Wiley Article

Gendered Futures: Student Visions of Career and Family on a College Campus
Author(s): Linda Stone and Nancy P. McKee

Source: Anthropology & Education Quarterly, Vol. 31, No. 1, Studying Universities (Mar.,
2000), pp. 67-89
Published by: Wiley on behalf of the American Anthropological Association
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Gendered Futures: Student Visions of Career
and
Family
on a
College Campus
LINDA STONE
NANCY P. MCKEE
Washington
State
University
In the United
States,female college
students enter less
prestigious occupations
and earn
far
less than their male
counterparts. Though
some
employers may
discriminate
against
women,
the
"gender gap"
in the
workplace
is also
fostered
by
decisions made
by
women
college
students themselves. A
study
conducted
on a
university campus
in the Northwest shows how men and women students
position
themselves
differently for
careers,
marriage,
and
parenthood
while
sharing
an
ideology of gender difference.
In the United
States,
women
college graduates
earn far less than their
male
counterparts. Among
those who work full-time and are over
age
25,
the
average weekly pay
of male
college graduates
is
$827.00,
while
that of female
college graduates
is
$620.00
(U.S.
Bureau of Labor Statis-
tics
1997).
Women
college graduates
earn about 73
percent
of what male
graduates
earn.
The
majority
of this distance between male and female incomes is be-
cause of
gender segregation
in the
workplace (Reskin
1984;
Roos
1985).
Women are
generally
clustered in
relatively poorly paid occupations,
and there are fewer of these female-dominated
occupations
than there
are male-dominated ones.
Although promoted by
a
variety
of
factors,
segregation
in the
workplace
is
partly
fostered
by
women themselves
who orient their own
training
and
self-images
toward
lower-paying,
less
prestigious
careers.
Particularly disturbing
is the
finding
that
women students' educational and
occupational goals frequently
decline
as
they
move
through
their
college years (Astin
1977, 1993;
Holland and
Eisenhart
1990).
The data cast a
discouraging picture
for
women,
in
spite
of their
high
enrollment in institutions of
higher
education,
their
generally
better
grades
than male
students',
and their
greater
satisfaction with their uni-
versity
educations
(Austin 1993)
and
despite special
offices,
programs,
and
opportunities
established for women students at these institutions.
Why,
then,
do
many
women
college
students wind
up
in situations that
perpetuate
the
"gender gap"?
We addressed this
question through
a
study
of male and female students on a
university campus
in the North-
west,
using in-depth
interviews with selected male and female students
over an academic
year, along
with a random
sample survey
of students
Anthropology
& Education
Quarterly 31(1):67-89. Copyright
@
2000,
American
Anthropological
Association.
67
68
Anthropology
& Education
Quarterly
Volume
31,
2000
through
a mailed
questionnaire.
This
study
shows results similar to
those conducted on other
campuses (Machung
1989;
Montgomery
1997);
at the same time it
suggests
new
perspectives
on current trends in
students'
plans
for and visions of their futures.
Background
The
interrelationships among gender, higher
education,
and
inequal-
ity
in the
workplace
have been examined from diverse theoretical
per-
spectives
and
through
a number of different
disciplines. Probably
the
most influential idea to account for women
college
students' lower ca-
reer
aspirations
and their
resignation
to
accepting lower-paying,
less
prestigious
careers has been that institutions of
higher
education dis-
courage
or discriminate
against
women
(Astin 1978; Dweck
et al.
1978;
Hall and Sandler
1982;
Holmstrom and Holmstrom
1974;
Sadker and
Sadker
1994;
Stacey
et al.
1974;
Sternglanz
and
Lyber-Beck
1977).
Though
there are variations on this
theme,
we here refer to this central
idea as the
"chilly
climate"
theory,
after Roberta Hall and Bernice Sand-
ler's well-cited
report,
The Classroom Climate: A
Chilly
One
for
Women?
(1982).
Numerous
investigators
(Hall
and Sandler 1982 and Sadker and Sad-
ker
1994,
to cite
only
a
few)
continue to
point
to an institutional structure
of education
that,
beginning
with
elementary
school,
fosters male stu-
dents at the
expense
of female students. This differential
fostering
in-
cludes a relative lack of
faculty mentoring
of and feedback to female stu-
dents,
a lack of
appropriate
role models for women
students,
professors
giving
more attention to and constructive criticism of the work of male
students,
and
faculty encouraging (perhaps unconsciously)
male stu-
dents'
predominance
in class discussions. These forms of institutional
discouragement
of women
students,
to
say nothing
of sexual harass-
ment and more overt forms of
sexism,
are
important
and
may,
unfortu-
nately,
continue to chill the educational climate for women.
Nevertheless,
a
major
limitation to the
"chilly
climate"
theory
is that it
depicts
students,
particularly
women
students,
as
passive pawns
of
larger
institutional structures.
According
to the
theory,
the
university
experience
obstructs women students'
professional development,
sub-
stantially contributing
to their subordination
(both
in the school
setting
and, later,
in the
workplace
and
society)
with
apparently
little
help,
or
protest,
on the
part
of women themselves. Holland and Eisenhart
(1990)
criticize this
approach
as an
example
of
early
"social
reproduction
the-
ory," whereby
social structures are held to
simply reproduce
them-
selves,
and their
systems
of
privilege,
all on their own.
They
write that
social
reproduction theory
in education
"implied by
omission that stu-
dents are
simply ciphers,
that
they passively
absorb
ideologies
and doc-
ilely acquiesce
in school
practices"
(1990:6-7).
The view of students as
passive pawns
denies that
students,
like all human
actors,
are them-
selves
agents
of cultural construction.
Contrary
to the view of social
Stone and McKee Gendered Futures 69
reproduction theory,
students are
continually creating, modifying,
dis-
carding,
and
reinventing
ideas about
gender,
work,
marriage, family,
and self that
guide
their life choices. Their interaction with educational
institutions is
only
one dimension of this
process
of cultural construc-
tion.
Holland and Eisenhart's
long-term study
of women students on two
southern
campuses
moves
away
from social
reproduction theory
to a
theory
of "cultural
production."
Their
approach
allows us to see stu-
dents as active
agents
who construct
"systems
of
meaning" through
which
they
relate to and act within their world. The most
important
con-
struction that Holland and Eisenhart uncover in their
study
is a "culture
of romance" that
privileges
males and is
generated
within student
peer
groups.
Some women students fall into the "culture of romance" as
they
become
discouraged
in their studies.
Although
a few women in their
study
voiced
complaints
about school sexism-for
example,
that some
male
professors
did not take them
seriously-women
students were
pri-
marily discouraged
in their studies because
they
found their schoolwork
too hard and too
boring. Retreating
into the culture of
romance,
these
women came to measure their social
prestige
and their own worth in
terms of their attractiveness to men. Holland and Eisenhart's conclusion
is "not that the sexism of the
university
and
society
at
large
is
irrelevant,
but rather that the most effective mediation or communication of male
privilege
to
girls
and
young
women is
through
the
peer group"
(1990:222).
The Holland and Eisenhart
study provides
rich material on women
students' ideas about romance and
marriage,
but,
curiously,
it does not
touch on students' ideas about motherhood or how these ideas
might
be
related to students' decisions about their careers.
By
contrast,
Anne
Machung's
(1989) study
of
Berkeley
students,
conducted at about the
same
time,
indicates that senior women students
planned
to
interrupt
their careers for child
rearing.
Likewise our
study
reveals that a "culture
of motherhood" rather than a "culture of romance"
may
lie
behind
women students' lower career
aspirations.
Granted,
this difference between our
findings
and those of Holland
and Eisenhart
may
be
partly
because of the different foci and methods of
these two studies. The Holland and Eisenhart research focused
only
on
women
students,
whereas our
study compared
women and men. This
allows us to
highlight
those views of women students that stood out in
strong
contrast to those of
men,
in
particular
their
contrasting
views
about the
compatibility
between their careers and their roles as
parents.
Another difference is that our
study
looked at students
only
over one
academic
year,
whereas Holland and Eisenhart followed a
group
of
women students over several
years during
and after
college.
This allowed
them to document the women's
lowering aspirations
and their increas-
ing
involvement in romantic
relationships
over
time,
whereas our meth-
ods could not detect
major
shifts in students' interests and involvements.
70
Anthropology
& Education
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2000
Yet we were able to uncover
something
that
may
have been missed in
the Holland and Eisenhart
study.
Our
study
shows that a
perceived
in-
compatibility
between motherhood and full-time careers is a central
theme in
students',
especially
women
students',
discussions of their fu-
tures.
The
Study
This
study
was conducted
among undergraduate
students at Wash-
ington
State
University
(WSU),
a
moderately
selective
land-grant
uni-
versity
located in a small town in eastern
Washington.1
On its main cam-
pus
WSU has about
15,000
undergraduate
students,
the
majority coming
from towns and cities in western
Washington.
Over three-fourths of
these students are Caucasian.
As WSU
faculty
members
teaching
a wide
range
of
courses,
we had
long
been frustrated
by
our
perception
that
many
of our best women
students had lower career
aspirations
than some of our less academi-
cally distinguished
men students.
Many
of these women
spoke
of their
plans
for
graduate
or
professional training
and evinced
annoyance
at the
"gender gap"
in
pay
and career advancement. Yet
they frequently
fol-
lowed husbands or
boyfriends
to
pursue
the men's
goals, fitting
their
own futures into the interstices. We wanted to
explore
what was
leading
these women to these decisions that would
undoubtedly
limit their own
careers or
give
their careers "second
place."
Indeed,
one of our own
graduate
students was
pursuing just
this
path-
way
while she was
assisting
us in our research
project.
Her own
plans
were on hold as she waited for her
boyfriend,
also a
graduate
student,
to
decide where to continue his
studies,
regardless
of whether the location
would be beneficial to both of them
professionally.
When it dawned on
us that our assistant was
mirroring
the
pattern
we were
studying,
we
asked her about it. She
laughed
and
agreed
but did not
change
her
plans.
Our
investigation began
with a
preliminary study
conducted in 1993.
This
study
focused
primarily
on women students and
sought
to
explore
women's
perceptions
of their
college experiences,
career
plans,
and in-
fluences on their life choices. A team of
graduate
students interviewed
undergraduate
students who volunteered to
participate
in the
study.
These
graduate
students also
helped
to construct a
questionnaire,
which
was delivered as a
pretest
to
undergraduate
men and women students
in classes
taught by
us. The
findings
of the
preliminary study
were al-
ready suggesting
to us that students' ideas about motherhood would be
important
to
investigate
further. In
addition,
our
graduate
assistants
were
reporting
to us
that,
contrary
to what we
might
have
hoped,
women
university professors
(that is,
people
like
us)
appeared
to have
very
little
impact
on the
way
our women students were
thinking
about
their
futures,
and that
many
women students were ambivalent about
gender
issues and their own
professional
and domestic lives. This led us
to devise
questions
that
might pinpoint
the
ambiguities
and sort out the
different sources of students'
opinions
and
thoughts.
Following
the
preliminary investigation,
we
began
our research
pro-
ject
in 1995. The latter
study
used both a
survey questionnaire
and in-
depth
interviews. With the
questionnaire
we were interested not
only
in
gathering
information on a
larger
number of students but also in
seeing
to what extent our data from the interviews would coincide with the
data from the
larger sample.
For the
survey portion
of our
study,
we mailed a
questionnaire
to a
random
sample
of
3,000
current
undergraduate
students.
Sixty percent
of those who mailed back the
questionnaire
were women. After
elimi-
nating
all
respondents
over 26
years
of
age,
we had
1,181
completed
questionnaires.2
In
many ways
the students of our
sample
showed close
parallels
with
those in a recent nationwide
survey
of
entering
freshmen at
public
uni-
versities
(Cooperative
Institutional Research
Program 1995).
Thus,
most
of our
surveyed
students lived in rented
housing
near
campus
or re-
sided in dorms. In most cases one or both
parents
of these students had
been to
college.
Most students' mothers
(84
percent)
had worked outside
the home while the student was
growing up.
Fathers'
occupations
var-
ied
considerably,
but over half of the
working
mothers had held
jobs
in
the fields of
education,
health
care,
or
counseling
or had worked as sec-
retaries.
Twenty-nine percent
of the students
reported
that their
parents
were
separated
or divorced.
For the interview
portion
of the
study,
36
students,
18 males and 18 fe-
males,
were interviewed on four
separate
occasions over the academic
year.
These students were selected from a
large group
of volunteers re-
cruited from several different
university
classes,
including
the
sciences,
the social
sciences,
and the humanities. We
selected students with a
range
of different
majors, grade point averages (GPAs),
and
living
ar-
rangements; roughly equal
numbers of students were selected for each
year
in school. Like the students in the
survey,
all of these students were
between 18 and 26
years
of
age.
All of the interviewed students were sin-
gle.
Most of these students were
Caucasian,
although
one black
male,
one
Hispanic
female,
and two Chinese Americans
(one
male and one fe-
male)
were interviewed.3
We were able to form a clear
picture
of students' socioeconomic back-
grounds only
in the case of the interviewed students.
Nearly
all were
born or raised in the State of
Washington.
The vast
majority
of these stu-
dents were from urban or suburban middle-class
backgrounds. Only
three of the 36 students came from small towns or
farming
communities.
Only
two
spent
most of their childhoods in
single-parent
households.
The
backgrounds
of
only
seven students would be classified
by
us as
"working
class,"
based on
parents' occupations
and level of education
and on the students' own characterizations of their
precollege years.
72
Anthropology
& Education
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31,
2000
Interview sessions were
guided by
interview schedules. These sched-
ules
closely
covered the same
topics
that were included in the
survey
questionnaire.
Both the interviews and the
questionnaire
covered stu-
dents' choices of
majors,
career choices and
strategies, plans
for mar-
riage
and
parenthood,
and
opinions
on
gender
issues.
However,
the in-
terview sessions were informal and
conversational,
and additional
questions
were asked whenever this seemed
productive.
There are some
important
limitations to our
study.
First,
as noted ear-
lier
in
contrasting
our
study
with that of Holland and Eisenhart
(1990),
our
study
covers
only
one academic
year.
Thus,
we were unable to docu-
ment
changes
in students'
plans
and
perspectives
over the
years.
Sec-
ond,
we cannot
generalize
data from our student interviews because the
interviews involved few students-and
they
were not
randomly
se-
lected.
Third,
our
study
was confined to one
university,
and the data
cannot be
generalized
to
larger
student
populations.
And
fourth,
as with
all mailed
questionnaire
data,
we cannot know to what extent the re-
sponses
to our
questionnaire
were "truthful" or to what extent other re-
sponses might
have been elicited
by rephrasings
of the
questions.
Results
We
present
the results of the
study
first in terms of the contrasts in
how women and men students were
positioning
themselves for their fu-
ture careers and second in terms of how these contrasts
may
be related to
students' constructions of
marriage,
motherhood,
and the
family.
It is
important
to note that the
survey
found no
significant
correlations be-
tween the level of students'
parents'
education and the students' choices
of
majors
and
careers,
domestic
aspirations,
and the like.
Among
the in-
terviewed students as
well,
we did not find
relationships
between stu-
dents' socioeconomic
backgrounds
and their decisions and
plans
for
their futures. Of
course,
as
noted,
this
group
was
fairly homogeneous
in
terms of socioeconomic
background.
It is also
important
to note that we
did not find differences in student
responses
to our
questions (either
in
the interviews or the
surveys)
that correlated with
year
in school. We
were
interested,
for
example,
to see whether
first-year
women students
appeared
either more or less career oriented than
graduating
seniors or
more or less focused on their domestic
futures,
but such differences did
not
emerge
in our data.
An overall
finding
from the
survey
and the interviews is that the stu-
dents in our
study,
both male and
female,
appeared strongly
career ori-
ented. In the
survey,
for
example,
over 60
percent
of both males and fe-
males ranked careers as "most
important"
in their lives. Interviews with
students
confirmed
this
impression
that all students
generally planned
to have careers and
appeared
to take their careers
seriously.
However,
the
study
also uncovered
important
differences
by gender
in students'
career
motivations,
preparations,
and
strategies.
Differences in how
men and women students talked about their future careers seemed to
increase as the discussion moved
through
the
lifecycle,
with the
sharpest
differences
emerging
at the
point
of
reproduction.
In
general,
men stu-
dents were
consistently
career oriented as
they
discussed the
projected
phases
of their lives
through postgraduate
work
plans, marriage,
and
parenthood.
Women,
by
contrast,
appeared strongly
career oriented
when
discussing
immediate
postgraduate plans
but
decidedly
less so in
their discussions of their future motherhood.
Majors
and Careers:
Choices,
Knowledge,
and
Strategies
As is consistent in universities around the
country
(Astin 1993),
nota-
bly
more men than women in our
study
were
majoring
in
physical
sci-
ences,
engineering,
architecture, business,
and economics. Half the sur-
veyed
men had selected one of these
majors,
whereas
only
25
percent
of
the women had done so. As for career
choices,
more women students
(31
percent)
chose service
occupations
(teacher, nurse,
social
worker,
at-
home
parent)
than did men
(8 percent). Nearly
one-third of the men
planned
to own their own
businesses,
compared
with about 10
percent
of the women.
Men and women students also differed in their stated reasons for
choosing
a
particular major
or career. A
majority
of the students sur-
veyed
said
they
chose their
major
because
they "enjoy
it,"
but the female
majority
of 83
percent
exceeded the male
majority
of 70
percent. By
con-
trast,
20
percent
of the males
surveyed
said
they
chose a
particular major
because it would lead to a
highly paid job,
while
only
13
percent
of the
females
surveyed gave
this answer.
A substantial number of women
surveyed
(41
percent) reported
that
they
were attracted to a
prospective
career because it offered them a
chance "to
help
others,"
something
that attracted
only
half as
many
men.
High
salaries were more
commonly given by
men
(23
percent)
than
women
(13
percent)
as reasons for
choosing specific occupations.
Women students also
expected
to earn less than did men students. The
survey
shows that 43
percent
of the men
expected
to earn
$31,000
or
more in their first
jobs, compared
with
only
17
percent
of
women.4
Our student interviews show the same
pattern:
more women than
men
planned
to enter service
occupations,
and women
appeared
less
motivated
by
income than men in their choices of
majors
and careers.
But with the interviews we were able to
probe
more
deeply
into stu-
dents' career
perspectives
and
strategies,
with the result that we found
additional differences
by gender.
The interviewed
women,
for
example,
showed far less awareness than men of the
salary
structures of the ca-
reers
they planned
to enter. In
fact,
most women had no idea what their
proposed occupations
were
likely
to
pay,
whereas men students were
quite knowledgeable
about the salaries of their chosen
occupations.
Women's relative lack of information about the nature of their chosen
careers
emerged
in other
ways
as well.
Danielle,5
a one-time
pre-med
major
who had decided on
nursing
instead,
said she could
"always get
74
Anthropology
& Education
Quarterly
Volume
31,
2000
my
M.D.
later,"
if she decided to do so.
Ginger,
a
participant
in the
pre-
liminary study,
said she wanted to be a
hostage negotiator
because she
felt it would leave her
plenty
of time to be with her children. Men had re-
searched not
only
salaries but also the kinds of
expectations employers
and
graduate programs
have in the
occupations
in which
they
were in-
terested. Male
students,
but not
usually
female
students,
often chose mi-
nors or double
majors
that
they expected
would offer them alternative
opportunities,
in case
they
failed to
qualify
for their first choices. For ex-
ample,
Justin,
a
pre-med
student,
had
organized
his courses so that he
would be able to teach
high
school
biology
if he failed to
get
into medical
school.
In
addition,
the student interviews show that the women had far less
experience
with their ideal careers than the men had. Men students in
general planned
their summer and even school
year
with a much more
careful
eye
toward future
employment.
We include two
examples
from
our data to illustrate the difference between men and women students'
work
experiences;
these
examples
are
representative
of the differences
found
throughout
the interview data.
Rich,
a
22-year-old
architecture
major,
had
already spent
one summer
working
for an architectural firm
and
planned
the next summer
working
in construction to increase his
understanding
of how
physical
structures are built.
By
contrast, Willa,
a
19-year-old biology major
who wished to be a research
scientist,
had
never had
any
career-related work
experience, having
worked
only
at
service
jobs
in restaurants and hotels.
In
sum,
women students
appeared
less concerned with future
income,
less aware of
salaries,
and less
knowledgeable
about
expectations
or re-
quirements
of
particular
career
trajectories. Why
is this? One
possibility
we uncovered in our
interviews,
and
explore
in more detail
below,
is
that
many
women assumed that their future husbands'
earnings
would
make it less
necessary
for them to concern themselves with their own in-
comes or with the
security
of their careers. Women students made this
point
in one
way
or another in the context of their marital
plans
but even
more in discussions of their future
reproduction
and motherhood.
Motherhood,
Marriage,
and
Money
Virtually
all women interviewed
planned
to work after
graduation
and to continue
working
after
marriage.
Yet
nearly
all of the women
(but
none of the men
interviewed)
planned
to curtail or cease their
paid
em-
ployment
after
they
had children. A remark from Kate was
typical:
"Once I'm a
parent, my
career is on hold."
An
interesting
case from the interviews was that of Susan. Susan was
selected for interviews because of her
high
academic
performance.
We
were interested to see if women
doing very
well in school
(and
particu-
larly
those
majoring
in the
sciences)
had different career and domestic
aspirations
than other women. At the time of the
interviews,
Susan was
22
years
old,
a
graduating
senior
majoring
in
biology,
with a GPA of 4.0.
She was
supported by
two academic
scholarships
and was
actively pur-
suing
a career as a
genetic
counselor. As with
nearly
all of the women in
the
study,
Susan
initially appeared strongly
career oriented. At the same
time she
planned
to
marry
(at
about
age
27),
to
begin childbearing
about
three
years
after
marriage,
to have two to four
children,
and to
quit
work
completely
after her first child. She did not
plan
to return to
work,
though
she said she
might
consider
doing
so once all her children were
through high
school. Susan said she
appreciated
that her own mother
(previously
an
elementary
schoolteacher)
was there for her when she
grew up;
she
emphatically
asserted that children suffer if their mothers
work outside the home.
Susan differed from most other women interviewed in that she in-
tended to terminate her career rather than
merely interrupt
it to
stay
home with her children. But she did share an
important
characteristic
with
nearly
all the other women interviewed: she
expected
to be eco-
nomically dependent
on a husband.
Nearly
all women interviewed be-
lieved
they
would be
financially dependent
on husbands once
they
had
children.
Diane,
who
planned
to
pursue
a Ph.D. in
psychology
and to
have two to three
children,
reported
that she wanted a husband who
"can
support
me if I need to
stay
home
having
children. I don't want to
have to
worry
about the bills. I don't want to
depend
on
him,
but I have
to have children to be a woman. I need extra
support.
The men can't
have that."
Diane did
say,
"I don't want to
depend
on
him,"
but most of the
women who
expected
to be
dependent
on husbands did not
express any
concern about it. More
typical
was the comment from
Stacy,
who
planned
to have two children and to
interrupt
a career in
accounting:
"If
I have kids I will be
totally dependent
on
my
husband;
I don't
expect
the
responsibility
of income to fall on me."
Wanda,
when asked how much a
person
makes in her chosen field of
teaching, gave
a
figure
and
added,
"but I don't care 'cause the
guy
I'm
going
to
marry
is
going
to make
about
$50,000."
In another
interview,
when asked to describe an ideal
husband,
Wanda
remarked,
"Kind of
well-off,
he can be materialistic so I
don't have to
[be]."
Most of the women interviewed were comfortable about financial de-
pendency
on
husbands,
even
though they
were well aware of the
high
divorce rate in the United States and that divorce leaves
many
women as
poor, single
mothers who must
go
out to work. Yet most
(even
among
those whose own
parents
divorced)
did not envision
having
to face di-
vorce for
themselves;
they
saw divorce as
something
that
happens
to
other
people, through immaturity, rushing
into
marriage,
financial
problems,
and so on.
Only
two of the women and one of the men ex-
pressed
concern that
they
ever
might
have to face divorce.
Similarly, very
few of the women interviewed felt that
interrupting
a
career would in
any way
limit their
employment opportunities, earning
power,
or
opportunities
for advancement.
Kate,
who
planned
a career in
76
Anthropology
& Education
Quarterly
Volume
31,
2000
the
media,
simply
claimed that
by
the time her children arrived
(she
hoped
to have two before
age 30),
she would have made a name for her-
self;
hence,
it would be
easy
to resume her career when her children were
older.
Alice,
who
planned
a career in social work and wanted two to five
children,
said that
by
the time she had children
(before
age
30), "I
will
have
enough credibility
to be
gone
for
pregnancy,
illnesses,
et cetera."
Most women
(indeed
all but
two)
claimed at some
point
in the inter-
views that
they planned
to
interrupt
or terminate their careers for chil-
dren.
Along
with these
reports,
however,
we found that several of the
women
expressed
ambivalence or contradiction when
discussing
ca-
reers and children.
Some,
such as Diane cited
above,
maintained that
they
wanted to contribute half of the
family
income and
yet,
at a later
point
in an
interview,
said
they
wanted to
stay
home with their children
and not work.
Wanda,
who
sought
the well-off "materialistic"
husband,
said in another interview that she
expected
to contribute half of the
household income. Some women
expressed
interest in
full-time careers,
yet
at another
point
said
they
wanted children and were
strongly against
leaving
them in
day
care.
Within this
sphere
of
ambiguity surrounding
notions of careers and
motherhood,
we
suspect
that women students are
grappling
with their
options
in a
variety
of
ways.
For
example, recently
an
undergraduate
woman student came to one of us for academic
advising.
In the course of
this
meeting,
the student mentioned that after
graduation
she
hoped
to
work as a
physical therapist.
When asked how and where she
might
look
for a
job,
the student
vaguely
mentioned a few
possibilities, ending
her
comments
with,
"And if that doesn't
work,
I
guess
I can
always
make ba-
bies." What struck us about her remark is that it seems to reverse what
middle-class women of our own mothers'
generation expressed,
namely,
that
women,
headed to be
nonworking
wives and
mothers,
should
get
an education or
occupational training
so that
they
"would
have
something
to fall back on" should
they,
God
forbid,
ever have to
work. This
student,
by
contrast,
saw her career as a
physical therapist
as
a
top priority
at this
stage
in her life and her
fertility,
or
potential
mother-
hood,
as
"something
to fall back on" should she fail in the
marketplace.
Clearly something
has
changed
in the last half
century.
Yet this
student,
like a few
generations
of women before
her,
was still
saying
that careers
and motherhood do not fit
together.
She was still
saying
that
women,
unlike
men,
have an alternative to
earning
a
living.6
Male
Perspectives
None of the men
(or women)
we interviewed ever
suggested
that men
should
stop
work or reduce their workloads once children are
born,
and
none of the men said he would consider
doing
so.
Only
two men inter-
viewed
explicitly preferred nonworking
wives. Most
expected
their
wives to
work,
but in
many
cases
males'
attitudes toward
working
wives seemed to be detached and indifferent: a
frequent response
to the
idea of a future wife
working
was "she can work or not as she likes"
(see
also
Machung 1989:43). Only
one man interviewed felt that his future
family might
have to
depend
on two incomes. But when the issue of chil-
dren was
raised,
nearly
all men interviewed said
they preferred
that
their wives be home with the
children,
at least when
they
are
young.
An
interesting example
of the male student
perspective
came from
Justin,
the
22-year-old pre-med
student referred to earlier.
Justin's
mother,
who had a
university degree
in
applied
science,
had worked in
the field for which she had trained until her children were born. There-
after she
stayed
home with them until the
youngest
entered
school,
at
which time she reentered the
workplace. Having
been at home for so
long,
she was unable to find work in her own field and was forced to take
a low-level clerical
position,
from which she was able to rise
only
after
considerable effort and
retraining.
Justin
was well aware of his
mother's
frustration and her sacrifice in
giving up
her
rewarding
career to care for
her children. He
spoke
several times of the admiration and
respect
he
felt for his
mother,
not
only
because of her self sacrifice but also because
of her
energy
and
intelligence.
And he
expected
that his future wife
(he
had no one in mind at the time of the
interviews)
would sacrifice herself
as his mother had. He
would,
he
said,
be
perfectly happy
to
stay
home
with his future children
himself,
if that were
possible;
but because he
was
planning
a medical
career,
he did not consider this a realistic
option.
Interestingly,
it did not seem to occur to
Justin
that his future wife
might
also be a
physician
or have an
equally involving
career.
Justin
was far from a
stereotypical
"male chauvinist
pig,"
who consid-
ers women as sexual
objects
or the intellectual inferiors of men. He
ap-
peared
to us as a
thoughtful young
man who seemed
genuinely
to con-
sider
women,
based
largely
on the model of his much admired
mother,
his intellectual
equals.
But he was also
firmly
convinced that children
need to be cared for
by
their own mothers. He considered the issue so
important
that he
repeatedly
insisted that his future wife should be will-
ing
to
"put
her career on hold" to care for their children.
Family
Values
Our
study
is unable to
specify exactly
what led these women students
to
plan
to
interrupt
careers to be home with
young
children or what led
these men students to
prefer
their wives at
home,
but our data
suggest
that this
position
is not derived from the students'
personal experiences
while
growing up.
Indeed,
the
survey
showed that 93
percent
of both
men and women whose own mothers had worked while
they
were
growing up
felt that the effect of this on them was either
positive
or neu-
tral.
It is
possible
that some of our students were
drawing
on one current in
the broader
society
which seeks to "revitalize" the American
family.
Those women students who were most adamant about
staying
home for
their children often
justified
their
position
with ideas
promoted by
78
Anthropology
& Education
Quarterly
Volume
31,
2000
certain
political
and other
"family
values"
groups
that seek a return to
the ideal 1950s
family
of husband-breadwinner and full-time at-home
wife-mother. Coontz
(1992)
has shown this ideal fifties
family
to be
largely mythical, yet
the
myth
works as a
"nostalgia trap."
In our
study,
Wanda
expressed
this
nostalgic
sentiment when she
said,
"I am kind of
in love with that Donna Reed
image,"
as did
Susan,
who remarked that
she wanted to raise a
family
"like in Leave It to Beaver."
As it was
represented by
our
students,
the career and motherhood
problem
was not
primarily
an issue of
balancing
the two in a
busy
sched-
ule.
Rather,
it was the belief of both men and women students that moth-
ers are the best
caregivers
for their own children. These students were
unaware both of the extensive cross-cultural evidence for mothers in-
volved in subsistence labor while
others,
usually
kin,
care for their chil-
dren and
apparently
also of the
long
tradition of elites whose children
have been cared for
by
hired or enslaved labor.
Our students
pointed
to
widely reported
abuses of children in
day
care establishments or left in the care of hired
help
as evidence that there
is no
adequate
substitute for a mother's care of her own child. This
point
of view was
vividly represented recently by
a student in one of our
classes. Herself a
mother,
this student
pointed
to the
kidnapping
and
death of the
Lindbergh baby
66
years ago
as evidence of what can
hap-
pen
when mothers do not assume
primary
care of their own children.
Though
the facts of the
tragedy
are of little
importance
to the
point
we
are
making
here,
it is worth
mentioning
that the
Lindbergh baby
was
kidnapped
from his own house
by
a man who had no connection either
to the child's
parents
or to his nurse. The event was a
consequence
of
Charles
Lindbergh's
wealth and
prominence.
Yet because of the wide-
spread
middle-class view in
late-20th-century
America that women
ought
to care for their own
children,
our student had
unwittingly
rein-
terpreted
a historic crime as an
object
lesson on the evils of
nonmatemal
child care!
Another
interesting sidelight
to students' conviction that children
should be
continuously
cared for
by
mothers comes from
journals
writ-
ten
by
students in a course we teach on
gender
and
culture.
Reflecting
on
their
reading
of
Marjorie
Shostak's Nisa
(1981),
an account of a
!Kung
woman in
Botswana,
many
students reacted with
great approbation
to
!Kung
women's
practices
of
long nursing
and constant
carrying
of their
infants and small children in
slings
attached to their bodies.
Though
they frequently
criticized other
aspects
of
!Kung
culture at odds with
U.S.
practices,
most students were
spontaneously
enthusiastic in their
praise
of the
!Kung's physically
close and intensive motherhood and
used this as a criticism of U.S. child care. "You have to think this is better
for children than 8 hours a
day
at the
daycare
center,"
wrote one
young
woman.
Feminism and
University
Sexism
Our
study
showed that men and women students
generally agreed
that men should be
primarily responsible
for
earning family
income and
women
primarily responsible
for child care.
Where, then,
did these stu-
dents stand with
respect
to
feminism?
Had the feminist movement in
America reached them at
all,
or had
they largely rejected
it? We were cu-
rious, then,
to see how students
might respond
to
questions
about femi-
nism. One result of the
survey
does show a difference of
opinion by gen-
der: far more men
(42
percent)
than women
(25
percent)
felt that
feminism has had a
negative impact
on U.S.
society.
In the interviews the
concept
of "feminism" was discussed at
length.
It
was found that
although
both men and women students
applauded
the
feminist movement for
progress
toward
goals
such as
equal pay
for
equal
work,
about half of the women and
nearly
all of the men had
formed
negative
associations with the terms
feminism andfeminist.
These
students defined feminists as
"extremists," "anti-male,"
and "trouble-
makers." One man went so far as to
say
that feminists are "like white su-
premacists."
Some men and women students blamed feminists for the
breakdown of the American
family. Only
four students
(two
women
and two
men)
declared themselves to be feminists.
Negative
student at-
titudes were also
captured
in an article in the
university newspaper
in
the semester
following
our
study.
Written
by
a woman student colum-
nist,
this
piece
is entitled
"Feminism
Confusing,
Pointless"
(Baffo 1996).
In it the author
complains
that "women are made to believe
by
other
women
they
are
oppressed,
enslaved and weakened
by
men and other
women who do not realize how bad
things
are"
(1996:4).
The article
goes
on to
say
that "the
glass ceiling
is the
exception"
and asks women in
power
who feel disliked or
ignored
to ask
themselves,
"Is it because I'm
a woman or is it because I
really
am a bitch?"
(1996:4).
It
appears,
then,
that most of our students have indeed
rejected
what
they
understand as
"feminism."
At the same
time,
men
appeared signifi-
cantly
more
negative
about feminism than did women students.
Very
few of our interviewed women students
reported experiencing
sexism in the
classroom;
and of those who
did,
none
reported
that it dis-
couraged
her in her schoolwork or
away
from
particular majors
or ca-
reers. The
survey
showed that women students were more satisfied with
their
university
educations than men students.
Thus,
43
percent
of
women
reported
their
university
educations to be
"excellent,"
com-
pared
with 33
percent
of men.
Discussion
Many
studies have
emphasized
that women's career and domestic
choices are situational and
change
over
time,
that women
negotiate
their
positions
and form
ideologies
in accordance with various circumstances
encountered over their life courses
(Gerson 1985;
Hochschild with
80
Anthropology
& Education
Quarterly
Volume
31,
2000
Machung
1989; Jacobs 1989).
While not
denying
the
validity
of this
posi-
tion,
our
study suggests
that
many
women
students,
even before
they
have had
any experience
with
marriage,
motherhood,
or
work,
have se-
lected
ideologies-namely,
that motherhood and extradomestic work
are
incompatible
and that husbands are reliable
lifelong providers-that
helped
to
shape
their core identities. We
suggest
that these
ideologies
in-
fluence the choices and decisions students make as
they go through
col-
lege
and enter the world of
work,
which in turn condition and limit other
choices
they may
wish to make as the circumstances of their lives
change.
We further
suggest
that in
making
their
particular
choices and con-
structing
their ideas about
gender,
work,
marriage,
and
motherhood,
the women of our
study
were not so much
reacting
to a
discouraging
"chilly
climate" in the
classroom,
which
they
themselves
largely
denied
experiencing,
as
they
were
actively participating
in cultural construc-
tions
(or selections)
of their
own,
drawing
on a
variety
of influences in
the broader
society.
Of
course,
we
grant
that
university
sexism can be
very
subtle and
may
influence women in
ways
in which
they
are un-
aware.
Thus,
it is also
possible
that a
"chilly
climate" in the classroom
subtly encourages
women to see
options
other than career achievement
as more attractive.
A Student "Culture
of
Motherhood"
While the
chilly
climate
may
continue to be a factor
influencing
women
students,
we
suggest
another: that the women of our
study
were
participating
in the creation of an American cultural ideal that it is a
woman's
duty
to
stay
home with her children and that work and child
care are
incompatible
(Thurer 1994).
Yet these women also claimed to
seek careers. What is it that
they really
want? The earlier
study
of
Berkeley
seniors
(Machung
1989)
concludes that
today's college
women
want to "have it
all,"
to be
modem
"supermoms,"
to
gracefully
combine
high-level
careers with
parenthood.7
The
majority
of women in our
study,
however,
seemed to have a different
perspective: they
did not
seek
permanent,
full-time,
high-level
careers
equivalent
to those of
males. Instead
they
wished to
participate only briefly
or
sporadically
in
careers without
making lifelong
commitments to
them,
while
develop-
ing
a
primary
identification with the role of mother at home. Whether or
not this
perspective
is
realistic,
whether or not it is
likely
to
change
over
time--these
are different
questions.
What we can
report
is that the
women students in our
study
were
gearing
themselves toward lower-
level,
interrupted
work,
financial
dependency
on
husbands,
and several
years
at home with children. This is seen in their career choices
and,
most
particularly,
in their
plans
to
interrupt
their careers or reduce their
workloads once their children are born. It is also reflected in their lack of
knowledge
about
salary
structures and
job requirements
and
opportuni-
ties.
Our
study
cannot answer the
questions, Why
have so
many
women
students made the choices
they
have?
Why
have
they
constructed moth-
erhood in a
way
that is
incompatible
with a full-time career? We can
only
offer
tentative,
indeed
speculative, suggestions.
We return to the work
of Holland and Eisenhart
(1990),
which shows that
many
women stu-
dents on the
campuses
of their
study lapsed
into a
peer-generated
"cul-
ture of romance" as
they
became
discouraged
in their studies. On those
campuses,
the culture of romance offered immediate
fulfillment,
and its
affective rewards
may
have been
particularly appealing
in the midst of
difficulties with schoolwork.
Though
the women we interviewed were
not immune to the
appeal
of
romance,
it did not
appear
to act on them in
precisely
the same
way
that it did on the women Holland and Eisenhart
studied,
though,
as mentioned
earlier,
it
may
be that our research meth-
ods could not detect it.
Nevertheless,
the women students we inter-
viewed did not
complain
about the
difficulty
or boredom of their
classes.
Indeed,
they
continued to
outperform
their male
counterparts
academically,
and in the
survey
women students
reported greater
satis-
faction with their
university
educations than did men students. It is
pos-
sible, however,
to see a kind of
neomatemalism,
or culture of mother-
hood,
as
playing
a role for our women students similar to the role the
culture of romance
played
for Holland and
Eisenhart's
students. That
is,
motherhood,
conceived in
opposition
to a continuous full-time
career,
became
simultaneously
a
refuge,
a
role,
and a full-time career in
itself,
should women wish to withdraw from the world of work. This construc-
tion
of motherhood was
perhaps
an effort to
keep options open
in a
way
that,
as these students saw
it,
is not
open
to men. Recall that Diane
wanted a husband who could
support
her "if I need to
stay
home
having
children.... I need extra
support.
The men can't have that"
(emphasis
added).
We are not
suggesting
that most women students
consciously
or ex-
plicitly
see motherhood as a kind of "fallback
position"
as did the one
who said that if a career
"doesn't
work ... I can
always
make babies."
Rather,
we raise the
possibility
that women
unconsciously
resist the idea
of
juxtaposing
motherhood and work in order to
give
themselves more
room to maneuver as
they
face the uncertainties of their
postgraduate
lives.
Constructing
motherhood as a role in tension
with,
if not in total
opposition
to,
work
preserves
a
legitimate
corner of the world
away
from the demands and
pressures
of the
marketplace,
a
sphere
that
men,
in this
view,
must confront head-on with no
escape.
This construction of
motherhood,
which
legitimizes part-time, supplemental, interrupted
work and financial
dependence
on
husbands,
may
serve as a kind of
buffer for this
generation
of women as
they explore
their
options
and
shape
their identities for the future.
This
interpretation presumes
that women students of our
study,
though apparently
career
oriented,
were somewhat uncertain about their
chances,
or
perhaps
their
happiness,
in the world of work.
Admittedly,
82
Anthropology
& Education
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Volume
31,
2000
our
study
does not
explore
this
possibility.
What our
study
does show is
that our women students
were,
relative to men
students,
unprepared
for
careers. This lack of
adequate preparation,
and the sense of
insecurity
it
may
have
engendered, may
have fostered their construction of mother-
hood
(with
husband
provider)
and have been fostered
by
it. A "culture
of motherhood"
may,
then,
have functioned for our students in much
the same
way
as the culture of romance did for the students of Holland
and Eisenhart-that
is,
it drew women
away
from career
aspirations.
Possibly many
women
delay development
of
professional
skills until
domestic boredom or
necessity
(sometimes spurred by
divorce)
force a
reassessment.
American Motherhood: Historical
Perspectives
In the cultural construction of
motherhood,
students of our
study
were
continuing
an
old,
peculiarly
white,
middle-class American tradi-
tion that sees different dimensions of womanhood as
incompatible
with
one another
(Stone
1997;
Stone and McKee
1999). Thus,
the
19th-century
middle-class idealization of female
purity
and virtuous motherhood
was seen as
incompatible
with women's
sexuality. By
the 1920s women
were more
openly expressing
their
sexuality
but
simultaneously
down-
playing
motherhood as
they
"moved from the
nursery
to the
bedroom,"
seeking
to be
exciting
"wife
companions"
to their husbands
(Rothman
(1978:177). During
the 1960s
women's
liberation
movement,
many
women
sought
to
express
themselves not
just
as mothers or as sexual be-
ings
but as what Rothman calls the "woman as
person"
or as a woman
"fully capable
of
defining
and
acting
in her own best interest"
(1978:231).
In the United
States,
women who
pursue
careers are seen as
expressing
this new dimension of
womanhood,
even
though many
women,
like
men,
also work because there is no economic alternative.
Whereas in the last
century
motherhood had been at odds with female
sexuality,
it later came to be and remains at odds with liberated female
personhood
(Thurer 1994).
This is
being expressed among many
Ameri-
can women in terms of the conflicts between
being
an autonomous fe-
male
person
in the
workplace
and
being
a
connected,
nurturing
mother
at home
(Hays
1996).
Thus,
once
again
the different dimensions of
American womanhood are
split up
and in
conflict
with one another.
A construction of motherhood in
opposition
to the
workplace may
be
found in other Western cultures as well as in that of the United States
(see,
for
example,
Summers
1975);
but in the United States since World
War
II,
several
phenomena
have combined to reinforce the
importance
of woman-as-mother as the natural
and, thus,
desirable female role and
identity.
First,
as domestic service lost
ground
to other
occupations,
in-
home child care became
prohibitively expensive.
Second,
family
mem-
bers became more
likely
to be
widely
scattered,
making
them less avail-
able for
voluntary
child care.
Third,
there have been
widespread reports
of abuses
(some subsequently disproved)
in
day
care centers that
developed
as an alternative to in-home child
care,
reinforcing
the
repu-
tation of these centers as
providing inadequate
or
damaging
care.
Fourth,
news accounts of violence
perpetuated by
children have horri-
fied the
public, causing
a
widespread
conviction that this is evidence of
inadequate parental (specifically
maternal)
care.
Fifth,
in
response
to
postwar
socioeconomic
stresses,
the
past
is often romanticized as a time
when contented women devoted themselves to
nurturing
their children
while their husbands
provided
all
necessary
economic
support.
Historians such as Karl
Degler
also draw out
particular
connections
between American motherhood and American
capitalism. Degler
(1980;
see also
Hays 1996)
discusses how in the
19th-century
middle-class
women embodied
domesticity,
nurturance,
and virtue as a
counterpoint
to the masculine
sphere
of intense
competition
and
impersonality
in the
capitalist workplace.
It was this Victorian
"angel
of the hearth" who of-
fered a
refuge
from the
necessary
evils of the world of work because she
was
not,
by
nature,
a
part
of it.
Gradually
women
gained
some auton-
omy.
After World War II it became
increasingly acceptable
for middle-
class women to work outside the home before
marriage, though
not af-
ter.
Today
it is
acceptable
for married but childless women to work
outside the
home;
but
working
mothers remain
controversial,
despite
the fact that a
majority
of women with children are in the
workplace.
For
Degler,
U.S.
society
construes motherhood as the last bastion of the
American
family,
the last
hope
for
preserving
that
selfless
core of nurtur-
ing
that we all need and that
only
a mother can
provide:
"An
assumption
of the
modem
family
has
always
been that women are
primary
child-
rearers. As a result there has
always
been a
primary
tension,
if not con-
flict,
between the individualistic interests of women and those of the
family" (1980:463).
In the
eyes
of both men and women students in our
study,
it was chil-
dren who would make all the difference in their
respective
career
paths.
The men in our
study
wanted and
planned
to have
children,
yet they
did
not see children as
interfering
in their careers.
Except
for their
greater
tolerance of
working
wives,
their
position
differs little from that of main-
stream middle-class American men in the
years shortly
after World War
II who also saw themselves as
primary family
breadwinners and
pre-
ferred their wives to be at home with children
(Coontz 1992;
Stone and
McKee
1999).
What has
changed
is that a
nonworking
wife is no
longer
an
important
indicator of middle-class
status;
the social discomfort a
middle-class man of the 1950s
might
have felt with a
working
wife is
now
replaced
with
indifference,
at least
among
the men students in our
study.
But for women we see some
change, greater diversity,
and much
ambiguity.
In contrast to middle-class women of the
postwar period,
these women students
planned
to work after
marriage, yet they
still saw
motherhood as
incompatible
with full-time careers and
expected
finan-
cial
dependency
on husbands.
84
Anthropology
& Education
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31,
2000
We conclude that our women students were not
merely passive
pawns
of either
university
sexism or cultural ideals in the broader soci-
ety
but were
actively engaged
in
constructing
their own
personae
and
positions
from the available cultural
repertoire. Despite
their often
nega-
tive views of
"feminism,"
from the feminist "woman as
person" per-
spective they universally
selected at least the notion that women can and
should enter the world of
paid employment
for at least
part
of their lives.
But from other
popular
U.S. cultural
perspectives they adopted
the con-
viction that failure of mothers to care for their own children has disas-
trous
results,
a
position
reinforced
by
the
many
men students who
shared it. We
speculate
that the women
students'
construction of the
"culture of motherhood"
might
have served as a
hedge against
uncer-
tainties about their futures in the world of work.
Future
Suggestions
Our
study, along
with that of Holland and Eisenhart
(1990),
suggests
a
number of avenues for further research.
First,
an obvious
question
is,
To
what extent does either a student "culture of romance" or a student "cul-
ture of motherhood" exist
beyond
the
campuses
so far
explored?
If,
as
we
suspect,
these two cultures are more
widespread,
a second and more
interesting question
is whether and to what extent the two "cultures"
may
be related. Our
study
is unable to
give
much comment on the "cul-
ture
of romance" at our
university.
From our student interviews we do
not detect that a culture of romance
strongly
influenced women stu-
dents' decisions and choices about their
futures,
but then the restricted
time
depth
of our
study may
not have been
appropriate
to draw this
out,
whereas Holland and Eisenhart's
long-term ethnographic study
was
able to do so. On the other
hand,
Holland and Eisenhart make no men-
tion of student's ideas of
reproduction
and
motherhood,
whereas we
found students' ideas on these
subjects
to be fundamental to their deci-
sions and choices for their futures.
It is
quite possible
that both cultures exist on
many
more
campuses
than the ones studied
by
us and
by
Holland and Eisenhart and that the
two "cultures" are
mutually reinforcing.
We have
already suggested
here one
possible
connection between "cultures" of romance and moth-
erhood,
namely,
that both draw women
away
from
aspirations
to
high-
level
careers,
despite
their often
good grades.
There
may,
however,
be
other connections between the two cultures on
campuses
where
they
are
both detectable. For
example,
because the "culture of romance"
already
grants higher prestige
to men and bases
women's
sense of self-worth on
their
being physically
attractive to
men,
it
encourages
women to
accept
roles as
dependent
wives and careers in
poorly paid, interrupted,
and
low-status work.
Alternatively,
a construction of motherhood in
opposi-
tion to careers
may
reinforce or
legitimize
a student culture of romance.
A
study focusing specifically
on student constructions of
romance,
motherhood,
and their
interrelationships might
well illuminate connec-
tions that
previous investigations, including
ours,
have
only suggested.
Second,
the Holland and Eisenhart
study pinpoints
what
they
saw as
the root of the
problem:
women students
finding
their coursework too
hard and too
boring.
It is this that makes them
vulnerable
to the culture
of romance. But that
study
does not
say why
it is that men
students,
many
of whom
undoubtedly
also find their schoolwork hard and bor-
ing, stay
on track and continue to
pursue higher-paying,
more
prestig-
ious careers. Our women
students,
as noted
earlier,
did not
complain
that their coursework was hard or
boring,
but
they
were
clearly unpre-
pared
for the world of work and
may
have been uncertain about its re-
wards.
Thus,
we have
speculated
that,
partly by way
of defense
against
the uncertainties of
employment, they
have constructed motherhood as
a
legitimate
alternative to full-time careers. Is this
speculation
valid,
and
if
so,
what continues to
produce
such uncertainties in women students?
Studies
focusing specifically
on what common life
experiences
condition
women's
feelings
about the world
beyond
the home or
classroom,
their
concerns and
expectations,
could lead to a better
understanding
of their
motivations and actions.
Our
study
also
generates
some
suggestions
for
positive
intervention
in
higher
education.
Clearly
this
study
indicates a need for universities
to educate women students about
job
structures, salaries,
and other re-
alities of the
workplace.
A
variety
of efforts to better link students' lives
with their future
options already
are
being implemented: programs
have been established to take
high
school students to visit
college
classes
in
subjects
in which
they
think
they might
like to
major;
other
programs
allow
college
students to visit work sites in their chosen
occupations
to
gain
a better notion of the realities of the world of work. But such
pro-
grams
have existed for some time.
Despite
the
genuine goodwill
with
which
they
are
administered,
they
have done little to convince women
students of the wisdom of
seriously preparing
themselves for
high-level
careers or of the existence of
many
women who have
successfully
and
rewardingly
combined such careers with
raising young
children. Per-
haps equally important, they
have failed almost
entirely
to warn women
students of the
consequences
of failure to
prepare adequately
for a ca-
reer in a world in which
nearly
half of all
marriages
end in divorce and in
which
increasing
numbers of households feel the need of two incomes.
One
possible approach
to
helping
women students
plan realistically
for the future
might
be a
well-publicized
series of
lectures,
panel presen-
tations,
and informal discussions on the
topic
"Women, Work,
and Fam-
ily."
In order to reach as
many
students as
possible
and to avoid
alienat-
ing
those who find the feminist
perspective
inimical,
such a forum
might
rely
for its
organization
on the
auspices
of student
government
and
liv-
ing groups, including
sororities. In addition to women
faculty
and ad-
ministrators
(who
could
present
information on the
general
trends of the
lives of women
during
and after
college), returning
women
students,
86
Anthropology
& Education
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Volume
31,
2000
employers,
and
working
women from a
variety
of
occupations might
be
recruited for a
range
of different
presentations,
as well as husbands of
working
women,
who
might speak
about life in a two-career
family,
its
challenges
and rewards. A forum of this sort would need substantial
commitment from the
university
that
sponsors
it,
in terms of
funding,
publicity,
and academic
cooperation.
The
potential
rewards to women
students, however,
are
great.
Finally, many
of those who have looked at
gender, employment,
and
income have
suggested
that to
help
close the
"gender gap,"
other
gaps
need to be
narrowed,
such as the
gap
between husbands and house-
work/child
care or the
gap
between
government employment policies
and the realities of
working
women's lives
(Hochschild
with
Machung
1989).
Another
suggestion
from our
findings
has to do with
bridging
the
gap
between
young
women
college
students and those who teach and
advise
them,
and this is an endeavor that can
begin immediately,
with-
out recourse to institutional dislocation or
large capital
investment. It is
clear that U.S.
colleges
and universities now
try
to serve the needs of
their women
students,
through
conscious efforts to
provide
them with
special programs
and
services,
role
models,
and mentors. But it is
equally
clear that for
many
women students the feminist
message
is ir-
relevant or unwelcome. Yet it is essential that those of us who
advise,
teach,
and mentor
young
women understand their
point
of view. All
deeply
committed to our
careers,
and most of us
feminists,
we are often
as unrealistic about our students as our students are about their futures.
Too often we
simply imagine
them to be
younger
versions of ourselves.
Only by understanding
their concerns better will we be able to
forge
the
tools that will
ultimately
eliminate women's social and economic inferi-
ority
and end the resentment and
anger
that so often
accompany
women's
middle
age.
Linda Stone is a
professor
of
anthropology
at
Washington
State
University
(Lstone@wsunix.wsu.edu). Nancy
P. McKee is an assistant
professor
of anthro-
pology
at
Washington
State
University
(mckee@wsunix.wsu.edu).
Notes
Acknowledgments.
The research
reported
in this article was assisted in
part by
a
grant
from the
Spencer
Foundation. The data
presented,
the statements
made,
and the views
expressed
are
solely
the
responsibility
of the authors. We are also
grateful
to the Graduate School of
Washington
State
University
for its
provision
of a research
assistantship
for this
project.
For their
help
with different
phases
of
the
project
and for their comments on earlier drafts of the
article,
we would like
to thank
Marilyn Ihinger-Tallman,
Karen
Sinclair,
and Dretha
Phillips.
For their
interviewing
and
many
other contributions to the
research,
we thank
Jennifer
Strauss and Towako Masuda. We also thank Louis Olsen for his
help
with the
computer analysis
of data.
1. The
Cooperative
Program (1995) gives
WSU a rank
of "medium
selectivity"
within the class of
public
universities. This rank is based
on
average composite
Scholastical
Aptitude
Test scores of the
entering
class.
2. This rate of return
yields
a
margin
of error of less than
+
3
percentage
points
at the 95
percent
confidence level for the
sample
as a whole. Chi
square
tests of
significance
were used in this
analysis.
Data
entry
and
analysis
were
per-
formed
by
the Social and Economic Sciences Research Center at WSU.
3. The ethnic breakdown of
undergraduate
students at WSU at the time of
our
study
was
Caucasian,
88
percent;
Asian
American,
5
percent; Hispanic,
3
percent;
Native
American,
2
percent;
and African
American,
2
percent.
Because
the
percentages
for all non-Caucasian
categories
are so
small,
we did not include
a
question
on
ethnicity
in our
survey.
As a
group
the interviewed students
showed close similarities with the
surveyed
students in terms of
residence, GPA,
and
parents' occupation
and education.
4.
Interestingly,
male students' GPAs did not correlate with the amount of
money they expected
to
earn,
but women students with
high
GPAs did
expect
to
earn more then those with lower GPAs
(p
<
.03).
In
addition,
women with schol-
arships
were three times as
likely
to
expect
an income of
$40,000
or more than
women without
scholarships (p
<
.001).
There was no such correlation for men.
5. This is a
pseudonym,
as are all student names in this account.
6.
Interestingly,
one student in the Holland and Eisenhart
study
saw mar-
riage
in the same
way
that our student saw
reproduction:
"Susan,
as she cast
about for a
goal
for her
life,
suggested
that
marriage might
be a fallback to work"
(Holland
and Eisenhart
1990:198).
7. Yet relative to the men
students,
the women in the
Berkeley study
were
choosing majors
that lead to
lower-paying jobs (Machung
1989:
41).
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Gendered Futures: Student Visions of Career and Family on a College Campus

Author(s): Linda Stone and Nancy P. McKee

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