Privileged children
26/07/23 00:50
The seminary program in which I participated was a four-year straight through professional doctorate. The program included all of the classroom and professional writing requirements of a three-year masters program including a formal thesis defense, an additional year and additional thesis and defense, plus a full year’s internship. Unlike many of my peers, I managed to complete the program in four years because I served internships while also completing my academic requirements. I completed internships in pastoral counseling and in youth work. Both internships took place at the same physical location, but my counseling internship was with an independent nonprofit that operated at the church and my youth ministry internship was working for the congregation. The church was in a wealthy suburb of Chicago.
The youth in the youth group I served were children of privilege. Most of them came from single-income families, with fathers who were lawyers in prominent Chicago law firms, traders on the Chicago Board of Trade, physicians with medical specialties, and other high-paying professions. Many of the youth owned automobiles that had been received as gifts. In that community it wasn’t unusual for a youth to receive the gift of a car when that youth earned a driver’s license and another new car when graduating from high school. I met youth who went on prom dates where the dress cost more than any item of clothing I had ever owned and the cost of the date was beyond any I had ever spent. One young couple traveled by limousine to dinner and by helicopter from dinner to the dance, from there they went by horse-drawn carriage to a motel for an after-prom party.
There were many interesting challenges for me as a youth minister to privileged youth. During the summer I worked in that internship I led youth on bicycle trips in the country, a trip to an amusement park, an out of state camping trip, and other adventures. The budget of the youth program in which I worked exceeded the combined budgets of the first two congregations I later served. I had some experience with youth work, having served as director of a conference camp for the two prior summers, but I had never before encountered youth who had such extensive experience with alcohol. Although the program, like the camp, had rules against alcohol use by the youth, I had never run into infractions at camp. I had to deal with youth who brought hard liquor to events in my internship. Most of the youth in that program had traveled internationally, vacationed in exotic locations, and had experiences that I had not had.
One of the issues I had to face in my youth ministry internship was working with the youth through the grief of the loss of a slightly older young man who had graduated from the program a year before I arrived. I never met this young man face to face, but he died in the crash of his automobile, which hit a bridge abutment traveling at over 120 mph. I do not know the details of the accident, but it was common knowledge among the youth that there had been no skid marks or signs of braking at the accident scene. Nothing was said out loud, but I’m pretty sure that the youth, like me, wondered if the cause of death had been suicide. I was young and inexperienced, and I allowed silence on that topic as I attempted to guide the youth through the experience. I didn’t know how silence about mental illness and suicide can be a factor in additional deaths from suicide. I didn’t know how to talk openly about suicide.
It seemed to me at the time, and still does, that privilege was a factor in the young man’s death. The fact that his new car - the second he had received as a gift from his parents - was a BMW that was capable of going over 100 mph was a factor in the intensity of the crash.
I feel very fortunate that most of my career as a pastor took place among people of more modest means. I know that I would not have been good dealing with the constant privilege and wealth of that community. I have been quite at home among communities where there is significant economic variation.
I have been thinking of children of privilege lately, however, because the congregation where we are serving as interim ministers of Faith Formation is a congregation with many privileged children and youth. Many of the children of our program have had access to private schools and participate in expensive summer camps and programs. They had special instruction during the pandemic that advanced their academic growth when many of their peers were struggling with school closures. They have grown up being constantly reminded that they are unique, special, and can do and be anything they choose when they grow up. Most of them have two parents who are professionals. Many live in homes that are worth more than double the value of ours.
It seems to me that one of the burdens of their privilege is that they have received so much individualized special attention that they lack community skills. They are used to being self-directive in learning situations, and don’t know how to behave in group learning settings. I have encountered children who are incapable of participating in group activities. They are used to being able to make their own decisions about when and how to engage in various activities. They simply don’t comply or conform to group norms, and are used to being able to get their own way by simply asserting their wishes. They believe that rules don’t apply to them. We have to recruit extra adults to staff our programs so that there are people available to work with some children one-on-one because they cannot function in a group.
I’m sure that the pandemic has robbed some children of opportunities for group learning, but I have been surprised to discover five- and six-year-olds and even older children who don’t know how to participate in a group. Their life experiences have robbed them of community. While we work hard to provide group experiences and to engage them in community activities, our influence on their lives is comparatively small.
It is hard to focus on the problems of privilege in a world where children experience poverty, hunger and injustice. This will be a small chapter in the larger story of my life an career, but it fascinates me that my career has, so far, been bookended by experiences of working with privileged young people. Perhaps, in my own way, I too have been a child of privilege.
The youth in the youth group I served were children of privilege. Most of them came from single-income families, with fathers who were lawyers in prominent Chicago law firms, traders on the Chicago Board of Trade, physicians with medical specialties, and other high-paying professions. Many of the youth owned automobiles that had been received as gifts. In that community it wasn’t unusual for a youth to receive the gift of a car when that youth earned a driver’s license and another new car when graduating from high school. I met youth who went on prom dates where the dress cost more than any item of clothing I had ever owned and the cost of the date was beyond any I had ever spent. One young couple traveled by limousine to dinner and by helicopter from dinner to the dance, from there they went by horse-drawn carriage to a motel for an after-prom party.
There were many interesting challenges for me as a youth minister to privileged youth. During the summer I worked in that internship I led youth on bicycle trips in the country, a trip to an amusement park, an out of state camping trip, and other adventures. The budget of the youth program in which I worked exceeded the combined budgets of the first two congregations I later served. I had some experience with youth work, having served as director of a conference camp for the two prior summers, but I had never before encountered youth who had such extensive experience with alcohol. Although the program, like the camp, had rules against alcohol use by the youth, I had never run into infractions at camp. I had to deal with youth who brought hard liquor to events in my internship. Most of the youth in that program had traveled internationally, vacationed in exotic locations, and had experiences that I had not had.
One of the issues I had to face in my youth ministry internship was working with the youth through the grief of the loss of a slightly older young man who had graduated from the program a year before I arrived. I never met this young man face to face, but he died in the crash of his automobile, which hit a bridge abutment traveling at over 120 mph. I do not know the details of the accident, but it was common knowledge among the youth that there had been no skid marks or signs of braking at the accident scene. Nothing was said out loud, but I’m pretty sure that the youth, like me, wondered if the cause of death had been suicide. I was young and inexperienced, and I allowed silence on that topic as I attempted to guide the youth through the experience. I didn’t know how silence about mental illness and suicide can be a factor in additional deaths from suicide. I didn’t know how to talk openly about suicide.
It seemed to me at the time, and still does, that privilege was a factor in the young man’s death. The fact that his new car - the second he had received as a gift from his parents - was a BMW that was capable of going over 100 mph was a factor in the intensity of the crash.
I feel very fortunate that most of my career as a pastor took place among people of more modest means. I know that I would not have been good dealing with the constant privilege and wealth of that community. I have been quite at home among communities where there is significant economic variation.
I have been thinking of children of privilege lately, however, because the congregation where we are serving as interim ministers of Faith Formation is a congregation with many privileged children and youth. Many of the children of our program have had access to private schools and participate in expensive summer camps and programs. They had special instruction during the pandemic that advanced their academic growth when many of their peers were struggling with school closures. They have grown up being constantly reminded that they are unique, special, and can do and be anything they choose when they grow up. Most of them have two parents who are professionals. Many live in homes that are worth more than double the value of ours.
It seems to me that one of the burdens of their privilege is that they have received so much individualized special attention that they lack community skills. They are used to being self-directive in learning situations, and don’t know how to behave in group learning settings. I have encountered children who are incapable of participating in group activities. They are used to being able to make their own decisions about when and how to engage in various activities. They simply don’t comply or conform to group norms, and are used to being able to get their own way by simply asserting their wishes. They believe that rules don’t apply to them. We have to recruit extra adults to staff our programs so that there are people available to work with some children one-on-one because they cannot function in a group.
I’m sure that the pandemic has robbed some children of opportunities for group learning, but I have been surprised to discover five- and six-year-olds and even older children who don’t know how to participate in a group. Their life experiences have robbed them of community. While we work hard to provide group experiences and to engage them in community activities, our influence on their lives is comparatively small.
It is hard to focus on the problems of privilege in a world where children experience poverty, hunger and injustice. This will be a small chapter in the larger story of my life an career, but it fascinates me that my career has, so far, been bookended by experiences of working with privileged young people. Perhaps, in my own way, I too have been a child of privilege.
