A Tribe Apart: A Journey into the Heart of American Adolescence
416
A Tribe Apart: A Journey into the Heart of American Adolescence
416eBook
Related collections and offers
Overview
Is it society itself that has created this separate teen community? Resigned to the attitude that adolescents simply live in "a tribe apart," adults have pulled away, relinquishing responsibility and supervision, allowing the unhealthy behaviors of teens to flourish. Ultimately, this rift between adults and teenagers robs both generations of meaningful connections. For everyone's world is made richer and more challenging by having adolescents in it.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780307829931 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Random House Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 02/06/2013 |
| Sold by: | Random House |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 416 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
In a cozy rambler set on a heavily treed lot on a quiet cul de sac, an alarm clock rings and eleven-year-old Chris Hughes rolls out of bed almost fully dressed. It is a trick he came up with the year before to save time. He showers at night and puts on his shirt and underwear for the next day. If it were cold, he'd put his pants on too. The hardest part is keeping his head straight on the pillow when he lies down so that his hair won't dry weirdly. If it does, he has to wet it under the faucet in the morning. His father thinks this is hilarious and teases him when he comes in to kiss him good night. In fact, his father gives him a hard time about his crew cut. But Chris has grown up hating his naturally curly hair. As soon as he had a choice, he'd had those curls shorn and now he watches for the little turning over of the ends that means it is time for a new buzz cut.
Chris is a no-nonsense young man. He does his homework right after he comes home from school. He makes sure his mom or dad signs any forms from school immediately. He packs his backpack at night and lays it on the floor by his bed. In the morning, his mom always has the same lunch, packed in a brown paper bag, waiting on the kitchen table: smooth peanut butter and grape jelly on wheat bread, a boxed drink, a small bag of raisins, and dessert. He likes things that way. Dependable.
Seven-thirty, right on the button, he walks through the kitchen door wearing his favorite short-sleeved Buffalo Bills T-shirt (which, in the style of the season, hangs down to his knees), gray sweatpants, white Reebok pump basketball shoes worn permanently untied (although, unlike many kids, he actually leaves the laces in them) over scrunched white tube socks. Short-sleeved shirts worn year-round are de rigueur for a fashionable sixth-grade boy, and Chris has a collection reflecting all the major sports. He stops to pet the dogs now jumping up and down to get his attention, and absentmindedly hugs his mom good morning. She's in her usual seat with her customary cup of coffee. Most days he likes this private time with his mom after his brother Jim has left for high school. It is a comforting routine even when they hardly talk. But not today.
He'd like to tell his mom he isn't hungry, but then he'd have to hear the breakfast-is-the-most-important-meal-of-the-day lecture. So he rummages through the cereal cabinet and spreads the thinnest possible layer of Crispy Wheats and Raisins in the bottom of his bowl, splashes in some milk, pours himself a glass of orange juice, and sits down at the table hardly paying any attention to his favorite morning rituals: watching G.I. Joe cartoons and reading the sports section of The Washington Post.
His blue eyes stare into space as he pushes his cereal around. He thinks he has a stomachache, he tells his mom. She knows what this is about: today his sixth-grade class is visiting Langston Hughes Middle School.
It's just a visit, he tells himself. It isn't like he is going to stay there. But who's he kidding? The Real Thing--seventh grade--will happen soon enough.
He just realized the other day that he's spent his whole life at Forest Edge Elementary. He could walk around it in his sleep he'd been there so long. The teachers are nice, and recess is always fun.
It is the best being in sixth grade. You have all the power. He can look at the little kids and realize how grown-up he's become. Chris, a "school patrol" since fourth grade, is now a "bus patrol," which is "the coolest because you can sort of arrest people" if they don't follow the rules. In fact, with his friends Brad, Tony, Jeff, Gene, and a few others all volunteering for this position, there are almost as many enforcement officials on Chris's bus as riders. He has a great bunch of friends, most of whom he's known forever. Even if they aren't in each other's classes each year, they always get together at lunch and on the playground. They are wildly competitive in the classroom and on the playing field, all striving for excellence. They have challenged each other in soccer, football, and basketball since they were little boys. They try to write longer stories than each other, get more As, win more awards, but all in good humor. They've competed on Atari, Nintendo, and now Sega Genesis. T
hat's how long they've been friends. Chris looks forward to meeting new people--but what if he gets into classes without any of his old buddies?
The panic is rising. He has been told tales of Sevey-Bip Day, a one-day free-for-all in which the eighth graders hit the seventh graders at will in a sort of middle school initiation rite. Seventh graders he knows this year have already been giving ominous warnings. His mom tries to reassure him that the event will be forbidden by the school administration. But parents don't know what happens in the school. The kids do it, he has heard, when teachers are not looking.
His teachers keep making a big deal about how his class is the first to have "middle school" within the elementary school. The sixth graders have been moved to an isolated corner of Forest Edge so that they feel a bit separate from the younger kids. It's set up in three homerooms, and the classes move among the teachers for science, social studies, math, and language arts. Volunteers have come into the school to allow the students brief forays into electives like photography, computers, and creative writing, although this part fizzled when not enough volunteers could be found. Forest Edge, like schools everywhere, has found that the always dependable stream of volunteers has slowed to a trickle as most parents work, and other demands take precedence.
Chris doesn't know it, but his class represents the leading edge of a nationwide movement to restructure the education of early adolescents, which was first outlined in Turning Points, the study by the Carnegie Council for Adolescent Development. The idea is that a team of teachers, teaching their specific subjects, will have shared responsibility for a group of youngsters, and that this will allow ongoing communication among the teachers, collaborative teaching projects, and a community feeling that has been missing in anonymous junior high schools. "Junior high" is out and "middle school" is in, in recognition that early adolescence is a particularly vulnerable time for developing at-risk behaviors, and that youngsters need greater support and nurturing than junior high schools traditionally have given them.
Chris's class was one of the first in Fairfax County to institute the change that will combine sixth through eighth grades in separate middle schools over a period of several years. The principal of Forest Edge, Frank Bensinger, is impressed. "We found that with the middle school model, discipline went down a ton," he says. "It made an incredible difference because in sixth grade, kids' eyes are beginning to open up. They are beginning to look at that movement out of the neighborhood as a grown-up thing. There was an elevation of self-esteem--'We are not being looked at as little kids'--and the school was recognizing that. The adults knew they were only changing classes in a tiny little sixth-grade area, but that little piece made the kids feel bigger. We decided to let them all go to lunch at the same time and you would have thought we set them free!"
Yeah, yeah, yeah, thinks Chris. He'd heard the middle school spiel. It was definitely cool at Forest Edge. But who are they kidding? Next year is Big Time.
At 8:15, Chris leaves his house to wait for the bus. It is so dumb to have to ride to school when he lives less than a quarter mile away. In fact, for most of his years at Forest Edge he walked. Reston, designed with pedestrians in mind, links each elementary school to the surrounding neighborhood by a labyrinth of paths and underpasses that keep walkers off the main intersections. On the way to Forest Edge, Chris used to stroll along a small creek and through a wooded area adjacent to the school. A kid could daydream on such walks, crunch leaves in the fall, stomp footprints in the snow, watch bugs. If your best friend lived nearby, you could share morning secrets. Often big brothers and sisters were seen with younger siblings in tow. Now only those across the street from the school walk daily, and for the rest, the battalion of county school buses, the vans from child care centers, and a growing fleet of parents' minivans safely deliver the children of Reston to their respective schools.
This is one of the subtle changes eroding this family-oriented community. The buses for elementary school kids living less than one mile from the school had been added because of some "incidents"--nothing horrible, but definitely frightening for young children intimidated by older kids out earlier from the middle and high schools, or by strangers on paths in the mornings. The official explanation was that it was just as easy for buses traveling back to school to pick up more kids.
When his brothers were little, Chris's mom and dad thought nothing about their walking to school alone. Not only did it give the boys a great feeling of being on their own, but it also harkened back to the parents' memories of growing up--the walk to school, the bike ride to the candy store, an afternoon movie alone with friends. In those times, there was a cadence to the process of growing up, a socially agreed-upon sequence of age-appropriate behaviors that have now been replaced by a developmental free-for-all with great unsupervised leaps of freedom counterpoised with tight new restraints.
Reading Group Guide
1. With what perception of today's teenagers did you open A Tribe Apart?
On what were your views based--interaction, media depictions, memories? What opinions underwent the most change during your reading? Which beliefs were confirmed?
2. How does the title of the book's prologue, Alone, function as one of the work's central themes? What contributes to the solitude of the teenagers profiled? How does it differ from student to student? What is novel about the loneliness of today's teenagers? How can a parent or mentor address the matter?
3. A 1989 study by the Carnegie Council of Adolescent Development concluded that every other American teenager faces serious risk, such as unprotected sex, dropping out of school, and substance abuse. What does A Tribe Apart accomplish in putting a face to the statistics? What is the place of a work that attempts a nuanced discussion of complex issues in a culture enamored of the quickness and neatness of numbers and summaries?
4. To tell the story behind the statistics, Patricia Hersch employs many devices of writing we often associate with the genre of fiction: narrative arc, strong character development, and detailed setting, among others. How does A Tribe Apart challenge your view of nonfiction? What is gained--or lost--in borrowing devices from fiction?
5. Often we value works of nonfiction for their dispassionate treatment of subject. Subjectivity, however, seems inescapable. What sort of objectivity does Hersch achieve in her work? In what ways does the author's character surface in her writing? How does such authorial presence illuminate or obscure the work?
6. What does eachindividual profile reveal about the role that families, schools, and friendship play in shaping an adolescent's character? Can one influence compensate adequately for the absence or brokenness of another?
7. While crises and dramatic moments tend to receive attention in a young person's life, the significance of the day's quieter moments is often overlooked. What connection between the quotidian and the critical does A Tribe Apart proffer?
8. Rebellion appears as an important lost outlet for today's adolescents, given the absence of adults and clear boundaries of conduct. What is the result of such an absence? What fills the void? Is a return to definitions of ethical and moral behavior possible in these seemingly relativistic times? What relationship do you perceive between adult morality and adolescent morality?
9. One is tempted to regard as anomalous some of the experiences chronicled in A Tribe Apart. What prevents one from accepting these eight lives as representative? In what is our tendency to deny the reality and relevance of these lives rooted?
10. What does A Tribe Apart reveal about the role music and film play in shaping a young person's perspective on sex and other supposed doorways to the adult world? Is entertainment a red herring, or is its influence considerable?
11. What portrait of adults emerges from your reading of A Tribe Apart? Do you perceive individuals caught up in dizzying societal changes while trying to navigate the trying paths of parenthood? Or are people incapable of or unwilling to move away from a perilous selfishness to acknowledge their weighty responsibilities? Which parents appear to succeed?
12. Discuss the credibility of the events comprising the lives chronicled. How does Hersch handle the adolescent's predilection for rendering his or her life in dramatic terms? What sections of the book prove more resonant? Why?
13. Consider your teenage years in light of the lives depicted in A Tribe Apart. What trials remain consistently at the heart of the adolescent experience? What trials strike you as unprecedented? What complicating factors have moved from the margins to the center of the passage? Do you perceive recognizable cycles and shifts more than abstruse, novel challenges? What is the role of your past in understanding the lives chronicled here?
14. Given the emotional range of A Tribe Apart, discuss the book's tone. Is it consistent, or does Hersch shift tone throughout to fit the tenor of the subject at hand? Point to passages of either harmony or discord between subject and expression and discuss the effect.
15. What aspects of the teenage experience most resist explanation? What mysteries persist despite Hersch's exacting inquiry? Did you put down A Tribe Apart believing more or less in the precariousness of adolescence?
16. A Tribe Apart raises the red flag of a dangerous absence of dialogue between teenagers and adults. Propose possibilities for undoing the disconnect. What is the role of the individual in initiating such change?
17. What connection do you perceive between the risks taken by the teenagers of A Tribe Apart and the escalating violence at schools throughout the country? Are the students killing students a tribe apart from the teens depicted here?
18. Discuss the role of gender, race, class, and family structure vis-à-vis the lives chronicled in A Tribe Apart.
19. Did you put down A Tribe Apart with a measure of despair or of hopefulness? Do you perceive the society depicted here as moving in a linear fashion toward greater disconnect with its adolescents, or is there reason to believe that a pendulum motion, that is, a return to meaningful engagement with teens, is possible?
20. In her epilogue Hersch writes that among the adolescents profiled, those who manage best "have a strong interactive family and a web of relationships and activities that surround them consistently." What changes must take place on both an individual and societal level to put this web in place for more teenagers?