I remember the first time I stepped into Harvard’s Annenberg Hall. I was overwhelmed and brought to tears by its vastness and beauty, the pennants of all the freshman dorms validating that I had finally made it. I was told this was the place I would bump casually into people who would become lifelong friends, spend hours over meals in deep conversation, and find a home in my first year of college. But instead, I was wearing a mask. With my feet planted on a social distancing sticker, I stared into a massive hall that felt too big, and empty. The food was cold, to be taken and heated in our microwaves — the big, brown paper bags that we lugged around campus this fall were a constant reminder of a quintessential first-year Harvard experience lost to the pandemic. And it wasn’t just Annenberg. We were not permitted to socialize indoors. All buildings were closed or under restricted access. Reservations at Smith or Cabot were available if we were feeling particularly claustrophobic in our rooms, but no eating or drinking was allowed inside.
And it was hard, really hard. It was hard to meet people and make friends — but I began to notice patterns. Students from certain backgrounds had different approaches and ideas about social life during a pandemic than others. I wanted to investigate if there were other factors at play — education, socioeconomic status, upbringing — that were influencing students’ social experiences this past fall. Furthermore, how these factors were creating more inequality rather than leveling the social playing field.
In normal times, Harvard, like most elite and diverse institutions, harbors a host of inequalities on its campus. But on a campus with unprecedented social restrictions, the pandemic — as it has everywhere else — exacerbated already existing socioeconomic inequalities amongst its student body. Through interviews with first-years and analysis of texts and research, I found some possible explanations for the patterns I noticed this past fall.
BEFORE THE PANDEMIC
To understand how the pandemic has contributed to social inequality on campus, student perceptions and the realities of social class on campus pre-pandemic are important to consider.
The median family income of a Harvard student is $168,000. Sixty-seven percent of students come from the top 20% of household income in the United States, according to a study of a massive data set released in 2017. Only 4.5% of students come from the bottom 20%.
Despite Harvard’s generous aid programs, the majority of the Harvard student body still comes from backgrounds of economic privilege, and remains inaccessible to low-income students, backed up by another study in 2017. This socioeconomic inequality shows and presents itself in facets of everyday life at Harvard.
“It’s sort of the elephant in the room,” says Nelida Garcia ’14 — a daughter of Mexican immigrants and from a working-class neighborhood in Chicago — in an 2013 article for The Harvard Crimson, “Social Class at Harvard.”
In The Crimson article, Timothy P. Mccarthy ’93, an adjunct lecturer in public policy at the Harvard Kennedy School, said that this “elephant” remains undiscussed because there is a tendency to believe that there is an “equal playing field” at Harvard — that everyone is admitted on the basis of merit, and merit only. Because of this, social inequality on Harvard’s campus is the hidden skeleton of the social and cultural scene, the bones of the operation masked by perceived notions of meritocracy. When everyone takes class together, eats together, participates in clubs together, it creates the illusion that everyone is, indeed, afforded the same opportunities as their desk partner.
Sociologist and Columbia professor Shamus Khan writes of this phenomenon in “Privilege: The Making of an Adolescent Elite at St. Paul’s School.” Returning to his alma mater, arguably the most prestigious secondary boarding school in the country, Khan investigates the formation of new elitism, privilege, and inequality among the girls and boys of St. Paul’s School. He writes that “heavily patterned inequalities can be maintained and obscured within a meritocracy.” Harvard professor Anthony Abraham Jack writes in his 2019 book “The Privileged Poor” that this inequality is maintained by the “culture on elite campuses that is shaped by wealth and privilege … most of the students who attend these schools are prepared for it before they arrive.”
Jack furthers in “The Privileged Poor” that even if a student comes from a low-income background, attending a private or boarding school affords one with the insider knowledge of how to navigate a world where “summer” is both a noun and a verb, where networking is frequently discussed and where you learn quickly how to make friends and build trust.
In May 2016, Dean Khurana wrote a letter to the then Harvard University president about finals clubs: “In their recruitment practices and through their extensive resources and access to networks of power, these organizations propagate exclusionary values… .” According to a report for The New York Times, wealth and legacy both matter in the selection process. Furthermore, the Harvard Crimson annual freshman survey found the Class of ’22 is 36% legacy, and according to the Wall Street Journal, legacy applicants are five times more likely to be admitted to Harvard than non-legacy students.
Inequality persists at Harvard due to the economic and educational opportunities afforded to students before they set foot on campus, whether that be legacy, economic status, or private schooling. Then, the pandemic came along and lit a fire to the flame. The social restrictions extracted and revealed and repurposed this inequality because the very skills students needed most — now more than ever — to meet people and form connections were often taught and ingrained in private and boarding school cultures. On the flip side, many public school students may have missed out on this key advantage, and faced more barriers to a fulfilling social life regarding health, safety, and economic status.
SOCIALIZING AND NETWORKING SKILLS
The following are snapshots of first-year experiences at Harvard. These testimonies and stories do not nearly encompass the diversity and entirety of first-year experiences — but I believed it critical to prioritize student stories because we are in the direct aftermath of the first full COVID-adapted semester, and because even while discussing macro issues of inequality, it is important not to lose sight of individual narratives.
“I spent a lot of time outside. I really tried to put myself out there,” said first-year Octavia as we sat on the Widener Library steps on a sunny Saturday afternoon. “My parents told me to come to campus because they believe a big part of college is not even the education but the connections you make,” she explained.
The sentiment that socializing and networking is an intrinsic part of the college experience is shared among other students from backgrounds similar to Octavia’s.
“People who can be more confident in social scenarios will be more successful professionally,” said Emmett, a first-year from a boarding school in Connecticut.
Emmett also followed a similar approach to meeting people. “Boarding school teaches you how to put yourself out there and throw yourself into things,” he explained. “It teaches you to value community more and invest in your relationships with other people.”
Octavia and Emmett told me their schools made sure they were ready to navigate the both intellectually and socially fast-paced community at Harvard and were used to being surrounded by “impressive, well-rounded people.” They attended schools that continuously reinforced the values of socializing and networking as a part of an educational experience. Both came into the social scene with goals to meet a lot of people and make connections; and both did pretty well for themselves.
“I have my core group I’m very close with,” said Emmett. After only a few months on campus, Octavia has her group, too.
In “Privilege,” Khan asserts that students from private and boarding school backgrounds “feel at home within the institutions that reward them for exactly the type of behavior that is already native to them.” So students like Octavia and Emmett could have inserted themselves into the social scene so smoothly because their experiences and learned culture afforded them tools to do so.
Private schools teach their students how to network and put themselves out there, providing them with a web of students and alumni to help them through the dizzying first semester — pandemic or not. This semester, Harvard’s COVID-19 response plan means that the advantage of these learned skills was even greater. Being able to reach out, make plans, and “put yourself out there” was essential because there were virtually no other natural methods of socializing like dining, classes, or clubs. Having the knowledge and support to navigate such an isolating time was crucial, and those who didn’t might have found it more difficult.
“In the beginning I found it much harder to socialize, having to balance classes and not knowing the process for entering clubs,” said Rym, a first-year from a public school outside of Boston. “And the stress of doing work keeps you pretty occupied.”
Rym’s high school was primarily made up of Latinx low-income and undocumented students. “There is a disconnect between where I come from and where they come from,” she continued. “Once two students were saying they learned something from an academic program they both went to — some kids have different leads and you feel like you have to play catch-up.”
Claire, from a large public school in D.C., felt similarly to Rym. While not from a low-income background, Claire still felt behind and out of place socially when she came to campus.
“It felt like a race,” she said. “I was aggressive in forming my friendships because I was afraid I would get left behind.” Coming from a relatively lax social scene, Claire’s motivation to make friends was in part driven by a fear that if she didn’t step up, she’d be left in the dust.
Elizabeth Armstrong and Laura Hamilton’s study “Paying for the Party: How College Maintains Inequality” looks at dozens of women who embark on the college journey at a big state university in the midwest. “Paying for the Party” finds that students from less-privileged backgrounds may be less confident in socializing in a more complex, diverse environment like college. “They are marred by a painful sense of never measuring up,” wrote Armstrong and Hamilton.
This phenomenon is only made worse by the social restrictions on campus. “Increasing College Opportunity for Low-Income students,” a report released by the Obama executive office in 2014, cited a study that found students who interacted with their peer group found a nearly half point increase in GPA on a 4.0 scale. In a separate study, economists Angrist, Lang, and Oreopoulos found that “enhanced on-campus student support … have been shown to be more effective in promoting persistence and completion than financial aid alone.” But, public school and low-income students were not all raised with the privilege to prioritize socializing — something that would have evidently benefited them during an isolating time like fall 2020. “Paying for the Party” finds that affluent students had an expectation that college would be “fun, an orientation to meeting people,” whereas lower-income students saw college as a way to provide them with the “credentials, skills, training, and knowledge necessary for upward mobility.”
“People didn’t care a lot about the social scene because they were dealing with a lot more than kids from more privileged backgrounds,” added Claire. “They were taking care of multiple siblings, parents are working multiple jobs, kids are working multiple jobs.”
Rym also speculated that maybe socializing, and the formation of hierarchy within social groups, has something to do with class. “I think a lot of what goes into forming cliques is classism,” she said. “We all at the end of the day have parents who work long hours, we understand each other’s struggles, so you can’t really try and put yourself above other people.”
Instead of getting pulled ahead as many of their private-school peers did, many public school or low-income kids might have been pushed back. The research cited shows social networking and finding peer groups is essential for success in college, especially for low-income students. But this past fall, many lower-income students did not have the privilege to prioritize socializing, the confidence and skill set to, or the space, time, or ability due to social restrictions. This likely led to many, many missed opportunities to further academic and personal well being for this group — more so than in pre-COVID times.
And, on a campus where nearly all of the mechanisms that facilitate social connection are removed, the students who simply don’t know as much about, or haven’t been raised with the privilege to prioritize social networking, might also face more hardship socially than they otherwise would have. While their private and boarding-school peers benefited, in many ways, from inaugural rules on campus, public-school and low-income students may have not fully reached their full potential as a Harvard student.
COVID-19: HEALTH AND SAFETY CONCERNS
Harvard’s social restrictions have created more social inequality on campus, but so have the health and economic barriers to socializing created by the presence of the virus itself.
Much research shows that COVID-19 targets low-income communities and people of color. An analysis conducted by health policy non-profit KFF found that the share of adults (ages 18-64) at serious risk of illness if infected with the virus is highest among low-income households. This is in part due to the prevalence of underlying conditions in low-income communities, and that many members of low income communities are essential workers, making it harder to isolate than those whose jobs have transitioned to working at home. Additionally, a Washington Post analysis revealed that in places such as Chicago and Louisiana, African Americans account for 67 and 70% of COVID-19-related deaths respectively, while representing only 32% of the population.
Harvard is no exception. “I have a sick family member, and I’m really worried about my grandma. All of my family has pre-existing conditions. A lot of people in the black community are being especially impacted,” said David, a first-year from suburban Detroit who lives with his mother, a Liberian immigrant.
“My great-uncle and great-aunt got COVID and died over the summer. My mom is high-risk. I definitely fall into the category of caution, as much caution as possible,” added Madison, a first-year from rural Virginia. Rym also noted she had a close friend whose uncle passed from COVID-19.
As a result of higher caution and concern for health and safety, many low-income students will miss out on meeting people and expanding their social network and wellbeing simply because the virus poses a greater threat to them, their families, and their communities. As first-year Penelope Alegria wrote in a piece for the HPR, “Harvard’s restrictions don’t just make incoming freshmen bitter; they also pin FGLI (first-generation low-income) pre-frosh in a corner, forcing them to choose between their lives and their livelihoods.”
The issue of financial challenges is also present on the social scene. Because there were virtually no ways to socialize indoors on campus, exacerbated by the creeping Boston winter, students were propelled to off-campus restaurants and other places to socialize free of University restrictions. But with this came literal costs.
“I’m really thrifty — I will inconvenience myself to save money,” said Madison. “I would prefer not to Uber, I like taking the T. It’s weird to me how blasé some people are with money and the resources they have access to.”
“You’re just assumed to be comfortable with eating out multiple times a week,” added David. “I just want to get Annenberg and chill in the Plaza.”
Claire also shared a time when her friends wanted to go to an aquarium, but the tickets were $35 a piece. “If you can’t afford that you’re definitely excluded from these events,” she said. “There’s not a lot going on — so the only thing you can do is go out to dinner or lunch. And that can get expensive.”
Another rather concrete barrier to fully participating socially this past fall is money — and the freedom and leeway to spend it. A consequence of Harvard limiting on-campus socializing was that it forced students to consider more expensive alternatives,and as a result, might have put low-income students between a rock and a hard place socially.
CONCLUSION
It is important to recognize this issue is nuanced. Not all students from private and boarding schools found social fulfillment this past fall, and not all low-income, public school students felt at a loss for such things. This piece is merely highlighting one of several dynamics at play during the pandemic on Harvard’s campus.
But what we can conclude is this: Students from private or boarding school backgrounds had advantages when it came to making connections. Low-income students from public schools may have faced difficulties forming connections because their backgrounds did not afford them the privilege to acquire certain skills that came more naturally to their private-school peers. And, the virus placed additional financial and social burdens on low-income students and students of color, just as it has on such populations across the country. It is in these ways that upper-class students from private schools might have been able to build social networks and capitalize on their learned culture while public school students may have not been as fortunate.
The work of our community lies in understanding how this alternate campus structure is affecting certain communities, and rectifying programs to bring together students who need it most. How can we make sure the experiences of students like Madison, Rym, or David are addressed while also honoring and understanding the struggles of students like Octavia and Emmett? It is important, first and foremost, to protect the Harvard community from the virus. But the virus isn’t only affecting the students who get sick. The pandemic has completely changed the way the classes of 2023, 2024, 2025, and possibly beyond will remember Harvard, including the way I will remember Harvard. Every decision made to protect us from the virus has a ripple effect. We must remember this.
Because the reality is, I still love Annenberg. Despite my mask constantly fogging up my glasses and the cold food served in plastic containers, my experience — while completely different from any other first-year that came before me — was uniquely my own. And that, if nothing else, is something to hold onto.
Image Credit: This image is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0. Changes were made consistent with the license.
