathways may have been different had I not been present. Theory Review: Organizational Brokerage and Community Cultural Wealth Drawing from the sociological tradition, this study considered the role of symbolic capital in the college-going trajectories of first generation youth. Capital theories in education suggest that in addition to material wealth and skills, social and cultural patterns and resources contribute to inequitable student outcomes (Bourdieu, 1986). Social capital refers to the resources accrued from social networks, relationships, and group memberships (Coleman, 1988; Lin, 2001). Social capital exists in ties to individuals as well as resource-rich organizations (Small, 2009). Small’s (2009) organizational brokerage theory suggests that organizational context may limit or expand an actors’ access to and use of social capital. Cultural capital denotes resources that derive from cultural knowledge, practices, and values that are privileged in particular contexts (Bourdieu, 1973; Carter, 2005). Traditionally, theorists defined cultural capital according to the cultural intuitions and preferences of the dominant class that are valued in mainstream institutions (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977). More recent scholarship has argued that cultural capital is context-specific (Carter, 2005) and exists in 186 non-dominant communities, or what Yosso (2005) termed community cultural wealth. Habitus refers to a person’s identity, and practice to how they act (Bourdieu, 1984). This study combined organizational brokerage (Small, 2009) and cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005) to theorize how students’ access to and use of social and cultural capital—mediated by the urban high school—shape their college-going identities. Social capital is defined as the resources derived from two types of ties. Social ties are to individuals and confer social support. Organizational ties are to organizations and provide services and material goods. Both forms of ties are also potential sources of college-ready skills and information (i.e., dominant cultural capital). Cultural capital assumes two forms. Dominant cultural capital is defined as the skills, knowledge, indicators, and rhetoric embodied in mainstream CR research and policy. Community cultural wealth (i.e., non-dominant cultural capital) is defined as: (a) aspirational capital, (b) linguistic capital, (c) familial capital, (d) navigational capital, and (e) resistant capital. I focus on aspirational, familial, and navigational capital, which emerged most prominently in the data. Taken together, these social and cultural resources represent what I call college-going capital that students may draw upon to construct college-going identities (depicted in Figure 11). I also conceptualize the forms of capital based on their source: the school or the community (See Figure 11). I assume that drawing on students’ community-based capital helps the school broker school-based capital. This conceptual framework presumes that students’ capital use offers insight into their identities because, from a sociocultural perspective, self- making processes are negotiated in relation to social roles, positions, and categories within particular social spaces (Markus, 2008; Tajfel, 1982). 187 Figure 11. Forms of college-going capital I assume that the organization in which students participate—the high school—influences whether and how students can mobilize social and cultural capital. Figure 12 depicts the student embedded in the urban high school context, within an organizational field, and the sources of 188 capital that may shape his or her college-going identity. Social ties and organizational ties may affect a student’s identity directly and indirectly, by providing dominant cultural capital. The organization mediates the student’s access to and use of capital through brokerage, or connecting students to school-based resources. I assume students enter the school with community cultural wealth, which the school may draw upon (or not) to help broker social ties, organizational ties, and dominant cultural capital. The high school as an organization is composed of actors and institutional practices that are normative (i.e., rules) or cognitive (i.e., categories of meaning). The former guides behavior and the latter shapes interpretation. Brokerage may be driven by institutional actors or practices, and occurs via a variety of mechanisms. I revisit specific mechanisms in the next section on findings, to which I now turn. Figure 12. Influences on college-going identity development in students’ organizational context 189 Findings The data in the prior chapter illustrate how students employed various forms of social and cultural capital to develop college-going identities and how the school played a central role in this process. I synthesize data around three key findings, which address the research questions and inform a sociocultural conception of CR: 1. Students used diverse forms of college-going capital to construct college-going identities, but especially relied on dominant cultural capital. 2. The school enhanced students’ school-based capital, in part by bridging students’ community-based capital. 3. The school’s effectiveness as a broker was limited, which had consequences for students’ college-going identities. In what follows I expand on each finding, summarizing the data presented in chapter 4 around the theoretical constructs discussed in chapter 2. Finding 1: Students Used Diverse Forms of College-Going Capital to Construct College- Going Identities, but Especially Relied on Dominant Cultural Capital. This section addresses how students used: (a) community cultural wealth, (b) social ties, (d) organizational ties, and (d) dominant cultural capital in particular to construct their college- going identities. College-going identity is defined as seeing college-going as part of oneself and developing the confidence and skills to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural identity and/or community (Oakes et al., 2002). I am only concerned here with how participants interpreted themselves within their social world. I consider whether they were “college-ready” compared to students in other contexts when I discuss finding 3. 190 Community cultural wealth. Cultural wealth refers to the resources cultivated in participants’ community (Yosso, 2005). Students drew on cultural wealth to define themselves as college-bound and to gain access to school-based capital. The data revealed the significance of three forms in particular: aspirational, navigational, and familial, which I discuss below. Aspirational. Aspirational capital enabled students to maintain hope for their futures despite financial and educational barriers (Yosso, 2005). All participants reported the desire to attend college. Most felt that their parents planted and encouraged this ambition, even when they could not provide logistical or monetary support. Consider Edward, for whom “college wasn’t another alternative choice” or Analucia’s comment that “I think if I wouldn’t have had like parents or siblings [that were] so supportive, I would have not wanted to go.” Participants desired to give back to their communities and, as Juan said, “show [my parents] that all their hard work was not for waste.” Some students like Hector wanted to “do something, educate yourself” because their family members had dropped out and struggled. Postsecondary aspirations motivated most students to attend the magnet school in the first place, which they perceived would provide more college preparatory opportunities than the traditional school. Aspirational capital also prompted them to take advantage of college access programs and resources. Though wanting to go to college did not guarantee that students were willing and able to, for example, apply to Upward Bound, it was a necessary prerequisite. Participants’ aspirational capital was linked to their identities as first generation students—they were higher education pioneers. They felt pride in their decision to pursue a bachelor’s degree. These aspirations helped participants distinguish themselves from their peers in the regular school or in the community, whom they associated with gang violence or stagnant futures. As Graciela said, “We have a common goal to go to university, so that’s what we’re 191 supposed to do.” Aspirational capital thus contributed to participants’ collective identity as “scholars.” Being first generation was also a source of insecurity, as they feared “being lost” or “not making it.” Nevertheless, aspirational capital contributed substantially to how they saw themselves and how they responded to college-going opportunities at Urban Magnet. The importance of aspirational capital to participants’ college-going identities distinguishes these youth from their more privileged counterparts. In a middle-class high school serving second and third generation students, the goal of going to college may not be a defining factor for students’ identities or social circles because it is assumed that they will go; the question is not whether to attend college, but where. In Urban High School’s context, where the majority of students either did not pursue a bachelor’s degree or did not persist, developing college aspirations and finding like-minded peers were vital to forming a college-going identity. Navigational. Another form of cultural wealth that supported students’ college-going identity development was navigational capital, or the capacity to navigate institutional spaces designed to benefit the dominant group (Yosso, 2005). Participants demonstrated navigational capital in a variety of ways. The most obvious example was their enrollment in the magnet school—even if their parents initiated the application. The decision to apply signified awareness about the purported benefits of magnet programs that families associated with traditional schools may not have had. All students in the sample also demonstrated help-seeking and self-advocacy skills, albeit to different degrees. They sought assistance from siblings, peers, Magnet staff, and college access programs. Importantly, students’ ability to mobilize navigational capital was often only as effective as the quality of their resource brokers—and students were not always privy to the quality of available resources—which I discuss in detail with finding 3. 192 Participants’ concern for CR indicators and college admissions requirements was further evidence of navigational capital. Certainly, there were many aspects of the college-going process to which they were not privy. However, participants recognized that grades, test scores, volunteering, and participating in extracurricular activities were important. Carmen’s description of the term “scholar” involved navigational skills: “If you have to stay after school for something that’s educational wise and you stay, that’s a scholar. If you participate in these college workshops, that’s scholar. If you’re […] good with all the teachers, you’re a scholar.” Regardless of how often participants engaged in these “scholarly” activities, they saw themselves as the types of students who do them, and by extension, the types of students who go to college. Some participants were more skilled navigators than others. Analucia for instance was able to identify and respond to opportunities such as Tech Camp, the selective summer program for which she was the only Urban Magnet student to apply. Others, like Bryan, were not particularly active in seeking college-going resources aside from those which were required and easily accessible (e.g., school-wide FAFSA workshop). Some, like Emi, joined every program and sought every mentor she could find, resulting in a high quantity of resources but not necessarily high quality. For instance, she consulted four different adults about her personal statements, received contradictory feedback, and was unsure of whose to address. Individual students also mobilized navigational skills in different ways at different times—that is, it is not the case that some students were always skilled navigators and others were not. For example, Alex was one of the students who signed himself up for the Magnet school after becoming frustrated with the noise level in his regular classes. Yet he completed his college applications largely independently. He only sought help on his personal statement from his English teacher, whose feedback typically amounted to “good thesis” and “good supporting 193 details” 14 . Meanwhile, Cindy’s mother enrolled her in the Magnet school in 10th grade, and Cindy later joined CC Upward Bound and MPC on her own, fulfilling all program requirements. Juan signed up for CC Upward Bound and consistently attended its events, but did not sign up for MPC even though he saw the application and perceived the program would be beneficial. Though students’ amount of navigational capital varied, as did the benefits accrued, all participants demonstrated the ability to identify and seek out potential college-going resources. Navigational capital enabled students to acquire more college-ready skills and information than they would have, had they not enrolled in the Magnet school, attended workshops, joined programs, and/or asked adults at school for help. This form of cultural wealth also functioned to boost students’ self-confidence; they perceived they were taking advantage of available opportunities that many of their peers did not, and thus that they were becoming college-ready. Familial. Familial capital refers to knowledge forms that derive from awareness of, respect for, and connection to one’s family, community, and cultural heritage (Yosso, 2005). Participants reported different degrees of attachment to their ethnic roots. Some like Daniel self- identified as “American.” For Juan, being an immigrant motivated him to “work harder” to achieve success. Natalia’s social media posts were often written in Spanish. Graciela cited her Chicana identity as a source of pride. For most students, having parents who had immigrated to the United States, or having immigrated themselves, represented an important piece of who they were and fueled their motivation to succeed in life (Delgado-Gaitan, 2001). Though students demonstrated varied degrees of familial capital with respect to racial/ethnic pride, all participants exhibited values of caring and kinship that are characteristic 14 During discussion of the English teacher in one focus group, Emi said, “she made everyone do the personal statement as homework, and she gave it back and mostly gave people 100s.” Daisy chimed in, “I got 100 too!” And Cindy added, “Me too. And Miss Julia you know mine sucked because I showed it to you and you basically made me rewrite it!” 194 of communities of color (Lopez, 2003; Rueda et al., 2004). They spoke lovingly of their families and often cited their parents as their main source of inspiration. They also cared for their peers at school, where they all seemed to respect one another and did not form cliques. Participants’ genuine concern for each other’s well-being nurtured a culture of social support and trust in the magnet school. Recall how Ms. Velasquez described “the feeling as if the students are part of a family” (translated from Spanish) that characterized Urban Magnet. These values of kinship led students to affirm one another throughout the college-going process. Consider Natalia’s reassuring words when her friends were stressed about college applications: “Regardless of if you go to a prestigious college or not so known college… you should be proud of that, that you’re going.” In contrast to the more individualistic approach of most middle class White households, preparing for and applying to college was a communal process at Urban Magnet, where peers and adults were a primary source of encouragement. Participants’ familial capital nurtured a sense of collective struggle and shared experience around college-going—forms of support that students’ parents could not provide. Familial capital therefore enabled participants to identify with college without feeling compelled to sacrifice their shared culture and community, elements of a college-going identity (Oakes et al., 2002). Section summary. Participants employed three principal forms of community cultural wealth to construct college-going identities. Aspirational capital provided motivation to further their education. Navigational capital empowered students to seek out college-related resources. Familial capital was a source of pride for some and moral support for all. I now consider how school-based capital contributed to students’ self-making processes, beginning with social ties. Social ties. Students’ strong social ties to peers and school staff also supported their college-going identities. In terms of their peers, participants viewed one another as similar types 195 of students with similar goals: they performed well in school, valued their education, and aspired to attend college. Their friendships largely revolved around Urban Magnet and college planning. As Edward said, “We always end up talking about school in a way.” Paz cited her friends when asked who had most influenced her college preparation. For participants, being part of the “Magnet family” meant that they were part of a distinct class of scholars who were not swayed by negative neighborhood influences and for whom college represented an attainable goal. Peers were a source of moral and practical support. Participants studied together, reminded one another of college field trips or workshops, and attended in pairs or groups. While many students described themselves as competitive, they did not compete in hostile or anxiety- producing ways. As Graciela explained, whenever a classmate earned a better test score, she felt not resentment but motivation to “study harder.” Participants also relied on strong ties to school staff to construct their college-going identities. Students reported feeling cared for personally and academically. Edward perceived that his teachers “put in effort” and Cindy explained, “we get one-on-one.” Adults at school also reinforced their college aspirations. As Natalia said, “Our counselors and our teachers, they actually want you to go to college. That’s the main goal of Magnet.” When students submitted applications, staff and classmates applauded. Participants also acquired academic skills and college knowledge from school staff, which I elaborate in finding 2. That most adults in Magnet believed in them and invested in their education bolstered their college-going identities. Organizational ties. Organizational ties refer to either membership in a college access organization (e.g., Upward Bound) or acquisition of a resource provided by an organization (e.g., financial aid workshop). Twelve of the fifteen informants applied to programs that required 196 ongoing involvement (e.g., Upward Bound, MPC), though program quality and student commitment levels varied. All participants took advantage of workshops and presentations. Organizational ties contributed to students’ college-going identities by imparting skills, information, and exposure to postsecondary contexts. Program participants cited benefits such as college campus visits and after school tutoring. Students who took community college courses became more familiar with academic expectations; those who performed well gained confidence in their potential, such as Graciela, who “felt really inspired” when she received an 86 on her Chicano Studies paper. Workshops provided assistance with college applications and financial aid. Participants credited organizational ties for helping with the procedural aspects of college- going, which they viewed as centrally important. Attending to these tasks strengthened students’ sense of themselves as college-bound. As Carmen commented, “College-wise, I’m becoming more responsible because you have to be on deadline after deadline after deadline.” Organizational ties also fueled students’ assumption that the school was well resourced, which in turn shaped their views on personal responsibility. In Cindy’s words, “I mean, the programs are there. It’s just, it’s upon the student to take advantage.” Students who “read their walls” and accessed resources gained self-assurance that they were preparing for college. Those who did not perceived that they could. Juan claimed that if he was not college-ready, he would blame himself, because “there’s nothing that you can say that’s not there for you [at Urban].” What was consequential for many students’ identities, then, was not necessarily that they had mobilized capital via organizational ties but that they assumed it was available. Participants’ belief that students were accountable for “taking advantage” speaks to their adoption of dominant cultural values around meritocracy and individualism. 197 Dominant cultural capital. Dominant cultural capital refers here to the skills, indicators, and discourses associated with college preparation in mainstream research and policy. The data revealed that participants relied primarily on dominant cultural capital to define themselves as college-bound. They internalized CR indicators and narratives commonly linked to formal schooling. Of course, what these indicators and narratives meant was filtered through the specific context of Urban High School, which I discuss in finding 3. Nevertheless, how participants interpreted dominant cultural capital was most important for their identity constructions. First, participants cited reasons for wanting to pursue a college degree consistent with dominant rhetoric about higher education as a pathway to social mobility. They spoke of wanting to learn, but also gaining opportunities they would not have otherwise. Daniel wanted to earn “over $100,000 salary at least,” Hector wanted to “get yourself out of this box that we live in,” and Alex wanted his mother to see that “her struggles haven’t been in vain.” Students’ attention to CR indicators was a second way in which they employed dominant cultural capital to build college-going identities. Participants knew that colleges valued certain academic indicators such as grades, test scores, and course types (i.e., A-G approved and AP classes). What individual participants considered a good grade varied, with some striving for straight As and some accepting an occasional C. Most, like Natalia, fretted over their SAT scores. Each informant took 5 AP courses on average during 11th and 12th grade. Though few passed the exams, they prided in taking what they assumed were “really rigorous” courses. Students looked to their classmates’ indicators to evaluate their own performance. Analucia reported striving to “get the best grades in class.” Alex bragged about his SAT score of 1700 because “other people [at Urban] would have scored lower.” Participants’ tendency to compete, albeit in friendly ways, reflected meritocratic cultural values. They understood that 198 “being the best” increased their competitiveness, though some were more concerned about being the best (e.g., Daniel) than others (e.g., Bryan). Yet as I elaborate in finding 3, participants did not fully understand how admissions officers at UCLA or Stanford interpreted CR indicators, only that they mattered. Participants were also aware of the non-cognitive factors outlined in CR frameworks. Almost all mentioned skills such as time management and study strategies when describing the ingredients for college success. Even though many students admitted needing to further hone these skills, knowing which ones were important appeared to fuel their self-confidence. “You have to do everything that you need to do before you have fun” in college, Cindy explained. As mentioned above, completing application logistics such as writing personal statements was also seen as evidence that they were becoming college-ready. One of the clearest examples of how dominant cultural capital shaped students’ identities was their attachment to the “magnet” label. Because Urban Magnet was marketed as higher performing than Urban, participants interpreted their association with Magnet as affirmation of their greater academic potential and exposure to college preparation. Recall Ximena’s perspective that, “from regular schools I’ve seen a lot of students drop out [of college] because the rigor is just too much and they’re not used to it.” Her assumption here, one that most participants shared, was that magnet high schools better prepare students for postsecondary rigor. As Hector said, “our [Magnet] teachers, they expect us to work.” Students who attended the regular school were “ditchers”; being “Magnet” meant being a “scholar.” This finding echoes prior research showing that the opportunities students of color receive in school—such as being placed in the upper or lower track—influence the degree to which they identify with formal schooling (Hatt, 2007; Nasir et al., 2009). 199 Section summary. Students drew on various forms of capital, but especially dominant cultural capital, to construct college-going identities. By identifying with achievement narratives, CR indicators, and the magnet label, participants distinguished themselves from urban youth who they assumed were not college-bound. Community wealth and social capital often facilitated students’ access to dominant cultural capital. Aspirational capital, for instance, motivated participants to align themselves with Urban Magnet’s achievement rhetoric. Social ties reinforced a collective identity as “scholars.” Organizational ties offered college knowledge as captured in CR frameworks (e.g., financial aid). Thus, while students employed multiple social and cultural resources to form their college-going identities, they ultimately focused on dominant cultural capital. The dominant capital available to students, however, was limited by Urban’s local context, which I address in finding 3. First, I review how the school brokered resources. Finding 2: The School Enhanced Students’ School-Based Capital, in Part by Bridging Students’ Community-Based Capital. Finding 1 showed how participants used social and cultural capital to develop college- going identities. Finding 2 considers the role of organizational context (Small, 2009). I illustrate how Urban Magnet High School brokered school-based capital (i.e., social ties, organizational ties, and dominant cultural capital), often by drawing on community-based capital. For each, I consider how actors and institutional practices served as brokers. Actors are those who engage in brokerage on behalf of the institution: administrators, counselors, and teachers 15 . Practices may be normative (i.e., rules) or cognitive (i.e., categories of meaning). 15 While students’ peers were often sources of college-going information, they are not considered organizational brokers, or what Stanton-Salazar (1997) called institutional agents. 200 Brokering social ties. Actor-driven. Institutional actors played a key role in brokering students’ social ties by fostering a culture of caring and support. Adults in the building served as role models, cheerleaders, and at times surrogate parents, making themselves available to students in and outside of class time. Recall how Mr. Kyle opened his classroom to Hector and his friends at lunch, or how the AP brought his young daughter to watch Frozen with students on a Friday afternoon. All Magnet teachers offered tutoring on designated days each week. Devoting time to students during and after school helped convey the message that the adults cared. Many staff members also related to and empathized with students’ experiences outside of school; as the former college counselor pointed out, “a lot of [faculty members] have been in their shoes.” A small numbers of highly dedicated staff members were particularly influential in sustaining the “magnet family.” Mr. Roberts and Mr. Anderson, who stayed through the school’s reconstitution, are prime examples: “if we leave… the program’s gonna die. And we had put a lot of time and a lot of energy and sacrifice into it, and we’d hate to see this fall apart. We felt bad for the kids.” Ms. Velasquez was another key player in students’ lives who embodied a unique combination of kindness, competence, and dedication. Her demeanor and routines helped make the Magnet Office a welcoming space for students, or what Daisy called “sparkly.” That school staff were able to cultivate a close-knit community is in large part a testament to the familial capital students brought to school. Adults in the building recognized students as “caring,” “community-oriented,” and “sticking up for each other.” Institution-driven. The institution’s role in brokering social ties had to do with the school’s structure and mission. The school accepted only 300 students; its small size fostered a sense of intimacy. Urban Magnet occupied its own buildings at the back of campus, which 201 geographically reinforced a sense of community. The school’s mission to provide a “nurturing and safe environment” suggested an institutional emphasis on students’ well-being. The school’s application requirement also had implications for social ties. The Magnet school tended to attract similar students—those who were motivated to do well in school and/or understood the value of magnet programs. Homophily, defined as the tendency for people to bond with similar others (Merton, 1936), fosters strong social ties within organizations (Small, 2009). Higher levels of homophily are associated with higher levels of trust. Urban Magnet reinforced homophily via school-wide messages juxtaposing the magnet and non-magnet schools. As Mr. Roberts said, “we preach all the time, ‘You are part of this Magnet family. This is not like the regular school.’” Again, Urban Magnet elicited students’ cultural wealth to sustain strong social ties—it served a self-selected group of students (i.e., navigational capital) who aspired to college (i.e., aspirational capital) and cared for one another (i.e., familial capital). Brokering organizational ties. Actor-driven. Institutional actors—particularly counselors—played a critical role in brokering organizational ties. These staff members engaged in two of the brokerage mechanisms that tie actors to external organizations: storage and referral (Small, 2009). Storage, or making information available to students, was most common. Consider how Ms. Velasquez frequently updated announcements on her white board outside the Magnet Office. The former college counselor printed detailed instructions for completing the FAFSA, which were available in the office and distributed to seniors. Storing information empowered students to act. As Paz said, “When I see a flier [about a college opportunity] I get interested and I look for it.” Counselors were also responsible for referring students to programs. Participants applied to CC Upward 202 Bound when their counselor summoned them out of class to meet the program advisor. The same was true for Edward, whose counselor recommended him for the Community Scholars Program. School staff also employed word of mouth to notify students of college opportunities. As Carmen recalled, “When they offer programs they will be like, ‘You guys should come.’” Once students chose to apply to outside organizations, various school staff offered assistance, helping to broker the tie. For example, Mr. Martinez edited Analucia’s application essay for a highly selective summer program at an elite university, to which she was then accepted. Were it not for the actions of teachers and counselors to make students aware of these opportunities and help them apply, participants were less likely to have known about and benefited from them. Institution-driven. Effective organizational brokers maintain partnerships with diverse, resource-rich organizations (Small, 2009). Institutional practices facilitated organizational ties primarily by establishing and sustaining organizational partnerships, or as Hector said, “bring[ing] people in.” Numerous partners worked with Urban High School, including two-year colleges, college access programs, and community organizations. Organizations varied in quality but generally expanded college-going support for students who could not rely on college- educated parents. The college center had helped streamline students’ access to programs and information; its closing made brokering organizational ties less centralized and systematic. At the institutional level, two primary brokerage mechanisms connected students to outside organizations and their resources: collaboration and validation (Small, 2009). Urban engaged in collaboration by sponsoring events with outside organizations, such as the Cash for College workshops, which provided financial aid assistance. Validation is confirming an actor’s right to receive a resource by virtue of their membership in an organization. In this case, students obtained fee waivers for admissions tests and private college applications through the school. 203 While the school tried to mandate students’ receipt of particular resources—for example, requiring seniors to attend at least one financial aid workshop—whether brokerage strategies led to organizational ties often depended on students exercising some level of agency. In this respect, the school appealed to students’ cultural wealth to broker organizational resources: their college aspirations, navigator skills, and peer support (i.e., reminding each other of opportunities). Brokering dominant cultural capital. Actor-driven. School staff members brokered students’ access to and mobilization of dominant cultural capital in several ways. One of the most common was talking about higher education and encouraging students to go. As Mr. Martinez reflected, “What I think we are doing well is just all the rhetoric like, ‘You have to go to college.’ We’re really emphasizing it. Counselors, teachers, everyone.” Students referenced their teachers’ personal stories about living in dorms or studying for finals, which were often accompanied by advice. College talk bolstered students’ aspirational capital and knowledge of the generic aspects of campus life. School staff members in general and counselors in particular also brokered logistical information, or college knowledge. Fliers in the Magnet Office clarified testing and application deadlines, and Ms. Velasquez held one-on-one meetings to check in with seniors. Students tended to credit their counselors for making them aware of admissions requirements. Like Juan recounted: “As a student I need to pass all my classes, A through G requirements, SATs, ACTs, you know, stuff that every counselor tells us to do.” Academically, teachers assigned work designed to be college-preparatory, such as the nine-page science fair report and Mr. Roberts’ Life Plan. They also emphasized the significance of CR indicators by encouraging competition. Some posted students’ grades so they could see 204 how they performed relative to their classmates. At community potlucks, the staff awarded certificates for highest achievement and most improved. Staff members especially employed the magnet label to impart values around achievement and college-going. When students did not submit work, teachers reminded them that they were enrolled in a magnet program. Some staff explicitly compared participants to non- Magnet students, reinforcing the notion that Magnet students should be more dedicated academically. As Graciela said, “[regular] Urban… just tells you, ‘Pass all your classes with a C’… whereas in my magnet school, our personnel encourage us to pass our grades with a B or higher and if we can an A, and to take AP classes.” Mr. Roberts commiserated with his students when they complained about classroom disruptions in their passport (regular Urban) classes: “I know how horrible [those kids] can be! That’s why I appreciate you guys.” Through subtle and overt comparisons, institutional actors propagated an “us versus them” narrative that encouraged Magnet students to internalize dominant achievement narratives. Institution-driven. Institutional practices also brokered dominant cultural capital for participants. In the normative sense, which pertains to behavioral rules and norms, the magnet model required students to apply. This requirement facilitated the self-selection effect that distinguished the magnet population from that of its host school. As Mr. Caraballo explained, “There’s a big difference [between Magnet and regular students], just in applying.” Thus the magnet model created a favorable context for cultivating dominant cultural capital because, for example, classrooms were described as more “settled down” and “quiet.” Cognitive practices brokered dominant cultural capital by reinforcing local meanings of the “magnet” label. Though Urban Magnet students did not have to meet minimum performance benchmarks, magnet programs are generally associated with targeting gifted or high-achieving 205 youth. The school was established in 1980 with a mission to “counteract low academic achievement… in [that neighborhood]” and raise students’ college-going rates. Institutional practices asserted the superiority of the magnet relative to Urban. Recall the item on the annual magnet student survey that stated: “I feel the instruction in the Magnet school is stronger than in the resident [regular] school.” (Ninety-two percent of respondents agreed). Bulletin boards featured inspirational quotes about college and lists of seniors’ acceptance letters. These practices made college-going achievement rhetoric accessible to Magnet students. Section summary. Various mechanisms at the individual and institutional levels brokered college-going capital for students, in turn shaping their identity development. Finding 2 is summarized in Table 14. The school engaged students’ aspirational, navigational, and familial capital by fostering a culture of community and caring, providing opportunities for organizational ties, and propagating college-going and achievement discourses. Brokerage of social and organizational ties often served to connect students to dominant cultural capital. 206 Table 14 Urban Magnet’s brokerage strategies and implications for students’ college-going identities Type of School-Based Resource Brokered Urban Magnet’s Brokerage Strategies Implications for College-going Identity Social Ties “Magnet Family” • Small school that requires applications • Caring adults • Community building events • Comparisons to “regular school” • Sense of belonging in school • Access to collective high- achieving college-bound identity Organizational Ties “They Bring People In” • Numerous college access partnerships • Storage, collaboration, validation, and referral • Felt they had access to resources • Saw themselves as taking initiative • Gained more exposure to college Dominant Cultural Capital* “Scholars” • Achievement rhetoric • College-going mission • Emphasis on CR indicators • Superiority of “magnet” compared to “regular” • Self-defined as high-achieving, college-bound “scholars” • Assumed better prepared than non-magnet • Assumed instruction was rigorous *The form of capital that was most important to students’ college-going identity development Finding 3: The School’s Effectiveness as a Broker was Limited, which Had Consequences for Students’ College-Going Identities. Finding 2 showed how the school enhanced school-based capital. Finding 3 highlights barriers to brokering each type of school-based capital (i.e., social ties, organizational ties, and dominant cultural capital), and the implications for students’ college-going identities. Social ties. Although the school fostered strong social ties, it was unable to broker ties to students from diverse backgrounds due to neighborhood and school segregation. Participants were all low-income and of color and faced a host of challenges at home: crowded apartments, work obligations, neighborhood violence, and little or no access to college-educated adults (Anyon, 1997; Rios, 2011; Roderick et al., 2009). Most participants experienced what Ms. 207 Velasquez characterized as “trauma” due to living in poverty, but assumed “it happens to everyone.” The students also attended a low-performing school with limited resources, but did not perceive their education as inadequate, at least, as Gabriel said, “Not for what we’re used to.” Participants’ backgrounds thus set them apart from a majority of their future classmates at predominantly white institutions. As Ms. Velasquez reflected, “regardless of what your IQ is or your GPA, you are different.” Staff raised concerns about participants facing “cultural shock” or feeling like “outcasts.” Yet participants did not anticipate difficulties they might face as underrepresented students because they did not have exposure to more privileged youth. They did not have perspective on the extent of unequal postsecondary opportunity. Most voiced naïve enthusiasm about meeting people from different backgrounds. Homogenous peer ties rendered them less prepared for the social and cultural realities of college transition for students like them. Organizational ties. Urban Magnet also struggled to systematically connect students to outside organizations and their resources. One limitation was insufficient funding. Recall how the assistant principal could not afford college trips until 11th grade, no one monitored the partner programs, and the college center, or what Edward called the “network center,” was closed. Whether students joined a program and reaped its benefits was often due to chance, and school staff were unaware which students were receiving what services. Urban and its partners focused their limited funds on helping students complete minimum admissions requirements; participants tended to conflate these logistical tasks, or what Mr. Kyle called “filling out forms,” with preparing for college. They assumed they were becoming college-ready when they attended workshops, not fully realizing that the biggest challenges would take place after enrollment. The variable quality of partner organizations also disrupted effective brokerage. For instance, the counselor received applications for a leadership program too late for students to 208 apply. Some mentors could not answer basic questions about college admissions. However, students were not always able to discern the quality of available services or information. As Ms. Velasquez pointed out, students and their parents knew that certain activities were supposed to be useful, such as attending tutoring or taking a college class. Yet they did not know whether tutoring sessions were high quality, or whether the standards in their community college courses differed from those at UCLA. Carmen came away from a conversation with one mentor assuming that joining clubs mattered more than her GPA. Even when participants sensed that some programs were better than others, they ultimately assumed that being associated with any college access organization made them more prepared for college. Thus while organizational ties tended to benefit students, their value was variable, and sometimes lower than students realized. In contrast to what students assumed, available resources were inadequate to meet their needs. Dominant cultural capital. Urban Magnet’s ability to broker dominant cultural capital was also limited. External and internal barriers led to low expectations school-wide that inflated the local significance of participants’ achievement indicators. One challenge pertained to accountability pressures. The school’s efforts to increase graduation rates sometimes meant that college preparation became an “afterthought,” as one teacher stated. Consider, for instance, how the eight-period day diminished the amount of time participants spent in core content classes. This tension between preventing dropouts and increasing college-going has been documented in prior literature (Rosenbaum, 2001; Rubin, 2007; Welton & Williams, 2015). Internally, teachers’ efforts to support struggling students sometimes meant that, in Alex’s words, “teachers think our academic ability is lower than it really is.” Mr. Anderson lamented this problem with his story about “trinkets for passing.” Students also had some classes where they were hardly challenged at all—such as AP English, in which they never wrote essays. 209 Staff members lacked a cohesive vision for what CR meant and how to enhance it, which impeded consistency across classrooms. Thus, while Urban Magnet emphasized CR in mission and rhetoric, students were largely underexposed to college preparatory academics. This problem speaks to the complex relationships among students’ contexts, or fields, and their cultural capital formation (McDonough, 1997; Perna & Thomas, 2006). What CR indicators meant at Urban High School did not necessarily signify academic readiness. Earning As in AP classes at Urban Magnet, for instance, did not translate to 4s and 5s on AP exams (excluding Spanish) like it might in a high-performing school. Many participants also interpreted grading differently than their peers with college-educated parents. Recall how Cindy and Carmen, who defined themselves as “scholars,” took Cs in physics to avoid writing the nine-page science fair report. Mr. Caraballo raised this concern when he alluded to students at his high school crying over Cs: “at Urban you’ve got students with a 2.5 GPA and they want to go to USC.” Alex bragged about his SAT score of 1700 because he scored better than all his classmates. Though Alex had the highest score in the sample and was one of the five informants who exceeded the SAT’s CR benchmark, roughly 30% of all SAT test-takers score higher (College Board, 2011). Research has shown that SAT and ACT scores are not the most predictive indicators of college achievement (Maruyama, 2012; Niu & Tienda, 2010), and have even less predictive power for low-income students of color (Sedlacek, 2004). However, the concern is not necessarily that Alex and his classmates will not adjust to college academics, but that the adjustment will be harder because they graduated high school unaware of their standing relative to the broader college-going population. For instance, participants did not realize how many applicants to the selective institutions they hoped to attend earned 4.0 GPAs and near-perfect 210 SAT scores. They also did not realize that students in higher-performing high schools who refuse to complete a nine-page science fair assignment are generally not considered high-achieving. Thus teachers like Mr. Roberts alerted participants that, “[this student population] is not your competition,” but cautionary tales were less influential for students’ identities than their concrete experiences at Urban. Abstract advice could not compete with As on students’ report cards and school-wide messages that “magnet” was rigorous. Their behaviors tended to align with Urban’s low expectations. Participants often did not study because, in Daniel’s words, “you can remember everything, but not at a level that we should to prepare for AP exams.” Others confessed to not doing homework. Students repeated generalities about managing time and studying that were disconnected from their behaviors at Urban Magnet. These data are consistent with prior scholarship, which suggests that habitus (identity) and practice (behavior) are relational and context-dependent (Edgerton & Roberts, 2014). Participants recognized to varying degrees that they were not challenged academically and would need to work harder in college, but they internalized Urban Magnet’s rhetoric about high achievement and rigor. Thus, despite their insecurities about what they did now know as first generation students, they developed a false sense of confidence about their level of academic preparation. Section summary. The school’s capacity to broker social ties, organizational ties, and dominant cultural capital was limited. In particular, the forms of dominant cultural capital available to participants, on which they most relied to construct their identities, were inadequate to prepare them for college. Their identities as high-achieving college-bound scholars were bound to Urban’s local context. Data from finding 3 are summarized in Table 15. To be sure, most participants were highly resilient and motivated, and likely to adjust their behaviors and 211 self-perceptions over time once they entered college (Edgerton & Roberts, 2014). Nevertheless, their transitions would probably be even more challenging than they anticipated. Table 15 Limitations of/barriers to brokerage and implications for students’ college-going identities Type of School-Based Resource Brokered Limitations of / Barriers to Brokerage Implications for College-going Identity Social Ties “Magnet Family” • Neighborhood and school segregation • Students isolated from peers from diverse backgrounds • No perspective on relative disadvantage / being “different” • Naïve about social/cultural aspects of college transition Organizational Ties “They Bring People In” • Inadequate resources • Variable program quality • College-going information inconsistent • Equated procedural aspects of college-going with CR • Perception that they were being well-prepared/well-supported Dominant Cultural Capital* “Scholars” • External accountability pressures • Too few resources (e.g., no college center) • Low-quality instruction in some classrooms • Lack of consistency around what CR required • Accustomed to climate of low- expectations • Assessed CR relative to Urban peers and being “Magnet” • Inflated sense of their academic preparedness • Varying degrees of doubt, insecurity *The form of capital that was most important to students’ college-going identity development Table 16 shows the colleges where the informants applied, were accepted, and planned to attend as of June 2015, their intended majors, and career goals. Many students were accepted to less selective universities than they originally hoped, which speaks to the competitiveness of their academic records. A few opted to attend less selective universities for other reasons, which I discuss in the epilogue. Participants were generally excited to begin the next chapter of their lives. 212 Table 16 Informants’ college choices and career goals Name Applied Accepted Major Career Alex UCs: Davis / Los Angeles / Merced / Santa Cruz UCs: Merced* Biochemistry Biochemical Engineer CSUs: Fullerton / Long Beach / Los Angeles / Northridge CSUs: Fullerton / Los Angeles / Northridge Analucia UCs: Davis / Irvine / Los Angeles / San Diego UCs: Davis / Irvine* / San Diego Engineering Electrical Engineer CSUs: Long Beach / Pomona / San Diego / San Luis Obispo CSUs: Long Beach / Pomona / San Diego / San Luis Obispo Privates: Harvey Mudd Coll. / University of Southern California Bryan UCs: Irvine / Merced / Riverside / San Diego UCs: Merced* Psychology School Psychologist CSUs: Fullerton Carmen UCs: Davis / Merced / Santa Barbara / Santa Cruz UCs: Merced* Marine Biology Marine Biologist CSUs: Long Beach / Monterey Bay / San Diego / San Francisco CSUs: Monterey Bay / San Francisco Cindy UCs: Davis / Irvine / Merced / San Diego UCs: Davis / Irvine* / Merced Undeclared Social Sciences Correctional Officer CSUs: Bakersfield / Long Beach / Los Angeles / San Francisco CSUs: Bakersfield / Los Angeles / San Francisco Privates: Eugene New School Daisy UCs: Davis / Riverside / San Diego / Santa Cruz UCs: Merced*^ Comm. Studies Journalist CSUs: Channel Islands / Chico / Los Angeles / San Francisco CSUs: Channel Islands / Chico / Los Angeles / San Francisco Privates: Eugene New School Daniel UCs: Berkeley / Davis / Irvine / San Diego UCs: Berkeley / Davis / Irvine / San Diego Business Entrepreneur CSUs: Chico / Long Beach / Pomona / San Jose CSUs: Chico / Long Beach / Pomona / San Jose Privates: Georgetown Univ. / New York Univ. / University of Southern California / Yale Univ. Privates: University of Southern California* * Denotes the college or university the student decided to attend as of June 2015. ^ Offered admission via the “Count Me In” program, which means the student graduated in the top 10% of his/her class, despite not originally applying to that school. 213 Table 14 (continued) Name Applied Accepted Major Career Edward UCs: Berkeley / Davis / Irvine / Los Angeles UCs: Davis / Irvine Environmental Engineering and Music Engineer CSUs: Humboldt / Long Beach / Luis Obispo / Poly Pomona CSUs: Humboldt / Long Beach / Luis Obispo / Poly Pomona Privates: College of the Holy Cross / Colorado Coll. / Connecticut Coll./ Franklin and Marshall Coll. / Gettysburg Coll. / Louis and Clark Coll. / Saint Olaf Coll. / Union Coll. Privates: College of the Holy Cross / Colorado Coll.* / Connecticut Coll. / Franklin and Marshall Coll. / Gettysburg Coll. / Louis and Clark Coll. / Saint Olaf Coll. / Union Coll. Emi UCs: Davis / Irvine / Riverside / Santa Cruz UCs: Davis / Irvine / Riverside Pre-Med Optometrist CSUs: Cal Poly Pomona / Chico / Long Beach / San Diego CSUs: Cal Poly Pomona / Chico / Long Beach / San Diego Privates: Cal Lutheran Univ. / Kenyon Coll. / Mills Coll. / Mount Saint Mary's Coll. / Mount Holyoke Coll. / Occidental Coll. Privates: Cal Lutheran Univ. / Mills Coll. / Mount Saint Mary's Coll. / Occidental Coll.* Graciela UCs: Davis / Irvine / Los Angeles / Riverside UCs: Davis / Irvine* / Los Angeles / Riverside Pre-Nursing Nurse CSUs: Chico / Fullerton / Los Angeles / Long Beach CSUs: Chico / Fullerton / Los Angeles / Long Beach Privates: Loyola Marymount Hector CSUs: Chico / East Bay / Northridge / San Bernardino CSUs: Chico* / East Bay / Northridge / San Bernardino Computer Science Web Developer Juan UCs: Irvine / Los Angeles / San Diego / Santa Cruz UCs: Santa Cruz / Merced*^ History Teacher CSUs: Chico / Long Beach / Los Angeles / Northridge CSUs: Chico /Los Angeles / Northridge Natalia UCs: Davis / Riverside / Santa Barbara / Santa Cruz UCs: Davis* Undeclared Social Sciences Lawyer CSUs: Channel Islands / Long Beach / Los Angeles / Northridge CSUs: Channel Islands / Los Angeles / Northridge Paz UCs: Los Angeles / Merced / Riverside / Santa Cruz UCs: Merced / Riverside* Undeclared Teacher CSUs: Channel Islands / Humboldt / Long Beach / Los Angeles CSUs: Channel Islands / Humboldt / Los Angeles Privates: Azusa Pacific Univ. Privates: Azusa Pacific Univ. Ximena UCs: Berkeley / Los Angeles / Merced / Santa Cruz UCs: Merced / Santa Cruz* Undeclared Social Sciences Community Organizing CSUs: Long Beach / Los Angeles / Northridge / San Francisco CSUs: Long Beach / Los Angeles / Northridge / San Francisco * Denotes the college or university the student decided to attend as of June 2015. ^ The student did not originally apply to this school, but was offered admission in April via the “Count Me In” program because he/she graduated in the top 10% of his/her class. 214 Discussion The primary concern of this study was how high-achieving low-income students of color develop college-going identities in an urban magnet high school. Broadly speaking, findings revealed that students relied on different forms of capital, but particularly dominant cultural capital. The school helped broker students’ community- and school-based capital, but was limited in its capacity to prepare them for higher education. Students interpreted symbols of dominant cultural capital in relation to the context of Urban Magnet, and were not fully prepared for the academic and cultural challenges of postsecondary transition. Three questions guided the inquiry, which I answer below. I then revisit the concept of CR. Revisiting the Research Questions I aim for brevity with questions 1 and 2 to avoid repeating ideas clarified in the prior section. I elaborate on theoretical implications for question 3. RQ1: How do students acquire and use social capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? Students relied on their peers, teachers, counselors, administrators (social ties), and college access organizations (organizational ties) to construct college-going identities. They acquired these connections in various ways. Peers. Participants’ friendships were largely formed within the Magnet school due to the school’s small size and sense of community. They reported being friendly with most, if not all of the 75 students in their graduating class. Participants relied on each other for college-going information such as deadlines and college events. Befriending like-minded peers, who had, as Graciela said, the “common goal to go to university,” enabled students to (a) avoid distractions or negative influences, and (b) internalize identities as high-achieving college-bound youth. 215 School staff. Participants’ ties to teachers, counselors, and administrators also supported students’ identity development. The school’s size, investment in community-building, and juxtaposition with the regular school facilitated strong staff-student ties. Participants relied on adults’ stories about college to imagine what it would be like. School staff reinforced the idea that Urban Magnet was superior to and more rigorous than Urban, which fueled students’ assumptions that they were well prepared for college. Organizations. College access programs were also important to students’ college-going identity constructions, although students’ participation levels varied. Participants learned of these opportunities through referrals, signs on the wall, and presentations. Students who did not join programs benefited from workshops and presentations. Organizational ties supported students’ identities by enhancing their college knowledge. Participants also perceived they had ample college-going resources (i.e., logistical support) so long as they took initiative, which revealed their naiveté about disparate postsecondary opportunities and fueled a sense of false confidence. RQ2: How do students acquire and use cultural capital to construct college-going identities in an urban magnet high school? Students acquired and used cultural capital from the community and the school to construct college-going identities. Signals and rhetoric that represent dominant cultural capital were particularly important to participants. Community cultural wealth. Three forms of community-based cultural capital most influenced students’ college-going identities: aspirational, navigational, and familial. Students’ families and communities influenced students’ development of these forms of capital, and the school helped draw them out to encourage college-going. Most students acquired aspirational capital from their families, who inspired them to pursue higher education to escape the cycle of poverty and to “be educated,” as Paz said. Families influenced students’ navigational capital in 216 two ways. The first was by helping students navigate systems, such as when Graciela’s sister helped her sign up for a community college class. The second was by being unavailable or unable to help students, leaving them to navigate on their own. Often, institutional actors assisted students in enacting navigational capital. Familial capital was first fostered at home and then reinforced by staff at Urban Magnet. Students used cultural wealth to sustain college aspirations, seek college-going help, and build a college-oriented support system at school. Dominant cultural capital. Dominant cultural capital was most consequential for students’ college-going identity development because they associated themselves with achievement and formal schooling. They acquired dominant cultural capital embodied in college talk and mainstream CR narratives through institutional actors, practices, and college access organizations. In particular, attending the magnet school and out-performing most of their peers bolstered their identities as college-bound high achievers. Unfortunately, students did not have concrete experience or perspective with which to evaluate their preparation relative to that of their more privileged counterparts; the forms of dominant cultural capital on which they relied were in many ways false signals of readiness. RQ3: In what ways does the urban magnet high school broker students’ access to and use of social and cultural capital? The school both enhanced and limited students’ access to and use of college-going capital. Overall, Urban Magnet was effective at drawing upon students’ community wealth to cultivate a caring school environment, which broadened students’ access to school-based capital. However, the school was unable to broker sufficient school-based capital to counter the negative effects of poverty on college opportunity. In particular, Urban Magnet’s achievement rhetoric was not accompanied by substantively rigorous college 217 preparation, which restricted students’ access to dominant cultural capital. I elaborate on Urban Magnet’s strengths and weaknesses as a broker below. Strengths. The school mobilized participants’ aspirational, navigational, and familial capital to create a positive academic climate and an atmosphere of possibility around college- going. The magnet program provided a small, intimate school setting for a self-selected group of students. In particular, the magnet model afforded urban youth access to achievement labels that are often reserved for White middle- and upper class students (Hatt, 2007; Nasir et al., 2009; Oakes, 1995). Unlike urban students who confront exclusion, punitive discipline, and racial tension in the education system (Anyon, 1997; Noguera, 2008; Rios, 2011), participants did not perceive their cultural or family backgrounds as impediments to educational success. In these ways, Urban Magnet cultivated an inclusive and caring community that research has suggested is critical to engage students of color (Perry et al., 2003; Valenzuela, 1999). Involving students in the formal schooling process fostered possibilities for brokering school-based capital. For example, the school was generally successful at brokering school-based capital related to college eligibility and enrollment. Social and organizational ties were mobilized to help students navigate the nuts and bolts of college admissions: building college aspirations, taking A-G classes, enrolling in AP courses, and completing applications. Consistent with the emphasis on caring, staff employed positive reinforcement techniques such as applauding when students submitted financial aid documents. These strategies were valuable to compensate for minimal college-going support at home. Weaknesses. Though the school was effective at fostering students’ sense of belonging and facilitating the procedural aspects of college-going, brokerage was limited in significant ways. Urban Magnet could not expose students to peers from diverse backgrounds and provide 218 comprehensive and personalized college counseling. Most importantly, the substance of students’ academic preparation did not mirror the school-wide rhetoric of rigor and achievement. Positive reinforcement efforts were not paired with high expectations. Students received accolades for completing college applications, but faced minimal consequences for not doing homework or not writing a nine-page science fair report. Participants learned that being a “scholar” meant doing better than most of one’s classmates—even if those classmates were failing or barely passing, and that becoming prepared for college meant clicking “submit” on the FAFSA webpage. Most participants graduated with an inflated sense of their CR, based on their assumption that Urban Magnet was rigorous and college preparatory. These findings highlight the primacy of school context to shape what types of capital are accessible, what meanings are assigned to available capital, and how students see themselves as a result. They also suggest that drawing on students’ cultural wealth alone does not prepare students for college. Creating a positive and affirming school environment is insufficient—and in some ways perhaps detrimental—if unaccompanied by substantive opportunities to develop and practice dominant cultural capital. Revisiting College Readiness: Toward a Sociocultural Conception I began this study with the premise that student-centered CR frameworks are limited in their capacity to address the needs of marginalized youth who aspire to higher education. In particular, the data highlight the disconnect between how high-achieving urban students see themselves and how prepared they actually are, at least according to CR indicators and teacher perceptions. This problem speaks to the challenge of focusing on a universal set of individual competencies: CR skills and indicators do not carry universal significance across educational contexts. Participants who earned a 4.0 at Urban Magnet were most likely less prepared than 219 their straight-A counterparts at well-resourced, high-performing high schools. What was considered a high SAT score at Urban Magnet was only above-average relative to all test-takers. With respect to non-cognitive factors, participants understood that certain skills such as studying and time management were critical for college success. Yet identifying a skill as important is different from practicing a skill; students did not have the same experiences managing a large workload as their peers in better schools. At the same time, Urban Magnet students may have honed help-seeking skills in ways that their more privileged peers had not, simply out of necessity. Whether and how students develop skills depend on their specific circumstances—and some students may need certain skills more than others. The meaning students ascribe to college knowledge also depends on their family background and school context. Participants learned how to fill out college applications and financial aid forms at Urban Magnet. But the manner in which Urban Magnet students approached and interpreted these tasks varied from that of their second or third generation counterparts, who are more likely to (a) receive more help at home, and (b) recognize the application process as merely the first hurdle on the long road to college graduation. In short, CR symbols are imbued with meaning at the local level. Researchers have acknowledged that CR indicators carry different meanings across schooling contexts (Conley, 2012; Porter & Polikoff, 2012), and that students have unequal access to rigorous instruction and college counseling to develop college-ready competencies (Roderick et al., 2009; Venezia & Kirst, 2005). Yet students living in high-poverty neighborhoods and attending low-performing schools do not have a bird’s eye view of the educational landscape. Participants were unaware that other schools and families functioned differently. They did not know, for example, that the resources available through Urban’s college 220 access partners likely constituted only a fraction of the support that middle class youth with college-educated parents receive at home. Their naivety regarding their educational opportunities limited their ability to assess their readiness. One might ask if it really matters how students perceive their CR. For instance, how students see themselves does not affect whether they are placed in a remedial course upon college entrance (if placement decisions are determined by cut scores on a test). However, the issue is not simply whether they require a remedial course, but whether the student is psychologically and emotionally prepared to persist despite remedial placement. What happens when Alex, who bragged about his SAT score because it was one of the highest at Urban Magnet, realizes that many of his college classmates scored better? What happens when Daniel arrives at USC and realizes that most of his classmates experienced rigorous instruction—and learned how to study—in their high school calculus and physics courses? What happens when Urban Magnet graduates realize how many more advantages their college classmates had? Foregrounding context and culture reveals these complexities and challenges that manifest at the local level to disrupt college opportunity. Implications for Policy and Practice I highlight three implications for policy and practice. The first pertains to tracking. The phenomenon of inflated academic self-confidence has been explored in prior research on urban schools generally. Deil-Amen and Tevis’ research (2010), cited in chapter 2, found that students in low-performing schools gained an exaggerated sense of their own preparedness which “may have supported students’ college-going aspirations, yet […] put them at risk of failure once enrolled” (164). The present study suggests that Urban’s magnet model may have exacerbated this problem. Participants took for granted that they were well prepared academically because 221 they were “Magnet,” when the data did not reveal significant differences between the schools on measures of college preparedness (e.g., AP exam scores). Marketing a school as rigorous and college preparatory does not make it so, but it does shape how students see themselves and their academic futures. One area for consideration, then, relates to the usefulness of tracking and the discourses around tracking, especially when applicants are not required to meet minimum performance standards. A second implication concerns academic preparation in urban schools more broadly: how can institutional actors raise expectations? It is not enough to talk about CR, enroll students in A- G and AP courses, and help students apply to college. Reforms that bolster the ability of school staff to improve teaching and learning are needed. I highlight two recommendations, based on the data. One strategy is for staff members to develop a cohesive idea of what CR means and how to enhance it. This recommendation echoes prior research that has found differences in educators’ interpretations of readiness (Washington et al., 2012). At Urban Magnet, students heard common messages about the importance of going to college and how to apply to college, but teachers reported a lack of consistency in terms of instructional objectives. Findings also suggest the importance of capacity building. At Urban Magnet, students did not have updated textbooks in all their classes. Administrators were making choices between closing a college center and having guidance counselor loads of 300, or offering college counseling and having guidance counselor loads of 600. Students were sitting in classes with up to 40 students. Outside organizations identified and worked with students with little or no oversight from school staff. Certainly, educational policy debates persist about the value of funding increases versus resource reallocation (Baker, 2012; Grubb, 2009), and I am not suggesting that more funding will inherently increase students’ CR. However, data from Urban 222 Magnet suggest that resources played a key role in the ability of school staff to prioritize students’ college-going needs. The third implication relates to broadening urban students’ perspective. As important to students’ college-going identities as what they did know—that CR indicators matter, for instance—was what they did not know. Segregated in a high-poverty school in a high-poverty neighborhood, participants simply did not have adequate opportunities to contextualize their experience in relation to other students, schools, and higher education. They did not know, as Ms. Velasquez so aptly stated, “how disadvantaged they are.” Students explained success and failure using dominant narratives about individual responsibility and hard work. Certainly, teaching students to work hard and be accountable for their performance is crucial. At the same time, a more realistic assessment of their pre-college opportunities may better equip students for the transition. Given that raising expectations in low-performing schools is an ongoing effort that will not occur overnight, how can educational stakeholders give students the gift of perspective? How can stakeholders help students understand that they are starting off relatively disadvantaged, so that they can better prepare for the obstacles they will face? How can stakeholders enhance students’ perspective without causing them to feel that success is impossible? These questions warrant consideration to better address the college-going needs of marginalized student populations. Directions for Future Research I identify three avenues for future inquiry. First, more research is required on the role of organizational context in developing students’ CR. This study focused on a specific type of high school—a magnet program with a math-science focus and college-preparatory mission that accepted all students who submitted an application. More qualitative work is needed to better 223 understand how different types of high schools position urban youth for postsecondary transition. Relatedly, research focusing on the nature of organizational partnerships would be useful to improve resource brokerage for first generation college-bound students. Investigating how high schools, college access programs, and postsecondary institutions might better work together to raise expectations in low-performing high schools is needed. Additional research foregrounding the influence of culture is also important to inform CR policy and practice for marginalized youth. This study identified the value of drawing upon aspirational, navigational, and familial capital to engage non-dominant students in formal schooling. Future studies might consider whether and how forms of cultural wealth that did not emerge here relate to college-going. One is linguistic capital, or the cognitive and social competencies required to communicate in more than one language and/or style (Yosso, 2005). Almost all participants spoke fluent Spanish and earned scores of 4s and 5s on the AP Spanish test. However, most struggled with academic literacy. The second form of cultural wealth that did not surface in the data was resistant capital, or awareness of the structures of racism and the skills and motivation to challenge and/or transform oppressive structures (Yosso, 2005). Many students complained of experiencing racial stereotyping, but few seemed cognizant of the extent of structural inequality. Thus, the current study did not find evidence that linguistic and resistance capital supported college-going at Urban Magnet. Whether and in what contexts these forms of cultural wealth may influence college-going are interesting questions for future inquiry. Finally, at a time when schools and neighborhoods are highly segregated, it remains unclear how schools and policies can enhance first generation students’ exposure to higher education and/or diverse educational contexts. While many college access programs support this objective, they do not have the resources to reach all secondary students who aspire to college. 224 Research is needed to identify systematic strategies for providing low-income youth of color with opportunities to experience the world outside the inner city. Conclusion This study has explored the complexities and challenges of CR as they pertain to high- achieving youth in urban high schools. Drawing on ethnographic methods and theories of organizational brokerage (Small, 2009) and community cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005), I asked how low-income students of color developed college-going identities in an urban magnet high school. Findings suggest the importance of social and cultural capital in general, and dominant cultural capital in particular, for students’ identity constructions. They also highlight the school’s central role in shaping how students interpret CR. The research speaks to the importance of (a) raising expectations in low-performing urban schools and (b) helping urban youth gain perspective on postsecondary opportunity structures and the challenges of college transition. 225 Epilogue “My hopes and dreams may grow to be much bigger or different when I go to college.” —Daisy’s Life Plan Graduation took place on a hot and sunny day in early June. Family members and friends of the seniors filled the bleachers on both sides of the football stadium. In the center of the field, a stage with a podium faced a sea of chairs. The graduates were organized in four sections for each of the small learning communities, including Magnet. Magnet students sat in the back left, occupying the smallest number of seats given the smaller size of the school. Donned in their black robes, the students stood out against the green grass beneath them. Balloons of grey and maroon, the school’s colors, accented each side of the stage. A young woman’s voice was echoing through the shaky speaker system, the volume wavering between loud and barely audible. “To the class of 2015, congratulations on our outstanding achievements! United we stood and now we have it all!” Graciela beamed as she delivered her valedictorian address. Several medals for high honors hung around her neck. “Whether we find the path to go to college, enlist in the armed forces, or make our own path, know that it is okay to make mistakes. Our mistakes are part of the learning process.” As she spoke, I scanned the program for the names of the participants. All had decided by now where they planned to go in the fall. Alex was initially waitlisted at UC Davis, his top choice school, and regrettably committed to UC Merced. After the graduation ceremony, he 226 approached me to report good news: “UC Davis accepted my appeal! They let me in! I’ll be going to Davis after all!” Analucia was rejected from the two highly selective private schools to which she applied and narrowed her choices to UC San Diego or UC Irvine. She ultimately picked Irvine, after touring the campus and receiving a better financial aid package. Bryan planned to attend a local CSU and commute from home. He had been active in JROTC during high school and considered joining the army, but decided to try a semester at college first. Carmen had her heart set on San Francisco State, but would have needed at least $10,000 in loans annually. She decided to commit to UC Merced, the only UC to which she was accepted, which offered better financial support. Though disappointed at first, she grew increasingly excited looking at pictures and reading about the school online. Cindy was accepted to UC Davis and UC Irvine. She ultimately chose Irvine because it offered more financial aid, she visited the campus and “loved it,” and her mother preferred she stay closer to home. She texted me her decision in early April: “I will be attending UC IRVINE this fall ^~^ ! ! !.” Daisy was rejected from all four UCs to which she applied. Her top choice CSU, Chico, was going to put her over $34,000 in debt. Although her best option financially was to commute to a local CSU, “I can’t stay in my house. I can’t be stuck here.” Luckily, at the last minute UC Merced offered her admission via the Count Me In program, since she was ranked in the top 10% of her senior class. She gleefully accepted, and planned to dorm with Carmen in the fall. Daniel was deciding between UC Berkeley and the University of Southern California. He was the first from his high school to be accepted to USC in several years. He ultimately selected 227 USC because he was drawn to the school’s smaller class sizes, internship opportunities, and strong business program. After all, he reminded me with a grin, “I’m the next Bill Gates!” Edward was admitted to all the schools to which he applied and committed to his top choice, Colorado College. He speculated that his success with the admissions process was “all thanks to the Community Scholars Program.” Emi, whose heart was initially set on a private school, decided to attend UC Davis, where she was admitted to the honors program. Then in mid-May, she was accepted to Occidental College, her first choice, off the waitlist. “I can’t believe it!!!” she wrote on Facebook. Graciela was accepted to UCLA and UC Irvine, and ultimately selected Irvine. Though she recognized that UCLA had a higher ranking, she felt more comfortable on Irvine’s campus and, given her history with depression, wanted to be somewhere that made her feel safe. “I’ll say I’m still nervous,” she confessed, “but I’m getting excited about being an Anteater!” Hector had only applied to CSUs and decided to attend Chico. Although his financial aid package was as disappointing as Daisy’s had been, he explained that his parents were going to help with the debt. He was impatiently counting down the days until August orientation. Juan initially planned to attend UC Santa Cruz, his top choice. However, as an AB540 student, he did not receive adequate financial aid from Santa Cruz. He decided at the last minute to commit to UC Merced, which offered a better package. “To be honest,” he confided, “I really don’t want to go to Merced. And I feel bad because some of my friends are really excited to go there. The thing is, we just couldn’t afford Santa Cruz.” Natalia was accepted to her first choice, UC Davis, and was ecstatic. The university flew her up for a visit in April, her first time on a plane. She updated her Facebook wall with pictures of the campus and the hashtags “ # homeoftheaggies # iloveithere # beautifulcampus.” 228 Paz was hoping to attend CSU Channel Islands but, like many of her classmates, did not receive sufficient financial aid, and committed to UC Riverside instead. She enrolled in a summer bridge program to improve her writing, where she was happy to report that she met some future Riverside classmates. Ximena, who expressed interest in liberal arts schools when I met her in September, applied only to state universities and committed to UC Santa Cruz. In June, she contacted me asking how to write an appeals letter for an admissions cancelation, because she had earned a D in Economics. She planned to write the letter, but did not expect to be readmitted. I asked about her plan B. “Community college or the Air Force.” The sun was lowering in the sky behind the bleachers as Graciela finished her speech. She expressed gratitude to the Magnet staff, her friends for being “full of sparkles,” and her family for their patience and support. She thanked her sister for inspiring her to “pursue higher education and educate the next generation.” She then addressed her peers: My fellow classmates, it is time for me to bid a see you later. It is not a goodbye; those are permanent. I hope to see you as future journalists, engineers, doctors, or the future mayor of [Southern California City]. In the words of the late Vince Lombardi, “Perfection is not attainable, but if we can chase perfection, we can catch excellence.” I chuckled, wondering if she knew who Vince Lombardi was, but also recognizing that the quote was fitting. 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Harvard Educational Review, 79(4), 659-691. 265 Appendix A: Information Sheet for Student Participants (See next page) Page 1 of 2 Last edits made on: May 19, 2014—Information Sheet for Exempt Applications UPIRB#: UP-14-00295 University of Southern California Rossier School of Education INFORMATION/FACTS SHEET FOR EXEMPT NON-MEDICAL RESEARCH Evaluation of Pullias Outreach Program You are invited to participate in a research study conducted by Dr. William G. Tierney and colleagues at the University of Southern California, and funded by the Angell Foundation, CA Community Foundation–LA Scholars, College Access Foundation, and the Sterling Foundation, because you are participating in the Pullias Center’s outreach programs. Your participation in the research study is voluntary. Your participation in the Pullias outreach programs will not be affected, whether or not you participate in this study. You should read the information below, and ask questions about anything you do not understand, before deciding whether to participate. Please take as much time as you need to read the consent form. You may also decide to discuss participation with your family or friends. You can keep this form. PURPOSE OF THE STUDY The purpose of this study is to learn about how to make the program better by assessing students’ progress in and opinions of the programs. Completion and return of the questionnaire or response to the interview questions will constitute consent to participate in this research project. PARTICIPANT INVOLVEMENT If you agree to participate in this study, you will be asked to do the following: • Take a college knowledge test, twice. The college knowledge test is a 30-minute multiple-choice test. The college test will take place at the beginning and the end of the outreach programs. • Take an end-of-program survey where you can give your opinions about the program. • Researchers will observe what goes on in the classroom. • You may also be asked to participate in focus groups. One focus group will occur in the beginning of the program, and one toward the end. These focus groups will be recorded. The questions will ask about your thoughts about college and the program. • You may be asked to participate in an interview or focus group during your participation in the I AM mentoring program. The questions will ask about your experiences getting ready for college and how you see yourself as a student. Page 2 of 2 Last edits made on: May 19, 2014—Information Sheet for Exempt Applications UPIRB#: UP-14-00295 CONFIDENTIALITY The members of the research team, the funding agencies, and the University of Southern California’s Human Subjects Protection Program (HSPP) may access the data. The HSPP reviews and monitors research studies to protect the rights and welfare of research subjects. When the results of the research are published or discussed in conferences, no identifiable information will be used. INVESTIGATOR CONTACT INFORMATION If you have any questions or concerns about the research, please feel free to contact the Principal Investigator, William G. Tierney, at 213-740-7218 IRB CONTACT INFORMATION University Park Institutional Review Board (UPIRB), 3720 S. Flower St., #301, Los Angeles, CA 90089-0702, 213-821-5272, or upirb@usc.edu. 268 Appendix B: Approval and Consent Forms USC IRB Approval Letter (See Next Page) 1/3/15, 1:48 PM Page 1 of 2 https://istar.usc.edu/iStar/Doc/0/4OIO21NU8K9451ULPVAFL1F404/fromString.html UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA UNIVERSITY PARK INSTITUTIONAL REVIEW BOARD FWA 00007099 Exempt Review Date: Nov 21, 2014, 05:01pm Principal Investigator: Julia Duncheon ROSSIER SCHOOL OF EDUCATION Faculty Advisor: William Tierney ROSSIER SCHOOL OF EDUCATION Co-Investigators: Project Title: Brokering College Readiness USC UPIRB # UP-14-00640 The University Park Institutional Review Board (UPIRB) designee determined that your project meets the requirements outlined in 45 CFR 46.101(b) (1, 2, and 4) and qualifies for exemption from IRB review. This study was approved on 11/21/2014 and is not subject to further IRB review. Minor revisions were made to the information sheet and sections 1.4, 2.1, 5b, 6.2, 9.1, 9.2, 11.1, 11.2, 22.1, 24.4, 26.5, 26.5.1, and 28.4 by the IRB Administrator (IRBA). Approved document: Certified Information Sheet UP-14-00640 11.20.14 To access IRB-approved documents, click on the “Approved Documents” link in the study workspace. These are also available under the “Documents” tab. 1/3/15, 1:48 PM Page 2 of 2 https://istar.usc.edu/iStar/Doc/0/4OIO21NU8K9451ULPVAFL1F404/fromString.html Please check with all participating sites to make sure you have their permission to conduct research prior to beginning your study. Social-behavioral health-related interventions or health-outcome studies must register with clinicaltrials.gov or other International Community of Medical Journal Editors (ICMJE) approved registries in order to be published in an ICJME journal. The ICMJE will not accept studies for publication unless the studies are registered prior to enrollment, despite the fact that these studies are not applicable “clinical trials” as defined by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA). For support with registration, go to www.clinicaltrials.gov or contact Jean Chan (jeanbcha@usc.edu, 323-442-2825). Approved Documents: view Funding Source(s): No Funding Sources This is an auto-generated email. Please do not respond directly to this message using the "reply" address. A response sent in this manner cannot be answered. If you have further questions, please contact your IRB Administrator or IRB/CCI office. The contents of this email are confidential and intended for the specified recipients only. If you have received this email in error, please notify istar@usc.edu and delete this message. 271 District Approval Letter Proposal # 91 Wed, Dec 24, 2014 at 10:46 AM To: Julia Duncheon <julia.duncheon@gmail.com> Dear Researcher: I am pleased to inform you that the proposed study #91, “Brokering College Readiness: The Perspectives of High School Educators on Preparing High-Achieving Urban Youth for College,” was approved by the Committee on External Research Review. Once we have verified IRB approval from your institution, our office will follow with a formal approval letter. You are free to proceed with data collection once you have received the formal approval letter. Please be aware that this approval is valid for one year’s time at which point our office will follow up with the sponsoring institution to learn about the study’s progress and findings of interest to the district. You will have the opportunity then to renew approval of the proposal should additional time be required for data collection or if modifications to the original proposal are necessary. In our effort to document burden on schools, please let our office know the names of the schools where you will be collecting the data. We understand that you may not have selected your final sample schools nor have gotten permission to collect data, so we will be patient. However, we will need to know as soon as you know. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions or thoughts. Thanks. Chair, Committee for External Research Review (CERR) 272 Information Sheet for Staff Participants (For Teachers, Administrators, Counselors, and Program Leaders) INFORMED CONSENT FOR NON-MEDICAL RESEARCH CONSENT TO PARTICIPATE IN RESEARCH Brokering College Readiness: The Perspectives of High School Educators on Preparing High- Achieving Urban Youth for College You are invited to participate in a research study conducted by Julia C. Duncheon from the University of Southern California. You were selected as a possible participant in this study because you work with high-achieving college-bound students at the Fremont Magnet School of Math, Science and Technology. Please take as much time as you need to read this form; you may keep this form for your records. You may also decide to discuss it with your family or friends. You must be 18 or older to participate. If you agree to participate, you will be asked to sign this form. You will also be given a copy of this form. PURPOSE OF THE STUDY The purpose of this study is to examine how school staff who work with high-achieving, first generation, college-bound students perceive and interpret college readiness. In other words, I am interested in understanding what you think your students need to be prepared for college, and how you think your school contributes to students’ preparation. STUDY PROCEDURES If you volunteer to participate in this study, you will be asked to take part in the following research activity. 1. Interviews: You will be asked to meet with me for one interview. The interview will be scheduled at your convenience between mid-December 2014 and mid-February 2015. During this interview, you will be asked to answer questions about your perspectives on college readiness, the challenges your students face preparing for college, and the role your school plays in helping them prepare. Interviews will last approximately 30 to 60 minutes. If you agree, your participation will be audiotaped. You do not have to answer any questions you don’t want to; if you don’t want to be taped, handwritten notes will be taken. POTENTIAL RISKS AND DISCOMFORTS 273 There are no other foreseeable risks or discomforts to participating in this study. The only inconvenience might concern setting aside time to talk to the researcher. POTENTIAL BENEFITS TO SUBJECTS AND/OR TO SOCIETY You will not directly benefit from your participation in the study. Your insights, however, have the potential to provide valuable insight that will contribute to research and policy pertaining to college preparation for first generation students in urban high schools. PAYMENT/COMPENSATION FOR PARTICIPATION You will not be paid for participating in this study. CONFIDENTIALITY Any identifiable information obtained in connection with this study will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission or as required by law. We will assign a pseudonym (pretend name) to ensure confidentiality for interview participants. When interviews take place in a public place, there is a chance that individuals outside of the study may accidentally intervene and identify study participants. Additionally, confidentiality cannot be guaranteed if participants decide to discuss the contents of their individual interview outside of the research period. The researcher and the University of Southern California’s Human Subjects Protection Program (HSPP) may access the data. The HSPP reviews and monitors research studies to protect the rights and welfare of research subjects. The data will be stored in a locked filing cabinet or on a password protected computer. You have the right to review audio recordings or transcripts of your interview. Data will be maintained indefinitely and may be used in future research studies. If you are not comfortable having your anonymous data used in future studies, please let the researcher know and your data will not be retained after the present study concludes. When the results of the research are published of discussed in conferences, no information will be included that would reveal your name. PARTICIPATION AND WITHDRAWAL You can choose whether to be in this study or not. If you volunteer to be in this study, you may withdraw at any time without consequences of any kind. You may also refuse to answer any questions you do not want to answer and still remain in the study. The investigator may withdraw you from this research if circumstances arise which warrant doing so. 274 ALTERNATIVES TO PARTICIPATION Your alternative is to not participate. Your employment/relationship with the school will not be affected, whether or not you participate. IDENTIFICATION OF INVESTIGATORS If you have any questions or concerns about this research study, please feel free to contact Julia C. Duncheon at (646) 853-0834 during regular office hours: 8:30 am through 5:00 pm, Monday through Friday. RIGHTS OF RESEARCH SUBJECTS If you have questions, concerns, or complaints about your rights as a research participant, you may contact the IRB directly at the information provided below. If you have questions about the research and are unable to contact the research team, or if you want to talk to someone independent of the research team, please contact the University Park IRB (UPIRB), Office of the Vice Provost for Research Advancement, Stonier Hall, Room 224a, Los Angeles, CA 90089- 1146, (213) 821-5272 or upirb@usc.edu. 275 Appendix C: Student Interview Protocol Hi, my name is Julia Duncheon. I’m getting my Ph.D. from the University of Southern California. My dissertation is about how students who attend public high school in South LA prepare for college, and especially how they develop college-going identities. In other words, I am interested in how students come to see themselves as individuals and as learners, and how their identities influence their college preparation. Is it ok if I audiotape this interview? I have about 15 questions to ask. All answers will be confidential and anonymous, but you don’t have to answer any questions that you don’t want to. Participant ID: _____________________ Interview Location: ___________________ Date: _______________ 1. Tell me a little about yourself. How would you describe yourself as a person? 2. I’m curious about how you think other people would describe you. a. Your parent or guardian? (Or another family member) b. Your best friend? c. A stranger passing you on the street? 3. Our society often uses categories to classify people in different ways (Probe with examples: race/ethnicity, gender, class, sexuality, age, language, immigration or disability status, academic ability). a. Are there any categories that you feel are relevant to you? Explain. b. Are there any categories that you feel are used to define you in school? Explain. 4. Tell me a little about your family. Who do you live with? Are you close with any family members? 5. What kind of a student are you? How would you describe yourself as a student? a. Tell me about a time you felt like a good student and a not-so-good student. 6. If I asked your favorite teacher to describe you as a student, what would he or she say? 7. What do you do after school? (probe about specific days, activities) 8. Tell me about your friends. What do you talk about? What do you do to have fun? 9. Think of any three people in your life that have really influenced you. How did they influence you? Why do you think they had such a big influence? 10. Tell me about one memory or event that stands out as important or left an impact on you. 276 11. Tell me about why you want to go to college. When did you first start thinking about college? Who or what has most influenced your plans to go to college? 12. What should a student do to get ready for college? What do you think it means to be college- ready? 13. Do you feel like you are ready for college? a. In what areas do you feel well prepared? b. What aspects of college do you think might be challenging for you, if any? 14. What are some ways that the school has helped you prepare for college? What people or programs have been most helpful? What could the school do to help students become better prepared, if anything? 15. Why do you think some students who want to go to a four-year college do not end up graduating with a bachelor’s degree? 16. What’s something you haven’t told anyone, but you think about a lot? 17. Is there anything you thought I might ask you today that I didn’t ask? Is there anything else you want me to know? 277 Appendix D: School Staff Interview Protocol (Teachers, Coaches, Counselors, Program Staff) Hi, my name is Julia Duncheon. I’m getting my Ph.D. from the University of Southern California. My dissertation is about how students who attend public high school in South LA prepare for college, and especially how they develop college-going identities. In other words, I am interested in how students come to see themselves as individuals and as learners, the factors that shape their identity development, and how their identities influence how they prepare for college. Before we start, I want to make sure you are aware of your rights and my responsibilities from the form you read. Do you have any questions? Participant ID: _____________________ Interview Location: ___________________ Date: _______________ 1. Tell me a bit about your background at this school. How long have you worked here and in what capacity? 2. Tell me a bit about your student population. How would you describe the students who attend this magnet school? What general challenges does your student population face? 3. What are some strengths and weaknesses that your students bring to the classroom? 4. What do you think it means for a student to be “college-ready?” 5. In what areas do you think your students graduate ready for college? 6. In what areas do you think your students may struggle in college, if at all? 7. How would you characterize your role in helping students prepare for college? 8. What do you think the school does well (and not-so-well, if anything) to help students prepare for college? 9. How do you think your college-bound seniors perceive their own readiness for college? What factors shape how they see themselves? 10. Data show that even among high-achieving high school students, those who are first generation, of color, and/or low-income complete college at lower rates than their more privileged peers. What factors do you think contribute to this disparity? 11. Let’s say you had access to all the resources in the world. What do you think should be done to enhance college opportunity for students from high-poverty urban neighborhoods? 12. Is there anything else you think I should know? 278 Appendix E: Focus Group Protocol #1 Warm-up discussion: I will begin the focus group with a venting and bragging session. The students will be invited to share one thing they not happy about (anything, trivial or serious), and one thing they are proud of (I am awesome this week because...). The purpose is to break the ice and give students the opportunity to share any frustrations or celebrations. This exercise is useful from a research perspective because it offers insight into who the students are and how they see their world. Questions / probes: 1. Tell me about what it’s like to be a teenager living in South LA. 2. What are some of the biggest challenges facing young people living in your neighborhood? 3. Tell me about what it’s like to be a student at Urban. 4. How would you describe the social scene here? Like, who hangs out with who? Are there groups? 5. How would you describe academic life at Urban? (Probe about classes, teachers, whether they feel challenged in class, whether the work is rigorous, level of expectations, etc.) Wrap-up discussion: After going through the focus group questions, I will close the session by opening up the floor to questions or concerns students might have. They will be invited to share thoughts about any topic they’d like to discuss, or personal stories about their in and out of school lives and future college plans. 279 Appendix F: Focus Group Protocol #2 Warm-up discussion: I will begin the focus group with a venting and bragging session. The students will be invited to share one thing they not happy about (anything, trivial or serious), and one thing they are proud of (I am awesome this week because...). The purpose is to break the ice and give students the opportunity to share any frustrations or celebrations. This exercise is useful from a research perspective because it offers insight into who the students are and how they see their world. Questions / probes: 1. What do you already know about college? 2. What makes a successful college student? 3. If I was a 9th grader starting at Urban and I wanted to go to a good college, what advice would you give to me? 4. What are you excited about? 5. What are you nervous or concerned about? 6. Why do you think some students who want to go to a four-year college do not end up graduating with a bachelor’s degree? Wrap-up discussion: After going through the focus group questions, I will close the session by opening up the floor to questions or concerns students might have. They will be invited to share thoughts about any topic they’d like to discuss, or personal stories about their in and out of school lives and future college plans. 280 Appendix G: Demographic Questionnaire Participant ID: _____________________ Desired Pseudonym: _______________________ Age: _______________ Sex: ____________ Race/Ethnicity: _______________________ GPA: _______________ Do you qualify for free and reduced lunch? _________________ Do you have Internet at home? _______________ Email: ______________________________ Cell, if you have one: _______________________ Does your phone have Internet? _________ Do you have a job? (If so, what?) __________________________________________________ Do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend? ______________ Where were you born? __________________________________________________________ Where do you live now? _________________________________________________________ How long have you lived at your current address? _____________________________________ Who do you live with (all family members)? _________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________________ What language do you and your family members speak at home? _________________________ Were your parents born in the United States? ____________ What do your parents or guardians do for a living? _____________________________________ What is their highest level of education? _____________________________________________ Where do you think you might want to go to college? __________________________________ What’s your favorite subject in school? ______________________________________________ What’s your favorite thing to do outside school? ______________________________________ What’s the best way to contact you? ________________________________________________ What is one thing about you that is cool or unique? ____________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________________

Abstract (if available)

Abstract Postsecondary attainment has increased in import and more students from all backgrounds are entering higher education today relative to prior generations. Unfortunately, students who are low-income, of color, and the first in their families to attend college drop out at disproportionately higher rates than their more privileged counterparts. Graduates of low-performing urban high schools face particular challenges persisting in college—even those with strong academic records. Efforts to enhance postsecondary completion have focused on the construct of college readiness (CR), or the preparation needed to enroll in credit-bearing courses and persist to graduation. CR is typically defined as a set of cognitive and non-cognitive skills that students should master. However, a list of universal, reified skills may not account for the complex social, cultural, and institutional factors that shape disparate college pathways, particularly for students from underrepresented backgrounds. ❧ This goal of this study is to inform a culturally relevant, context-based conception of CR that accounts for the experiences of urban high school youth. To that end, I investigate the college-going identity development of high-achieving, college-bound seniors of color who attend a high-poverty urban high school. Following Oakes et al. (2002), I define college-going identity as seeing college-going as part of oneself and developing the skills to navigate college without sacrificing one’s cultural background and community. Specifically, I ask how students acquire and use diverse forms of social and cultural capital to construct their identities, and how the urban high school in particular mediates this process. I draw on ethnographic methods and theories of organizational brokerage (Small, 2009) and community cultural wealth (Yosso, 2005) to foreground the role of sociocultural context in individuals’ acquisition of resources. Findings highlight implications for understanding and improving the CR of high-achieving urban youth.

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Asset Metadata

Creator Duncheon, Julia C. (author)

Core Title High-achieving yet underprepared: first generation youth and the challenge of college readiness

School Rossier School of Education

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Urban Education Policy

Publication Date 08/26/2015

Defense Date 07/15/2015

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag college access,college readiness,first generation students,low-income students,OAI-PMH Harvest,students of color,urban high schools

Format application/pdf (imt)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Tierney, William G. (committee chair), Astor, Ron Avi (committee member), Burch, Patricia (committee member)

Creator Email duncheon@usc.edu,julia.duncheon@gmail.com

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c40-171933

Unique identifier UC11275938

Identifier etd-DuncheonJu-3847.pdf (filename),usctheses-c40-171933 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-DuncheonJu-3847.pdf

Dmrecord 171933

Document Type Dissertation

Format application/pdf (imt)

Rights Duncheon, Julia C.

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA