It's Not Unusual

It's interesting how we all have our own version of what's 'normal' or 'usual' - one woman's weekly manicure might be another's Christmas treat. 

This thought was brought into sharp focus after the Boy Wonder (a name used for my son when he almost exclusively wore superhero fancy dress - a habit that returned this year and can be seen in the previous post) told us about a conversation that took place in his business studies class: "Who in the room has a cleaner?".

It began with my son expressing surprise that his friend had a cleaner.

His friend was surprised at our son's surprise. 

The teacher was surprised at our son's surprise. So surprised in fact, that this prompted a poll.

Turns out, it's not unusual to have a cleaner in his class. Around 60% - teacher included - don't bleach their own bathrooms. And before you wonder how much we pay in fees - this is a state school we're talking about. It's quite the opposite of what some people would have you believe about state schools and a nuance that I'm at pains to point out when I speak about not all state schools being equal. Whilst many of the families at my son's school employ cleaners, at the one I attended, the mums (and us girls included) were the cleaners - you can see me in full cleaner mode at the end of this post. 

Now, whilst I'm fully aware that the catchment our school serves is - whilst socio-economically diverse - relatively affluent by virtue of where we live, I was surprised. In my head, being able to afford a cleaner is a luxury. It's something we did when the children were small and I was on a big corporate salary. It's something I long for but is entirely impractical as we have two dogs that shed day and night and leave paw prints all over the floor when they're not busy rubbing their faces along the edges of the sofas. We are also an untidy bunch and, as anyone knows, cleaners ain't going to do your tidying up for you.

We joked that our son was 'hard done by' whilst sitting in full knowledge that he and his sister have had a start in life that is far more comfortable than what some of their peers (and parents) experienced. My early indicators did not suggest a future where I'd be raising children in a quiet village with the means to pay for the driving lessons and cars they so desperately need to be able to participate fully in the world - growing up in a town and poor is one thing (and was my experience) - but growing up poor in a rural location is an absolute double-whammy of being excluded by virtue of shambolic under-investment in facilities and public transport. It's part of the reason I set up The Common Good Network as a means to highlight organisations doing great things in towns and cities that range from the coast to the capital.

But the thinking about what's 'usual' persisted and extended into an online conversation in a Social Mobility Forum where the subject of over-representation of wealthier people in senior roles came up. Research from Boston Consulting Group suggests that people who grew up in financial disadvantage feel less like they 'belong' at work and are less likely to be represented the further up the workplace ladder you go. But is that really a surprise? Even if it is, it's certainly not unusual.

The research caused me to reflect on my corporate experience - and whilst I never felt like I didn't 'belong' at Microsoft, it was challenging at times to know that my education, experiences or leisure choices didn't match those of colleagues who came from better resourced families. 

Like lots of those from council estate backgrounds who made it to corporate, I went through what I call the 'one-way cultural exchange' of having to learn about where's good for skiing, sailing, holidaying and buying diamonds; and what people mean when they say "good" in terms of education, or when they shout "Lee!" when cheering a team at the Henley Regatta (turns out it's not the name of a rower, it's the shorthand for the Leander Club). But alongside that there was some upside and a degree of freedom I didn't know I had. The freedom to tap out when it all got too much. The freedom to go.

Thing is, my corporate experience was - in a way - all about gains. It turbo-charged my social mobility story and lifted my financial, social and cultural capital way beyond what I had thought was possible. More importantly, it helped to provide a phenomenally stable beginning for my two children. It broke a cycle and created a generational shift. And, whilst there was pain that came with leaving the place I grew up in and the guilt that is inherent when you realise that we don't live in a meritocracy, and that money really does attract money, and the tightrope walking that comes with feeling like you don't quite fit in where you're from and where you find yourself, I could do something that many people who grow up with money can't do: take the money and run in the direction of something more interesting. Crucially I could do this without the risk that it would mean forfeiting my social standing or, more importantly, my friends.

In some spaces the social mobility conversation is solely focused on helping people overcome socio-economic barriers. And rightly so - it's something I support with The Common Good Network. The injustices that exist in education, employment and just about every other aspect of society are shameful. To grow up poor is to be more likely to encounter poor health and educational outcomes. More likely to be care experienced or prison experienced. If you have a moment I would urge you to check out the work of Class Divide who not only highlight exactly the kind of systemic (and intentional) issues that families on low-incomes face in accessing education, but have been instrumental in changing policies that harm children with the least resources the most. These are the kinds of people who will drive change that bubbles up. 

But what about the other side? Could there be another reason why we see more people from better-resourced backgrounds in better-paid roles or positions of power? Something that I learned when leaving corporate life was that former colleagues thought I was "so lucky" and wished they could do the same thing. I was stumped - we're all grown ups so why couldn't they make the same choice? The reason was a bit more complicated than I thought. Some were so highly financially geared that to stop privately educating their children, to swap to smaller houses in less affluent locations (or just have the one house), to stop holidaying in the places, and ways, that they'd grown up with, or to stop the leisure pursuits that required not only 'all the gear' but deep knowledge and decades of practice, would be to take themselves out of the social groups to which they belonged (there's that word again).

To have a boat, a holiday home, a debenture, private schooling or intimate knowledge of international finance are all highly unusual to someone from my background. But not so to others who were born into financial advantage and who - like all of us - had no choice in where they were born or who they born to. We are shaped by the people and places we grow up around and can't simply shake off our culture - it's why I still think £100 is a lot of money and still use my 'outside voice' indoors sometimes. It's why I'm a Bournemouth girl at heart and not Bora Bora. It's why I can't walk past an old estate pub without part of me being spirited back to where I once 'belonged'. Given the choice, most of us don't want to leave our families or social circles. We don't want to be outside of what's loved and familiar. To lose out or be left out. 

Luckily for me now, I have community where I live and friends who have had a similar journey. Who find what was once 'unusual' when they were growing up to be something they now do, enjoy, or are able to access. We marvel at how things have turned out, don't take ourselves too seriously and poke fun at the people who do. But we don't look down our noses at those without and remember what it was like before. In the context of the social mobility conversation, this is my appeal for us all to be open minded, to remember that lots of things are relative and it's not a 'them vs us' conversation (unless you uncover specious policy-making like the Class Divide team did). Now, where is that hoover..... 

Me, one of Henry Hoover's ancient ancestors and my good friend Lou :)

If you like this, you might like to book me to speak!

Soundtrack: It's Not Unusual by Tom Jones - listen to it on the full Reasons to be Cheerful playlist on Spotify