Kristin Thomson has an interesting medium post on sociology syllabi at the open syllabus project (she’s created some great workbooks as well). She’s got a lot of really interesting insights about gender, age of author, age of text, all sorts of stuff. Check it out! And here’s one bit of many I thought was interesting:
Sociology is a dynamic discipline, so the inclusion of many texts published in the past 30 years is not surprising. Nor is the continued importance of the foundational sociology texts published between 1850 and 1950. But perhaps we can see another kind of generational dynamic at work here. Most of the OSP collection comes from courses taught between 2006 and 2014. Perhaps the emphasis on works published from the mid 1980s to the mid 1990s reflects a process of canonization that takes roughly 10 or 15 years, as faculty in their 40s become senior faculty in their 50s or 60s, balanced by the need to assign material that is still feels relevant to the analysis of contemporary problems, which may have a roughly similar temporal horizon. Again, the OSP offers only some data points, at present, toward an understanding of contemporary sociological knowledge. But they are suggestive ones and worth further exploration as the data set matures.
If you’re like me, you enjoy the rare behind-the-scenes view of how everyday products and services are made. The Spanish manufacturer of the Paola Reina dolls has a mesmerizing video that starts with design of a doll and ends with the packaging of a completed doll. The only way this video could improve is to follow one doll through the entire production process. Check out the tray of blinking doll eyeballs at the 4:40 mark.
A full line of Paola Reina dolls on display at a trade show:
services an experience for your new friend? See Gawker’s review of the American Doll Cafe in NYC.
Thad Domina, Andrew Penner and Emily Penner have a really interesting new paper out in Sociological Science, AKA the official journal of people on my Twitter feed.
So it turns out that some crazy Californians had the great idea to assign high school students color-coded IDs based on their standardized test results. Everyone got a white, gold, or platinum card based on their level of proficiency on the California state tests. The students had to display their ID card whenever they were on campus, and gold and platinum card holders got certain perks, including discounts on school events, but most visibly an “express” line in the cafeteria. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, this raised some eyebrows once word traveled beyond the schools themselves. The article doesn’t name the two schools, so I won’t either, but Google exists, and it sounds pretty clear that creating these visible new categories had real status effects. You can find quotes about how kids in honors classes with platinum cards told other kids in honors classes who only had a gold card that they shouldn’t even be there, and a principal apparently told some girls they should try to find platinum prom dates.
The program was in place for two years, then was shut down after quite a bit of unfavorable press. But not before our intrepid sociologists managed to collect some data.
The article looks at two main things: first, did the rewards affect test scores and other academic outcomes, and second, did creating status groups have effects.
The answer is yes on both accounts. Scores went up significantly on both math and English language arts (ELA) exams. As predicted, effects on other indicators of achievement (grades and scores on exit exams, a different test) were less consistently positive. Moreover, the effects were greater for students near the threshold (i.e. if you just barely missed the gold card one year, your scores increased more). Effects were larger for Asian students than white students, and larger for white students than Hispanic students.
So far, this is consistent (well, with the exception of the racial/ethnic variation) with behavior of the “adolescent econometricians” (p. 266, quoting Manski) assumed by the program. But here’s where it gets interesting.
The authors also use the card cutoffs to perform a regression discontinuity analysis. The students just above the gold card threshold basically look like those just below it. But it turns out they do much better. Or more accurately, kids who got the low-status white card do worse – to the tune of 0.35 SDs on the ELA test, and 0.10 SDs on the math test (both significant at p = 0.01 level).
Interestingly, the impact on grades is even greater: receiving a low-status white card reduces math grades an amount equivalent to moving from a C- down to a D, and ELA grades all the way from a C+ to a D. That’s a big drop. Domina, Penner & Penner speculate that this may be because the status categories are particularly salient for teachers, who may then treat or grade low-status students differently.
So as usual, the lesson here is that while yes, people respond to incentives, they do so in social contexts. You can’t just assume incentives are going to have similar effects on all groups of people, or ignore the effects of new status groups that are produced.
Two other thoughts here. The one interpretation I might quibble with is the authors’ attribution of the racial/ethnic differences to stereotype threat. While that’s one possibility, it’s also certainly plausible that the different response reflects cultural difference (e.g. in the importance attached to test results).
The other is about generalizability. Admirably, the authors don’t really try to generalize at all beyond saying that status categories have effects. But I can imagine people looking at an experiment like this and assuming that whatever the results were, they’d hold up across schools.
But status systems vary from place to place, of course. At the small rural high school I went to, wearing around a card advertising your high test scores would have been a fast ticket to social exclusion. Fryer and Torelli’s “Acting White” paper is hotly debated (and I haven’t followed the whole debate), but they argue that there are racial differences in whether academic achievement is associated with higher social status, and that this gap is greater in schools with more interracial contact. Clearly not every school mirrors the relatively wealthy, high-achieving schools that implemented this program, and not every kid associates high academic achievement with high social status.
That’s just a caution against assuming too much uniformity across social settings, though, not a criticism of the actual paper, which is a great use of a natural (?) experiment. And just think, they didn’t have to suffer through multiple R&Rs to publish it.
To celebrate 10 years on the blog, we are introducing a new feature – “article commentary.” The concept is simple: we choose an article, read it, and comment. However, we’ll add a twist. The article can’t be from one of the core journals (ASR, AJS, SF, SP) and we’ll try to avoid the top field journals. In other words, we want to explore ideas that might be overlooked. They can be old or new, short or long. So please use the comments, the Facebook page, or plain old email to suggest an article. Suggest your own article or someone else’s. It’s all good. We’ll do this once or twice a semester.
I’m in the middle of watching Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt on Netflix. After watching it, I realized that it’s an extremely rare show that has a cast made up entirely of “subaltern” characters. Normally, you have a show made up of characters from the dominant culture. You also have shows where the cast is made up primarily from one minority or subculture (all Latino characters, or all gay characters).Kimmy is unusual in that it doesn’t seem to rely exclusively on any single cultural group and that means that is doesn’t take much for granted.
For example, you might think that the show is about white urban women, perhaps a goofy Sex in the City. That’s not quit right. Kimmy is a Midwesterner and one who was abducted from her group and isolated. So she doesn’t even feel like a normal Midwesterner any more. Mrs. Voorhees turns out to be a Native American woman who is passing as white. Titus is a gay black man who escaped from the South to New York. “Mississippi was my own bunker.” Perhaps Lydia, the elderly landlord, might be the closest thing to a “standard” character.
The romantic interests tilt the same way. Mr. Voorhees, one of only two tradition straight white men in the show, is barely seen and the other, one of Kimmy’s boyfriends, only appears in a few episodes. The other male romantic interests are also subaltern, such as the Vietnamese immigrant who is afraid of deportation and Titus’ boyfriend, who is a construction worker who just admitted he was gay.
This is not incidental to the show. The lack of a common cultural ground gives the show a chaotic feeling, which is good for comedy. It’ll be interesting to see where the show goes from here.