It is widely documented that white working-class children in the UK underperform at school and are less likely to attend university. Earlier this month, the government imposed new rules on universities, requiring them to work more closely with schools in poorer areas to target underrepresented populations, specifically white working-class boys.



Much of the rhetoric implies that the low rate of working class participation in post-16 education is due to a poverty of aspiration. This is woefully simplistic. Despite the government’s insistence that schools become “engines of social mobility” (pdf) – we know aspiration is a complex phenomenon. In understanding how working-class young people construct their aspirations, we must consider the complex identity work around becoming socially mobile, which is influenced by school, family and neighbourhood.

During my time teaching in South London, I became interested in how white working-class boys – the UK’s lowest performing ethnic group – came to aspire and regard themselves as valuable individuals within a neoliberal expectation of social mobility.



Analysing aspiration

I spent a year researching the educational aspirations of 23 white working-class boys (aged 14-16) across three London schools, to explore how they came to understand themselves as aspirational subjects. These young men, who largely lived on council estates and all qualified for free school meals, were of mixed academic ability.

Many of my participants constructed their identities in schools that were largely inadequate in terms of teaching and learning yet, paradoxically, were robust in preaching the merits of post-16 qualifications. Attending university was portrayed as an essential step to long-term economic security.

I wouldn’t want ​teachers telling everyone I’m the best and rubbing it in their face. ​I’d keep it personal

Yet the boys’ aspirations often involved wanting to do well academically, but not too well. One participant, George, said: “I do want to be someone that stands out but I don’t want to at the same time ... I want people to see me as a smart person, but I don’t want to be like someone who’s embarrassing.”

Another participant, Tom, highlighted the identity work involved in being a good student in a disadvantaged school, along with the importance of peer acceptance: “I wouldn’t want people to know I’m doing the best. Not teachers, obviously. But I wouldn’t want them telling everyone I’m the best and rubbing it in their face. I’d keep it personal.”

The boys were attracted to a middling position – neither failing or succeeding – and being thought of as “ordinary” by their peers. Yet their schools often promoted an idea of aspiration that was competitive and self-serving.

The schools had adopted a “learn equals earn” mantra, intended to motivate students. It often had the opposite effect, however, as it was in direct contrast to the boys’ home lives, which were grounded in emotional commitment, social ties and collective responsibility for the vulnerable.

One participant, Harry, was in the top sets for most of his subjects and would be the first in his family to attend university. He described his aspirations: “I don’t want people to think that I love money. I want them to think I give something back, that it works both ways, that I’m not greedy.”

Many of the boys identified with this egalitarian outlook. Egalitarianism, in this sense, was a desire to “fit in” in a society where “everyone has an equal say” and “no one is better than anyone else”.

The boys in my study were very aware of social class. When I asked them to examine images associated with elite boarding schools and universities, the majority were fascinated, but unsettled by the otherness of these lifestyles.

Dan: [It] doesn’t appeal to me. I wouldn’t feel comfortable there. Even though the education is probably better, I wouldn’t like it. That sort of just knowing ...

Me: You’d feel like an outsider?

Dan: Yeah. I wouldn’t like that feeling.

The double bind

Many of the boys characterised the middle- and upper-classes as entitled, self-serving and uncaring. Such views informed their aspirations around higher education, leading them to feel that prestigious institutions could bring about feelings of inferiority. If these young men embrace academic success, they face entry into an unfamiliar and disconcerting world. And so they contend with a double bind: fear of failure and fear of success.

The majority of the boys in the study did pursue some form of post-16 education, mostly vocational training, Btecs or A-levels. Only two went on to attend university, both at local institutions which were not part of the Russell Group. Some fulfilled their aspirations to settle down and became young fathers. One became a professional footballer, another a bank teller, and several found substantial trade work, where they started making considerably more than a NQT teacher salary.

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