As I've been writing, podcasting, and speaking over the last two years or so, I've made a number of connections across the country. Sometimes they are people I admire, or places that might be good collaborators, or just kindred souls. It's always nice to find like-minded folks, and it doesn't bother me to talk with people who want to challenge my ideas either. But the most meaningful interactions I get the privilege of having are conversations away from the podium. The nature of this work means I share things that are personal, which always feels weird, but inevitably someone will come up to me afterward, and they will share a similar experience. It's almost as if watching me embracing some of my own struggles (which pale compared to many) gives permission to embrace their own struggles and start to see them differently. So many of us have been deeply programmed to believe our struggles are due to our deficits, when in reality they are structural and overcoming them has created a set of strengths others may not even know about. Starting with strengths is a fundamental premise of poverty informed practice, but it's not as easy as it sounds. Let me try to explain.
Because I have chosen to share about my little movement on social media, people reach out to me on those platforms as well. I'd like to share one of the messages I received (with identifying information redacted of course), so you can see a problem you might not have anticipated. The note I received said this:"Chad, Have you heard about or worked on programs that simply prove existing skillsets? As a poverty survivor (former homeless) I find myself looking for certifications and classes that cover skills I have because I can't admit to their origin in a professional setting... Poverty survivors have to keep their street skills secret until an acceptable experience proves those skills exist- like certification. I know I'm not the only one but I never see or hear anything about finding a way to recognize the beneficial skills born out of horrible experiences."I did not have a very satisfying answer for the person who sent me the message, but it has stuck with me since the day I received it. Dr. Donna Beegle talks often about living in a country where we the poor for being poor, and here was a real life example in my inbox. This individual felt s/he had to hide the source of his/her strengths, and find "training" to cover for how s/he had really acquired these tools. That can't be ok.
Think about the opportunities this provides as poverty-informed practitioners. I see two in particular. The first opportunity is for those of us in perceived positions of power to share some of our struggles, especially if and when we received some key help. I think we need to normalize and de-stigmatize help every chance we get. So, for example, I have begun to be much more honest about the situational poverty of my 20's, which I had always blamed myself for. For many years, I would hide from my crooked path through college, and my loan defaults, and other errors which always felt like personal failures. Now, maybe some of this stuff was on me personally, but my shame around it, and the consequences of hiding it were very responsible for not getting the help I needed to get moving. And every time I disclose pieces of it, someone identifies, and I wish I hadn't waited almost 20 years to be brave about sharing it. If I'm honest, my current relative stability makes it easier to talk about it, which also indicates the depth of the shame around these issues.
The second opportunity is the chance to help the people we serve re-frame their struggles as learning and strengths. This is as simple and as complicated as changing intake procedures. In education, we so often start with an analysis of your weaknesses, often with academic testing. Testing is perhaps not a positive historical experience for our students, and then even more unfortunately, we tend to discuss it in a deficit model. This is the issue in well intended developmental education across the country. I know this because I led well intended work like that for many years. But now I see very clearly we were inadvertently telling students we would "fix" them before they started something meaningful. Instead, I would suggest intake start with a simple request "tell me what you have done." This seemingly small change can change everything in my opinion, particularly if we know how to respond. What if when we made this inquiry we listened, took notes, and just seemed interested? What if, even better, we took the opportunity to search for transferable skills in their prior accomplishments? What if, from the minute of arrival, we started talking about possibilities, and showed respect and awe for the skills it takes to survive in the crisis of poverty? Could the discussion change, and could the follow up tests etc. be framed differently then? A poverty informed program must think carefully about who the first point of contact is, and ideally that person(s) would be adept and nimble at translating life skills to college goals. Imagine a student coming in with the accumulated shame and doubt the crisis of poverty creates, and the first conversation they have celebrates the amazing tools they have developed to get to our door.
So often, I feel inadequate in this conversation because figuring out what to actually do is a struggle for me. But I'm committed to the idea, and I'm committed to doing the work through my own strengths. I heard the indefatigable Dr. Sara Goldrick-Rab say at #RealCollege2019 that step one in building the movement is to change the discourse. I think that is where my efforts are focused. One of the strengths I acquired along my journey is the ability to listen, communicate, and change people's minds. I'm so impressed and intimidated by folks who make structural change, and sometimes my own efforts feel too small and too easy. But in the same way I'm asking us to approach our students from a strengths-based perspective, I'm trying to give myself the same grace. While I am committed to a bias for action and for not stopping at navel gazing, I am trying to embrace my own strengths to change the discourse in my sphere of influence. For those of you who might struggle with the same insecurities I do (warning self-disclosure:)), I want to tell you a story. Last June, I was in an important meeting, with important people, and making the case for being both poverty and trauma informed. At the end of the meeting, the most important person in the room turned to me and said "I need to learn more because I don't really understand this 'poverty-informed' thing you are talking about." My heart sank and all my insecurities came back to the surface. I left that meeting, but rather than retreat, I leaned into my strength to change the discourse. And 18 months later, the college I left has the words "poverty-informed" in their strategic plan, my new college has a goal of "poverty-informed" infrastructure, and the hashtag #povertyinformed appears in my social media feeds daily. It took the relative safety of my middle-aged, middle-class privilege to make that happen. Let's not make others wait. What if we celebrated the strengths of the people we serve from the moment they arrive? What could we unleash with the simple change to starting with strengths?
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