"When Children Articulate Social Order. Surveying Childhood Ranking and Judgment" [with W. Lignier,...
Transcript of "When Children Articulate Social Order. Surveying Childhood Ranking and Judgment" [with W. Lignier,...
Children Articulating Social Order: A Study
on Children’s Classifications and
Judgments
Wilfried Lignier and Julie Pagis
Abstract
Do children perceive the world they are living in as a social order? At the end of the 1990s, Bernard Zarca investigated what he called the “social sense” of children, defined as an individual ability to rank diverse occupations. The study reported here relies on the same kind of task methodology assumed by this author (we also asked children to rank several occupations), but our framework is a collective one—which allows us to observe classifications as actions embedded in children interactions. Rather than focusing statistically on products of the practice (how children have classified), we pay greater ethnographic attention to the design of the practice itself (how children are classifying). We show that the children’s relationship to social order cannot be understood without taking into consideration: 1) the means that children can use to express this kind of relationship; 2) the concrete situation in which this relationship is expressed. Our study suggests that the cultural possibility of classifying should be distinguished from the dispositions and the interests to actually classify. In fact, in the context of real interactions, a person’s social situation is always involved, and thus, ranking always means self‐ranking.
Do children perceive the world around them as a universe constructed by differences and socially ordered relationships between persons and groups? Are children subjectively affected by the social differences they face in everyday life and in which they grow up? More specifically, are children aware of the multiple hierarchical distinctions that make up the social order—such as the inequality of professional situations, economic resources, cultural styles, or even the various affiliations of gender and class—in the same way as adults? To pose these questions is, in brief, to apply the classic sociological problem of “forms of classification” to children.1 At the same time, such an application to children immediately changes the way the problem needs to be approached. On the one hand, what then needs to be investigated no longer primarily
1 Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, trans. Karen E. Fields (New York: The Free Press, 1995); Emile Durkheim and Marcel Mauss, “De quelques formes de classification. Contribution à l’étude des représentations collectives,” L’Année Sociologique 6 (1903): 1–72. 2 As Emile Durkheim did by looking at the role of concrete rituals of collective living in the creation of mental
involves the origin of these social modes of perception,2 but rather the existence and the importance of such categories in the daily life of the very young. On the other hand—and above all—focusing on the early awareness of social differences amounts to considering that the perceived differences are not the end, the result, of a socializing process (including, in Durkheimian thinking, as a “logical (or cultural) integration” process that culminates in adulthood).3 Instead, this awareness arises from the conditions, or the (symbolic) means of childhood socialization. If children—potentially some more than others—attribute meaning to the fact of doing one job compared to another, or to the fact of being rich or poor, a “nerd” or a “spoiled brat” (in playground language), this cannot help but have an effect on the way that they situate themselves in relation to others, orient themselves socially, and construct their likes and dislikes—in short, on the way they grow up in society. At the end of the 1990s, the French sociologist Bernard Zarca empirically examined this problem involving children’s awareness of social differences.4 By basing his work on a clinically inspired methodology (observation and quantification of tests by individual tasks), he was able to define the concept of children’s “social sense”, understood as an individual ability to plausibly rank different occupations. He suggests that this sense differed depending on social origin, gender, and age. In his study, girls, children from privileged backgrounds, and students in the fourth and fifth grades (CM1–CM2 in France) were “better” able to classify than boys, children from working class families, and students in the second and third grades (CE1–CE2 in France). Following Bernard Zarca’s example, our initial research goal was to work on childhood perception of the social order, as can be observed based on tests involving classifying occupations.5 However, we had some reservations concerning the concept of “social sense” as defined by Bernard Zarca, and especially the way in which he concretely understood it. While his first definition of “social sense” takes account of both the “differentiated ways to behave with others” according to one’s social characteristics as well the ability to rank them and to know (and recognize) social differences,6 the general framework of his experiment quickly slides towards an evaluation of the degree of children’s social realism. Thus, he moves from something akin to a practical sense of the social—a concept in essence very close to Bourdieu’s habitus7—to an ability to order the social world, with social sense clearly becoming a quantifiable attribute—“they lack social sense”8—and no longer a condition of the practice. For our part, rather than looking at the question of the unequal competency of children to show they are “realistic,” we would like from the start to center our study on the ways that children
2 As Emile Durkheim did by looking at the role of concrete rituals of collective living in the creation of mental categories. See Anne W. Rawls, “Durkheim’s Episttemology : the Neglected Argument“, American Journal of
Sociology 102 (2) (1996) : 430-482. 3 Pierre Bourdieu, “Système d’enseignement et système de pensée,” in Les Sociologues, l’école et la
transmission des savoirs (Paris: La Dispute, 2007), 19. 4 Bernard Zarca, “Le sens social des enfants,” Sociétés Contemporaines 36 (1999): 67–101. 5 This idea of understanding the perception of the social order via job-classification tests was already being used in the research of Luc Boltanski and Laurent Thévenot, which involved adults, even though Bernard Zarca does not position himself in relation with this research. See Luc Boltanski and Laurent Thévenot, “Finding One’s Way in Social Space: A Study Based on Games,” Social Science Information 22 (1983): 631–680 6 Zarca, “Le Sens social des enfants,” 73. 7 In any case understood according to its cognitive dimension. See Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, trans. Richard Nice (Redwood City, CA: Stanford University Press, 1990). 8 Zarca, “Le Sens social des enfants,” 88.
classify. It is therefore the practice—and not the result—of classifying by children that first interested us. Because childhood ways of ordering the social world were the center of our concern, we had to shift our methodological focus. In place of the statistical emphasis on the products of the practice (how children classified), we substituted—at least within the scope of this article—an ethnographic emphasis on the formats of the practice (how children classify).9 This led us to deliberately expand the data above and beyond the classification itself, that is, to arrange it such that, in the study, the children would express themselves well beyond the formal task of ranking occupations—which, in reality, was simply a starting point for us. While Bernard Zarca questioned the children individually, we decided that above all it would be preferable to not separate the children relationships from the social order. With this in view, we implemented a collective study mechanism that captured children’s classification as it takes place both in the general living environment of the children (which cannot be reduced to a single position) and in the interactions they are typically involved in—especially with their peers (see Box 1).
Box 1: The Conditions for the Study The field study took place in 2010–2011, with 104 children aged six to ten, enrolled in first grade (CP in France), third grade (CE2 in France), and fourth grade (CM1 in France). These children were recruited from two primary public schools, situated in the same neighborhood in eastern Paris. While the two schools were relatively mixed, socially and ethnically, school A was markedly more working class than school B. As an example, with regards to the oldest children in the corpus (CE2–CM1), who will be the sole focus here,10 half of those from school A are from the working class, compared to barely more than a fifth in the case of school B. Negotiating these matters with school officials, teachers, and parents posed no major problems, since the research was generally presented as a study on “childhood representations of the social world and citizenship.” During the first stage of the study, we organized a series of collective sessions (with groups of a dozen children, for a period of around forty‐five minutes) during which we proposed that children perform tests to classify occupations. We explained to our young subjects that we were trying to understand “how children see the world,” and especially “what they think of different occupations.” These sessions took place during school hours, but without the teacher being present, with half the class, most often in the library. A first type of session involved distributing nine occupation labels11 to every child and asking them to classify “from which one seems to you to go above all the others to the one that seems to you to go below all the others,”12 and then to glue the labels to a piece of paper. A second type
9 This position taken shows that we are not using the classifications made by different children quantitatively. 10 This article is based exclusively on the material collected from these sixty-one students (from CE2 and CM1). The material involving the younger children is currently being developed. 11 We suggested three occupations from the “upper classes:” architect, factory boss, and high school teacher; three from the “middle class:” nurse, butcher, and florist; and three from the “working class:” worker on a building site, toy seller in a department store, and “person who takes care of the cleaning.” 12 We have taken up the guidelines used by Bernard Zarca in his study. See Zarca, “Le sens social des enfants,” 82.
of session involved asking the children to classify the same labels, but this time with the instructions to place them in two columns entitled “rich” and “poor.” Once the classifying was done, we held group discussions—recorded and transcribed—concerning what they had done. During a second step of the study, we decided to carry out longer interviews with all of the children, by using “group interviews in situ,” as Céline Braconnier so eloquently calls them.13 We thus carried out thirty interviews which were on average a little more than an hour in duration with children from CE2 and CM1 grouped in pairs. The decision to carry out interviews in pairs was needed for two main reasons. First, so that the children would be less overwhelmed by an interview situation, and especially one with two sociologists. The “protective framework” of the group interview in fact creates “a place for those who are least disposed to speak up and to draw from the presence of the other person the strength to face this test.”14 Second, it helped to bring out the relational nature of their words, including in the individual utterances of the children, that was so clear during the group sessions. Regarding this second point, it should be noted that the pairs were not randomly created. Instead, we arranged it so that, as much as possible, we interviewed children together who were close to each other in school life (and often close socially). Contrary to focus groups (which group persons who do not know each other in unaccustomed places, such as laboratories), the approach used revealed the “microenvironmental context in which the interviewees evolve daily”15 and in which they coproduce their ordinary classifications.16
Finally, our approach comes down to understanding childhood relationships to the social order not through their formalized classifications (the tests according to task), but rather beginning from them—by focusing especially on discussions, the interactions they provoke, and, more broadly, on the group context in which they are found. This approach allows us to demonstrate, as we will see, that childhood relationships to the social order are not only socially differentiated, but also particularly closely related, on the one hand, to symbolic means (and to language in particular) available to the children for expressing this order, and, on the other hand, to the concrete situation in which these relationships are expressed.
13 Celine Braconnier, “À plusieurs voix. Ce que les entretiens collectifs in situ peuvent apporter à la sociologie des votes,” Revue Française de Sociologie 53 (2012): 61–93. 14 Braconnier, “À plusieurs voix,” 89. 15 Braconnier, “À plusieurs voix,” 89. 16 More generally, our work is situated in the line of this social science of cognition in which the study of perception cannot be confined to laboratory experiments (indoor), but must involve ordinary places of social life (outdoor). See Jean Lave, Cognition in Practice: Mind, Mathematics and Culture in Everyday Life (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988).
Ways of Articulating the Social Order in their Practical Context
The Relational Nature of the Act of Classifying
From the outset, we would like to refer to the material which to us is the most revealing—the discussions among the children during the classification sessions—so that the reader will quickly perceive what is concretely meant by a practical and collective understanding of the relationships to the social order expressed by children.17 The excerpt below is the transcription of an exchange that took place in a session during which the children were asked to classify occupations depending on whether they considered them to be “rich” or “poor” occupations. The case of the “boss” is at the heart of the discussion.
Box 2: The Struggle to Classify: What is a Boss? January 20, 2011, school A, CM1 class, in the library of the school: Driss [father: deliveryman in a supermarket; mother: cleaning woman]:18 Well, the workers are the ones who do everything, huh! The boss, he is just like this (leans back in his chair, puts his feet on the table), feet on the table, he watches TV, in his office. . . . Camille [father: manager in the public sector; mother: social worker]: But he has a lot of responsibility, the manager of a factory. . . . François [textile workers] (expressing himself with difficulty): To be an architect, architect is better, because it’s architected . . .
Camille: Well yeah . . . but still, factory boss, that has a bigger responsibility than an architect. Femi [father: seller of telephone cards in Mali; mother: secretary at UNESCO]: What!? (Driss, Femi, and Hakim fall off their chairs and pretend to faint, thereby expressing their disagreement) . . . Hakim [father: sports instructor; mother: homemaker]: But responsibility, in fact, that’s nothing, huh! All you say is do this, do this, you have a diploma plus four years [of college] or I don’t know how much . . . all you do is say “Do this! ” and after it’s good, huh! Wilfried Lignier (WL): Do you think it’s nothing more than that? It is a question, for bosses, is it more than that, saying do this, do that? Driss: At the beginning, the boss, he earns lots of money, he buys a yacht. And then, once the factory explodes, well he goes to an unknown country! . . . Iris [father: geologist; mother: physics research scientist]: The boss of a factory, still he does lots of things, he doesn’t stay like this (crosses her arms) . . . Driss: Why are you defending Camille? . . .
17 Note that throughout this article, material has not been chosen based on its representativeness, but rather because it helps to clearly bring out social perspectives that are less evident elsewhere. 18 All the first names have been changed. Parents’ occupations are documented based on the children’s declarations; nonetheless, at times we were able to ask the teachers for confirmation when this information seemed to be too imprecise.
Camille: I think that it is good the bosses are paid more than the workers, because, like I always say, they are the ones who have the biggest responsibility! If the workers, they mess up, it’s the boss who gets in trouble! Femi (cutting her off): No it’s the workers! . . . Because if he messes up, why would it be the boss who gets in trouble? The boss he can decide everything, he can say, yes, “You clean it!” or else, “You’re fired!” There, it’s not the boss who gets in trouble! Camille: But if someone like a kid kills someone by accident, it’s the parent who gets in trouble! . . . Driss: It’s thanks to the workers that there is light, huh, not thanks to the boss! Camille: Uh‐huh! Driss: Uh‐uh, the boss, he’s there, stretched out in his chair! Camille: The factory, it belongs to the boss, so if . . . (after some dispute this) Yes! Yes! Femi: No! No! It belongs to the person who made it! It belongs to Nicolas Sarkozy [French President at the time of the study]! WL: Calm down! Okay Driss, let him finish his point. Driss: Uh‐huh, if there is light in a city, it is thanks to the workers, not thanks to the boss, the boss does nothing there. He has no muscles, the boss! Camille: But it’s not about muscles!
In the first place, we see that the relational nature of children’s classifications are clearly apparent, from the moment when methodological decisions take account of the fact that they are inscribed in concrete interactions. To be specific, children clearly tend to classify both with the classmates with whom they are socially close—in terms of social background and gender—and against the children from whom they are socially distant. Thus, the classification methods and the ways they are justified tend to contrast, on the one hand, two white girls from a privileged social background (Iris and Camille), and on the other hand, three boys with an immigrant and more modest social background.19 It is important to emphasize that this logic is not simply objective. A classification, even when it involves abstract people (the “boss,” the “worker,” and so forth)—as in this case—can in effect be interpreted by the children themselves as a way of distancing themselves, or on the contrary of drawing closer to one another socially. Driss even goes so far as to ask Iris, “Why are you defending Camille?” even though, literally speaking, she is simply “defending” the positive classification of the “boss.” At another point in the session (see Box 3), Driss would again indicate that the expression of a classification involves social affiliation. This time it is not by accusing a child of a kind of social “bias,” but by trying a priori to impose on a friend he is close to, the shared utterance of his group of friends. To be specific, when Hakim (who up to that point has been more withdrawn) is asked if he finds it “normal” that soccer players “earn lots of money,” Driss, who has no doubt about the matter, speaks up before the other child has time to respond: “Of course he will say yes!” Paul Willis observed a similar reaction by children of workers filling out questionnaires given to them at school: “In a physical manifestation that revealed their usual symbolic jostling, the ‘boys’ elbowed each other, 19 We should note that, under these conditions, imitation between children no longer represents a methodological bias which, in the name of “objective precautions” (Zarca, “Le Sens social des enfants,” 76), would have to be eliminated to access the “spontaneous” (Zarca, “Le Sens social des enfants,” 78) justifications of children’s classifications. Rather, it is a salient aspect of the social practice of classification, which should properly be the focus.
looked over their neighbor’s shoulder, and collectively corrected their answers; in brief, they determined a common course of action for the test.”20
The Expression of Social Interests
Secondly, and more generally, socially situated child interests seem to inform the ways to classify and to justify these classifications, as observed in these kinds of group sessions. Accordingly, when classifying, the children do something entirely different than revealing the state, or worse, the level of their knowledge concerning the existing social order: they place themselves in this order. It is seen immediately, as we have just demonstrated, by paying attention to what a classification signifies in terms of positioning in the peer group. But in reality, the adoption or defense of a classification corresponds to social interests (including gendered ones) that greatly extend beyond the area of school sociability. Thus, in the excerpt cited (Box 1), the suggestion of the criterion of “responsibility” by some, and the objection raised by others (“But responsibility, in fact, that’s nothing!”), possibly in favor of alternative criteria, such as physical force (“He has no muscles, the boss”) should probably be linked to the area of jobs that children have personally experienced, especially through their gender and their parents’ occupation. Based on this perspective, and, accordingly, this kind of tautology that gives substance to the social order, girls whose parents have occupations with responsibility—that is, roughly, occupations related to supervision—made use of the criterion of responsibility. In contrast, it is not surprising that boys whose parents have manual occupations mention criteria that are more physical (“muscles”) than symbolic. In the rest of the session, the debate between the same children this time regarding the label “person who takes care of the cleaning” makes it even clearer that the classification of an occupation directly depends on the personal experience that children may have had of it via their family life.
Box 3: “Skivvy” or “Cleaning Woman?” January 20, 2011, school A, CM1 class, in the library (remainder of the session): Julie Pagis (JP): So, who put “person who takes care of the cleaning” at the bottom? Go ahead, François, why did you put it at the bottom? François: Because you clean like a skivvy! You don’t make much . . . Driss: You make 50 euros a month! . . . WL: Who knows a person who does the cleaning, and who knows how much they earn? . . . Iris: Well . . . WL: Do you know a person who does the cleaning? Iris: Yes, I have one at my house. WL: And you know how much she makes? Iris: Yes, she is given . . . she does the cleaning in lots of other houses, she comes once a week to our house, and she earns twenty euros, per week. Per week. And she goes to lots of other houses, so she earns much more than fifty euros a month. WL: And you, Driss, you know people who do that?
20 See Paul Willis, “L’École des ouvriers,” Actes de la Recherche en Sciences Sociales 24 (1978): 56. [Translator’s note: Quotation back-translated from the French-language version of this article.]
Driss: Yes, before, my mother. She was given twenty euros per house. And after, because it doesn’t pay well, she stopped, she said I’m not a skivvy. JP: So what did she do, she stopped to do what? Driss: Oh I don’t know, she’s sick. (In fact during the session, WL heard Driss say that his mother now works in a retirement home) . . . Camille: For a while we had a cleaning woman . . . she stopped coming. But, us, ours, it was ten euros an hour, because when she came to our house she would do three hours, she would get thirty euros. Driss: It’s a scam! Femi (quietly): For me fifty euros [this is what his mother gives to his aunt, a cleaning woman, when she does the cleaning for them], for all the corners and everything . . . WL: So, do you think that ten euros an hour is good, or not enough? (In response to their reactions) Not enough? Everyone agrees? Camille: Yes, but also she doesn’t do much, she wipes with a rag and it’s good! Driss (insulting): What do you know? What do you know? Did you see it? Camille (annoyed): Because I do the cleaning every Sunday! . . .
Contradictory representations of the occupation of cleaning woman and the place given to it in the social hierarchy put the children whose mother (Driss) or aunt (Femi) do this occupation against the children who have cleaning women in their home (Iris and Camille) here. For the first group, the label “person who takes care of the cleaning” refers to maternal work, and to the humiliation of their mothers—while for the others, it is associated with one of their parent’s employees. Significantly, in speaking about this occupation, Iris says, “I have one,” and Camille says, “ours,” emphasizing subjection.21 The relationships of domination that run through the practice of classification cannot be ignored, and nor can the fact that in classifying, one classifies oneself. At a more subjective level, this situation also immediately raises the matter of shame and of saving face during the interaction. It is no doubt not insignificant, from this perspective, that Driss would prefer to change the current situation of his mother (she is no longer a “skivvy”), rather than allow his classmates to classify his mother at the bottom of the social rankings.22 Children’s interest in a particular social classification seems then to depend on where this classification places them, more or less directly. We will return to this point in the third part.
The Crucial Role of Language
Third, and finally, we need to take account of what a more formal consideration of the type of material cited here would allow us to determine. Because they are an expression of children’s social positions and interests, children’s social classification depends on their degree of competency and cultural style. From this point of view, language seems to play an especially crucial role. The basic availability of words allowing them to appropriate
21 The argument used by Camille to deprecate the job of cleaning woman—“I do the cleaning every Sunday”—is also typical of bourgeois women’s discourse on women who work as cleaners. See Judith Rollins, “Entre femmes,” Actes de la Recherche en Sciences Sociales 84 (1990): 63–77. 22 In this example, we can see that the objectification of the social classifications as the basis of our study does not simply attest to the challenges of classifications among children, but also, at least partially, produces them itself; in other words, it stirs up the violence inherent in the social inequality among children, by assigning an explicit form to this violence.
an exercise that initially appears fairly academic and abstract plays a decisive role in the way children speak of the order of occupations. Thus, when Camille proved to be culturally in a position to translate the occupations of factory boss and architect into the idea of occupations “with a lot of responsibility,” it provides, from the outset, a certain direction and strength to her classification (which puts these occupations in a favorable position). Inversely, the general lack of words or the temporary (or otherwise) unavailability of certain words may make it obviously impossible for children to formulate or reformulate a classification that corresponds to their specific social position and interest. In the first excerpt cited, François, from a recent Chinese immigrant background and whose French language skills are rather weak, simply does not formulate a classification understandable to his friends (“To be an architect, architect is better, because it’s architected . . .”). In the same excerpt, the reaction by Driss, Femi, and Hakim when Camille makes use of the term “responsibility” to justify her opinion of the “boss,” should be interpreted as a manifestation of the importance of language. When the three boys express their disagreement by literally falling backwards, does this not indicate that they are trying to say with their bodies what they are not saying with words—or at least not at this stage of the conversation?23 Classifying, or here judging, in any event requires the use of a language, and this point should not be overlooked in the sociological analysis of classifications by children.
What Classifications by Children Are Made Of: The Language Required The observation that classification practices (such as those we gathered during the experimental group sessions) are directly related to a social and cultural context that goes beyond the immediately observed interactions had an effect on how the study was carried out. The interviews with pairs of children (see Box 1) allowed us to refine our understanding of a certain number of objective attributes of the children, such as their social background, the place of residence, their cultural practices, and so forth. But they especially allowed us to have the children speak afresh about social order, this time in a less abstract way than during the experiments. Indeed, they spoke now about real, concrete jobs, those of people closely related to them—especially those of their own parents.
Having Words to Identify Occupations
The interviews proved to be particularly interesting vantage points to gauge one of the facts mentioned previously: that the expression of a point of view on social order, and in particular on the order of occupations, greatly depends on the children’s resources and language style. Even though, as we have seen, the experimental approach attests to the role that words play in the ways of classifying, even in the ability to do so, that approach tends to minimize that role. Indeed, the simple fact of offering a limited number of sufficiently “classic” occupations to the children, so as to be identifiable by a large number of children, also removes the formulation work that falls to them in less abstract 23 The fact that children who cannot find the words to protest would—collectively—fall backwards confirms that, as Luc Boltanski and Laurent Thévenot remarked in their work with adults (see Boltanski and Thévenot, “Finding One’s Way,” 674), the degree of competency for classifying the social world does not assume a capacity to recognize and interpret social differences in practical situations.
situations. In other words, when children are asked to evaluate one or several occupations—which may or may not be spontaneous, but is in a more ordinary context than in a task procedure—they first have to identify these occupations. This means they have to be able to name or at least generally present what they concretely correspond to (including if they are not “classic” occupations such as boss, worker, cleaning woman, and so forth). This preliminary identification work is far from straightforward, as we were able to observe when we asked the children to explain what occupation their parents had.24 First, naming and/or describing a real occupation is more or less difficult depending on the objective professional situation of the parents: occupations that are socially not clearly defined, atypical, or simply changing (that is, insecure) are a challenge for the children to identify. Josef, a student in CE2, thus has difficulty answering when we ask him about his mother’s or stepfather’s occupation. Their respective activities are in fact not easy to name (“I don’t know what it’s called, the ones who take pieces of airplanes and who repair airplanes” (mother); “I don’t know what it’s called . . . like taxi” (stepfather); and, in addition, Josef’s stepfather’s professional situation was clearly unstable, which complicates things (“before he made movies”). In contrast, children whose parents had occupations that were stable and relatively traditional found their identification task easier. To answer our questions, they simply had to use a single word: “doctor,” “journalist,” “teacher,” “cook” (to mention just a few of the terms used by our young interviewees). But the children’s identification of a real, concrete occupation depended also on the relation the child had to the language of professions, and more generally to language itself.25 A good illustration of this state of affairs is the case in point of children whose mother tongue is not French (in other words, even if the parents of these children spoke to them about the professional world, it was not in French). For these children, the difficulty in speaking about the order of occupations is first a matter of the difficulty of naming occupations. Antoine, a child in CM1, whose family recently emigrated from China, and who at home does not communicate with his father or mother in French (only with his brothers and sisters), seems limited to paraphrasing when speaking of his mother’s occupation: “My mother, she works, in a restaurant, she gives the dishes.” “Waitress!” exclaims Driss (his partner), who himself more recently emigrated (from Tunisia), but is fully familiar with French at home (he normally speaks in French with his parents, except when the family returns to Tunisia). In a similar vein, François, Antoine’s classmate who shares a similar profile (he also speaks almost exclusively in Chinese at home), would be led to tell us, during the interview, that his father “made goats” when he was in CE2. Our visible incomprehension caused him to say a few seconds later: “I don’t know, I forgot . . . he made coats.” It is certain that this challenge involving access to the terminology of occupations complicates the task of representing the professional world. 24 Or related: stepfathers or stepmothers, working age brothers or sisters, and so forth. 25 Our interest in the relationships between children’s practices of classification and the use of language was confirmed after reading works related to “cultural psychology,” especially as it was initiated by Lev Vygotski (Thought and Language (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1986)). Vygotski defines language as a “tool of thought,” and defends the idea that since words are first supplied by the immediate environment of young children, they serve as a kind of support for their classification operations, and especially for the formation of basic concepts (categories of objects or persons).
The relationship between the identification of occupations and the connection to language can also be seen in less extreme situations, where it is no longer necessarily the degree to which speech is mastered that makes a difference. Rather, it becomes the style of language, in terms of whether it is more or less suitable for describing occupations and the professional sphere.26 Variations depending on social background and gender need then to be taken into account. The propensity to supply detailed, exhaustive descriptions, or more simply, the desire to talk about oneself and one’s friends, which tends to characterize children from middle‐ and upper‐class homes27—and which also is a marker of the general form of the interviews with these children28—thus seem also to be found in their answers to our questions on occupations. Thus, Karim seems prepared to not only tell us that his mother is an architect, but to clarify for us that “she has her architect diploma, standard, no boss” (even if, he slips in, “she is doing more studies”), that “now she works for Société Générale [French Bank],” that her office is “in La Défense,” and that her exact status within the company is “building architect.” This developed identification, which matches a way of speaking, multiplies the potentially usable criteria for a classification. Gender variations are also important. To give but one example, we noted that the identification of occupations by girls tended to include, unlike that of boys, the domestic aspect of the activity under consideration, in other words, what it involved not only in terms of professional life, but also of family life. Sarah explains to this end that she would not want to become a cashier (occupation of her mother) because “you come home late.” Similarly, Camille emphasizes that the occupation of “president” implies working in the evening, and as a result, of not seeing one’s children much.
The Repetition of Family Expressions: The Example of Rich or Poor Parents
While the way of identifying an occupation is realistically not disconnected with the way of classifying it,29 we can reasonably consider that the full classification does not entirely depend on simple identification. What basis do children use to order and then rank occupations, provided that they can manage to identify them? Our study shows, yet again, that language plays a very significant role, especially because it transmits preexisting classifications which the children tend to appropriate, that is, the classifications by parents. The movement from identification to classification corresponded, concretely, to a fairly precise moment in the interviews. It was the moment when we asked the children, during the extension of the group sessions, if they thought that their parents, regardless of their particular occupation, were “rich” or “poor.” Remarkably, the answers given to this question immediately reminded us of the difference that existed between the fact of classifying abstract occupations in the context of an experiment, and the fact of classifying the real occupations of people close to them, in a less formal context. While
26 Differentiating the relationships to language not only in quantitative terms (degree of mastery of the language, importance of vocabulary, and so forth) but also in qualitative terms (language styles) makes it possible to not reduce the less legitimate (minority) forms of speech to abortive, deficient forms. See W. Labov, Language in
the Inner City. Studies in the Black English Vernacular (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1972). 27 Basil Bernstein, Class, Codes and Control (London : Routledge and Kegan, 1971). 28 The relative length of these children’s answers contrasted especially with the often-minimalist answers given by more working-class children. 29 As an example, when a child immediately identified an occupation as “poorly paid,” “dirty,” “dangerous,” and so forth, he or she a priori made an unfavorable classification of that occupation.
the children almost never had any difficulty in sticking our nine occupation labels in one of the two “rich” or “poor” columns (and often, in addition, by balancing them out: four labels on one side, five on the other), our ad hominem questions on richness or poverty drew very different reactions. Very often, the children seemed bothered by these questions, and in a large number of cases, they refused to choose, stating that their parents were “neither one” (neither rich nor poor), “between the two,” “normal,” “average,” or else that they had “no idea” about that question. Very few children claimed, at least aloud, that their parents were rich; almost none admitted the poverty of their family.30 When the children nevertheless participated in a discussion on whether or not their parents were rich—that is, once they, in spite of themselves, had played the game of formulating an economic classification of their occupations—what were they basing it on? Of course, the signs of richness or poverty as children perceive them have their place here. But these signs are not available equally to all children, and especially, they cannot be interpreted in themselves. The words and opinions heard within the family prove here to be decisive. The case of income parents earn from their occupation is a good example. First, not all the children, far from it, know what it is—for reasons that depend both on the nature of the occupation and on the importance given to this matter within the family. When it is not salaried income, it is, for example, less easily “knowable.” Manon, whose mother is a film director, explains it thus: “My mother, it’s never the same things.” Some parents never speak of their income in front of the children. For example, Alima, whose mother is a “nanny” and father “works in a company,” tells us that money “is not a subject for discussion.” “They don’t want tell me how much they earn, . . . it doesn’t concern me,” explains Camille, whose father is a manager in the public sector and mother is a social worker. The children, on their side, do not necessarily want or have the opportunity to know any more. Then, when children do have, or think they have, information on this topic, this information is sometimes surprising. Thus, when we asked Eliot, whose father is a computer analyst and whose mother works at employment agency Pôle Emploi, if he know how much money his parents earned, he replied: “Yes: my father told me, at least around fifty to sixty . . . and seventy . . . my mother: the same.” “Me, I’ve seen my father’s account. My father isn’t rich, 250 million or something like that!” Marlene, the daughter of a bill poster, oddly told us. Finally—and this is what interests us above all here because it is never given by parents as raw, purely statistical information, but is rather part of a familial discourse with specific normative guidance—the “realist” knowledge of a given income or a part of an income leads to various interpretations. Two children whose parents have (perceived) employment that guarantees them similar incomes—in this case relatively high (from an objective point of view)—may thus, by potentially repeating exactly what their parents said, disagree on what it means in terms of classification:
Karim (CM1, father: restaurant owner; mother: architect): “I say, the two [parents], they are: middle class. [Q: In relation to what do you say that?] For me, middle class is normal
30 We are purposely using these morally charged words to emphasize the fact the classification taking place is not strictly economic and quantitative, but moral and normative.
people who earn between, I think—I think, eh!—between three thousand and five thousand euros per month. So my two parents, they are middle class, normal, like most French people.” Marianne (CE2, father: HR manager; mother: “teacher”): “For my father it’s four thousand. And for my mother, it’s . . . I don’t know, it depends on the schools. . . . [Q: Do you have the impression that you are comfortable, would you say you are a little rich, or . . . ?] Oh, as soon as my sister Emmanuelle complains and says: ‘Ah, I don’t have many clothes!’ well my father says (imitating a reproachful tone): ‘It’s okay, you can buy lots, we are rich enough and all!’ But I don’t know too much. Besides, I don’t know if it’s true, but he says that we are the richest 1%.
As can be seen, income level only has meaning in relation with the language of the parents. This is the reason why two occupations associated to two children at equivalent incomes in terms of numbers are classified differently: the first is a “normal,” “middle class” income, while the second is an income of a “rich” person, and even among the “richest 1%.” Aside from the sole example of the salary of the father or the mother, when, during the interview, children try to explain a classification regarding occupations with which they are familiar, they in all likelihood will succeed based on short phrases and brief opinions about these jobs that were first pronounced and sometimes repeated in the family, especially by people whose word is authoritative in their eyes, namely their parents.31 Thus, to deliberately use examples that contrast with the previously mentioned cases, children whose parents’ incomes are objectively low or very modest show a capacity for classifying them—as if to save face—above poverty, by insisting on the fact that they are qualified (Nora: “[We are] not poor, because my father is a professional cabinet maker”), carry out technically complicated tasks (Maël: “Rich, rather. . . . Because I think that film editor [job of his father and mother], it’s still complicated to edit films”), or more simply, that they generally supply their basic needs (even though François guesses that his mother earns “around one hundred euros,” this is how he classifies his family: “Average, because the house is good, the food is good. . . . For us the stuff, there’s always lots at home. And for groceries, there is no need . . . Our fridge is bursting!”).
Other Words for Classifying: Taking Account of the Importance of the School
Children’s ways of classifying thus depend on the language of classification, which is a language related to the child’s social affiliation (girl or boy, working class or not, immigrant or not, and so forth), but also to what is said at home. Concerning the language of the family, even though it is decisive, it is important to point out that it depends on a larger set of languages that can be qualified as institutional, insofar as they specifically tend to institute collectively legitimate ways of classifying, of ranking persons or things. Among these institutional languages, the ones that dominate in another place that children frequent daily—school—are worth particular attention. In fact, it is also based on what they may have heard in class, or within the scope of their school social circles, that children may explain social classifications.
31 Here the idea is to emphasize the fact that the basic circulation of words was not sufficient for the children to repeat them: these words had to be filled with symbolic meaning, which points to the degree of authority of those who say them. See Pierre Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, trans. Gino Raymond and Matthew Adamson (Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 1991).
We will limit ourselves to brief remarks on this point, which would be worth a more developed analysis. Certain signs clearly cause us to believe that the institution of the school also imposes its language on the children as regards the expression of a relation to the social order. To give but one example, during the first group sessions during which we asked the children to rank the occupations from “the one that goes above all the others to the one that goes below all the others,” several children spontaneously took the initiative to assign a grade (out of ten or twenty, as is usual practice in the French school system) to each of the job labels (see Figure 1). This observation suggests that, at least from a formal perspective, school language, distinguished by evaluation, can function as a support for other social classifications.
Figure 1 – The Academic Grading of Occupations
Moving from the language of school to the language in school, we would also emphasize that the language of peers, in its relative autonomy, is also likely to be available for or dominate social classifications, and in particular the ranking of occupations. We will limit ourselves to look at a single example on this point—but it has the advantage of being particularly revealing. During the interview we carried out with François, he began to complain about what one of the girls in the class—Camille—is always telling him to stop singing, even though he likes it. As if to show us what he is capable of, he began to start singing, in a fairly mournful voice, the following little song:
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My name is John And my money is gone! My mom Works in Auchan!32 My mom Is also a pigeon33
From different angles, this song associating an occupation (“Work[ing] in Auchan”) with an economic evaluation (“My money is gone!”) and even a moral evaluation (if that is indeed how the final “pigeon” should be interpreted) was circulating during the study among the peer group, or at least among certain boys at the school. It was therefore a priori able to affect the children’s classifications. Concretely, because this song was circulating and seemed to interest the children (who repeated it among themselves and in front of us), would not someone who “works in Auchan”—an abstract person like the characters on our labels or a concrete one like a close relative (such as Driss’s father, a delivery man for a supermarket)—have a greater chance of being considered, like in the song, as a poor person, a “pigeon?”
The Interesting Collective Descriptions of the Social Order Having focused on the symbolic and linguistic conditions of classifications, we also need to ask why the children actually begin to classify in one way rather than another. This question is a matter of the interest in and the reasons for classifying. By analyzing how children construct their job classifications, we will first show that these interests are collective and socially situated. We will then turn our attention towards the interest that those whom the predominant classification situates at the bottom levels have in producing alternative classifications.
Classifying With, Classifying Against: The Interest in Classifying Like One’s
Peers
During one of the first group sessions in a CP class, we asked Noémie to explain her occupation classification and received the following response: “I classified like Clara” (her neighbor to the left). Somewhat disconcerted, we explained that what interested us was her own opinion, but Clara cut us off to add: “Yes, but we have the same opinion.” This scene made us aware, very early on in the study, of the importance of imitation among children: to want to isolate “personal” reasons for classifying, would have been to ignore significant mechanisms of delegation, self‐denial, or of aligning oneself with the opinion of others.34 In group sessions, the heterogeneity of the children present (in terms of class, gender, religion) revealed the formation of a space of opinions within
32 Translator’s note: Auchan is one of France’s major chains of hypermarkets and supermarkets. 33 Translator’s note: In colloquial French a pigeon is approximately equivalent to a sucker in English. 34 Similarly, we quickly realized that many children changed the job labels in their classifications depending on their friends’ remarks. For this reason, we then asked the children to glue on the labels before beginning the group discussion.
which imitation enabled them to strengthen and/or rally behind one classification rather than another.35 The sequence below thus shows the gradual crystallizing of the two positions (corresponding to two classifications) and their justification. The literal repetition of terms (like “skivvy”) or of short sequences (like the fact of being able to give gifts to your children when you are a “toy seller”) gradually closed up the space of what could be said—and thus of what could be thought—and simultaneously solidified the groups. The excerpt is long because it takes some time for the children to construct the positions (of the classifications), recognize and choose their allies with whom they will classify, and/or to make known disagreements in classifying when an offered argument seems incompatible with their view of the social world. What we quote here also helps to show power relations and the struggle that produces every classification: children have divergent interests—in the sense of investments36—in the “occupations game” we have assigned to them, if only because in classifying, they classify themselves. And the “game” proved to be more violent than we anticipated, as the symbolic violence of classification changed into physical violence during the session.
Box 4: The Collective Construction of Classifications January 20, 2011, “job classification” group session, with half the CM1 class, school A. The portions in italics correspond to the terms repeated by at least one child during the discussion or to explicit alignments (“like Camille,” and so forth). Amin [father: mechanic; mother: hairdresser]: . . . and no one who takes care of the cleaning, it is the skivvies and I don’t want to be a skivvy. Paul‐Éric [father: consultant, deputy mayor; mother: masseuse]: Whatever! Amin: Well yeah, you are treated like a dog . . . Paul‐Éric: You don’t say “skivvy” . . . in the past people did that, but . . . Driss [father: delivery man for a supermarket; mother: cleaning woman]: You clean and they only give you twenty euros, that’s nothing! Paul‐Éric: Whatever! Amin: And also, they think you are a dog, they tell you: go do the cleaning! Paul‐Éric: That, that was in the past, you, you watch too many movies! . . . Driss (to Paul‐Éric): But you, you’re mad! You watch too many movies: science fiction movies! (A tumultuous exchange sets Driss, Amin, and Femi against Paul‐Éric; JP intervenes to allow someone else to speak and asks Femi how he classified.) Femi [father: seller of telephone cards in Mali; mother: secretary at UNESCO]: Seller, because then, when you have finished your job, then you can take free gifts, then you give to your children . . . then architect because you can make a soccer stadium . . . and factory boss because then . . . if they [the workers] don’t listen to me, I say: “you’re fired! . . .” then, high school teacher, it’s also good because you can punish people, even if they
35 While imitation “jumps out” during these collective sessions, it was also everywhere throughout the interviews in pairs: the children constantly repeated the terms of their partner, waited for the other to answer to feel authorized to say the same thing, or else to imperceptibly change their opinion during the discussion to conform to that of their partner. 36 Pierre Bourdieu, Practical Reason ;. On the Theory of Action (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998).
did nothing . . . people that annoy me, I’d put them in the corner . . . then after that, nurse: like Amin, you can see in people’s bellies . . . after, butcher you have to touch meat, or else sometimes, you touch pork (a “bahhhh” sound can be heard in the room). Paul‐Éric: You, you’re Muslim! (disapprovingly). Femi: Well yeah! Paul‐Éric: Stop, there are people who aren’t Muslim, you can’t say that . . . JP: He can tell us what he thinks, everyone can speak! Driss (to Paul‐Éric, insultingly): Catholic! (laughter). Paul‐Éric: I’m not even Catholic! (some children fall to the ground). Femi: And then, person who takes care of the cleaning, like Amin: they are skivvies! JP: Okay, let’s move on to Paul‐Éric. What did you put at the bottom? Paul‐Éric: Well, factory boss, it’s exactly for the same reasons as Camille that I don’t want to . . . (why then?) there is too much responsibility and it smells there . . . Driss: Well that’s good! (defiantly). Paul‐Éric: I have the right [to classify this way]! Amin: No, you don’t have the right, it’s like me when I put that (he’s referring to the butcher which he ranked last. The atmosphere is becoming more intense, we intervene several times to calm the children down). JP: Okay Driss, it’s your turn! Driss: So for me in first is architect because you can build cups and stadiums . . . you also earn a lot . . . and seller in a toy store because you can bring home lots of stuff, and for your kids; and factory boss because: when there is someone, he doesn’t give you any crap (Femi and Paul‐Éric are fighting over an eraser), you give him a warning, you throw acid on him if he isn’t nice to you: you crucify him (hubbub)! And teacher in a high school . . . you can give out punishments, and also, you can fire lots of people. . . . Me, I couldn’t be a worker, because after, you could get hit in the head. . . . JP: And after that, what did you put at the bottom: person who takes care of the cleaning? Driss: Because after you become a skivvy, you get only twenty euros or two euros. . . . Hakim: Not even, you get one cent! . . . Paul‐Éric (in a despising tone): You guys have quite the view on life! Femi: But you too: shut your mouth! . . . Poop‐Éric! Hakim: Shut up! (Hakim in turn describes his classification, the following being the last position) And the person who takes care of the cleaning, is the last of the last: never in my life would I do that . . . because you have to do: “Oh that, that goes here, that that goes there,” and also, you are not even well paid: they say: go, clean up! Like a dog. . . . Lila: I don’t like to do the cleaning because . . . Driss: Yes, it’s good for girls: it’s sports for girls (uproar; Gaëlle is asked to speak). Gaëlle: I put nurse because I save people’s lives (argument taken from Camille) . . . architect because I like to draw up plans (argument literally taken from Paul‐Éric). Jonas: You copy each other well, huh!
Imitation—which we interpret as an expression of interest in classifying like close friends—is present from beginning to end of the excerpt: Femi takes up Driss’s argument to enhance the status of the toy seller (“You can give gifts to your children”) or to denigrate “like Amin” the job of nurse; Paul‐Éric explains that he classified the boss at
the bottom “for exactly the same reasons as Camille;”37 Gaëlle justifies the architect’s rank by borrowing Paul‐Éric’s terms (“I like to draw up plans”), and so forth. As for the term “skivvy,” it is repeated insistently and provocatively by all the working‐class boys—Driss, Hakim, Femi, François, and Amin. It is the practical experience they have of the occupation when it is their mother’s (“You clean and they only give you twenty euros, that’s nothing!” says Driss) that forms the basis of the violence of this denigration. It seems that the distancing of this rejected occupation is all the more necessary the closer they are to it; at the same time, for Paul‐Éric, who paradoxically defends the job of cleaning woman, this job does not represent a possible eventuality. Connected to these divergent class interests, there is an interest in terms of gender: in effect, devaluing this occupation by relegating it to an activity “for girls” is a way, for these working‐class boys, to place themselves above it.38 In other words: a person cannot allow a classification to place him or her at the bottom. By classifying with one’s friends (in terms of class and/or gender), weight is given to an argument. Resources, however, are also shared to justify a classification. We also see that the more the discussion moves forward, the more the arguments concerning the different occupations crystallize, fixing in a way a space structured around two opposing classifications. Eventually, Gaëlle, invited to speak at the end of the discussion, simply has to repeat the arguments of Camille and Paul‐Éric to justify “her” classification—Jonas then accuses her: “You copy each other well, huh!” In spite of the theoretical possibility of classifying in one way or another39 (that is, of choosing the group of children with whom one classifies), the normative nature of classifications clearly appears as the discussion proceeds, as the tumultuous exchange on religion demonstrates. Indeed, when Femi justifies the fact of having classified “butcher” at the bottom for religious reasons, the legitimacy of his classification is immediately questioned, in the name of “school neutrality,” by Paul‐Éric: “You can’t say that.” This scene uncovers the symbolic violence hidden behind the displayed neutrality of classifications by pointing to the fact that not all arguments are equivalent, and that some are more legitimate than others, especially on school premises. In spite of all precautions taken to allow all the different points of view to be heard, the exercise the students were asked to perform remains entirely enclosed within the constraints of the school. In this way, the order of the school participates in the legitimization of dominant classifications. The violence of this scene also shows how the practice of classification involves all spheres of living of the person classifying. Disagreements on the legitimacy of such and such a classification thus tend to take the form of true social likes and dislikes. This is what Paul‐Éric expresses when he sighs, with disdain: “You guys have quite the view on life!” And on his side he has, within the scope of the school, all the power of the “realism” of his classification compared to that of Driss, who justifies the good position of the “boss” by the possibility of “throwing acid” on stubborn workers. Faced with the weight of the institution and Paul‐Éric’s mastery of language, Hakim and
37 Note that Camille classified “boss” in the last position, even though at other times she very actively valued this occupation (see Box 1). This suggests that, at least for certain children, a clear disassociation exists between the recognition of the objective position of an occupation and its subjective evaluation. 38 In their classifications, the girls gave a higher rank to the “person who takes care of the cleaning” than the boys. 39 We constantly told them that there was no “right answer” and that all classifications were legitimate.
Femi seem to have only one way to delegitimize his classification: to silence him with “Shut your mouth!” and “Shut up.”
Long Live Soccer Players and Presidents! The Production of Alternative
Classifications
There are, however, moments and configurations during which alternative classifications to the dominant classifications are expressed, and instead of reducing them to a “lack of realism,” by taking them seriously, we can think about the interest certain groups of children have in creating them. Any practice of classification involves the one who classifies, if only by assigning him or her to a rank in the classification produced, such that the relationship to a given classification depends on the position one occupies. To speak more directly: we always have an interest in situating ourselves at the top of a classification. This is what Max, the son of a worker, does in a typical way, by placing “worker” in the top position and adding to the label in pen: “DADDY” (see Figure 2). This kind of inversion of the “official” classification is nonetheless anecdotal in the task‐based exercise. By contrast, as soon as it is matter of justifying a classification, and of this involving our own position, the impossibility of saying that we are at the “bottom” becomes clear. We may then have an interest in hiding our background (it is again a matter of social shame, mentioned earlier) or in producing an alternative classification that places us on top. This is what the excerpts below reveal, concerning competing definitions of social prestige.
Figure 2 – “Daddy,” Worker at the Top of the Occupation Ranking
Box 5: Two Opposing View of Social Prestige: Economic Capital versus Cultural Capital The first excerpt corresponds to the end of the session mentioned earlier (see Box 3). Having come between Paul‐Éric and Femi as they were coming to blows, JP restarted the discussion concerning the definition of a “good job.” The sequence is very tumultuous but
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(because of this) interesting: we can clearly sense school constraints lifting, allowing a space to open up to arguments and ways of expressing them that are usually forbidden on school premises: Camille: A good job for me, is first of all a job that you like, and one where you can earn money, because a job is not just for pleasure. Driss (cutting her off): To go to night clubs, yeah! Camille: To buy clothes, to pay for electricity, water . . . to have a good home! And to have a good home, you have to work hard: that’s what I call a real job. JP: Who else wants to tell us what a “good job” is? Hakim: Well it’s where we do stuff . . . Driss: It’s where we joke around! (uproar. JP allows Paul‐Éric to speak). Paul‐Éric: Well already it should please you and should pay well also (Why?) Well just like Camille said: you need to have a good home and to be able to pay the rent . . . WL: Who said money was important? Amin: Me! Me, I think that, because you can buy yourself a house, but if you don’t have much money, you live on the streets . . . you ask: “A euro! A euro.” Driss: You have to eat grilled corn [popular food often sold in the street in Paris]. . . Femi: Me, I don’t want to become like Paul‐Éric! Paul‐Éric: I’m better than you! (they all talk at the same time). Amin: That way, you can buy cars, houses . . . and after, that way, you don’t have any problems, like Paul‐Éric: comic‐book seller, he gets bored, and does nothing but jabber, jabber, and write . . . Paul‐Éric: Don’t I have the right? Amin: No . . . (JP intervenes and asks Iris to speak) Iris: Well it’s a job you like . . . you don’t have to earn lots of money, because . . . (the bell rings, hubbub) you can try to give some . . . it’s good to have money, but neither should you have too much . . . Driss: Oh yes! Iris: Me, I don’t really want to be too well known, or a billionaire . . . (You can hear: “Oh yes!”) Camille: For me it’s like Iris: I don’t really want to be very well known . . . I would rather have peace. Driss (mockingly): Inner peace! The following scene brings together the same students (except for Paul‐Éric, who is absent) concerning a discussion on the “the rich and the poor.” Hakim brings up the idea that the poor did not go to school: WL: So, can you be rich without having gone to school? Camille: No! Femi, Driss: Yes! . . . Yes, soccer player . . . Femi: Yes, see, imagine you’re at a club, and you’re super good, they recruit you for a big team, without going to school when you were small because your parents were too poor. . . . Camille: For example—I said an example—for the checks . . . Even if you’re a soccer player, still, for example, knowing how to read . . . Femi: Well duh, we know how to read! . . . Driss: There are soccer players, they don’t know how to speak French well, they play soccer, they earn lots of money! Bastos for example! Cris! [Two Brazilian players for Olympique lyonnais] . . .
WL: Does everyone agree with that idea, that for soccer players, it’s normal for them to earn lots of money? Hakim, what do you have to say? Driss: Well yes, he’ll say yes! Hakim (hesitating): Well yes, because Cristiano Ronaldo is . . . Driss: He’s good looking, he’s super good looking, he plays well, he won the Ballon d’Or. . . . JP: And girls, do you think it is normal for soccer players tp earn more, for example, than a high school teacher? Gaëlle: No. Boys’ voices: Yes!!! Camille: No, because it’s entertainment, it’s not a real job . . .
The question concerning the definition of a “good job,” similar to the one concerning the importance and legitimacy of money, marked a clear separation between proponents of a classification based on diploma level and/or “seriousness” (“A job is not just for pleasure,” says Camille) and proponents of a classification based on economic success and/or its playful nature. The first group, coming from higher classes, has a greater interest in legitimizing the dominant classification (such as that of the French National Institute for Statistics and Economic Studies), while the working‐class children find, in the second classification, a way to identify themselves with the top level. For these working‐class boys, the professional soccer player is an emblematic figure of social success with whom they can identify—Femi says, “We know how to read” in speaking about soccer players—because they look like them, regardless of their chances of really becoming professional soccer players.40 In this classification where prestige is associated with economic success and bodily (sporting) excellence, these working‐class boys can in effect classify themselves at the top, and in so doing, protect themselves from the symbolic violence connected to their likely rank in the official classification. This is how to make sense of the claims Amin made twice during the interview, that his father was a soccer player, before we understood (by directly asking) that he was an auto mechanic. Symbolic violence is here at the heart of the relationship of the study, in the presentation of the self, because in classifying, or in situating ourselves, we position ourselves in relation to the interviewer.41 In a fairly similar way, there are several examples of arguments that could be considered as “crazy” or “unrealistic” in the statements made by working‐class children regarding the occupations they would like to do. They thus wanted to be a police officer “to be able to arrest people,” a teacher “to assign hours detention,” a boss, because “you can fire lots of people,” and even a “sniper.” Upon closer consideration, these professional projections all involve positions of authority or domination, where it is possible to exercise power over dominated persons, especially arbitrarily (“You can punish people, even if they did nothing wrong,” Femi told us). It is based on an inversion in
40 There are barely more than 1,200 professional soccer players in France: Stephane Beaud and Philippe Guimard, Traîtres à la nation? Un autre regard sur la grève des bleus en Afrique du Sud (Paris: La Découverte, 2011). 41 Other children may also seek to show proximity to the interviewer. This was the case of Samuel (parents separated, working in real estate), who, as we went around to the different tables asking every child to name an occupation they would like to do later, explained that he might also raise goats, like the parents of Julie Pagis (we began the exercise by presenting the professions of our own parents).
relationships of domination, similar to the “anti–school culture” analyzed by Paul Willis, which “helps to free its members from the weight of conformity and conventional success (by resorting to a transformation and inversion of the official range of values).”42 It is perhaps concerning the “occupation” of president that this desire for recognition or “compensation” for the feeling of social illegitimacy is most acutely expressed. Paradoxically, the only ones who wanted to be president are the working‐class boys, contradicting—during the discussion time—the principle of making a virtue out of necessity. Driss thus explains that he wants to be president because “you have a private jet, everyone says hello to you in the street, and if they don’t, they go to prison.” Providing we do not take these children for imbeciles, the provocative aspect of their claims can be interpreted as a self‐presentation strategy, a kind of temporary revenge, which allows them to situate themselves in a position of power for the period of the interaction. We could say, with James Scott, that here we are facing a disguised form of “hidden transcript” of these working‐class children, and that “given their position at the bottom of the rank, it is not surprising that they have developed a class interest in these utopian prophecies, imagining a social order radically different than the painful one they experience.”43
* By paying attention to the linguistic dimension of their classifications and opinions, we find that the way that children have of speaking about the social order depends on the general cultural resources they themselves have, and on the symbolic context that childhood institutions such as the family and school impose on them. By placing these opinions and classifications within the interactions between children, we understand that beyond the cultural possibility of judging and classifying, the interest in doing so effectively is an immediately relational challenge. In front of others—in short, in ordinary conditions of practice—to classify always means to classify oneself and to situate oneself socially. This is particularly evident when children make their classifications conform to those of the children with whom they feel close, and with whom they usually share an affiliation in terms of gender or class. This can also be seen when such classifications lead to very lively exchanges among children, which are clearly struggles to impose the legitimacy of the respective ways of classifying as well as the legitimacy of each person’s social situation. This study thus shows how children test out and very early on appropriate social relationships that traverse the social world.44 The children’s family and school socialization play a major role in the construction of hierarchies of the social world, power relationships, and differentiated interests. Based on these classifications and early perceptions of the social order, can we infer future distinct political preferences? Can we associate the attitudes that reject dominant professional hierarchies with emerging forms of politicization? In other words, do they represent fertile breeding
42 Willis, “L’École des ouvriers,” 59. [Translator’s note: Quotation back-translated from the French-language version of this article.] 43 James C. Scott, La Domination et les arts de la résistance. Fragments du discours subalterne, trans. O. Ruchet (Paris: Éditions Amsterdam, 2008), 96. [Translator’s note: Quotation back-translated from the French-language version of this article.] 44 Including of course the social relationships of gender. While in this article we have emphasized more the affiliations of class rather than gender, it is because it seemed better documented in works on children’s practices and “cultures,” often overshadowing other social differences (see the introduction to this issue).
grounds for the development of antiauthority tendencies or, on the contrary, do they foreshadow a future rejection and exclusion from the political field? Further study with the same children during the presidential election cycle (2012) should allow us to develop this consideration of the relation between children’s relationships to the social order as well as to the political order.