According to the National Center for Children in Poverty, 22 percent of all U.S. children live in families with incomes below the federal poverty level. Of course in some schools, the poverty numbers are much higher, and this number varies across the country, but conceptually it could mean that in a classroom of 30, roughly seven students are living in poverty.
Now, think of how those seven students will feel at the end of the year when it’s time to purchase a yearbook, which can cost up to $60. Chances are, that expense won’t be in the family budget, making it unreasonable and unfair for students from low-income families. The high cost of yearbooks widens the already painful gap between the haves and the have-nots. They make the difficult social balancing act of school even harder for many kids.
As this school year comes to a close, this issue has once again raised its ugly head at the middle school where I teach. Like many schools, we set aside part of the school day near the end of the year for students to socialize and sign each other’s books. During this time, kids who cannot afford yearbooks are completely left out. They wander among the crowd with nothing for anyone to sign, and often they aren’t approached about signing others’ yearbooks either. If you don’t have the book, you aren’t in the club.
The last time I went to a community theater, I noticed something interesting: the program. It was flimsy, stapled together—and free. It got me thinking: Why not put together something more like a blank autograph book of pages to sign? Why not include a nice photo or image on the cover, a page of teachers and staff, and notes pages for kids to write messages? Maybe it would replace the yearbook or maybe it wouldn’t, but it could replace the function of the yearbook at the end-of-the-year signing party.
Once I started thinking about the low cost of a simplified program or makeshift “memories pamphlet,” I started thinking about other ways to suggest taking the sting out of the yearbook inequity issue when we begin planning for next year.
One alternative (or addition) to yearbooks is providing nice three-ring binders for students to decorate throughout the year with the school colors and their own pictures of themselves and friends. They could insert pages for writing farewell messages and signing, which also allows for anything offensive to be torn out and tossed. (It seems every year some child is terribly upset after spending money on a yearbook, only to have it vandalized by a prankster or a classmate who bullies.)
Another possibility is for the school to fundraise to subsidize or cover the cost of yearbooks for students receiving free or reduced lunches. The fundraiser would not have to identify what the funds would be used for, and students receiving free or low-cost yearbooks would obviously not be identified, but families could be alerted to the option discreetly.
Lastly, I thought about opening up yearbook “sponsorship” as an option when pre-ordering yearbooks: Give families and other community members with means an opportunity to order more than one yearbook and donate them anonymously so everybody gets a yearbook at the end of the year.
Coming up with an alternative to the current culture surrounding costly yearbooks, especially for middle school, is one way educators committed to equity and social justice can help relieve stress and alienation for low-income students and their families. Next year I hope to make this discussion a priority early in the year and arrive at a solution that honors tradition without discriminating against any subset of students. Because, honestly, very few of us really want to remember what we looked like in middle school, but nobody wants to remember what it felt like to be the kid who had nothing to sign on the last day of class.
Donohue is a middle school English and social studies teacher in Monroe, Washington. He also teaches college courses in English, public speaking and education.
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