WHAT HIGH STATUS SOCIOLOGISTS HAVE TO LEARN

                    FROM LOW STATUS SOCIOLOGISTS

                                 or

        THE SOCIOLOGICAL DOG-AND-PONY SHOW HAS HIT THE ROAD













                         Charles L. McGehee

                   Central Washington University














                          January 29, 1978

                      (revised February, 1980)


         Recently I had the opportunity to participate in a meeting of sociologists within my state
called for the purpose of creating an organization based on common interests.  It was a very
interesting, at times almost exhilarating, experience being in the company of persons of whose
existence I was aware and with whom I presumably shared so many interests.  It was also a
puzzling and perplexing experience, for while I knew, or thought I knew, why I was there, it was
not at all clear to me why others were there.  I found myself in the company of many persons
from a variety of institutions representing an array of sometimes conflicting interests.
         It did not seem surprising that sociologists from tiny departments in private institutions or
community colleges should be interested in such an organization.  Their apparent isolation
seemed reason enough to want to get together.  Neither did it seem surprising that middle-level
state institutions, such as mine, would be interested, since my colleagues and I also frequently
sense a certain longing for contact with the "outside world", we, too, being isolated both
geographically and intellectually.
         What was surprising, however, was the presence, and apparent support, of members of
the sociology departments of the large, prestigious state universities.  Frankly, I was at a loss to
know why they were there, for among them were persons who had written many of the works
which most of the younger sociologists in the room and I had devoured in our graduate-school
days.  Why were they apparently seeking "my" company?  I must confess I did not know then,
and I still am not sure.  Let me explain my confusion.
          The discussion, for example, frequently revolved around the notion of "common interests",
a seemingly useful, if idealistic and nebulous concept.  Analysis of this concept, however, usually
ended up focusing on concern with "how to teach."  But while this general idea seemed to hold
some interest for most, when it was turned into "practical form it was clear where the interests
within the group lay and where the dividing lines would come to be.  Ready-made lesson plans,
advice on what concepts to teach, and even the existence of a toll-free hot-line with advice on
how to select a textbook were proposed as possible topics as discussion as if they were
examples of our presumed "common interests."
         From my own point of view, I found these suggestions less than exciting.  In the first place,
I did not need anyone to tell me how to structure a course, how to select a text, or what concepts
were important.  In the second place, I found presumptuous the suggestion that the members of
the high status departments possessed such small self esteem and confidence that they should
feel a need for such direction.  And finally, I found it positively appalling that so many in the group
should feel that they, themselves, needed such direction.
          But, in spite of the talk of "common interests," the implication clearly existed, in my opinion,
that the low were there to "feast"at the feet of the high, while the high were there to do the
feeding.
          To my way of thinking, a clear status distinction emerged in which low status sociologists
were being defined as lacking in self-definition and control while those with high status were,
correspondingly, being endowed with the opposite qualities.  Thus, without the utterance of a
single reprehensible word on the part of anyone, we quickly stratified ourselves along
functionalist lines.  Everyone "knew" that "the cream rises to the top" even though we were all in
the same bottle and from the same breed of cow.
         Now, I do not know how many persons, if indeed any, attending the meeting had any of
these factors specifically in mind, although some suggestions from members of the low status
departments (which I will define as all but those of the two major universities) suggested that they
would be interested in such an arrangement, and some suggestions from high status members
seemed to reflect noblesse oblige, indifference, or antagonism to the whole idea.
         One thing seemed clear, though.  If the high status sociologists were to participate in any
number for any time they were going to have to gain more from the interaction than the mere
satisfaction of presiding over a sociological communion.  It also seemed clear to me that without
them the organization would founder.
         Throughout the day much was made of the idea of "networks", that is, communication
networks whereby interested members could be informed of "who will be where" for talks,
symposia, etc.  Much was also made of current ASA activities planning curricula, the emergence
of courses on how to teach sociology, and the existence of consultants who would provide these
services for a fee.
         The tone of the discussions frequently disturbed me for I fancied I heard some speaking of
sociology as if it were a thing which could be produced in such a way that its quality could be
weighed and measured, something which could be polished, and, above all, something which
could be possessed by a breed called "expert."
         My private knowledge and my knowledge of social theory, however, suggested that there
were other realities present which were being missed by these Parsonian assumptions.  It
occurred to me that the world of sociology I knew was really quite different from that known in the
prestigious departments.  Moreover, I came to the conclusion that the likelihood of my reality
ultimately becoming their reality was, and is, considerably greater that theirs becoming mine. 
And, thus, it was not clear just what who had to learn from whom and who should be considered
"expert." Certainly I would be led to view with skepticism any efforts of an "expert" to structure my
reality based on his understandings, when it may well be that his reality ought to be restructured
based on my understandings.  To permit, support, or encourage such "expertise" may just be the
proverbial case of the tail wagging the dog.
         It was in this context, then, that I suddenly became aware of the needs of the high status
sociologists.  They, too, need to learn, and we, the low status sociologists, have something to
teach them.  We are now living their future.  Our present and their future is a sociological
dog-and-pony show.
         The basis for my perceptions was the sudden realization that those of us in the
middle-level state colleges and universities who have had to maintain enrollments and student
credit hours in order to save our jobs and those of our colleagues have had to change radically
our practices, our theories and our approaches to sociology in order to survive.  This change has
been for many of us a painful and resented thing, but one, in my opinion, which has not been
without value.
         These changes have taken place due to two factors:  (1) the location of students and (2)
the identity of students.  Neither are the same as in the past.
         Our initial and most pressing problem has been, and still is, the question of where the
students are.  Generally speaking, we do not know where they are.  We only know that they are
not on campus.  Economic reality, which in my opinion, is the most basic aspect of social reality,
simply told us that if we wanted to keep our jobs, then we would have to go out and find the
students.  They were no longer going to seek us out, at least not in sufficient numbers to justify
our continued professional existence.  It has been said, "If Allah won't come to the mountain,

then take the mountain to Allah".  And that is just what we did.  We left campus and went where
the students were.
         What we found did not please us.  We found them in homes, we found them in business
and factories, we found them in agencies and in army posts, and we found them in jails and
hospitals.  In fact, we found them everywhere but in school.  Furthermore, we found them not
only without books and other such traditional resources -- for there are no academic libraries in
the bush -- sometimes we found that they could not even read and write very well, often even
worse than our students on campus.  "Education" and "off-campus", it seemed, was, a
contradiction of terms.
         But the effort had "redeeming social value", for these students could think, and that was a
fact we could not deny either to ourselves or to them.  True, we may not have liked how or what
they thought, but they could think.  The fact that they had made it to adulthood was our evidence. 
Furthermore, they were interested in us, which was something that could not always be said of
students in campus residence.  To be sure, their reasons for seeking us out were not always
what we might have wished -- career advancement, pay raises, and such -- but they were often
there because they wanted to be and not merely in response to parental pressure or the bland
belief that it was the next thing to do after high school. Many were housewives who knew
privately that  they had many capacities and latent talents which had never been   who, after
having raised a family, were seeking new directions for their lives.  Many were people who found
themselves stifled in jobs that ignored their capacities and denied their miseries.  They, it often
turned out, sought us out to help them understand themselves and those around them, which is
not, perhaps, the worst of reasons to go to school.  All had vast reservoirs of personal practical
experience and had generally outgrown childish reluctance to talk.  Undeniably, they were
different kinds of students than we had ever had before.
         Thus, the question of "where the students are" led inevitable to the discovery of the "who
the students are".  They were older, they were more practical, they had extensive relationships
and commitments which were outside of and more important than school, they had little time for
school, they had no traditional academic resources available, and they were more interested and
interesting.  But more than anything else, they were rooted in the real world -- a fact which would
not be denied.  Survival was the name of their game.
         These new students and circumstances were not viewed with pleasure by many of us
sociologists--and they still are not by some.  We chafed at the lack of resources, and we tried to
bull our way through with our jargon and theories regardless of whether the students liked it or
not.  If the students did not like it, they did not have to be there, we said.  This was true, of
course, but it still was a buyer's market, and students staying away because they did not like or
understand what was being said spelled personal and institutional dis- aster.  Hence we have,
willy-nilly, had to deal with the problems of grass-roots, field-oriented education of older and more
mature students.
         We do not have many sociology majors any more.  They have been siphoned off to
programs such as law and justice, business, and the like.  Consequently, we can no longer count
on our students having had much of a background in sociology before they come to us.  We
have, generally speaking, "one shot" at most students in which to convey our "sociological
message", and this we must do with no resources and in language which is immediately
understandable.  Some sociologists have had more difficulty than others making the transition. 
This difficulty itself is revealing for it had demonstrated a certain tradition of reliance upon a cadre
of historical and contemporary "experts" without whom we have been unable to exist.  Some of
us have found that in the past we did not in fact teach sociology, but rather we acted as mere
conduits from this cadre of "experts" to the students.  We merely parroted others' words, and,
correspondingly, insisted that the students parrot these words back to us.  We did not really
teach sociology because sociology was not ours to teach.  It belonged to somebody else, and we
had nothing to say in the matter.
         These new students, however, demand that we deal with the world as they know it to be. 
They do not insist that we agree with their reality, only that we treat it seriously, which is to say,
treat them seriously.  Knowing who they are is more important than knowing who Merton, Weber
or Durkheim was.  It makes no difference what famous person said what as long as what was
said is useful and to the point.  It also makes no difference what the formal sociological concept
is if it does not help them understand what is going on in the world.
         This means that course preparation and conduct has had to change drastically if we are to
survive.  Without batting an eye, we have to be able to think on our feet about every thing from
frisbees to incest and do so without invoking our traditional cadres of experts.  We have to use
what resources and data are available on the spot.  Since existing resources and data usually
are not immediately available, we have had to generate our own data.  We have had to use what
is available -- tin cans, styrofoam cups, funeral parlors, etc.  Above all, we have had to use the
students themselves, for they, limited though they are, turn out to be the best data base
available,they are, after all, examples of the very society we are studying.
         Most of us had to be dragged kicking into this off-campus world.  It has been only with
great reluctance that we have given up our syllabi which read like a Broom and Selznick index,
but it has been just as well, for, in hindsight, they were only crutches and parodies of what
sociology could be.  It has been only with great pain that we have found ourselves moving from
the question, "Would you repeat what you said?" to "So what?  What's that got to do with the
price of eggs in China?" As a result we find we have ceased being passive sociologists and have
become one with our intellectual ancestors, not only communicating, but -- and most importantly 
-- applying, and giving substance to their ideas, beginning to modify, develop and extend their
ideas.  Moreover, many of us now see ourselves as ancestors as we watch our descendants go
out into the world.
         Are we then producing sociologists?  No, not, at least, as we have understood the term in
the past.  Our new students probably can not do the things that sociologists typically do as
sociologists, nor would most probably be interested in doing so.  But there is one thing they are
more likely to be able to do that those students of the past   can think sociologically.  I do
believe they are better prepared to see themselves, others, and the world around them
sociologically; and as a result, they can ask sociological questions.  The ability to ask sociological
questions is most important, I believe.  There seems to be a tendency among them to reject pat
answers and explanations in favor of being able to ask good questions, a few good questions
being better than a pocket full of ready-made answers.
         In my own case, my classes are very different than anything I or my mentors could have
imagined.  As a matter of fact, the thought of having had a class on how to teach or a toll-free
hotline on what to do is quite frightening to me.  I believe that would have ruined me, or at least
would have slowed me down.  My study of juvenile delinquency, for instance, centers on the
analysis of a variety of ordinary language concepts such as "persons", "barriers", "ways out", the
"desirable person" and its conceptual elements, means of bringing about the "desirable person",
where it all "goes sour", "saddled with", and so on.  Everything we talk about is solidly based on
Marx, Weber, Durkheim, Simmel, Mead, T"nnies, Homans, 1950's and 60's social psychology
and a host of other sources, but we never talk about them specifically or by name.  We only talk
about what they had to say.  We never use any sociological concepts that do not have direct
usage in the ordinary language, either. (For example, "role" is acceptable, but "status
consistency" per se is not.) If the concepts have use, then they must be part of the language of
the people who live them.
         Financial considerations, excessive publication time-lag and triviality have rendered most
contemporary research useless.  Hence, more up-to-date sources such as government, business
and the mass media must supply most of our broader data needs.  Likewise, publication delay,
inaccessibility, and triviality of content means that most current theoretical material also must be
rejected.  Thus, we have to develop, on our own, conceptual models to fit our needs as they
arise.  We do talk about specific, traditional theories of juvenile delinquency, but not until the end
of eight weeks, where they are covered in about an hour.  It is not that they are dismissed lightly,
but by this time we have found that (1) we have already come to understand what they had to
say without having had to rely on them, (2) they are only partial theories anyway, and (3) if they
have validity, it is because of their specific merit and not because of who proposed them.  We
have de-mythologized them, and therefore students no longer feel the need to stand in awe of
them or swallow them uncritically merely because "that's what sociologists, the experts say."
         How well does this work?  I could point to examples of successful students, an effort which
would probably prove nothing.  But, to me, the best indicator is when I hear students    
non-professionally oriented students    the language, our class language, to describe the world. 
For example, in criminology "the good deal" is a concept which serves to link middle-class
interests and the concept of private property to criminal activity, and makes possible
understanding the continued existence of some forms of crime even as public opinion and
institutional arrangements seem to oppose it.  Students never forget that concept.  If they are still
around, I hear them use it.  They will go out of their way to tell me about "good deals" they have
gotten and will wonder (that is, generate hypotheses) about how they were possible.  Students
who were police have tested their hypotheses and thereby have discovered and solved crime. 
Others have written and even telephoned long distance to tell of their "good deals" and their
ideas about them.  Would they have reacted that way to a concept such as "object cognitive
valuation" or understood as much about their world from such a concept?  I doubt it seriously.
         Is this good sociology?  Is it prostitution?  Is it snake oil?  I sincerely believe it is the former,
though I doubt that anything could be done to persuade critics otherwise without their direct
participation.  Moreover, it is unlikely that the sort of grass-roots change in sociology I have
generally described will ever become a recognizable form with its own body of literature.  A lack
of publication outlets, prohibitive publication delays and costs, and heavy teaching loads
effectively condemn this grass-roots sociology to a time span and audience limited to a specific
teacher's active life and his or her specific students.  But perhaps that may not be bad.  A literary
future could well have the effect of reifying these efforts, thereby killing them.
         Actually, the story I have told here does not seem to apply uniformly or generally to all low
status sociologists.  For the moment, at least, two-year public colleges seem to have an
abundance of students.  Students seem to be flocking to them in droves.  As nearly as I can tell --
and I could most certainly be wrong -- the situation has not been such as to have produce the
sort of self-reliant sociology that I have described earlier.  On the contrary, the situation seems
frequently to produce pleas for "expert" help, hot-lines, and lesson plans.
         Small private institutions, also low status in this framework, seem to share aspects of both
the two-year public colleges and the normal-school-now- universities in that they, too, have had to
scratch deeply to survive in recent years.  But now most seem to have stabilized with a rather
consistent, voluntary, high-fee-paying, value-oriented clientele.  Some do not feel the need to
change, still others would rather die than change.  Many, while deferring to their guiding values,
have found ways to accommodate themselves and are surviving in the manner I have described.
         What has all this to do with the title statement concerning what high status sociologists
have to learn from low status sociologists?  Just this:  High status sociologists have had a
comfortable life and a great deal of freedom to pursue their personal interest.  They have had
their discomforts, to be sure, particularly as regards "publish or perish" policies.  But both
personal interests and "publish or perish" tend to produce results which are related only to the
academic marketplace.  It is, however, the grassroots marketplace, where sociologists live or die
as persons, and where "jobs or no jobs" is more important than "success or no success," which is
the issue.  Publications do not determine our existence., student credit hours do.  High status
sociologists have not yet been confronted with this reality in a total sense.  Oh, of course "the
crunch" has hit widely and many departments have had to release younger, untenured staff, the
low status sociologists in their midst.  But grants and graduate students have continued to be a
buffer which have kept the wolves from the high status' door -- for now.  So, most are still able to
enjoy the luxury of being "experts" and "specialists" in the most comfortable of senses.
         What I have described here is a process which has been going on for some time now in
varying degrees in all parts of the country, on campus as well as off.  The changes are going
beyond the rearrange-the-chairs and city-as-a-laboratory approaches frequently appearing in
print under the rubric of innovation.  As persons, sociologists are responding to these pressures
and changes in various ways, sometimes eagerly but, more frequently, with hostility and
contempt.  It has been personally painful for all, but most will survive, the better for the battle;
some will not.
         The message then of the low status sociologists to the high?  Look at us, pay attention to
us and see what we are doing.  You trained us and you gave us life, and to you we are indebted. 
But our problems are destined to be your problems, and our ways, your ways.  We will all survive
better and sociology will be better for this if we recognized this.  The sociological dog-and-pony
show has hit the road.

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