Aristos
It's true.
I was on the outermost fringes of this world until college, when the offspring of industrialists, politicians, military officials, high executives and celebrities I had rubbed elbows with in high school vanished into their elite universities.
Envy? You bet.
I have a self-imposed news blackout on classmates from my posh eastern prep school. In spite of that, I've learned that one of them is a top administrator at an Ivy Leage law school, another is a vice admiral, and another is a partner at a white-shoe Manhattan law firm. A number work for firms opaquely named after them that don't end in attorney-at-law.
I am sure they're smart, and no doubt they've worked hard. Some may even come from middle class backgrounds.
But I'll wager we're seeing privilege at work. Most parents can't afford high schools that charge $50,000 per year, and most high school classes don't have so many alumni with stellar careers.
Privilege is when you think of your life's accomplishments as a home run when, in fact, you reached home base so effortlessly because you were born on third . Why? Well, by virtue of your family's advantages, which included elite educations and all the benefits they confer.
My generation came of age in the '70's, so I hate to imagine what it's like now after Regan, two Bushes, the removal of the wall between banking and securities (thank you, Mr. Clinton), and globalization.
Source: Cover of The Economist magazine, the only place you can find regular, thorough coverage of world events on a weekly basis.
Don't take my word for the thesis of the Economist's argument about education as an engine of class inequality in this country - please read the article.
The only place I take issue with the illustration is with the artist's choices of status markers for the son in this hack of 18th century aristocratic portraiture. The hat should be from St. Paul's, Groton or some other really rarified prep school, and the kid should be holding a squash racket or lacrosse stick, not a grubby middle-class baseball glove.
Aristos
It's true.
I was on the outermost fringes of this world until college, when the offspring of industrialists, politicians, military officials, high executives and celebrities I had rubbed elbows with in high school vanished into their elite universities.
Envy? You bet.
I have a self-imposed news blackout on classmates from my posh eastern prep school. In spite of that, I've learned that one of them is a top administrator at an Ivy Leage law school, another is a vice admiral, and another is a partner at a white-shoe Manhattan law firm. A number work for firms opaquely named after them that don't end in attorney-at-law.
I am sure they're smart, and no doubt they've worked hard. Some may even come from middle class backgrounds.
But I'll wager we're seeing privilege at work. Most parents can't afford high schools that charge $50,000 per year, and most high school classes don't have so many alumni with stellar careers.
Privilege is when you think of your life's accomplishments as a home run when, in fact, you reached home base so effortlessly because you were born on third . Why? Well, by virtue of your family's advantages, which included elite educations and all the benefits they confer.
My generation came of age in the '70's, so I hate to imagine what it's like now after Regan, two Bushes, the removal of the wall between banking and securities (thank you, Mr. Clinton), and globalization.
Source: Cover of The Economist magazine, the only place you can find regular, thorough coverage of world events on a weekly basis.
Don't take my word for the thesis of the Economist's argument about education as an engine of class inequality in this country - please read the article.
The only place I take issue with the illustration is with the artist's choices of status markers for the son in this hack of 18th century aristocratic portraiture. The hat should be from St. Paul's, Groton or some other really rarified prep school, and the kid should be holding a squash racket or lacrosse stick, not a grubby middle-class baseball glove.