Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Friendship and Diversity
Friendship and Diversity
Friendship and
Diversity
Class, Ethnicity and Social
Relationships in the City
Carol Vincent Sarah Neal
UCL Institute of Education Department of Sociological Studies
University College London University of Sheffield
London, UK Sheffield, UK
Humera Iqbal
UCL Institute of Education
University College London
London, UK
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer International
Publishing AG part of Springer Nature.
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Acknowledgements
First of all we wish to thank the teachers, parents and children who took
part in our study and kindly welcomed us and gave us their time and
thoughts. At the time of writing, the children will be in secondary school
and we hope that things are going well for them.
We also would like to thank the Economic and Social Research Council
for funding the research on which this book is based (award number ES/
K002384/1).
We are extremely grateful to Margaret Leggett for her—as ever—
entirely reliable and accurate transcribing, and also to Amani Noor Iqbal
for her careful and beautiful drawings inspired by the children’s friend-
ship maps.
Many people have supported both the research, and us as researchers,
since we started the fieldwork in 2013. We would like to thank our advi-
sory group: Sharon Gewirtz, Gail Lewis, Debbie Weekes-Bernard, Jess
Healy, Daanish Saeed, and Ros George, and the speakers at our dissemi-
nation conference, Ann Phoenix and Tim Butler, for their interest in and
enthusiasm for the project, and their valuable thoughts. Grateful thanks
also to Allan Cochrane for his last minute support!
In addition:
Carol would also like to thank Stephen Ball, Alice Bradbury, Annette
Braun, and Diane Reay for their unstinting academic and moral support.
It is much appreciated. Research students Sara Joiko and Manuela
v
vi Acknowledgements
Mendoza have also helped me clarify my thinking, for which I’m grateful.
Thanks also to all the parents with whom I have stood in a ‘cluster’ in my
children’s playground over the years. Their friendship was and is highly
valued. Finally, much love as ever to Ian, Madi and Dan for always keep-
ing work in its place!
Sarah would like to thank Les Back, Alice Bloch, Rachel Brooks,
Melissa Butcher, Allan Cochrane, Jon Garland, Andrew King, Gail Lewis,
Karim Murji, Greg Noble, John Solomos, Selvaraj Velayuthum, Sophie
Watson, Susanne Wessendorf and Amanda Wise—ever-insightful friends
and wise colleagues. And love and thanks to my moorings—Allan, and
Brock, who grew up in schools like the ones we write about.
Humera would like to thank Michela Franceschelli, Sarah Crafter,
Sophie Zadeh, Susan Golombok and Margaret O’Brien for being great
colleagues; each full of knowledge and great humour. Tabassum and
Zafar for always getting her to the school gates, Marshlee for being a true
friend and Hakim for being just being his wonderful self.
Parts of this book draw on, revise and expand on papers we have writ-
ten previously. We are grateful to the editors and publishers of these jour-
nals for permission to use material from the following papers:
Iqbal, H., Neal, S., & Vincent C. (2016). Children’s Friendships in Super-
Diverse Localities: Encounters with Social and Ethnic Difference. Childhood,
24(1), 128–142. https://doi.org/10.1177/0907568216633741
Neal, S., & Vincent, C. (2013). Multiculture, Urban Middle Class Competencies
and Friendship Practices in Super-Diverse Geographies. Social and Cultural
Geography, 14(8), 909–929. https://doi.org/10.1080/14649365.2013.837191
Neal, S., Vincent, C., & Iqbal, H. (2016). Extended Encounters: Shared Social
Resources, Connective Spaces and Sustained Conviviality in Socially and
Ethnically Complex Urban Geographies. Journal of Intercultural Studies,
37(5), 464–480. Licensed Under Creative Commons Attribution License.
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Available at: https://doi.org/1
0.1080/07256868.2016.1211626
Vincent, C., Neal, S., & Iqbal, H. (2016a). Children’s Friendships in Diverse
Primary Schools: Teachers and the Processes of Policy Enactment. Journal of
Education Policy, 31(4), 482–494. https://doi.org/10.1080/02680939.2015.
1130859
Acknowledgements
vii
Vincent, C., Neal, S., & Iqbal, H. (2016b). Encounters with Diversity:
Children’s Friendships and Parental Responses. Urban Studies, 54(8),
1974–1989. https://doi.org/10.1177/0042098016634610
Vincent, C., Neal, S., & Iqbal, H. (2017). Living in the City: School Friendships,
Diversity and the Middle Classes. British Journal of Sociology. On-line first.
https://doi.org/10.1111/1468-4446.12296
Contents
ix
x Contents
Appendix 223
Index 235
About the Authors
xiii
xiv About the Authors
class and ethnicity. Other research interests include education policy, and the
teaching of citizenship and values in schools. She has been awarded a Leverhulme
Major Research fellowship to explore the teaching of ‘British values’ in schools.
Previously funded research projects have included the educational strategies of
the Black middle classes and the childcare choices of working and middle class
parents. She is a Lead Editor for Journal of Education Policy and an Executive
Editor for British Journal of Sociology of Education.
List of Figures
Fig. 4.1 Friendship map of Crimson class. (NB: The social class
information featured in Figs. 4.1, 4.2 and 4.3 is derived from
parental occupation and education, so is only available for those
children whose parents also participated in the research. Please
also see endnote 1 on ethnic categorisation)101
Fig. 4.2 Friendship map of Burgundy class 102
Fig. 4.3 Friendship map of Scarlet class 103
xv
List of Tables
xvii
1
Why Study Friendships and Diversity?
Orientations and Introduction
to the Study
Introduction
I think somebody’s social class or their ethnicity is very, very irrelevant to me and
it is more about whether we can get along with each other and understand each
other and can engage with each other and you know I don’t have pre-conceived
ideas about people and it stands me in quite good stead because I make friend-
ships in unexpected places […] There is an administrator at the university
[where I work] who is on a fixed term contract ….and I always thought that
she and I got on extremely well and she was very, very efficient and she would
interrogate the data that I had requested from her to produce for me in ways
that I found quite unexpected. And I thought, “ooh here is somebody who pays
attention to detail” and so we went out for a drink, very, very kind of tenta-
tively, you know about six months ago, and I discovered that she is South
American, she is Colombian, but she spent a great deal of her life in Argentina
and she is trained as a lawyer. I used to be lawyer in a previous life and that is
how it is, I think, that Sammie and I get on really well. (Aarthi)
localities, but also meet through their collective use of a particular key
social resource—the primary (elementary) school. The focus on the pri-
mary school is very deliberate in that it allows us to access a particularly
affective social world that is populated by both children and adults.
Primary schools often work as what Deborah Chambers (2006) has called
the ‘hub and spoke’ of social networks; namely, they are particular social
sites within localities and communities that radiate outwards, and are
able to generate wider social connections. In this way primary schools
are, as Collins and Coleman (2008, p. 296) observe, ‘places that matter
to many people’.
Through their collective, habitual and sustained use, primary schools
are disposed to, and productive of, sociality and encounter with known
and unknown others. Indeed, hypothetically, the nature of the unknown
other is mediated by the shared use of the school so that the regular
engagement with primary school worlds means that even unknown oth-
ers become recognised strangers, with the potential for social interaction
as well as the formation of closer relationships. From that perspective,
primary schools can be understood as a form of ‘social commons’; that is,
a space within which a series of shared cultural and other resources are
available to those with access to it. The role of schools as places of
friendship-making and the evidence that school-related friendships can
have particular longevity in people’s lives is recognised, in Savage et al.’s
(2005, p. 143) study of localised belonging and globalisation in the
Northern English city of Manchester. They report that most of their par-
ticipants described their closest friends as those that had been made in
childhood or at their children’s schools. We explore some of this same
ground in this book, considering the range of friendship formations that
can emerge through and within primary schools, both for children and
adults.
Assembling a research investigation through the simultaneous layering
of personal life and friendship relations, the routine experience of proxi-
mate (and often radical) social and cultural difference, and ‘lived in’ local-
ities and collectively used primary schools, allowed us first, to access the
multi-scale, intersecting lifeworlds of individuals, school institutions and
of place; second, to map the nature and extent of social division and
cohesion in highly diverse areas; and third, to consider the ways in which
4 C. Vincent et al.
In their seminal study of friendship, Liz Spencer and Ray Pahl (2006:
197) describe friends as those people in personal lives who take on the role
of ‘comforter, confidants and soulmates’. Their book sets out their argu-
ment that in the socially changing and unpredictable world in which tradi-
tional and more established points of social care—family, work,
community—are reduced and eroded from the centre of people’s lifeworlds,
it is ‘friendship [that] can act as a vital safety net providing much needed
support and intimacy’ (2006, p. 210). Given their centrality to social and
personal life there is something of a puzzle as to why, as has been widely
observed, adult friendships have tended to be one of the most neglected of
social relations (Eve 2002; Pahl 2000, 2002). Analysing sociology’s relative
lack of interest in friendship, Graham Allan (1996, p. 3) describes friend-
ships as something of a ‘Cinderella topic’ in sociology, and in doing so
captures its potential significance as a social relationship but also the extent
to which this potential has not been extensively scrutinised.
Bunnell et al. (2012, p. 490) also highlight the paradox between the
centrality of friendship relations to personal lives and the ongoing mar-
ginal status friendship has had in the social sciences when they note that
‘friendship is the means through which people across the world maintain
intimate social relations [and are] an important part of what makes us
[…] human […] although friends and friendship are more likely to be
consigned to the preface or acknowledgements of books and articles than
to feature in conceptualisation or substantive content.’ The strangeness of
this marginalisation of friendship is further underlined by the extent to
which it is a focus and preoccupation in social life outside of the social
sciences—as Louise Ryan (2015, p. 1667) observes, ‘friendship is a topic
of seemingly endless fascination in popular culture and on social media’.
How, then, to explain this sociological neglect of friendship?
For Michael Eve (2002, p. 386) the answer to this question lies in the
ways in which friendship is perceived and presented as a source of ‘emo-
tional support and small services but little else’. The spontaneous infor-
mality of one-to-one connections of the type that Aarthi, in the opening
quotation, describes as the driver of her friendships is, in Eve’s argument,
at the heart of why it is simply too inconsequential for serious sociologi-
cal engagement. In Eve’s conception friendship needs structural signifi-
cance to matter. He calls for an emphasis within sociology on rethinking
Why Study Friendships and Diversity? Orientations… 7
And, as Pahl goes on to note, ‘in my own research with Liz Spencer, we
attempted to describe the emergence of personal communities, formed
over time in distinctive domains and fluctuating as social convoys over
8 C. Vincent et al.
the life course’ (2002, p. 421). For Pahl (2002) and for Spencer and Pahl
(2006) the emphasis is not on networks of friendships so much as the
‘personal communities’ that individuals assemble through their social
environments and lives. But perhaps most relevant to us, Pahl (2002) also
suggested in his critique of Eve that Eve underestimated the ‘importance
of friendships in social stratifications and power’. In other words, it is
both the agency of affective ties and also the multiple ways in which
structural power relations become sutured into friendship relations that
warrants sociological attention.
Aarthi’s comments on her friendships hint at how this suturing takes
place, but the process was particularly explicit in the friendship vignette
given to us by Jeanne, a parent from the pilot study we conducted prior
to our main study (Neal and Vincent 2013, see below for more details).
Jeanne is a mixed heritage, affluent, middle-class mother who had formed
what she described as a close friendship with Aiysha, a low-income Somali
refugee parent whom she met as their sons became friends. Connected
through their children, Jeanne and Ayisha have developed their own
friendship and each has offered the other significant mutual support dur-
ing difficult periods—the death of a parent, and redundancy. Jeanne
recounts the closeness they have but explains how their relationship is
always bounded by the lack of a shared private space where they can be
comfortable. As Jeanne explained, when Ayisha came to her house ‘she
didn’t ever seem at ease’. Jeanne felt this might be because of the house
presenting a very obvious middle-class material environment, a percep-
tion that was reinforced by Ayisha not ever inviting Jeanne to her house.
In his ethnography of a London street, Daniel Miller (2008, p. 287)
reminds us that home spaces and the objects within these can very power-
fully ‘speak to the nature of [social] relations’ and a similar awareness
seeped into Jeanne’s reflections as to the ways in which her affluent home
space could make Ayisha feel ‘out of place’. In response, Jeanne described
seeking alternative places for them both to go. However, going to cafes
almost inevitably involved costs, and Jeanne was very aware of the inequal-
ities in the women’s incomes. The limited material spaces where Jeanne
and Ayisha can actually be friends serves to constrain their friendship.
This means that the depth of the affective bonds between them—‘She
[Ayisha] feels like that kind of friend, that we could rely on each other
Why Study Friendships and Diversity? Orientations… 9
day. In their ‘most working class’ area (defined using a range of criteria),
Savage et al. found that the friendship ties were mostly local, but this was
also the area in which the lowest number of participants reported having
a best friend. For Savage et al., then, the dispersed geography of ‘best
friends’ and infrequent face-to-face contact reinforced the concept of
elective belonging (i.e. an articulated commitment to particular places,
rather than an attachment that arose through embedded historical social
ties to a locality) because participants demonstrated that they were deeply
connected to ‘people living elsewhere […] belonging to social groups
scattered in space’ (2005, p. 151). The variety and complexities of what
defines friendship relations for children and for adults— longevity, emo-
tional closeness, trust, care giving, shared beliefs, life stage, the situa-
tional moment, and so on—have also emerged as key features in our
work and these variations all tend to involve a spatial dimension (see
Chaps. 4 and 6).
More recently, in their Bourdieusian redefining of class categories in
the UK, Savage et al. (2013) include friendship networks as part of the
social capital that shapes and reinforces people’s class location. The role of
social capital in friendship networks also informs Ryan’s (2015) study of
the friendship-making practices of professional Irish migrants in the
UK. Ryan concludes that rather than co-ethnic ties formed though shared
Irish identities (ethnic homophily), her participants’ networks were more
accurately defined by multiple, cross-ethnic and complementary friend-
ship formations and practices, with friendship relations being established
and maintained through a variety of professional and other immediate
social environments: ‘far from simple linear progression from mainly co-
ethnic to mainly ethnically diverse friendships over time, I have shown
how networks may bring together a mix of friends reflecting the com-
plexity and multidimensionality of identities—including professional
identity’ (2015, p. 1680).
Extending this argument about the complexities of identities in friend-
ship formation, Pellandini-Simanyi emphasises how some of her partici-
pants in income-difference friendships used their sense of social justice to
mobilise strategies in their attempt to manage and flatten the impact of
the income differences. These had limited success because as Pellandini-
Simanyi observes they are trying ‘to resolve structural contradictions at a
12 C. Vincent et al.
micro, everyday level, and therefore they are only able to reach limited
solutions. Even if they are aware and acknowledge structural and unjust
causes of inequalities, it is impossible to resolve these injustices within the
context of a friendship, which by definition is based on principles of reci-
procity and equality’ (2017, p. 604).
However, the extent to which, like Ryan’s more granular social net-
works, Pellandini-Simanyi’s participants were aware of and committed to
attempts to counter the inequalities in their friendships remains signifi-
cant. That people have a lay awareness of difference and sense of injustice
and that this may filter into their affective practices and everyday interac-
tions is an argument that resonates with other work in the field of the
lived experiences of multiculture (Amin 2012; Wise 2005, 2009; Wise
and Noble 2016; Valluvan 2016; Neal et al. 2016, 2018). A core puzzle
that we explore in the book is this tension between the drift in friendship
relations towards homophily on the one hand, and on the other, friend-
ship practices that are shaped and enacted by individuals whose values
and attitudes to ethnic diversity and inclusion are more open—even if, as
Pellandini-Simanyi suggests, it is not fully possible to counter wider social
inequalities within the limits of the friendship relation.
However, while these developments in the study of friendship evidence
the establishment of a sociology of friendship, what is more absent in the
study of friendship is a sustained focus on the effects of social and ethnic
difference on friendship relations, and this is seems a particular lacuna
given the context of rapidly changing contemporary urban environments.
Following Eve (2002), we emphasise the importance of the context in
which friendships are formed and maintained, and from Pahl (2002), we
take the need to approach the friendship relation as personal but also
socially situated. We suggest that it is the strangely simultaneous, non-
institutionalised and institutionalised affective and social content of
friendship that makes it a relevant (and necessary) focus of sociological
attention. And, in the context of exploring the experiential dimensions of
contemporary urban diversity, the friendship relation, with its ability to
condense (and converge) affective and personal lives and social divisions
and structural forces means it has escaped its marginal status and increas-
ingly moved towards the mainstream of sociological agendas.
Why Study Friendships and Diversity? Orientations… 13
their games, and movement around the playground meant that parents
might also have to move between groups and negotiate with others. In
this way children could act as points of rupture, ‘forging associations
between parents over time’ (2013, p. 636). We return to and develop
these ideas in Chap. 2.
We introduced Jeanne and her story of her friendship with Ayisha in our
earlier discussions. Jeanne was part of a small-scale pilot we conducted in
2012, prior to the main research project on which this book is based. We
used this pilot project to help identify some of the key themes for the
larger scale project and also to inform our conceptual orientations and
methodological approaches to investigating affective personal relation-
ships (see Neal and Vincent 2013). The focus of the pilot was on parents,
and (unlike the main project) involved no interviews or other interaction
with children, whose experience is central to our concerns. Nevertheless,
two particular issues were raised in the pilot which we have gone on to
investigate in more depth in the main project. The first relates to the
extent to which some actors may play a significant role in negotiating
across difference; and the second to the ways in which others are more
reactive to difference, rather than actively seeking to generate connection
across it.
In the pilot study, it was apparent that some parents were able to
explicitly negotiate and navigate social and cultural difference and we
further explore this practice in later chapters of this book (see Chaps. 5,
6 and 7). In her study of working class multicultural suburbia in Sydney,
Australia, cited earlier, Wise (2009, pp. 30–31) identified individuals
‘who are engaged in facilitating intercultural exchanges’ and who she
describes as ‘transversal enablers’. Wise goes on to define these individu-
als as being ‘aware in everyday terms, of the problems of an uneven
Why Study Friendships and Diversity? Orientations… 17
While we detail and discuss the study and its research design in Chap. 3
we offer here an early methodological orientation to the project and what
the research involved. The two-years of fieldwork were qualitatively
designed and had an ethnographic inflection. Focused on three primary
schools with mixed social class and multi-ethnic populations, the data
were collected through various interviewing strategies and observation
methods. As well as interviews with children we completed 58 individual
interviews with 46 parents (using interpreters where necessary) and
paired interviews with 78 Year 4 children (aged 8/9 years old) across the
three schools. We also spoke with 13 of the teaching and school staff
(including governors). We spent a term in each of the three schools in a
strategy of focused ethnographic engagement in the school world. We
were participant observers in each of the Year 4 classrooms and spent
approximately 300 hours observing at school events such as assemblies,
fetes, fairs and parents’ evenings, as well as spending time immersed in
each of the school’s local environments. Interpreters were available for
participants but these were only required in a small number of interviews.
The interviews with parents lasted between one to two hours. Parents
were asked to self-define their social class and their ethnic identity, and
those of their children. All the interview data was fully transcribed and
each interview intra-text and inter-text analysed and coded with NVivo
software.
Why Study Friendships and Diversity? Orientations… 19
thought we might want to hear and what they might want to project.
While we return to reflect on these tensions in Chap. 3 it is important to
acknowledge how our data set comes from accessing particular popula-
tions and through the collection of what can only be partial and subjec-
tive narratives from participants.
can extend encounters with difference from schools into the wider social
spaces of localities as well as into intimate geographies of home space.
In Chap. 7 we build on adult friendship relations with a particular
emphasis on the attitudes of the parent participants to diversity. We note
that homophily is an easy description of the adult friendship networks.
However, we consider what the detail and nuance of the data reveals
about adult attitudes towards diversity, arguing that although there is a
homophilous element to the majority of the adult friendship networks,
this does not completely capture the range and scope of their social rela-
tionships. We place the respondents along a continuum stretching from
a mother who rejects diversity to a small group of minority ethnic par-
ents, who we have identified as—following Wise (2009)—‘enablers’.
In our concluding Chap. 8, we suggest that in geographies character-
ised by intense ethnic and economic diversity, our data show that despite
friendships being non-institutionalised social relationships there is a ten-
dency towards socially ordered adult and children friendships, with par-
ticipants developing sometimes contradictory approaches which veer
between open engagement and defensive avoidance of difference as they
negotiate sharing the primary school as a social commons. This is the
complex ambivalent and ambiguous social space between mixophilia and
mixophobia that most of our participants inhabit, and that in this book,
we have cast light on this space by tracing its delineation and the grounds
for both optimism and pessimism in the way we relate to those different
from ourselves.
Conclusion
As a final starting point, we want to briefly return to Aarthi. In her sense
that difference ‘is very, very irrelevant’, her initial caution about developing
a friendship with Sammie, and then her reassurance after discovering a
shared (albeit past) professional identity, Aarthi’s narrative captures neatly
some of the inclusive ambitions and contradictions—as well as serving as
a reminder of the stratifications and anxieties—that friendship relations
can involve. As we have tried to show in this opening chapter, a lot is
asked of, expected from and critiqued in friendship relations. Despite
Why Study Friendships and Diversity? Orientations… 23
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2
Encounter, Conviviality and the City:
New Directions in Theorising Interaction
Across Difference
Introduction
Our research was conducted in rapidly changing areas with ‘super-diverse’
populations. These were also areas of economic diversity, a situation
largely brought about through the gentrification of previously working
class areas. Thus, our localities were (and still are) geographies character-
ised by ethnic difference as well as both poverty and affluence. Given this
context, this chapter reviews debates on encounter, super-diversity, gen-
trification, and conviviality, addressing issues arising from the conver-
gence of social and ethnic diversity. We argue that sociological and
geographical readings of the diverse city counter popular and policy nar-
ratives of urban isolation and alienation, by focusing on the quotidian
and accepting ways in which people commonly and competently navi-
gate diversity, and develop a sense of embeddedness in their localities.
Throughout this book, we are interested in whether and how a ‘convivial
produced, state-led process around the world, what Neil Smith calls a
“global urban strategy”’ (2010, p. xv). Of course, this is not to suggest
that the processes involved have been uniform across continents. Lees
and her colleagues (2008) argue for the need for ‘geographies of gentrifi-
cation’ which pay heed to spatial and temporal differences. A city’s politi-
cal and economic structuring and restructuring (e.g. through
gentrification) acts to shape neighbourhood dynamics and thus residents’
social relations (Glick Schiller and Caglar 2016). We can see this varia-
tion in relation to our case study schools. Even within one part of one
city, London, the differences between the form and degrees of gentrifica-
tion in our three localities are obvious—despite the fact that they are
within a six-mile radius of each other (see Chap. 3 for more detail).
The concept of ‘gentrification’ is itself a contested one, but can be
broadly defined as the transitioning of space ‘for progressively more afflu-
ent users’ (Hackworth 2002, p. 1; cited in Jackson and Butler 2015,
p. 2351). One theme of the large body of research on gentrification has
been on how place contributes to classed identity practices. Much of this
literature focuses on middle-class behaviour and practices, although
Paton (2014), Shaw and Hagemans (2015) and Butcher (2017) provide
exceptions. Paton’s study of Glasgow and Butcher’s study of Hackney in
London highlights the contradictory and complex ways working-class
residents engage with gentrification. The authors argue that a straightfor-
ward narrative of displacement and exclusion is not sufficient. Although
there are clearly strong elements of both, some working-class residents in
their studies also offered support for local gentrification. Despite this,
Shaw and Hagemans (2015) and Butcher (2017) argue that even if
working-class residents are not physically displaced, changes to local
shops and leisure sites can engender feelings of loss and exclusion as local-
ities change in appearance (see Mick in Chap. 7 as an example). Of
course, gentrification is not the only process affecting housing in a l ocality.
Increasing private rents in London’s inner suburbs and changes to the
benefit system (for example, the caps to the local housing allowance for
private renting tenants and the introduction of the bedroom tax3) have
affected the ability of some low income and social housing residents to
stay in their properties (Shelter 2017). In our three localities, we heard
reported instances of individuals having to leave in search of housing in
Encounter, Conviviality and the City: New Directions… 35
Other studies on school choice (e.g. Ball 2003; Van Zanten 2003;
Reay et al. 2011; Boterman 2013; Benson et al. 2015) emphasise the
tendency of middle-class parents to evaluate their child’s potential peers
when making their choice. Mix may be acceptable but it has to be a
‘good’ mix (Bryne 2006; Vowden 2012), meaning a sizeable proportion
of other middle-class children. Even the ‘counter-intuitive’ middle-class
choosers in Reay et al.’s study (2011) (who eschew schools with strong
exam results in favour of choosing local, socially diverse schools with
lower results), differentiate their own child from those around them.
Reay et al. (2011) point to the relatively limited mixing—especially
across class amongst the pupils—and parents’ hesitancies and anxieties
over their children mixing with those unlike themselves.
Some parents clearly stated that they wanted their children to mix with
‘diverse’ groups because they themselves had never done so and did not
know how to do so. At the same time there is a constant concern of the
impact of getting too close and embracing the Other…This represents, on
the one hand, an appropriating desire for control and advantage, and, on
the other, an open receptivity that promises greater equality and valuing.
The result is a profound paradox that lies at the heart of liberal White
middle-class identity. (Reay et al. 2011, p. 164)
In some urban areas, the extent of cultural difference has meant that the
notion of ‘super-diversity’ (a ‘diversification of diversity’) of Vertovec
(2007, p. 1025) has become a widely used shorthand for the more complex
pluralities and intersectionalities of contemporary multiculture. (Neal
et al. 2015, p. 464)
That people mix with, encounter one another, and manage cultural differ-
ence and ethnic identity in more contingent, pragmatic, and ‘at ease’ or
convivial ways than is popularly imagined is a core argument of those
engaged in the emergent ‘everyday multiculture’ approach. This argument
does not ignore tension and discord, but rather attempts to reposition the
dominance of conflict and pay attention to the co-existence of other, often
slight and spontaneous and sometimes amicable forms of multicultural
Encounter, Conviviality and the City: New Directions… 39
social interaction that can occur and be thrown up in the vast range of set-
tings that are often moved through in any one day and night. Whether, and
to what extent, these informal, fleeting socialities can be recognised as
socially and culturally transformative – and thereby political – is a puzzle
with which the approach seeks to engage. (Neal et al. 2013, p. 315)
Highly diverse areas are not necessarily integrated. For example, whilst
London is more diverse than the rest of the country and Londoners are
more likely to meet people who are different from them compared to peo-
ple outside the capital, Londoners’ friendship groups are in fact the least
likely to properly reflect the age, income and ethnic mix of the community
they live in. (2015, p. 6)
Conviviality
Concerns remain that some interpretations within encounter debates are
rose-tinted and tend to over-claim a transformative potential. Thus, we
turn next to the literature which considers the degree of, or depth of, our
capacity for conviviality, whether such a capacity can be formed and, if
so, how. Throughout the book, we consider whether people living in
areas of intense diversity do engage in tacitly managing and limiting their
interactions with diverse others, and if so, why they do this, or whether
they develop what Wise (2016) calls a ‘convivial open disposition’.
Authors writing about conviviality define the term with a care to avoid
romanticisation. Relevant here is Gilroy’s understanding of the Spanish
term ‘convivencia’, as cited by Wise and Noble (2016):
had grown up in areas of ethnic diversity, but the degree of both ethnic
and social diversity in their current localities was new. We are interested
in how this experience impacted upon the parents and children. Most of
the latter had, in contrast to their parents, only experienced their diverse
home localities. We discussed above the idea of a convivial disposition. Is
it possible for such a disposition to be generated through the experience
of living with diversity? Perhaps the opposite reaction is likely, one of
withdrawal and disengagement, or following the findings of literature in
this area (as discussed above) a mixture of reactions: at different times and
in different circumstances, engagement and interaction alongside dis-
tancing and withdrawal?
We outline here ideas around disposition, drawing on the work of
French sociologist Bourdieu and other commentators in order to explore
people’s sense of themselves in relation to the social world, to try and
understand further the importance of homophily (Chap. 1) and a sense
of similarity—‘people like me’—to determining social relations, and how
that sense is affected by difference and by social inequality. Bourdieu
gives us one way of thinking through these issues, although this book
does not present an analysis viewed solely through his work. As noted in
Chap. 1, Bourdieu offers a set of conceptual resources, which form part
of our ‘thinking tools’ drawn from sociology and geography, to throw
light on the respondents’ perceptions, actions and reactions as they form
friendship relations with others in their locality. Bourdieu is an appropri-
ate resource here because of his ‘suggestive account of the processes
through which concrete, empirical individuals come to be what they are,
possess the masteries they do and yearn for what they do’ (Atkinson 2016,
p. 72). However, he might also seem to be a strange choice given that, as
Bottero notes, Bourdieu does not emphasise ‘the substance of social inter-
actions’ in his work, nor are his ideas around social networks (social capi-
tal) as developed as other aspects of his theorising (Bottero 2009, p. 399).
However, the scope of his work around the relationship between social
structures and individual agency, and the way in which it has inspired
plentiful and detailed discussions from other commentators—a very
small part of which we discuss here—makes his work a valuable resource
upon which to draw.
44 C. Vincent et al.
This sense that early experiences ‘fix’ future actions speaks directly to
one of the major areas of contestation regarding Bourdieu’s work: the
extent to which habitus as a concept tends to ‘mute determinism’ (Farrugia
and Woodman 2015, p. 627)—that individuals’ perceptions and actions
are ‘set’ as inevitable consequences of early experiences and social posi-
tioning. However, Bourdieu’s conceptualisation is more sophisticated
than a presentation of simple determinism. He notes that habitus is
‘durable but not eternal’ (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992, p. 133), and
explains that habitus is initially a product of early socialisation, but can
be restructured by individuals’ encounters with the outside world.
‘Habitus changes constantly as a function of new experiences. Dispositions
are subject to a sort of permanent revision, but one that is never radical,
given that it operates on the basis of premises instituted in the previous
state’ (Bourdieu 2000, p. 161). As Zembylas states, ‘This generative view
of habitus may constitute a site of transformative emotion practices’, that
while individuals may be predisposed to act in particular ways, ‘the
potentiality for innovation and new affective connections with the world’
remains (Zembylas 2007, p. 448).
However, Bottero understands Bourdieu’s emphasis to be on the pres-
ervation of the original characteristics of habitus. ‘Bourdieu emphasizes
the acquisition of habitus as a ‘once and for all’ process (emerging from
early social experience, in networks characterised by homogamy, which
the habitus conservatively reinforces), limiting consideration of the
impact of networks upon lifeworld and practice’ (Bottero 2009, p. 408).
Thus, Bottero is arguing that Bourdieu’s apparent assumption of homoph-
ily in social networks gives a conservative character to the concept of
habitus. Such an assumption of ‘conservatism, in dispositions and con-
nections, ensures individuals share the same instinctive “feel for the
game”, with few disruptions to spark reflexivity’ (Bottero 2009, p. 409).
As a result she argues that Bourdieu does not consider the ways in which
‘the “lifeworld”6 that emerges within more heterogeneous networks will
be different to that created in networks marked by a high degree of
homophily or social similarity’ (Bottero 2009, p. 408). Further arguing
this point, Bottero and Crossley (2011) conclude that social relationships
are shaped by the habitus—as Bourdieu emphasises—but are also shaping
the habitus.
Encounter, Conviviality and the City: New Directions… 47
A Return to Place
In this chapter, we have reviewed several literatures focusing on the gen-
eral themes and arguments that arise within them. However, we want to
conclude with specifics, by noting that our research focuses on London,
a very particular global city with a highly diverse population and high
levels of gentrification (GLA 2013; Fenton 2015). With regard to the
latter, Cunningham and Savage argue for the exceptionality of London
‘as a highly specific spatial vortex’ for ‘a range of powerful and economi-
cally privileged elite agents’ (2015, p. 345). Thus social class inequalities
are high in the capital. In terms of ethnic diversity, Nava argues that
interracial relationships and “mixed-raceness”, ‘which in the London
Encounter, Conviviality and the City: New Directions… 49
Conclusion
We have discussed a number of arguments in this chapter. First, we high-
lighted the complexities of city living. Through processes of gentrification
and super-diversity, local populations arise that differ in terms of social
class and race/ethnicity, as well as concomitant variations in religion,
legal status and so on. This results in areas of intense diversity. Second, we
noted the inadequacy of the populist narrative of the diverse city as lack-
ing in connections and sociabilities. We highlighted research on everyday
multiculture that suggest that brief, everyday encounters can have a
meaningful role in an individual’s life as rooting him/her within a local-
ity. The roots may prove fragile and relatively insubstantial in the long
term, but still capable of producing a present sense of familiarity and
belonging. However, diverse populations are divided in terms of the
social, economic and cultural capitals people possess and can put to use,
and such inequalities are overlooked in descriptions of ‘equal but differ-
ent’ population flows. Diversity is hierarchical, structured, graded, not
flat, and our understandings of how conviviality works must take social
inequality into account. We are exploring, in this volume, whether and
how living in diverse localities affects people’s dispositions, focusing on
their attitudes, beliefs and actions, as understood through the lens of
their friendship practices. Given the general tendency to homophily
identified in Chap. 1, we discuss in this book whether the experience of
living in diverse areas sparks a reflexive re-working of the self, and whether
that leads to a desire to engage with difference or a wish to withdraw.
50 C. Vincent et al.
Notes
1. There are policy exceptions, however, e.g. Commission for Integration
and Cohesion (2007) Our Shared Future.
2. https://www.demos.co.uk/press-release/61-of-ethnic-minority-kids-in-
england-and-90-in-london-begin-year-1-in-schools-where-ethnic-minor-
ities-are-the-majority-of-the-student-body, accessed 9th October 2017.
3. The ‘bedroom tax’ was introduced in 2013, and involves a cut to housing
benefit for those in social housing if they are deemed to have a spare
room.
4. We note here that the use of the binary ‘middle class’ and ‘working class’
has limitations. First, it overlooks class fractions within these broad group-
ings (see Vincent and Ball 2006) and, second, such a binary overlooks the
existence of the intermediate category about which there is relatively little
research (see Vincent 2017).
5. Bourdieu’s theorising is relational, thus Bourdieu’s ‘key concepts of habi-
tus and field designate bundles of relations’ (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992,
p. 16, original emphasis). Habitus realises itself in relation to field. Social
life is composed of many different ‘fields and sub fields’—such as educa-
tion, politics, law—‘an ensemble of relatively autonomous spheres of
“play” [action]… Each field prescribes its particular values and possesses
its own regulative principles. These principles delimit a socially structured
space in which agents struggle, depending on the position they occupy in
that space, either to change or to preserve its boundaries and form’
(Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992, p. 17). As Noble (2013b, p. 352) observes,
fields are both abstractions (e.g. the field of education) and arranged
around particular physical institutions and settings (e.g. schools, colleges,
homes, in the case of the field of education). Within these, individuals use
their available social, cultural and economic capitals in a struggle for
advantage in particular fields. Every individual has a ‘portfolio’ of capital
(Crossley 2008) that can present itself in three main forms: economic
(money and assets), social capital (social relationships and networks,
which Bourdieu emphasised can be used by some to perpetuate existing
privilege), and cultural capital which can itself take three forms, embodied
(‘in the form of long lasting dispositions of the mind and body’; Bourdieu
1997, p. 47), the objectified (cultural goods, such as books, pictures) and
the institutionalised (qualifications).
Encounter, Conviviality and the City: New Directions… 51
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Introduction
Researching friendship means accessing, inhabiting and asking about
people’s socially intimate and personal lifeworlds. While friendships may
seem amongst the most personal and the least institutionalised of social
relations as we have argued in Chap. 1, they are profoundly socially pat-
terned. Friendships, as Blatterer notes, ‘refract aspects of the social system
and so give clues to the workings of social trends in everyday life’ (2014,
p. 2). Making a similar point Carol Smart (2007, p. 28) reminds us that
the category ‘“the personal” designates an area of social life which impacts
closely on people and means much to them but which does not presume
that there is an autonomous individual who makes free choices and exer-
cises unfettered agency’.
parents wanting their children to attend the school. The catchment area
also includes social housing and the school serves a mixed social class and
ethnic population, although by comparison with the other two schools,
the population in our target class—Crimson Class—had a higher pro-
portion of children with White British middle-class backgrounds.
Crimson Class was relatively large and had thirty 8/9-year-olds, most of
whom had been together for five years, since nursery. This stability and
continuity gave the children a secure level of familiarity with each other.
From our first encounter with them, we began to learn about the friend-
ship dynamics and liveliness of the class as Humera noted in her first field
notes after our initial introductory visit:
The children trickled into the class, eyeing us up with curiosity. There was a
delay with starting the class as a couple of the boys had not returned to their
seats following an altercation in the playground […] Once the children were
settled, it was quiet reading time, although even this was actually a fairly noisy
affair. In fact, throughout the afternoon, there was never a moment of complete
silence.
The children are visibly very mixed. They all wear uniforms [the only school
that did in our study] even so it is not that hard to read social difference as well
as ethnic and cultural difference. The afternoon is organised around a series of
out of class activities in which we all move around the school. The class manages
all this movement and activity in mixed ways—there are kids who misbehave,
others drift, others engage. They seem to interact with each other in mixed ways
too. Mostly there seems to be affection but there is some detachment and dis-
tance too I think.
Well I think in terms of the changing face of the community yes ….there
has always been a core actually of middle-class kids but I think if you
look at the lower end of the school you can see that that has changed. I
think it will always be a mixed school because there is so much temporary
housing around [Ross Road] and we have quite a lot of movement and
also we have children who might have been here because they were in
temporary housing and when they have moved out they still try and
come here.
68 C. Vincent et al.
and social research more widely, were not a priority for anyone but us.
Some of this ‘only just an insider/always something of an outsider’ expe-
rience is apparent in Sarah’s field note about being at Fernhill School’s
summer fair:
The crowd feels very mixed. Looking at it and moving through it I navigate the
people; Muslim women in headscarves – Somali (?) and Turkish (?); Black
Caribbean (?) families, White English (?) families; mixed heritage South Asian,
Caribbean, Black African. Lots of men and lots of women. A lot of women
managing the various stalls although men doing the barbies…and class – again
it appears to be a real mix if difficult to be sure – but reading appearances –
hair styles, clothes, make up, shoes, bags, tattoos – what stands out is the mix of
the population; some mixing in conversations; in sitting arrangements espe-
cially in the food stall bit; a sense of conviviality and festivity – children weav-
ing in and out of it all. It is slightly disorientating being in the crowd trying to
think about what I am seeing and not seeing, not really being known and only
very tenuously being part of it (so extra nice when I am occasionally recognised
and greeted!)
being a pupil at school, of being both in awe and in fear of teachers, aware
of having to do (and succeed) in an endless variety of tasks and activities
that can be fun, daunting, exposing or boring and always being hyper-
aware of the micro-social interactions of classroom life. As Sarah wrote in
one early set of field notes: ‘Spent the afternoon in Crimson class [at Leewood
School] and strongly felt that sense of a return to school and being in a
school—the constant if vague anxiety of being singled out, of not understand-
ing tasks, of not fitting in, of being told off’. Valentine and Holloway (2003)
make a similar point about the ways in which, in the micro-structures of
the day in a school, the timetable, the routines, the drill of the bell, the
need for obedience, generate a particularly acute awareness of institu-
tional demands.
At times there was also an ambiguity in the relationship between us as
university-based researchers and the school-based educational staff. For
example, in our introductory attempts to develop connections between the
research team and the teaching staff, Carol would note she had begun her
career as a primary teacher and while intended as an affirmation of mutual-
ity and shared ground, it also emphasised that Carol had left the teaching
profession and had a different career trajectory. Sarah similarly wrote of the
mundane challenges that could materialise when academic researchers are
involved through fieldwork, in being part of and regularly observing in
classrooms, presenting teachers and staff with another professional presence
to be aware of in the class. For example, she wrote of the process of managing
(supportive/competitive?) professional status after an incident of reassuring one
teacher about her spelling on the classroom whiteboard, and of the difficulty
of knowing how to appropriately respond to another teacher who had expe-
rienced a particularly difficult teaching session while we were in the class.
It is this ambivalence that characterised the research positionality that
we highlight here. The research setting of the primary school is not a
straightforwardly open or democratic social commons. Primary schools
can be read as embedded within localities and generative of social
interactions and routine collective use by a micro public of familiar
strangers. But whilst they can be warm, welcoming, inclusive and affir-
mative, they are also hierarchically organised with clear lines of authority,
set apart from the local, physically securitised and bounded, sites of dif-
ferentiation and micro-conflicts, isolations and misbehaviours. This
Back at School: Research Methods, Design and Reflexive… 73
regardless of the particular objective which the individual has in mind and
of his motive for having this objective it will be in his interests to control
the conduct of others, especially their responsive treatment of him […]
Thus when an individual appears in the presence of others, there will usu-
ally be some reason for him to mobilise his activity so that it will convey an
impression to others which is in his interests to convey.
but the nature of this was not always straightforward given the social and
ethnic diversity of the research participants and the research team, nor
did it shape the interview dialogue in predictable ways throughout the
research encounter. Sarah and Carol reflected on the extent to which
their Whiteness and/or shared middle classness can be read into the
assumptions and focus of some of the interview conversations with some
White and some non-White middle class parents—interview discussions
of anxiety or frustration about the levels of ethnic difference in friendship
networks, worries about how to manage or ‘talk to’ parents perceived as
culturally different or who were seen as of a different social class. Ethnic
difference and identification was also present, and although not mobil-
ised directly, did shape interactions and interview narratives. Humera, in
particular, was read in a variety of ways with her Scottish accent, her vis-
ible minority identity and her middle classness, differently picked up on
and responded to by both children and by adults. In an early interview
that Humera and Sarah did with Kaleb, a Black African refugee and
father at Leewood School, Kaleb was talking about his experiences of
belonging and not belonging in London and said very directly to Humera
‘you know what I mean’. In another example with Rabia, a working-class
mother at Junction School, Rabia and Humera drew on shared ethnic
identity as a connective point in the interview even as social class and
other differences remained, as Humera notes in her diary, ‘Rabia was
warm friendly and inviting. I feel like she is happy to open up because I am
Pakistani too; that there are things that I would understand. I definitely
tapped into the Pakistani side of me today, and brought things into the con-
versation and the odd Urdu word to build a rapport.’
Our emphasis in these discussions is that while researchers engage in
dramaturgical work in the field, this work was not an instrumental
attempt, cynically or duplicitously to impression manage for the benefit
of the project and the collection of good data. Drawing on the notion of
dramaturgy allows us to go beyond simple accounts of how to effectively
build rapport with research participants and incorporate the researcher
and the participant more iteratively and actively with the research rela-
tionship. Goffman’s argument is that everyone is managing themselves,
revealing and concealing aspects of themselves within social interactions.
After all, research participants are reading researcher performances in
Back at School: Research Methods, Design and Reflexive… 77
particular and agentic ways and, at the same time, are also managing and
presenting their social selves. For research that is working in and with con-
texts of extensive difference and diversity and around emotive and personal
lives a dramaturgical account of doing research highlights the spaces in
which the front-stage performances of researchers generate the connec-
tions and confidence on the part of participants to share both their front-
stage but also reveal some of their ‘out of character’ (Goffman 1959)
backstage selves—what Alison Pugh (2013) calls the ‘honourable’ and the
‘visceral narratives’—the latter being those narratives in which anxieties,
doubts, contradictions and difficult reflections are shared and articulated.
In this way ‘a researcher’s reflexive self-awareness of his/her dramaturgical
status can ultimately cultivate a more authentic, sensitive orientation to the
qualitative research process’ (Scott et al. 2012, p. 719). In a context in
which difference and diversity characterise the demographic profiles of our
participants, the notion of dramaturgy takes us productively beyond both
standpoint research and identity-matching of researchers and participants,
and beyond technicist strategies of rapport-building to elicit better data. As
Pilkington (2016, p. 31) argues, ‘over and above any social demographic
variable that facilitated or hindered the research […] [it is] time spent in
the field that builds trust that the researcher is who they say they are; who
that is, is secondary.’ Sharing Pilkington’s emphasis on time spent in the
field, it is the processes of research design and practices that we now detail.
demographic profiles of all the participants. At the end of the parent inter-
views, participants filled in a ‘personal details form’ in which we asked
them to self-identify their own and their children’s ethnicity (parents
tended to reference the 2011 Census categories) and their social class, and
tell us their occupation and highest educational qualification. The key pat-
terns of those we spoke to show a gender imbalance with the majority of
our parent respondents being women and the majority falling into ethnic
categories other than White British. The participants were divided across
social class terms according to the National Statistics Socio-Economic
Classifications (NS-SEC) occupational categories, with the largest group
coming from categories 1 and 2, the professional middle classes. However a
larger majority self-ascribed to middle-class status, often using the phrase
‘lower middle class’ (please see the Appendix for more details). This reso-
nates with Savage et al. (2005) whose respondents were keen to present
themselves as ‘ordinary’. Class categorization relying on occupation is a
limited and contested process (see Savage et al. 2015), thus we also col-
lected data about educational qualifications and home ownership. In the
appendix we set out this detailed information. However, in the text we
have used the terms ‘middle class’, ‘intermediate’ and ‘working class’ as a
form of shorthand, understanding the intermediate grouping as those in
occupations which combine aspects from both the professional middle-
class service relationship and the working-class labour contract (ONS
2005). (When both parents are in employment we have used the ‘highest’
occupation). In terms of ethnicity, the mix of census and participants’ self-
definitions and those of their children mean that the granularity of ethnic
identifications is lost in the flattening work that a categorization involves.
However, where we have more detailed and specific self-descriptive par-
ticulars from participants we provide these in the tables in the Appendix.
Amongst the teaching staff participants only three of our total were men
(out of ten staff members), emphasising the continued over-representation of
women in primary school teaching. In terms of ethnicity, the majority of
teachers were White British. The children’s profiles were much more gender-
balanced, although as we noted above the number of boys in Scarlet Class in
Fernhill School stood out. The children whose parents we interviewed
described their ethnicity and we allocated parental social class to those chil-
dren whose parents we interviewed. We also asked all the children to describe
themselves and some spoke about their culture, religion and ethnicity. We
Back at School: Research Methods, Design and Reflexive… 79
do not have social class information for children whose parents we did not
interview, although sometimes the discussions with the children provided
an indicator of a family’s living environment. Tables A1, A2, and A3 in the
Appendix detail the composition of the three classrooms.
Issues of confidentiality were continually present and required particu-
lar care. While we worked through the standard informed consent and
agreement procedures with each participant, the lived realities of research
meant that confidentiality and consent remain live throughout the
research process. This was especially the case for us as we were interview-
ing adults, many of whom knew each other and who often at times shared
personal information about other parents in their network or with chil-
dren in the classroom. Another area of concern we anticipated was par-
ents inquiring about what their children had said about their friendships
and our consent agreement with children assured them that only if we
were concerned about any harm would we disclose any information they
gave us. However, while there was an occasional question from a parent
or teacher, this was an infrequent rather than regular experience. On only
one occasion did a child talk to us about experiences of bullying (with the
child’s permission we informed the class teacher, who then intervened to
address this. For more details, please see the case of Layla in Chap. 4).
A priority was for the children to feel safe, comfortable and confident
with us when talking about their friendships and social worlds. We spent
the early observation stages of the fieldwork in each classroom slowly
becoming familiar to the children in each class before we began any inter-
viewing. The issues of power and agency in conducting research with
children have been written about extensively (see, for example, Alanen
and Mayall 2001) and this slow research approach and immersion in the
classrooms allowed us to observe friendship and classroom relations and
interactions as well as to learn to fit into the children’s routines and build
trust with them. We made attempts to set ourselves apart from the teacher
and other adults in the classroom, reiterating to the children that we were
not staff and encouraging them to call us by our first names as well as ask
us questions. This also helped to signal to the children that we valued
80 C. Vincent et al.
both being able to spend time with them and what they told us about
their lives. While we were very careful about explaining that the interview
was their choice, no child opted not to participate and this raises ques-
tions about how easy would it have been for a child to refuse to take part
given the conformity shown by the rest of the group and our status as an
adult presence in their classroom. Our authority was also implicit in the
way in which the classroom teachers and assistants interacted with us in
each of the three classrooms, and were supportive of us conducting the
study. As well as getting consent from the children we also had to obtain
parental consent and all information sent home about the project and
circulated in the playgrounds was translated as required.
We developed a bespoke information sheet and consent form for the
children, which we read through with them at the start of each interview.
This was written in accessible language and stressed the confidentiality of
our interview and that the children could withdraw at any time. The
interviews, usually around 45 minutes long, were audio-recorded, and
were held in a separate space, away from the classroom. This meant that
the interviews were a break from regular routine, and as such appeared to
be welcomed by the children.
The pairing of the children for their interviews was carefully planned and
the pairs were chosen after much consideration following discussion with
the teacher. We suggested that the pairs comprise children who were not
particularly close friends and who did not regularly spend time together.
This was to avoid any of the children being hurt or upset, should it turn out
that their ‘close’ friends did not appear to fully reciprocate their friendship.
The interviews were conversationally designed and prompted by the
children drawing their social maps of their friendship networks (we asked
them to draw themselves in the middle of the paper with their friends
around them, the spacing of the pictures representing the level of emo-
tional closeness). These drawings allowed us to later construct ‘friendship
maps’ of the entire classroom and learn about reciprocity of friendship and
mixing across ethnic and class lines. These social maps also helped prompt
discussion of friendships and moved the interview away from being a for-
mal and intimidating discussion for the children. Many children produced
intricate and carefully constructed friendship maps, using the brightly
coloured pencils we gave them to demonstrate the physical appearance of
their friends. (The children’s networks are discussed in Chap. 4).
Back at School: Research Methods, Design and Reflexive… 81
The process of recruiting parents was not always easy and varied in each
school. For example, at Leewood School there was a more of a willingness
from parents to participate in the project, but greater reluctance in
Junction and Fernhill Schools. While the time we spent in the school
environment helped with the recruitment process we felt there were a
variety of reasons for agreeing or declining our invitations to participate,
which ranged from disposition, to the time parents had available, to how
it might benefit the school, to interest in the project, to caution about the
project and so forth. Given that our study explored friendship across
social and ethnic difference, it was important that we managed to recruit
a diverse sample of parents and there were a number of ways in which our
recruitment was facilitated. We first handed out and sent home informa-
tion about the project to parents. Direct contact with parents in the play-
ground at the beginning and end of the school day was an important way
82 C. Vincent et al.
The interviews with parents were often extensive as they involved con-
versation about their children, their children’s social and school lives,
their own lives and friendship networks and the locality. Talking about
social class and ethnicity was often overlaid with a variety of codes,
silences, absences and avoidances. While participants were mostly open
and confident in discussing ethnic and cultural difference, they were
noticeably less at ease talking about social class and difference, reflecting
the extent to which diversity and multiculturalism are very much part of
public debates and contemporary contestations, whereas social class
inequalities—especially involving children—appeared to prompt greater
levels of ambiguity. Terms such as ‘background’ were used by some of the
adult participants as a code for talking about social class difference. Again,
in all these interviews, we engaged in a range of performances—the
detached researcher, the empathetic researcher, the researcher who is also
a parent, the researcher who is also familiar with the locality—to enable
openness and reassurance.
In many ways, the interviews with school staff in the three case study
schools were the most straightforward of all our interviews. Once we had
succeeded in negotiating access, the school staff were very willing to help,
and we found a common ground of identity as education professionals.
While in some ways this contradicts the notion of the schools as
bounded total institutions it was an implicit appeal to the shared identity
of us as ‘all being educational professionals’ that perhaps meant we
encountered a willingness to be interviewed and an interest in the proj-
ect. In addition to the class teacher and the head/deputy head, we inter-
viewed other important staff members with responsibility for the
children’s well-being. At Fernhill and Junction Schools we also succeeded
in contacting and speaking with members from the governing body. At
all three schools, we also interviewed parents connected to the parent or
parent-teacher association’s committee (PA or PTA). These associations
were responsible for fundraising for the school through organising events,
such as fetes. We asked senior members of staff to give us an overview of
each school’s history and their sense of demographic changes in the local-
ity and in the school, as well as the school’s approach to friendships and
emotional literacy. With the Year 4 class teachers, we also asked about the
children’s friendships and how friendship is discussed in the classroom.
84 C. Vincent et al.
With the parents who formed part of the parent association, we were
interested to find out about the composition of the PA as well as about
activities organised by them.
We have detailed the participants and strategies for engaging them in
the project and the process of coming back to participants and dissemi-
nating findings was particularly important. We prepared three sets of
findings reports for each school, for parents, children and staff. The find-
ings report relating to parents’ interviews was sent home to parent-
participants, as well as being placed in public and accessible high traffic
parts of the school. We returned to each of the classes we had worked
with, and gave a child-friendly presentation of the findings for the chil-
dren, as well as a written copy of these, and a ‘lucky dip’ of thank you
gifts. For the feedback to the schools, we arranged for face-to-face meet-
ings with interested staff in each school and provided a written copy of
these findings. Additionally, we had a project website and blog in which
we presented emerging findings from our research. In a bespoke dissemi-
nation innovation to try to reconnect with a larger number of people
than those directly involved in the study, we attended the summer fairs at
our three schools and were able to meet families and talk about the
research with them. We set up a tombola stall for the children, and dis-
tributed a summary of our final report, as well as a booklet about chil-
dren’s friendship with anonymised extracts from the children’s interviews.
The outcomes of these multiple engagement strategies are not quantifi-
able and the reports tended to be diplomatically and carefully constructed,
reflecting the difficulties of making critical comment in environments in
which we were ethnographically connected and attached and been given
access to. But, throughout the life of the project we used a variety of ways
to maintain an open and transparent relationship with those involved in
the study.
Conclusions
In this chapter, we have provided an account of the research methods,
design and processes of the project, and we have also used it to explore
our relationship with the schools and the differently positioned
Back at School: Research Methods, Design and Reflexive… 85
the case when the research involves social difference and stratification. This
requires a certain dexterity on the part of researchers and the concept of
dramaturgy, which emphasises how shifting modes of self-presentation
(necessary for all social interaction) provide a more co-productive space for
understanding how qualitative social researchers (sometimes consciously
but mostly unconsciously) facilitate the safe places and field relationships
for attentive dialogue and exchange with a range of participants who are
very differentially positioned within a social setting. In our next chapter we
begin our discussions of the findings that emerged from this commitment
to attentive dialogue.
Notes
1. We have anonymised all the schools and we decided, given concerns about
identifiability, not to use the names of the individual boroughs the schools
were in (see also Neal et al. 2016).
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World. London/New York: Palgrave Macmillan.
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Sage.
Back at School: Research Methods, Design and Reflexive… 87
Introduction
In this chapter, we introduce the reader to the 78 child participants, an
empirically dense and, we recognise, potentially confusing population.
To minimise the possibility for confusion, we have featured all the chil-
dren on the friendship maps for each class and they are all listed in the
appendices. Drawing on the children’s pictures and interviews, we develop
a careful analysis of the children’s friendship networks within their class-
room, discussing their make-up in terms of social similarities and differ-
ences. Picking up on the Bourdieusian concepts mentioned in Chap. 2,
the diverse classroom is where the children’s habitus, socialised within the
family, comes into contact with difference in the field of urban
schooling.
We illustrate how children’s friendship practices and management of
complex diversity in the routine settings of their classrooms involved
how much their more negative experiences were visible to the teachers, or
indeed to us. It was only when we started analysing the children’s discus-
sions of their friendships that we became more fully aware of the com-
plexities of ongoing power plays in some of the friendship networks. The
desire for inclusion and varying degrees of uncertainty around the secu-
rity of that inclusion seemed present for nearly all the children. This is
not to suggest that the peer groups in the three classrooms offered atypi-
cally hostile environments, but rather that perhaps adults generally do
not notice the degree of emotional energy that peer relationships demand
of children. Similarly, Carter and Nutbrown (2016) comment on the
‘strategies’ the five- and six-year-olds in their research use to try and
ensure that they have someone to play with at playtime (for example, not
being late in the playground to avoid games having started, or taking a
small toy to school to play with in case they do find themselves alone). To
an adult eye, in the absence of visible distress, the children are simply
going out to play, and the accompanying affective management remains
hidden. This theme is introduced here in relation to the children’s
thoughts about their relationships, whilst their teachers’ views are dis-
cussed in Chap. 5.
In this chapter, our focus is the children’s emerging dispositions
towards difference. We begin with a review of some key literature on
children’s friendships across social and ethnic difference, noting its
emphasis on the way in which children are aware of and also often com-
petently navigate difference, ethnic difference in particular, although the
literature on adolescents suggests a growing conformity to homophilous
relationships. We then turn to our interview and pictorial data (from
children’s hand-drawn social maps), to offer some insights into the expe-
rience of friendship in middle childhood, where the children are both
active in making and maintaining relationships, but also regulated by
parents and teachers. In the final sections of the chapter, we identify the
points of commonality and shared interests and identity that bring the
children together. We map the friendship networks in the three school
classes, to reveal both the influence of established social divisions, and
frequent instances of children making friends across difference (particu-
larly ethnic difference), and we then explore in detail how the children
discuss difference. As part of this, we include a focus on religion as a way
92 C. Vincent et al.
As is the case with adult friendships (see Chaps. 1 and 2), friendships
for children are often assumed to have an informal social cohesive prop-
erty, bringing individuals together despite differences in their back-
grounds, thereby facilitating ‘social mix’ and bridging different worlds.
This assumption has been investigated particularly with ethnically
diverse adolescents, (e.g. Nayak 2006; Hollingworth and Mansaray
2012; Rhamie et al. 2012; Harris 2014). This body of research has
explored friendship processes in schools, colleges, estates, youth groups,
neighbourhoods and communities in a range of cultural contexts.
Schools and colleges are a reoccurring site of research attention which
reflects their capacity to ‘bring together’ often-diverse local popula-
tions, and this underpins the argument on the importance of integrated
The Children’s Friendships: Difference, Commonality… 93
schools (see e.g. Cantle and Kaufman 2016). In this way, some schools
serve as a setting for the exploration of the ‘compulsory’ encounter of dif-
ference. The extent to which young people navigate and manage levels of
diversity in their day-to-day settings can involve cultural openness and
hybridity as well as ‘harder lines’ of cultural defensiveness (Harris 2014).
Some studies of adolescents suggest limitations to social mixing across
ethnic and, in particular, social class groupings. (e.g. Hollingworth and
Mansaray 2012; Rhamie et al. 2012; Hollingworth 2015). There is rela-
tively little work exploring cross-class friendships among younger chil-
dren, but there are examples of work on primary schools with ethnically
diverse pupils that evidences young children engaging in cross-difference
friendships. Rosalyn George’s (2007) study of primary-aged girls’ friend-
ships involving multi-ethnic groups focuses on the patterns of power
within the girls’ hierarchical networks. Irene Bruegel’s (2006) study, also
referenced in Chap. 1, found that young children’s friendships did cross
ethnic divides. Relatedly, Knifsend and Juvonen (2014) used the con-
struct of social identity complexity (Roccas and Brewer 2002) to examine
friendship groups amongst 11-year-olds in ethnically diverse schools in
the US. In the study, social identity complexity describes the overlap
between social groups with which children identify, based on common
interests such as football and dance. They found social connectedness
across ethnic groups increased when children perceived a connection of
interests. Correspondingly, Sedano, using Bourdieusian concepts in an
in-depth study of ‘Moroccan’ and ‘Gypsy’ 7–13-year-old children in
Andalucía, Spain, argues that ethnicity is not a divisive force in children’s
friendships, rather it is the ‘gradual construction of shared cultural pat-
terns’ (2012, p. 382) that influences friendship-making, as the passing of
time allows for the development of points of commonality and the
appearance of ‘cultural proximity’ (p. 386).
Young children’s cognitive recognition of difference is core to Connolly’s
work on young children and patterns of division. In Racism in Children’s
Lives (1998), he evidences the extent to which children as young as five,
in an urban, ethnically mixed, working-class area very much recognised,
ascribed, and engaged in racialised distinctions between themselves. Here,
Connolly highlights the intersection of ‘their ethnicity, gender, class and
sexuality. These all came together within specific contexts to provide the
94 C. Vincent et al.
Well I kind of like Musa a lot because whenever we play a game and I’m
getting a bit confused he will explain it to me. He will kind of understand.
(Tyler, Black British, Junction1)
The Children’s Friendships: Difference, Commonality… 95
When we are talking we both laugh at the same time, and I like [my best
friend] because she is not like surface, and she is really kind to me. My
friends don’t like ever leave me alone, when I’m sad they come next to me
and they don’t never make me sad (Iper, White other, Fernhill)
Friends don’t really want you going to play with someone else [in the class]
because they feel their love is lost. So you don’t really play with other peo-
ple. (Krystina, White other, Junction)
She never apologises, so that is why Courtney sometimes can be really nice,
but can be really horrible in some ways…She is popular and everyone is her
friend…Anyone that I start to play with, she always goes up to them […]
she is turning them away from me, so I can’t have no-one to play with […]
I want to be her friend but I don’t really want to be her friend. (Nayna,
Black Caribbean, Fernhill)
We identified only one clear example of bullying from within the Year
4 class groups.2 The class teacher (at Junction) thought the situation had
been resolved, but the victim, in talking with Humera, disclosed that it
was still ongoing:
Every day [other children] kept on bothering me and bothering me, and
after that I told the teacher and she was like ‘If they keep on doing it, tell
me’ and they kept on doing it, and I told the teacher, and then she said the
same thing again […] And then after they kept on throwing things at me…
and [the teacher] took them to the [headteacher], but they keep on doing
it…a little bit, not often […] They are popular in the class, so I think I
[should] listen to them. (Layla, Black African)
Helen (White British): I have my friend that I have been playing with
since I first got to school, called Aisha and she
has moved [house, so she does not live close to
Helen anymore]. I have been to every single one
of her birthdays and all I see is me there, and my
birthdays all I see is her there. Because that is
how nice she is to me […] But now she has
switched to Queenie [another girl in the friend-
ship group] a bit more.
Andy (White British): Every time a new person arrives in class I get
worried that they are going to be a best friend to
somebody who is my best friend, one of my
friends.
Helen: And they are going to be taking your best friend?
That is what I always worry. (Leewood School)
The Children’s Friendships: Difference, Commonality… 97
I just wish me and Musa could just play together, just because like Tyler
and Ollie are always getting into arguments….we kind of get blamed for it.
Tyler is close to Ollie because they started in Nursery [together]. They were
like kind of like friends before like for nearly their whole life. And they just
get into arguments [now]…It just gets more and more annoying (Sam,
White British, Junction School)
A few children felt lonely—Samad (Black African) said about the chil-
dren in his class that he identified as friends ‘they don’t talk to me all that
much’—but only one child, whose conversation with us shows that she is
clearly disenchanted with some of her peer group, denied a wish for many
friends. Her comments draw attention to the felt imperative to be socia-
ble and to mix.
People don’t really like me that much ‘cause I am feeling really silent, and
people think that you should be with everybody else, but I really want to
be myself with few less people in a small corner. (Fatimah, Black African,
Leewood)
What these narratives show is the way the children’s friendships prac-
tices were both active and passive. They frequently discussed their ability
to resolve quarrels without adult help, although adult strictures and
school practices were clearly reflected in their actions and attitudes: ‘If
you say sorry then you can be their friend again and they won’t mind’
(Ahmed); ‘Sometimes we disagree with each other, we just forget it, like
next, the next minute we just apologise and carry on with the day’ (Joyce);
and certain children seemed to inhabit a role as peacemaker, one that
could be successful but as Queenie (Black Caribbean) noted, laborious:
Helen and Pippa really get into fights sometimes. And it is not like that
great, because we have to sort it out all the time […] because they are really
98 C. Vincent et al.
angry…. I go and see what they say about each other and then I get them
together and I say, ‘You say sorry for saying that’, ‘You say sorry for saying
that’ and then I make them shake hands (NB, this is a copy of the restorative
justice processes as practised in the school) and hug and they are all friends
again…Sometimes that works…It is really hard work. (Queenie, Leewood)
However, the children were also passive because they were subject to
adult decisions. Children could be moved into different classes by teach-
ers, and of course, to different schools, by their parents, often with no
continuing contact, (Samad, Black African, Fernhill: ‘Now I have a lot of
little bit friends, but Jameel [who has left the school] never leaved me. He
stayed close to me’).
The children’s worlds, then, were coloured by highly intense experi-
ences of friendship, which caused them both happiness and occasional
pain and, as with adult friendships, children’s friendships were an emo-
tional resource for being in and managing the classroom and the school.
Wingens 2014) and those that do occur less ‘stable’ (Sime and Fox 2015),
nearly all of the children in our research had close friendships with others
in their class who were from a different ethnic group to themselves (we
defined ‘close’ as meaning amongst their ‘top five’ friends). This indicates
the importance of context; as living and going to school in the highly
diverse localities in which we were researching presents fewer opportuni-
ties for identifying solely with one’s own ethnic group, than in situations
where children are divided by themselves or others into say, two main
groups (e.g. migrant and ‘native’, White and Asian, Roma and non-
Roma). Such binary divisions, often made by adults, miss other potential
similarities and divisions between children, and their ‘multiple cultural
frameworks’ (Sime and Fox 2015, p. 388). Sedano, drawing on Bourdieu’s
concept of field as a socially structured space, argues that for the children
in her study (discussed above), ethnicity was of relatively little impor-
tance in the ‘play’ field where the children had most agency (compared to
school and home). We also found close cross-class friendships, but fewer
in number than cross-ethnic friendships. However, a majority of the
children had close friends—in their top five—who had a different social
background to themselves. When we looked at who the children said
their closest friend was, there were still a significant number of friend-
ships across ethnic difference (nearly three quarters). There were far fewer
‘best friend’ friendships across class difference (just over a quarter).
Across the 78 child participants in all three school classes there were
identifiable friendship groups. However, sharing classroom and play
cultures was a source of commonality and bonding, and meant that
membership of the different friendship groups was fairly fluid, rather
than completely fixed. In each of the Year 4 classes the children were
encouraged by their class teacher to develop a shared identity as a mem-
ber of their particular classroom, so that they were frequently hailed as
a collective—‘Crimson class’, for example. In addition to this wider
shared classroom identification, there was a ‘loose’ set of affective con-
nections that existed between the children around music, computer
and playground games. Choice of leisure activities is, of course, heavily
coded by social class where adults are concerned (Bennett et al. 2009),
and we discuss in Chap. 5 the classed implications of how the children
spend their out-of-school time. However, we suggest that for children
100 C. Vincent et al.
Social Networks
The friendship maps (see Figs. 4.1, 4.2 and 4.3 below) have been con-
structed from each of the 78 individual friendship maps that the child
participants drew as part of their interview. The maps shown here are
then aggregate patterns showing the dominant friendship clusters, after
analysing the children’s interviews and their drawings. The maps show
clusters only, rather than connecting lines to show reciprocity/non-
reciprocity, as we wish to avoid giving the impression of static groups,
because this would not adequately represent the ‘reality’ the children
described to us. We did, however, collect data on reciprocity through the
The Children’s Friendships: Difference, Commonality…
Fig. 4.1 Friendship map of Crimson class. (NB: The social class information featured in Figs. 4.1, 4.2 and 4.3 is derived from
parental occupation and education, so is only available for those children whose parents also participated in the research.
101
Although only a few miles from Leewood School and Crimson class the
friendship relations and groupings in Junction School and Burgundy class
were distinct. The geography of the school and its location in an area that
was only recently experiencing gentrification—as well as the settlement of
newer Eastern European and Latin American migrants—can be seen to be
shaping the higher levels of diversity in all the friendship groups. The
previous year, the staff had intervened to separate four children, two boys
and two girls, who had been caught up in a web of apparently destructive
relationships. A complicated intervention was in place, using lunchtime
clubs and the two playgrounds that ensured that these children were not
all in the same place at lunchtime and some of this group had been moved
from Burgundy into the parallel class. The class teacher saw Burgundy
class as not currently having clear friendship groups, but rather temporary
alliances which ‘dissipate quite regularly’, with the exception of a small
group of White middle-class children who he felt were held together by
their shared experience of outside activities and their parents’ friendships.
However, our conversations with the children revealed stronger bonds
and networks than was suggested by their teacher, although there were
children who did not clearly belong to particular friendship groups.
There was a group of three White girls and one British Asian girl
(Krystina, Gwyneth, Bethany and Amy), and a multi-ethnic quartet of
boys (Sam, Ollie, Tyler, and Musa), the latter now experiencing some
106 C. Vincent et al.
tension, with one of the boys (Ollie) moving to the periphery of that
group. Both these groups mixed out of school. A larger, more fluid group
of boys play football together often (Alex, Ahmed, Usman, Sultan,
Abdullah and Omar). However, relationships within this latter group are
largely confined to school, as is the case with another group of mixed
ethnicity girls (Amica, Tina, Grace, Jamilah, Arzu and Amina). The chil-
dren’s interviews revealed more tensions than in Leewood School, with
one girl (Layla) in particular describing her experience of prolonged bul-
lying from another child in the classroom (see Chap. 3 on how we
responded as researchers to this situation). Being Muslim in Burgundy
class was more frequently discussed in the children’s interviews, than in
Crimson class where there were only two practising Muslim children. In
Burgundy class, children talking about participating in after-school
Koranic classes were common, and Eid (which took place during the
fieldwork) was talked about as an exciting event, (although Eid was barely
being celebrated by Junction School in marked contrast to the emphasis
placed upon Christmas there). Two recent arrivals were relatively isolated:
Juan who was of Latin American heritage and recently arrived from
Spain, and Jordan who was on the autistic spectrum (Jordan is further
discussed in Chap. 5).
Thus Burgundy class had more fluid friendship groups than those in
Crimson class, although there is a parallel of a child with complex needs
being sidelined. The quartet of boys—Sam, Musa, Ollie and Tyler—who
were mixed in terms of class and ethnicity and who also socialised out of
school at each other’s houses (which required parental engagement) were,
as can be seen, relatively unusual in this research.
drivers of social change. The class was also unusual for its marked gender
imbalance with just seven girls. Additionally, friendships in Fernhill were
affected by the policy of mixing up the two classes in each year group for
the school year to come. This was done mainly for behaviour manage-
ment reasons, although staff also argued that this encouraged the chil-
dren to make friends widely within their year group. The disadvantage
was that friends were separated. Even though we did the fieldwork in the
summer (i.e. third) term of the year, one boy, Samad, remained fairly
isolated within the class (mentioned by one other child as a friend, and
not featuring in anyone’s accounts of their closest friendships), and talked
wistfully of his friends in the parallel class.
In Scarlet class, as in the other two classes, there was a strong gender
divide although two of the girls (Noor and Bella) played with the boys
occasionally ‘because the girls are all like girly girls and the boys always
play fun games’ (Noor, Black African). The loose network of boys mainly
played football (Ammar, Donatello, Caine, Usain, Finley, Ali, Aslam),
although, as in the other two classes, there was a group of n on-football-
playing boys (David, Jason, Adil and Andre). Andre (White other) had
realised that football offered integration into the main boy group, (‘I
want to start playing football but the boys may think I’m weird, because
I am crap at football’). The opportunities to play football were also lim-
ited by the staff, and a variety of chasing and ball games were encouraged.
Caine, who received considerable adult intervention around peer group
interactions and behaviour, was treated warily by some of the other chil-
dren. Few of the boys’ friendships went outside school, although the
occasional meeting up of Aslam and Usain is discussed in Chap. 7.
Exceptions to this were Adil and Andre, and David and Jason. Both pairs
of boys had mothers who had also made friends.
In terms of the girls’ friendships, there are two identifiable pairs, both
ethnically mixed: Courtney and Kelly were close friends, with Nayna in
an uneasy triangle with them. Serena and Iper were also close friends at
school. It is in this context that the remaining two girls, Noor and Bella
will often go and play with the boys. The girls do mix to a limited extent
outside school. Again we see in Scarlet class, as in the other two classes,
that the children mixed easily across ethnicity, and that enthusiasm for
football drew a mixed ethnic group of boys together.
108 C. Vincent et al.
The children did recognise and were aware of the high levels of cultural
diversity that were part of their daily worlds. In their conversations with
us, and in our observations of classroom and playground interactions the
children appeared to perceive and interpret social diversity, including eth-
nic, religious and linguistic diversity, as a given and very much part of
everyday social life. The schools all encouraged explicitly celebratory sen-
sibilities around diversity; each held International Evenings for families
who were encouraged to bring food from the parents’ country of origin,
110 C. Vincent et al.
Oh yeah like the school don’t really have a lot of the same cultures, [we are]
all mixed. It is not really—like you wouldn’t say that there is like one popu-
lar culture here, because literally we are all mixed… you get to learn more
about other people and how they live and stuff.
Nayna was paired with Aslam (Black African) in their interview with
us, and several lines further on, Aslam also picks up this celebratory
language
Some of [my friends] are from Somalia, Romania, Turkey, Poland, England,
Morocco. There’s many different cultures at this school like nationalities
and stuff, so it is kind of nice to have different mixes and mixtures in the
school so we have someone new to play with and someone that we can talk
to in their own language and stuff.
difference to interpret and make sense of their worlds. This took place
through a range of sites and signs which were read through difference—
dress, types of food, languages spoken, what children were allowed to do
at home, the possessions other children had, holidays, pets and so on. The
conceptualisation of difference by the children in our study counters the
narrative of ‘social invisibility’ (see Hunter et al. 2012) that suggests that
young children do not perceive social difference nor assign it any social
significance due to their ‘innocent’, unformed nature. The children were
not, however, necessarily interested in or knowledgeable about difference
in a cultural sense, although they were taught about different religions
and customs as part of the curriculum. In the interview with Bethany
(White British) and Tyler (Black British), both at Junction School, the
conversation turns to Eid, as Tyler’s close friend Musa (British Asian) is
absent from school to celebrate Eid. However, Tyler says he knows noth-
ing about the festival except that ‘they always go fun places like funfairs
and things’.3 Bethany’s friend, Krystina (White other), has a different
national background to her, and Bethany does note some engagement
with this, saying she has learnt some words and a song in Krystina’s first
language. These examples illustrate the children’s openness to difference
but also their partial and uneven capacities to respond to it.
The children’s friendship maps and accounts also demonstrated the
influence of social divisions on their friendships. Explicit discussion
about ethnicity, race and/or class was less common. In the interviews, the
children negotiated racial differences in a relatively straightforward man-
ner, discussing suitable colours to use in their drawings to denote skin
tone, for example. Noor (Black African) at Fernhill was quick to correct
Andre (White other) who, whilst drawing her, refers to her as ‘brown’
(‘Black. Here you go’—Noor hands him the correct pencil). Tyler, in the
interview with Bethany referred to above, did express surprise when
glancing at Bethany’s drawing of her friends both at school and outside,
commenting ‘Oh my God you have so many blondes, one, two, three,
four, five.’ Bethany’s network is indeed composed largely composed of
White British girls. Krystina, with her Eastern European background,
adds a slightly exotic touch in which Bethany is interested, but Krystina
largely fits in with Bethany’s range of interests and activities, so does not
disturb her homophilous network.
112 C. Vincent et al.
Gabra: I like going to Pippa’s house because it feels a bit weird when
Pippa comes to my house.
INT: Why does it feel weird?
Gabra: Because I don’t know what to do. [….] And Pippa’s mum and
dad’s room and there’s a bathroom like inside and it’s like a
palace bathroom and it looks cool because the floor is like
stone.
INT: Marble?
Gabra: Yeah, marble and it looks so cool.
to wealth and income but social and cultural indicators such as educa-
tional attainment, housing conditions, and forms of leisure participation.
Each of these serves as a means of capturing the role of social and cultural
processes in generating divisions.
Thus an understanding or ‘seeing’ of difference based on materiality
was the mode in which diversity was most recurrent in children’s accounts
of difference. Morrow (2001) also points to this relationship between
social capital and symbolic capital in being points of negotiation in chil-
dren’s friendships. Symbolic markers such as particular material posses-
sions (e.g. branded goods) can provide a sense of belonging or familiarity
and thus facilitate social relationships. In an exchange between two chil-
dren in Leewood, the possession of the latest technology was a point in
which the two children who normally have little interaction, were able, in
the interview, to find commonality:
In this account the difference in the social worlds of Cain and Serena
is revealed, but the exchange also shows how they avoid shaming the
other; for example, Cain’s disbelief is directed towards us rather than
Serena herself, and her imagining of Iceland as a ‘funfair’ is positive. The
effect is to avoid a culturalist stigmatising of social class (Tyler 2013).
We continue to consider this capacity to navigate multiple differences
within friendship networks by considering the relationship with
religion.
Conclusion
Investigating the friendships of children in highly diverse primary
school settings allows us to explore how children from varied social,
religious, and ethnic backgrounds negotiate the complexities of their
particular micro-environments. The children viewed diversity as an
ordinary part of their everyday lives; but at the same time, as some-
thing that is the subject of a celebratory phenomenon by their schools.
These two positionings—the ordinary and the celebratory—make up a
social terrain that they are required to negotiate and manage. We have
suggested that the children drew on a multidimensional awareness of
difference to make sense of their worlds and their friendship relations.
Our work chimes with Connolly’s argument that young children are
very much engaged in identification processes that include conceptions
of ethnicity and class. However, unlike the more disadvantaged and/or
conflict environments of Connolly’s and Ramiah et al.’s work, the
diverse localities in this project meant that most of the children were
surrounded by intense levels of social, ethnic and religious differences
and were themselves constituents of these complex populations with
The Children’s Friendships: Difference, Commonality… 117
Notes
1. We have identified the children’s ethnicity here using census categories.
We are aware of the inadequacies of these, and the problematic of append-
ing ‘British’ to some groups and not all. However, to keep our account as
readable as possible and given the familiarity of the census categories to
readers, we would argue that they are suitable to use here. We distinguish
between Black Caribbean and Black African, where we have that informa-
tion. Otherwise we use the more general ‘Black British’. Where we have
fuller information, this is detailed in Appendix.
2. We collected details of another example of bullying referenced in Vincent
et al. 2017, but the child concerned was not in our target classes. The
mother had specifically asked participate in the research when she heard
of its topic.
The Children’s Friendships: Difference, Commonality… 119
3. Similarly:
4. See also Van Ausdale and Feagin 2002 for a discussion of other situations
where children place high status on racial/ethnic attributes of groups that
are minoritised and marginalised in wider American society.
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5
Children’s Agency and Adult
Intervention: Children’s Friendships
Through Adult Eyes
In brief: Teachers’ and parents’ engagement with and interventions into the
children’s friendships.
Introduction
Picking up on the point made at the end of Chap. 4 that the children’s
friendships are not independent of the adult world surrounding them,
this chapter focuses on adults’ intervention in and management of the
children’s friendships. We return to the point made in Chap. 1 that, fol-
lowing Eve (2002), we emphasise the importance of the context in which
friendships are formed and maintained, and from Pahl (2002) we take
the need to approach the friendship relation as personal but also socially
situated. We discuss here, first the role of teachers, and then that of par-
ents, in relation to the children’s friendships.
In our focus on the schools and teachers, we explore their policies and
practices in relation to friendship. We argue that the teachers’ knowledge
of the children’s friendships maps accurately onto the children’s accounts,
but that their efforts to engage in supportive practices around the chil-
dren’s friendships are undermined by the weight of other responsibilities,
and in the case of some teachers, their ‘common sense’ view that the
children’s friendships were light, flexible relationships. Moreover, some
children were positioned as better able to manage social relationships in
an emotionally competent way, and we argue that ‘the emotional can be
understood as a key form of capital’ (Holt et al. 2013, p. 34; referencing
Reay 2004), with those perceived to be struggling with appropriate inter-
actional behaviours subject to greater intervention and management
around their friendships.
The second part of the chapter turns to the parents and we argue that
despite their appreciation of diverse schools, few parents prioritised their
children having a diverse range of friends. We discuss the ease and com-
fort of homophily. How the children spent their out-of-school time was,
given their age, still heavily guided by their parents, and so varied depend-
ing on their parents’ circumstances and their sense of what is possible and
desirable in terms of how children spend their leisure time. We finish by
concluding that although the children retain some agency in terms of
their friendship practices, a full understanding of these practices needs to
include consideration of the adults in their lives as well as their peers.
were more likely to recognise that the children were aware of social differ-
ence—so Tanya (Black British) at Junction School discussed how historic
tension between local Turkish and Kurdish populations had affected the
children’s friendships, but that this tension had dissipated in recent years
making cross-ethnic friendship possible. Phillip (White British) at
Leewood School and Jacqui (mixed heritage) at Fernhill School talked of
the children recognising social inequalities (in terms of who had holidays
abroad and access to consumer goods). However, the teachers overlaid
their recognition of difference and inequality with an emphasis on equal
opportunities.
[As if talking to the children] ‘You are all equals when it comes down to it;
it is your parents who are different to each other. You are not different, your
experiences are different in life, but you have got equal access to everything
in the end and it starts here’.
So it is about kind of trying to inspire them and making them see that
okay so you don’t have all this stuff maybe, or you don’t do what Tommy
does when he goes home. You don’t go to Australia for two weeks [as one
child in the class did] but actually you can, you can, and it might not hap-
pen now but it can happen. You are no different to anybody else. So I think
a bit of empathy and just looking at everybody’s situation as—well every-
thing is possible isn’t it? […] As a teacher you do just think that way by
default, I imagine. (Jacqui, Fernhill School)
practices are seen as problematic. We illustrate too how some children are
positioned as ‘better at’ friendships than others. This reactive work is
underpinned by a sense amongst some staff that children’s friendships are
insubstantial, fluid relationships.
With regard to facilitating the children’s friendships, in terms of prac-
tices, there were considerable areas of commonality amongst the case-
study schools. They all had a range of both reactive and proactive strategies
with regard to supporting and developing friendships. The former included
circle time, ‘buddy’ schemes, alternative spaces for children not happy in
the playground and other interventions tailored for particular chil-
dren. The schools also used restorative justice and ‘peaceful problem solv-
ing’ approaches in response to quarrels.3 More proactive strategies included
circle time, Anti-Bullying Week (a national initiative), ‘action boxes’ (pri-
vate messages for the teacher), drama, adult mentors in the playground
organising games and art activities, reiterations of school vision statements
about ‘how we behave to others in our school’, and so on.
The staff to whom we spoke at the three schools all emphasised that
children’s emotional well-being was fundamental to enabling them to learn
and flourish at school, and they were often highly reflexive concerning the
school’s role in enabling well-being. However, they were working within
contexts shaped by the demands of a crowded timetable and a performative
policy agenda, leading to an increasing tendency to assess and quantify
school experiences (Ball 2017). Peer relationships fall under the curriculum
heading of Personal Social and Health Education (PSHE), a non-statutory,
but recommended area.4 PSHE includes social and emotional learning
(SEL) alongside a wide variety of other topics including drugs, safety,
health education, financial education, and more recently (introduced after
our field work for this project was complete), the promotion of ‘British
values’.5 PSHE is a baggy curricula ‘holdall’ for topics that do not fit within
the formal, assessed curriculum. Therefore, for schools and teachers, PSHE
is, at the time of writing, a liminal area in a curriculum governed by the
need—at primary stage—to ensure ‘good’ results in English and maths for
children transferring to secondary school (also George and Clay 2013).
These subjects are mandatory; currently PSHE is not. Different aspects of
PSHE have, for schools, become more or less visible over time, the promo-
tion of British values referred to above being the latest example of
128 C. Vincent et al.
[A decade ago] we were dealing with some very high-end children that
were probably misplaced in mainstream schools […] so we worked with
the whole team of schools [trialling SEAL] around behaviour improve-
ment. (Holly, deputy head, Fernhill)
Children’s Agency and Adult Intervention: Children’s… 129
I think our kids come from such a range of backgrounds [now], you know
we have some very eloquent children, some very well supported and privi-
leged children, but we have a huge number of children that don’t have
those advantages… so they come to school at disadvantage, their vocabu-
lary is limited. You know perhaps they don’t have the social skills. The
parents may not have the aspiration for them to do well and achieve […] I
don’t think we could deliver the curriculum unless we had a commitment
to that [SEAL].
I see kind of partnerships formed and then kind of dissipate quite regularly.
Especially with the girls […] you kind of see it chop and change (Gary,
White British, Junction)
It is very, very fluid, it is not stable at all’ (Jacqui, mixed heritage, Fernhill)
130 C. Vincent et al.
I am not so sure about how solid it all is really. I think they all get on with
each other because they are all together […] But I think if suddenly there
were two classes in that year and it got split up I am not sure how desperate
some of them would be to carry on playing with the people that they cur-
rently play with. I think they would be quite happy to switch (Phillip,
White British, second class teacher, Leewood)
Clearly, teachers are not all the same and even within our small sample
there were visible differences in how much weight was given to the chil-
dren’s friendships, with Tanya (Junction) and Holly (Fernhill) particu-
larly emphasising the need to make friendship an explicit focus for
learning and discussion with the children. Jacqui also spoke of how in her
seating arrangements, she tried to both respect children’s existing rela-
tionships, and also direct pairings in ways that ‘formed new bonds’. Tanya
(with a pastoral care post) and Gary (a class teacher) at Junction provide
an example of the differences in approach between teachers. Tanya
described the policy of placing Action Boxes in each class that allowed the
children to post a message to their teacher, alerting them to the child’s
concerns. She acknowledges that their use ‘depends on the class teacher
really’ and we found that Gary’s was infrequently used. Also at Junction,
in an attempt to reverse the marginalisation of PSHE in a crowded time-
table, senior leaders had decided to remove an assembly, so that the time
freed up could be used for circle time. However, Gary focused this time
on ‘learning behaviour’, feeling that ‘they had a huge amount of that
[circle time] last year’.
Our second point concerning teachers’ understandings, is that buried
in some of their accounts seemed to be a sense that there was a proper
way to ‘do’ friendship, what Allan (2011) calls a ‘friendship blueprint’,
which generated relationships more whole, complete and profound than
others. Holly seems to imply above that more ‘privileged’ children have
developed social skills, and tend not to display problematic friendship
behaviours. Similarly, one teacher at Leewood (Phillip) notes that it is the
close-knit group of five White middle-class girls in Crimson class, with
their out-of-school networks, shared activities, sleepovers, and so on,
whom he sees as having friendships with ‘deeper roots’. However, this
understanding overlooks the extent to which such out-of-school activities
132 C. Vincent et al.
So how you behaved, what you showed other people, your facial expres-
sions, your body language. When you are playing games, are you fair?
When you are doing activities, are you able to let someone else have a
choice? Can you also listen to people’s points? So we worked a lot on that.
Your behaviour in class, do you listen, because if you don’t listen people see
that you are getting in trouble, they might not want to be drawn to that.
So we worked a lot on that and now the child […] is there playing with all
kinds of different children. (Darren)
What is terribly interesting about Lucas and Peter was, I had a bit of a fight
with the parents last year because they didn’t want Lucas and Peter to be
friends with one another […] And you are kind of thinking, well how fan-
tastic that they have—because they love one another […] but we have been
kind of pushed to say—and I understand because I think they felt that the
others weren’t being friends with them but I don’t think they ever will—I
don’t think they can. They can be really lovely to them and really friendly.
But I don’t think they can be friends.
134 C. Vincent et al.
In our interviews with them, it became clear that the boys’ mothers
were not rejecting the boys’ existing friendship, but were concerned that
the other children were encouraged to be kind to their boys, rather than
to seek them out as equals. They were challenging the view that the able-
bodied/disabled divide was sufficiently fixed so as to make friendships
impossible across this dimension of difference. In an example of Foucault’s
‘bio-politics’—contestations over ‘the vital characteristics of human exis-
tence’ (Rabinow and Rose 2006, p. 196)—Lucas’s and Peter’s mothers,
wanting more mixing, successfully insisted that their children were not
always put together and that they spent more time in the classroom (not
outside it with their Teaching Assistants (TAs).
Jordan at Junction School was on the autistic spectrum. He had
recently transferred from another school, and had not, when we were in
Burgundy class, made any friendships according to his mother. At the
time we conducted the interviews with the children (although this later
changed), he received the most segregated educational experience of all
the children across the three schools, as he spent nearly all his time sitting
in a corner of the classroom with his TA. His mother described his friend-
ships with children out of school as including a close friendship with
another child on the spectrum, and also with neuro-typical children.
However, his teacher commented that the most that could be expected
was for the other children to ‘be kind’.
The children kind of make sure he is accommodated and they are very, very
accepting and supportive of him […] If he wants to play games, they will
play with him and they will involve him, and he kind of just does what he
does […] They are being kind to him. I think it would be difficult to form
friendships with Jordan because the communication is very difficult…I
don’t know how much there is a kind of conversation going on that you
would characterise as a friendship, a strong friendship (Gary, teacher,
Burgundy class, Junction School)
Children’s Agency and Adult Intervention: Children’s… 135
Although after our main fieldwork period, the school worked to create
situations in which Jordan could be more effectively integrated into the
class, again it was his mother Pat who played a lead role in addressing his
social relations. In a re-interview, she described organizing a birthday trip
to the cinema and to a restaurant popular with local children, and inviting
the whole class. Several other parents offered to help and nearly the entire
class attended in a ‘moment’ that drew together very different families, and
provided Jordan with a birthday party experience relatively common
amongst neuro-typical children (at least those from families with sufficient
economic capital). We argue here that the ‘truth discourse’ concerning
friendship and children with complex needs as promulgated by the two
class teachers at Leewood and Junction Schools, laid a limited expectation
on the other children of ‘being kind’. This was understood by the teachers
as a realistic common-sense response to the realities of disability. It was
then left to the children’s parents to challenge these ‘barriers to being’
(Thomas 1999, cited in Connors and Stalker 2007) as best they could.
from the top down; instead, power relations are ‘a dense web that passes
through apparatuses and institutions without being exactly localized in
them’ (Foucault 1998, p. 96). As a result, the teachers’ understandings
do not define the children’s subjectivities, and even the most ‘vulnera-
ble’ retain some freedom and agency with regard to their friendships.
Many of the intricacies of children’s peer groups remain hidden from
adults (including researchers). It is difficult for adults to ‘see’ as pre-
teen children see; hence the frequent teacher emphasis on the casual
and fluid nature of many of the children’s alliances that acts to ration-
alise and minimise what to the children are emotive and major hap-
penings. The teachers’ reactive and targeted interventions and strategies
are understandable given the many responsibilities laid upon them in
the contemporary primary school setting. However, our interviews
with the children lead us to argue that such approaches miss the qui-
eter exclusion and marginalisation of children, girls especially (also
George 2007), who conduct their relationships under the adult radar.
Only some children make visible problems and tensions. Tayna
(Junction School) talks of ‘allegiances that you would not call friend-
ships’, where there is an unbalanced play of power, for instance, by one
child over another. Then there were children whose loneliness was not
recognised. These children are generally not seen as problematic in
terms of friendship, because their difficulties and distress do not play
out in confrontations.
We have rehearsed some themes within the critiques of social and
emotional learning here; namely, SEL’s disciplinary focus on the indi-
vidual. However, we are not suggesting that this work should disappear
from schools. If teachers find the space in which to emphasise SEL as
part of PSHE, they have a fair amount of autonomy over how they do
so. A recent study of SEAL initiatives (Bannerjee et al. 2014) recom-
mends whole-school and universal (rather than targeted) approaches. If
teachers were able to focus on the subject of friendship as an important
topic for all children, and not solely as a site for the production of well-
behaved, self-governing bodies, a different approach could be possible.
This would require that issues and topics for discussion would not be
guided primarily by teachers’ concern with behaviour management, but
Children’s Agency and Adult Intervention: Children’s… 137
I think the fact that [the children] spend six or seven hours in school with
their friends five days a week and a lot of time is playing and you know, it
is fantastic, you know, learning about other people’s cultures, and religion,
everyone learns about other people’s religion [in all state schools] that is
fine, but just to learn about other people’s cultures and to hear them speak
other languages, there are kids in their class who speak two or three lan-
guages. […] I do feel very strongly that our kids are growing up in a very
multicultural world …if they live in London they will need to be tolerant
of other cultures and religions. (Clive, White British middle-class father,
Junction School)
Thus, for Clive, the diversity of the school can offer what Reay et al.
(2011) refer to as ‘multicultural capital’ to White British, middle-class
children that will allow them to negotiate diverse employment, social and
residential settings when they are older. Diversity, then, for some parents,
remains at a distance, something ‘tolerated’, rather than directly engaged
Children’s Agency and Adult Intervention: Children’s… 139
with. Olivia, with a daughter in the White British middle-class girls’ clus-
ter in Crimson class, Leewood School (see Chap. 4), reflects on the
homogeneity of this friendship cluster.
I wonder if [children] are going for similar kids who have got, like I said,
similar radio on in the background, similar books, similar newspapers,
similar kinds of outlook and faith, if they have got a faith. So they are going
for the familiar. And it is boosted by parents who encourage it…I like the
parents therefore you can be friends with and we can have coffee…It flows
more easily…the easy path. Whereas if [daughter] was friends with
Queenie, beautiful girl, black skin, yeah it would be different. I think we
are all a bit racist inside, may be not racist, just culturalist. (Olivia, White
British middle-class mother, Leewood School)
Oliver’s friends parents are not our friends […] So Tyler’s mum, I am prob-
ably old enough to be her mother, in fact probably older than her mother
[…] It has been quite easy to establish – even though she and I will never
be friends because we are so different – to establish going to each other’s
houses and to talk about difficulties where necessary, and that is brilliant,
but very unusual in my experience […] I have a very different life from
Tyler’s mum. I really like her, but I have very little in common. I’m 46. I
140 C. Vincent et al.
think she is about 25 now, she is a single mum of three kids. It is just totally
different. I went to pick Oliver up from her a few weeks ago, and she had
had hair extensions, and I went ‘Oh they look nice, really lovely’, quite
spontaneous, and she went ‘I didn’t know you knew about hair extensions’.
Well, I don’t, I just know that that is what they are called! (Elizabeth, White
British middle-class mother, Junction school)
As Nast and Blokland (2014) note, people may bridge difference for
certain purposes—such as facilitating children’s friendships—for particu-
lar periods of time. Despite the acute sense of difference and awkward-
ness that pervades Elizabeth’s words, it is clear that the two women try
and communicate across the perceived social space in order to facilitate
their sons’ friendship (see also Neal and Vincent 2013). Similarly, Oliver
(Ollie) and Tyler are in a group of boys who, unusually in the data, are
from different class and ethnic backgrounds and who do meet out of
school. This group includes Musa (British Asian) and Sam (White
British), as well as Oliver and Tyler [this group is also referred to in Chaps.
4 and 6]. Musa and Sam’s parents have not known each other for as long
as Elizabeth and Chantelle have, and they described to us the cordial
relationships that have been established in order to facilitate the necessary
arrangements for the children to go home with another family: ‘We
haven’t become close, but we meet at school and say hello. If they go
round to visit, I go to their houses to pick up Musa’ (Nadeem, British
Asian, intermediate class). ‘Obviously we talk and we pass the time of day
and we organise them to come to each other’s houses and things like that.
But nothing as a close relationship. No,’ (Lorna, White British, interme-
diate class).6
Having homophilous social relationships with other parents also
increases the possibility that they share similar views about appropriate
activities for children, and it is this to which we turn next.
After-school activities were one way in which parents managed their chil-
dren’s out of school lives. We have no data to suggest that the choice and
use of particular activities (or no activities) was arranged in a conscious
Children’s Agency and Adult Intervention: Children’s… 141
We can see here that the out-of-school mixing helped to reinforce the
children’s friendships as a distinctive and homogeneous group, one which
as we noted earlier their class-teacher described as having ‘deeper roots’
than other friendship clusters in the class. All the girls in the friendship
group could share in such activities, unencumbered by concerns about
the cost or practicalities in attending commercially run activities. These
are, of course, much more exclusive than school-run clubs, as they are
more costly both in terms of money for the activity itself and any associ-
ated equipment costs, but also parental time and labour (someone has to
take the children to and from the activities, and usually wait for them
142 C. Vincent et al.
whilst they are there). Claire, the mother of Andy, also in Crimson class,
comments that her son’s friendships with socially similar peers has been
reinforced by attending the same out-of-school activities:
A little bit of a positive development from one of our neighbours and espe-
cially with Christmas cards. And we just were surprised, for the first time,
we received a Christmas card [from them], even before we went out and
gave them their cards, so that is a positive thing [….] Now they allow their
children to play with us [in the communal garden]… yeah, it is getting
better, yes. (Kaleb, Leewood School, Black African, middle-class father)
population, but rather that many adults whilst consciously, and for the
most part competently managing diverse encounters, experienced some
level of anxiety about close contact with others not like themselves. This
is a form of what Radford calls ‘everyday otherness’, by which he means
that in the moment of everyday encounters across difference there is a
sense of ‘othering’. That is, an identification of others as different and that
that difference may oppose ‘us’ in some way (Radford 2016). This sense
was very much to the surface in Radford’s research context—rural
Australia with a population of established White Australians and newer
Afghan settlers. However, in our London contexts, such a sense was
largely submerged—given the pervasiveness, degree and familiarity of
social and ethnic diversity—but still influential. The parent respondents
in our study were all content, and many enthusiastic, to have their chil-
dren in schools with diverse populations. However, ‘convivial living is a
process, not an outcome’ (Harris 2013, p. 142). Thus, within the context
of this broad acceptance of, and often stated enthusiasm for, diversity,
different parents displayed different ways of negotiating difference, and
the often submerged sense of unease it sometimes provoked. Some man-
aged those who came into the house or limited the houses their children
went to. For others, the private space of the home was more open as dis-
cussed in Chap. 6, but a process of managing difference still took place,
through the consignment of others not like themselves to the periphery
of the social encounter, centring instead the dense networks of other
‘people like me’, through, for example, organising the children’s out-of-
school time. As a result, the children’s friendships, as we showed in Chap.
4, were not bound by homophily, but they were initiated and practised
on a terrain inscribed by largely unspoken, but still powerful social divi-
sions (Smart 2007; May 2011).
Conclusion
In this chapter we have illustrated how adults intervene to manage the
children’s friendships. Inside school, children’s interactions are obviously
subject to teachers’ directions. We see that although there are particular
Children’s Agency and Adult Intervention: Children’s… 145
teachers who are alert to the impact and complexities of the children’s
relationships, there is also a tendency— speaking to the children’s rela-
tively young age, and working from within a demanding policy climate—
to assess friendship practices in terms of quantifiable competencies. Thus,
as Ecclestone and Lewis comment, children who are already able to
appear as ‘emotionally competent, literate and confident…gain new
advantages’ (2014, p. 2013) in the moral economy of schools.
We have also identified the way in which parents’ differing degrees of
desire for the ease and comfort of similarity establish the space within
which their children can maintain friendships outside school. We note,
however, that children’s requests to see their friends out of school can
often act as drivers for parents to negotiate a workable, cordial relation-
ship with ‘others’ in order to facilitate the children socialising (see also
Chaps. 6 and 7).
Returning to the question of children’s agency first introduced in
Chap. 4, we do not mean to suggest a straightforward exercise of disci-
plinary power by either teachers or parents. Rather, we note that chil-
dren’s freedom to make and maintain friendships was, in our data, rarely
severely limited by parents or teachers. Both parents and teachers under-
stood a child’s happiness to be a priority and that friendships were a key
influence upon that happiness. Instances of unhappiness and friendship
tensions could cause parental unease, and occasionally even distress, but
we have no data where parents forbade particular friendships.
Circumscription of friendships by teachers did occasionally happen, as a
form of behaviour management. We referred, for example, in Chap. 4 to
one case at Junction where ongoing conflict between children led to the
teachers putting particular children in different classes, and arranging
their lunchtime activities so that they spent little time together. Thus, we
cannot talk in simple terms of children’s agency and their resistance to
teachers and parents (Coffey and Farrugia 2014). Teachers and parents as
adults could certainly direct these young children’s bodies, moving them
around in school, home, and neighbourhood spaces. Yet, this does not
suggest that the children were ‘powerless’ and the adults ‘powerful’.
Rather, in order to understand the configurations of any one child’s
friendships we need to consider the web of power relations between all
146 C. Vincent et al.
Notes
1. This has been conceptualised as ‘vocational habitus’—an extension of
Bourdieu’s original concept. Colley (2006) understands vocational habitus as
‘a powerful aspect of the vocational culture: the combination of idealised and
realised dispositions’ which must be adopted and learnt in ‘order to become
the right person for the job’ (see also Braun 2012 for further discussion).
2. After the fieldwork period, we were told that Junction School had intro-
duced a system of changing ‘learning partners’ so that the children worked
with a range of others.
3. ‘Peaceful Problem solving’ is an approach that encourages calm discussion
between protagonists. See e.g. www.thegrid.org.uk/learning/behav-
iour/…/peaceful_problem_solving_poster.pdf
‘Restorative justice’ is a process that resolves conflict by encouraging
children to take responsibility for their actions and respect the views of
others. See, for example, http://www.restorativejustice4schools.co.uk
which emphasises the use of the approach for behaviour management,
another example of the affective nature of friendship being reduced to
emotional and behaviour self-responsibility (see Watson et al. 2012 for a
critique). ‘Circle time’ provides a space in which children can gather
together to discuss personal/emotional issues, and can be used as a reactive
or proactive strategy with regards to friendship.
4. Since we conducted our fieldwork, schools are required to publish details
of their PSHE programme.
5. ‘British values’ are identified by the government as: democracy, rule of
law, individual liberty, mutual respect and tolerance.
6. As noted in Chap. 3, we use ‘intermediate class’ to describe families where
occupations combine aspects from both the professional middle classes,
sometimes known as the ‘service class’, and those with a labour contract
Children’s Agency and Adult Intervention: Children’s… 147
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Introduction
In this chapter we shift our concern to the spatial dimensions of the
school worlds and the social relationships associated with the schools.
Drawing on recent debates in geographies of education (Butler and
Robson 2001; Holloway and Valentine 2003; Collins and Coleman
2008; Hanson Thiem 2009; Holloway et al. 2010) which are interested
in how ‘education makes space’ (Hanson Thiem 2009, p. 157) we exam-
ine the ways that the school world—and the social interactions and
relationships that constitute that world—radiate out beyond the school
as a bounded institution (see Chap. 3) and into the surrounding
neighbourhood.
(a Black African, middle-class father) who suggested that one of the areas
in which people mixed was
The area’s strong and well-deployed stock of social capital […] arises,
for the most part, from networks centred on its primary school and
Extended Social and Spatial Encounters in Primary School Worlds 155
residents’ association. The local primary school has become the domi-
nant focus of the community: almost all of the children of our respon-
dents were at the school, had been there or would be going there […]
Over the past two decades, the school has been nurtured by middle-
class parents and it is the focal point of social interaction and friend-
ship networks that continue long after the children have left the school.
(2001, p. 2150)
I think the friendships that I have had that have been most enduring have
been the ones that I have had with the parents of [son’s] classmates, my
oldest boy, and [daughter’s] classmates’ parents.
It is not easy to make new friends, new social groups, you do it through
kids’ schools or your school if you are studying, or your job. But mostly I
think these days we do make, most of us, friends through our kids’ school
because if you want to be involved in the school life that is what you do.
You do learn more about people through your kids’ friendships.
She knows a lot of other people, like in the school. She gets on with a lot
of people, so she tends to … it could take her twenty minutes to get out of
the playground after she drops [daughter] off, whereas I’m usually in and
out …[Laughter] and like home by five past nine [school starts 8.50 am].
She’s rolling in at half nine and I’m thinking like where have you been?
That’s just from her chatting to everyone in the playground!
I think the school is the best place, when you go and see each other and you
meet people, otherwise if you stay home you don’t do anything, you don’t
go out, you don’t get to see any other person you know. Normally when
you go shopping and stuff you don’t see people and say ‘Hello Hi’, it is just
I think school […] I think it is probably because you go every day, you see
them every day, so obviously you will get to know them and you will meet
many people.
In a way I think it is mixed but in other ways I think not. Because it’s okay
for them to say to each other ‘hello’ in a few minutes, but then again there
are groups that I can see in the playground that most of the mums kind of
go with their cultures. I can see Turkish ones kind of becoming a little
group. Germans, we have quite many Germans now. The Germans are
kind of becoming their own group. And we have Somali mums they are
kind of becoming their little group. I can see that they are trying to act
together. As long as those people socialise I have no problem because I
don’t like to see people stone faced, walking around, I think it is a good
thing and they all bring different qualities to school…
Extended Social and Spatial Encounters in Primary School Worlds 161
I go and say ‘Hello, Hi’ to everybody in the morning and at night time like
afternoon as well. [I know] loads of people […] It is not like [just those]
from Pakistan it is everybody like, so I just say ‘Hello’, but especially the
kids’ friends, so we know the parents, so we say, ‘Hello Hi’ basically.
My sister-in-law, she lives in [X] now, so she came over and we all went [out
locally] for a meal and I think every few yards, she was like, ‘Oh my God
you are like a celebrity’. It was the half term holiday and it was [constantly],
‘Oh Hello’ you know, and [all] the mums—because everyone is out and
about aren’t they? So it is nice, it is not just something that happens in
school. I know when I am outside, if I don’t know someone they will say
[…], it is nice to introduce people that can help other people or just, you
know, even friendship-wise, it is nice isn’t it, someone to talk to? (Fareeda,
British Asian, middle-class mother)
Interviewer: […] obviously you know Pippa’s dad because you were
talking to him. Do you know other parents?
Ava: Yeah, Cindy’s mum. Queenie used to go there [to Cindy’s
house] every Wednesday after school, so yeah we used to
go there a lot. Cindy’s mum, Aisha’s mum, Gabra’s mum—
and I think because we all live next to each other as well,
Daine’s mum [too]…so we always see each other out of
the school.
164 C. Vincent et al.
I often walk back with Jordan’s mum [Pat, Black Caribbean] […], but […]
the people who live in [X, an intricate network of residential roads] that is
quite a tight knit community, there is a definite group of those people.
They are all very friendly [with each other] and obviously do lots of things
together.
and collaboration. In their work on green public space, Neal et al. (2015)
suggest that these play a key role in senses of localised attachment. The
parks near to Leewood and Fernhill were routinely used by the schools
for various events, such as classroom trips, school sports days and school
picnics. But these park spaces, especially the park next to Leewood
School, were also heavily used by the participants in everyday ways and
were frequently identified, by both the child and adult participants, as
one of the special things about the school’s locality, as sites of meeting up,
being in and ‘bumping into’ well-known and less known but recognised
parents. For example, Elif told us how she had organised her son Iraz’s
birthday party to be held in the park, and in her re-interview Mira (a
mixed heritage, middle-class mother) told a story of how she had been
thinking about the research project because she had been sitting in the
park and been joined by Julia (a White British working-class mother)
whom she had not really ever spoken to before. They had sat on the park
bench and chatted ‘for ages’ and Julia’s older daughter now babysat for
Mira. Kaleb, too, spoke about the ways in which the park worked as a
spontaneous social and destination place for parents and children, often
prompting parents to get together, ‘you can call [and say] ‘let’s meet, it’s
a nice shiny sunny day, so come on, get out [laughs] … and you meet
there’. However, the park spaces at Junction and Fernhill Schools were
used rather differently. At both these schools the park spaces were men-
tioned by children and parents as being used for going to play and walk
but not as regularly as in the Leewood School interviews. The park spaces
were more of a distance from both of these schools. However, Junction
School had a small recreational play space almost directly next to it and
this was heavily used by the children after and before school. Neal et al.
(2018) argue that more ‘successful public parks’ are associated with safety,
and well-resourced children’s leisure facilities are often critical to this.
While the proximity of park space to schools seemed to be the biggest
factor in the levels of use by children and parents the nature and percep-
tions of the park space will impact on use.
In this way the school-proximate and well-looked-after green public
spaces, with their children’s recreational spaces, were sites of shared
resource as well as settings in which school-related interactions and
friendship relations were enacted and ‘done’. This is consistent with work
Extended Social and Spatial Encounters in Primary School Worlds 167
that has focused on the role of (successful) park spaces for fostering senses
of belonging and place attachment among diverse populations (Cattell
et al. 2008; Peters et al. 2010; Neal et al. 2018). If public and semi-public
spaces were sites into which school-based social intimacies and related
friendship-making and practices stretched, potentially interrupting and
reinforcing ethnic and social difference, what of the more private geogra-
phies of home spaces?
above, one reason for not allowing children to visit other people’s houses
was concern over whether the children would easily be able to uphold
religious practices. Such stances have tended to be explained through pop-
ulist discourses of ‘self-segregation’ by particular minority ethnic groups,
most notably Muslims (Crozier and Davies 2008; Phillips 2006). We
found, as Chap. 4 illustrates, that religious differences were a factor that
affected the configuration of children’s friendships, but that self-segrega-
tion was a far from adequate explanation. Majority attitudes are not always
inclusive. Bercu (the mother of Zayla in Crimson class), described being
made to feel uncomfortable for wanting her daughter to eat halal food:
We went to a birthday party with my daughter and I didn’t know what was
in the food and I had to refuse and I had to make Zayla refuse as well. But
with Fatimah [friend from Crimson class] because it’s all halal food, then I
can send my daughter there with a good heart […] After that incident
because they [other parents] look at you a little bit differently when you
don’t eat the food, then nowadays she just goes to birthday parties of
Turkish families (Bercu, Turkish working-class mother, Leewood School)
It is just that I recognise that they [other families] have got different tradi-
tions, and you know we have to follow a few things. When they go there
[to others’ houses], obviously they will get to know many things […] I can
just limit them [her children] and make them understand what is good,
what is not for us. […] It is not that I am going to try and stop them all
through [their childhood], as soon as they go to secondary [school], they
are not in my hands.
I have thought about inviting some of Ollie’s friends from his class and
their parents all round here and I’ve never done it because … I’m not sure
how it would be enjoyable for the parents, it would be awkward. Although
as I talk to you now I think, oh I must do that, it would be good. But again
it would be an effort and because it would be an effort I don’t know who
would come and who wouldn’t…’
because my place is small we don’t do the big parties […but] you know I
had one before Christmas, I invited the mums from the school. Only the
mums from [child’s] class and the mums that I do know from the other
classrooms as well…Yes, for everyone I cooked…yes, [and] my friend had
the evening party…We are doing a little evening drinks [and] at Halloween
we had [a party] at my friend’s house.
Home spaces were, then, whether avoided or a focus for social inti-
macy and friendship practices, part of the landscape in which school-
related friendship and social care relations were enacted and had to be
routinely negotiated by parents. Nadeem, a British Asian father at
Junction School with an intermediate class identity explained how his
son’s in-school friendships regularly involved home spaces in their out-
of-school friendship activities, ‘most of my son’s friends are—two of
them are English—Sam and Ollie, they invite him round, we invite his
friends round [….] So they have come round to our house, he has gone
round to their houses to play’. While this account of out-of-school mix-
ing of a mixed social class, mixed ethnicity quartet (Tyler was also part of
this group) was relatively unusual across the data, what Nadeem illus-
trates is the nature of the social world of primary schools and the extent
to which some children can use and rely on home spaces for their friend-
ships—for play dates, birthday parties, or sleepovers. This situational
mixing meant, as Nadeem explains, that parents were, at times, required
to interact convivially with each other and most parents had experienced
and/or evolved a variety of strategies for managing their own and their
172 C. Vincent et al.
… apart from school events there are occasions in which you get to know
other parents better [and] one of the best events is birthday parties. So we
invite their parents and they also invite us. And in those occasions we will
have the opportunity to sit down together with them and have little discus-
sions […] in those situations, you exchange ideas [….] Those parents, espe-
cially the parents of the children who are very close to our children […] we
are building up close relationships with their families as well, in particular
with opportunities like birthdays and like that.
Kaleb’s account, like Elif ’s, shows that school-sourced, but home-
based, social intimacy may become established through birthday parties
and similar celebratory/get together occasions which may generate inter-
action across difference for both children and adults in personal geogra-
phies. This is not to suggest these encounters are straightforward or easy.
We discussed how Bercu now avoided them altogether, and some of the
labour of convivial interaction is illustrated in Kaleb’s description of
birthday parties with his use of terms such as ‘little discussions’, ‘building
up relationships’, and ‘using opportunities’ (Noble 2009). In an echo of
our discussions in Chap. 5, in many of the accounts we have explored
here there is a sense that participants engage in careful and deliberated
strategies for managing difference in home space. While we are cautious
about over-claiming the extent to which home spaces became sites of
extended encounter—we have noted that they were sites of difference
anxiety and avoidance—we suggest that the stretch of the primary school-
based social interactions and friendship relations means that home spaces
are entangled in the experience of living with proximate difference and
known and unknown others. Most of the participants had strategies for
managing difference in their own and their children’s school-based friend-
ships outside of the school world and while these were enacted and wor-
ried over in a variety of ways, what is evidenced is the ways in which the
personal geographies of home space were not simply bounded or priva-
tised and sealed off from difference but were, through the topology of the
school world, also sites of exchange and encounter that required some
form of negotiation.
Extended Social and Spatial Encounters in Primary School Worlds 173
Conclusions
We began this chapter by arguing for the importance of a social geogra-
phy of education (Butler and Robson 2001; Collins and Coleman 2008;
Holloway et al. 2010) as a way to contextualise the multidimensionality
of primary schools. Schools are not ‘self-contained’ (Collins and Coleman
2008, p. 296) and, beyond the provision of education services, primary
schools in particular generate wider social worlds for parents and children
and extend the school world well beyond the institution’s physical bound-
aries creating wider public, semi-public and personal spatial networks,
webs and connections between familiar others. While the work on
encounter and conviviality is often very much set in place (e.g. Back
1996; Wise and Velayutham 2009; Hall 2012; Neal and Vincent 2013;
Rhys-Taylor 2013; Wessendorf 2014; Neal et al. 2018), the ways in
which sustained encounters of difference travel between and extend into
connected but distinct material spaces has received less empirical atten-
tion. The project’s primary schools can be understood as situated, co-
productive resource sites where the social interactions and relationships
made within them topologically extend and get iteratively maintained
elsewhere (see also Kulz 2017).
In this context we consider primary school worlds as generative of
affective social relationships—all of the participants in our study had
experienced some form of friendship relations with other parents through
their children’s schools—and as sites in which localised social relations in
rapidly changing and heterogeneous urban environments have to be nav-
igated. While there has been comment on the social capital building role
of primary schools in localities and communities (see Butler and Robson
2001; Hillyard and Bagely 2013, for example) what, as Collins and
Coleman (2008) note, has been less scrutinised are the ways in which
primary schools and their geographies work as intergenerational collab-
orative spaces, as children’s social worlds demand that many parents
negotiate difference to some degree in their personal lives. We have drawn
on data to suggest that this can give rise to social networks and in some
instances generate adult friendship relations, emphasising how a primary
school world can be a collective experience, shared over time, in which
social interaction between unknown and different others is difficult to
174 C. Vincent et al.
avoid. In this context we add empirical depth and develop Amin’s (2002)
identification of micro-publics to suggest that the nature of the social
resource being shared and the wider social geography of the particular site
of multicultural interaction matter. Amin’s (2012) later emphasis on col-
laborative and co-present strangers is also helpful here. In this delineation
it is possible to see how primary schools operate as ‘common ground’
(Amin 2012, pp. 78–80) spaces in which civil attention, or what might
be thought of as civic convivial practices, contribute to the collective,
interdependent, equally entitled use of social resource by diverse known
and unknown others. This is not to underplay tensions or antagonisms
within this environment but to suggest that given this mutualism there
are processes of management and resolution of these. Elif ’s ‘mixed, but in
other ways not’ observation about the behaviours of parents in the
Leewood playground provides an example of such a process. Elif chose to
focus on the broader contribution of these friendship groups to the con-
vivial atmosphere of the playground even as she is outside of (some of )
these.
In this way civil attention and conviviality is a more dynamic, reflexive
and ongoing form of social negotiation. This process can involve the rec-
ognition of proximate difference and the need to negotiate the diversity
of those relationships that are developed through being part of the pri-
mary school world as Kaleb’s, Elif ’s and Nadeem’s accounts each evidence.
There remain practices of classed and ethnicised avoidance, anxiety,
exclusion and social ordering as parents seek the homophilic reassurance
of others like them—groups of similar people in the playground, going
to a certain café, the careful governance of home space—even as there are
processes of recognition and dialogue with others. Put differently, being
part of primary school worlds often requires forms of civil attention and
may generate collaborative practice which gives a ‘more than just proxim-
ity of difference’ dynamic to social relations within schools and beyond
the boundaries of the school space. In this context our data show connec-
tive social and spatial threads running through the local and personal
geographies of those who are part of their world.
This is not to diminish the significance of intersecting ethnic and social
stratifications and the capacities for difference avoidance (see Elizabeth’s
and Rabia’s narratives, for example). Our data does not contradict Reay
Extended Social and Spatial Encounters in Primary School Worlds 175
et al.’s conclusion that the urban middle class’s ‘yearning after and for dif-
ference’ (2011, p. 121) is more evident in an abstract disposition for mul-
ticultural living rather than in concrete practices to bridge diversity (see
also Chap. 2). But, we suggest, in the unpredictable sharing of the pri-
mary school as a particular form of commons, a range of situational fac-
tors can mediate and interrupt separations, creating as Rabia’s and
Elizabeth’s narratives also show, the possibilities, albeit fragile and uncer-
tain, for more negotiated interactions and reflexive encounters. It is these
simultaneous tensions and openings that we now consider in the follow-
ing chapter.
Notes
1. As noted in chapter 3 we use ‘intermediate class’ to describe families where
occupations combine aspects from both the professional middle classes,
sometimes known as the ‘service class,’ and those with a labour contract
(working class routine jobs). In this case Lorna is working temporarily as
a school meals supervisor and her partner is self employed as a craftsman/
artist. Nadeem cited below, works in retail and his partner is an at home
mother.
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In brief: Adults’ attitudes towards diversity and their friendship practices; set-
ting out a continuum of attitudes and practices.
Introduction
In this chapter we continue with the discussion we introduced in Chap.
6, regarding the complexities of the respondent parents’ own adult friend-
ships. As noted earlier, our data reveal parents’ appreciation for the diver-
sity of their neighbourhoods. Their relative ease with living in areas with
an intense concentration of difference allowed the generation of a shared
feeling of belonging to both the localities, and more specifically, to the
three primary schools. Encounters with ‘other’ parents in the playground,
at school events, and in the localities were largely positive, and we have
identified the importance of forms of civil attention that are required for
sharing the school space. However, our analysis also reveals a degree of
both ambivalence and anxiety over too close an encounter with different
others, which fosters a tendency towards homophilous social contacts
(how parents manage this in relation to the children’s friendships is
A Continuum
To maximise our ‘empirical attentiveness’ (Back and Puwar 2012) to the
reflexive and emotional content of participants’ narratives, we draw here
on sometimes extended, individual accounts. We describe a continuum
in attitudes towards diversity that we have developed following careful
analysis of the data—from refusing difference, through accepting homoph-
ily and being reflexive about both homophily and difference, to enabling
relationships across difference. We have described below respondents that
reflect particular positions on this continuum.
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 181
Refusing Diversity
The only respondent who spoke out strongly against diversity was
Annette, a White mother from northern Europe, who had a daughter,
Serena, at Fernhill, and also a son, now at secondary school. Her critique
of multiculturalism has arisen, she feels, from experience rather than
principle, as can be seen from the quote below. It is the practice rather
than the abstract idea of social mix that is difficult.
Annette’s main concern is that her daughter’s year does not have the
‘right’ kind of mix (Ball et al. 2013), and as a result she finds herself iso-
lated with regard to other parents in Serena’s class: ‘there is pretty much
zero people I can relate to’. Hers is primarily a concern with ethnic diver-
sity, although class appears also to be a factor.
182 C. Vincent et al.
Out of 50 kids [in the year group], I counted four [White] kids and out of
the four I don’t think there was a single English one. Or perhaps a mixed
English, perhaps two or three that had mixed English but of Caucasian
complexion. Yes I mean we live in London, we live in Europe, we are a
European country, yet out of 50 kids I counted four White kids […] And
I thought this was too much, it is like what is going on? I am sounding like
some people, whatever, but I was like thinking – I was upset. [In son’s year]
there was also a coloured majority of kids, but there was a core of White
kids […] When [son] was a baby I had this utopian idea that everybody
mixed and I realised actually when I go [to Fernhill] that people do not
mix…I really think it is cultural and that people from different cultures
don’t associate with people outside of their culture.
On the one hand he was very nice, “how is the family?” and all that. But
really he is like “she [Serena] is not Muslim and she is going to have a party,
and I can’t allow that [my daughter to attend]”. But why say yes, you know?
Maybe people don’t know how to say no. And maybe they don’t know how
to think things through, and the implications, and maybe they don’t value
the implications on the children.
Her contrast is her son’s former Fernhill peers, where Annette made a
strong friendship with a White middle-class mother despite the fact that
she thought initially they would have little in common as the woman and
her partner are, according to Annette’s understanding, from a different,
more affluent and traditional middle-class fraction: ‘they have proper
working good jobs and a big house’. However, she notes that she has
upper middle-class family origins which helped her bond with this cou-
ple. In this friendship, there is a shared acceptance of both the children
spending time together outside school, and a reciprocity of care arrange-
ments, ‘it was easy’.
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 183
Accepting Homophily
These parents did not express any negative opinions about the diversity of
their school or neighbourhood populations. However, they felt that
homophily was natural and inevitable, and that difference created barriers
184 C. Vincent et al.
Most of my friends are quite similar to me. A lot of them, they are White,
mostly middle class […] I don’t worry about it too much because I think at
the end of the day, people get on with who they get on with (Carrie, White
British, middle class, Fernhill)
the houses of others they did not know well) included—but was not
limited to—several first generation migrant parents, some of whom had
only been in the country a few years.
However, not all recent migrants take this view. Svetlana (White other,
intermediate,2 Junction School) had thrown herself into helping her
daughter make friends, and this included hosting play dates and letting
her daughter go to other houses. For some, however, migration was an
exhausting and corrosive process that sapped energy, enthusiasm and the
willingness to make new social contacts. Noble notes that migrants expe-
rience a ‘double absence’—not being in the home country and not yet
being of the host country (Noble 2013b, p. 346), leading to what
Bourdieu called hysteresis, a disjunction between habitus and field, caused
by a rapid change in field so that the habitus no longer easily fits (Hardy
2012). Both Svetlana and another recent migrant at Junction, Theresa
(White other, working class) were migrating for the second time. Both
women were outgoing and sociable, determined to make a new life for
their families. However, Svetlana was fluent in English, and had travelled
from Eastern Europe via a spell of several years in the United States where
she had felt well integrated. Theresa, originally from a Latin American
country, is learning English. She had migrated first to Spain where the
family had experienced some hostility, and left for London as the Spanish
economic situation worsened. Interacting with others was an increasing
strain, and making friends with people who were Spanish-speaking, a
relief.
Hmmm. I believe that…let me see what I can say…I don’t know, I am sort
of tired of meeting people…I don’t want to. I reached the moment when I
can say ‘Hello, hello’, but I don’t want to go further. (Theresa, Junction
School working-class mother. Response translated from Spanish)
The idea of letting her son go to others’ houses after school was an
alarming one: ‘I wouldn’t like to leave him in another person’s house, no,
no, I don’t trust’. Here we suggest that what may seem like evidence of a
‘conservative habitus’ (Bottero 2009, p. 409) may be misleading. We sug-
gest Theresa’s apparently homophilous approach to social relations is
actually a product of exhaustion and stress, with homophily providing a
186 C. Vincent et al.
safe space as she and her family settle in a new country. For Theresa, the
degree of hysteresis—disjunction between habitus and field—was greater
than for Svetlana.
The desire to have a shared set of experiences, interests and lifestyles
with others is well illustrated by Mick. Mick is White British working
class and has two children at Leewood. He grew up in Glen Park but now
visits frequently to see his family. Mick claimed that differences in eth-
nicities and religion are not very important to him—his locality has long
been a multiracial one, and as he explains, his employment sector (con-
struction), has a highly diverse workforce in terms of ethnicity and
nationality. However, differences in ‘background’—used in the interview
as a euphemism for social class—are key to his friendships. It is impor-
tant here to remember that Leewood is by far the most fully gentrified of
our three areas. The four British White and Black Caribbean parent-
respondents at Leewood who were not professional middle class had all
grown up in the area, and all commented on its gentrification. Paton
(2014) reminds us that accounts of gentrification from the viewpoint of
working-class residents are not common. Thus, we give space here to
Mick’s critique which was the strongest offered. In terms of the school, he
notes a ‘yuppie side to the playground’ that he contrasts with ‘people like
me grown up on the estates’ [social housing]. In terms of accent, prac-
tices, embodiment, consumption (he laments the end of ‘caffs’ that do
breakfast in an area now populated with boutique cafés3), Mick feels dif-
ferent to those who live in the owner-occupied housing. He comments
twice on how his appearance would stand out in ‘poncey’ [pretentious]
Glen Park wine bars or at school coffee mornings (he has tattoos and a
shaved head).
He talked in some detail of his local upbringing, laying claim to an
authentic, older Glen Park, detailing how the incoming middle-class
population has changed the shops and services, even how the area is
referred to (‘A lot of people moved into the area and they kind of tried to
build it up and they called it a “village” […] You have got people moved
in, they have got the money but they are a different calibre to what lived
here growing up all their life’). As Paton notes, ‘the implementation of
gentrification can gradually alter dispositions and social norms over time,
so that they become widely embodied’ (Paton 2014, p. 39). Similarly,
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 187
Indeed, for the occupants of a given habitat, the likely chances of appropri-
ating the different material or cultural goods and services associated with
that habitat come down to the specific capacities for appropriation each
one has (both materially – money, private means of transportation – and
culturally). A habitat can be occupied physically without really being inhab-
ited in the full sense of the term if the occupant does not dispose of the tacitly
required means of habitation, starting with a certain habitus. (Bourdieu
1999, p. 128, emphasis added)
Mick’s daughter, Helen, has friends from a range of ethnic groups but
they are, he says, of a similar background—‘kind of council housing’.
The exception is Helen’s friend, Pippa, who lives in a large house, and
whose mother has a high-paying occupation. However, Mick comments
that Pippa’s father, who he knows slightly, is ‘alright, down to earth. He
sounds like he comes from around here’ (Pippa’s dad has a London
accent), all of which makes him more ‘knowable’ and acceptable.
Differences in ‘background’ for Mick cannot be bridged, precisely because
they encompass too wide a range of issues to do with personal history and
current lifestyle. His stance reveals some difficulty with the idea of bridg-
ing social capital; the nature of Mick’s networks—firmly rooted in the
urban working class—are exclusive, as reflects his preference. Using the
metaphor of TV channels he says,
Sometimes you ain’t got nothing in common have you? You are not going
to talk about what was on BBC1 when you watch Channel 4 […] It does
make a difference I think…having grown up in the same areas, having the
same interests (Mick, White British, working-class father, Leewood School)
within Glen Park. His income prevents him from using many of the
expensive Glen Park shops and he feels he stands out at school events. He
is acutely aware of and critical of the incoming gentrifiers’ ‘ability to
dominate space’ (Bourdieu 1999, p. 127), as ‘social space is inscribed…
in spatial structures’ (p. 126). As a result, and as Mick points out,
working-class families (like Mick’s siblings and friends), finding it hard to
maintain a foothold in London’s inner suburbs, are moving outside of the
capital.
These parent respondents were those who were reflexive about difference
and the place difference plays in their lives. These tend to be comprised
of two groups. One is those parents—largely White British middle-class
parents—who are aware of, and feel a degree of unease about, their own
friendship networks being homophilous given the fact that they live, and
have often chosen to do so, in areas of diversity, and we focus here on
Hugh as an example. The other group are respondents who do have—
and enjoy—relatively heterogeneous networks, a result of their work-
place, the school, or neighbourhood friendships. Nadeem is our example
here.
Hugh, the father of Gwenyth, at Junction School, is an example of the
first group—those who feel guilt over the homogeneity of their social
networks. He comes from an affluent family who lived in a rural area, and
is now involved in the arts (details not given to avoid compromising ano-
nymity). He has lived in the neighbourhood for nearly eight years.
Despite an assumption in the literature that middle-class families choose
where to live, in London expensive house prices mean this is not always
possible (Jackson and Butler 2015), and ending up in the Ross Road area
was, for Hugh, driven by practicality.
Well we didn’t choose [the area] for a particular reason, we just chose the
house because that was what we could afford. We could afford it and there
was something about the area we liked...And the school was literally one
street up from the house and we liked the fact that it was representative of
the local community, we knew that there was a big Turkish community,
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 189
We gave them invites [to a party] and said ‘please come’. One turned up
late, we had no idea if they were coming or not, even though we phoned
them. I don’t know, it is not a judgment about their ethnicity or any-
thing…I know other people who had similar issues as well. And maybe
from their [the non-respondents’] point of view maybe they feel like they
don’t—they maybe don’t feel that they can talk to us or they feel we are too
different to them, maybe—I don’t know.
I have often talked to [wife] or other friends about, and feeling a certain
guilt that here I am living in a diverse cultural environment, I don’t have
many friends myself from other ethnic backgrounds […] Say Chantelle
[Black British mother of child in same class] I do chat to her, but I don’t
know what it is, up to a certain point, and [my wife] felt the same […] And
I question myself saying what is it about myself that I can’t have a deep…
and certainly with the dads [in a regular pub meet-up group]…even if they
are from different ethnic backgrounds, the ones I have met either through
football, or they tend to be more university educated…And I do think that
is something that just, maybe it is a general thing that happens (Hugh,
Junction School)
Hugh’s habitus and early socialisation in the rural middle classes in the
English countryside has adapted to a middle-class ‘metropolitan habitus’,
where appreciation of diversity and tolerance are a necessary aspect
(Butler and Robson 2003). Across the fields of occupation and leisure, he
has achieved alignment between habitus and field. To a large extent in the
field of parenting (Boterman 2012) he is also able to do this—the other
parents he knows and his daughter’s friendship group are largely middle
class. Yet since Junction is such a diverse school, he is not able to avoid
negotiating that diversity, or to watch his daughter doing so. Indeed he
does not want to cocoon his family, he feels the imperative of the metro-
politan habitus to appreciate diversity, to have smooth relationships with
those who are different, to avoid prejudice or intolerance, experiencing
what (Ahmed 2014) refers to as the ‘imperative to love difference’. The
difficulties he finds with doing this cause him concern and unease, and as
a result his new experiences—being a parent at Junction School—have
added ‘inconsistencies’ to his habitus (Boterman 2015, personal commu-
nication), causing it to be unsettled with somewhat contradictory dispo-
sitions. His narrative, like that of some of the other White middle-class
parents at the three schools (e.g. Elizabeth, Olive, cited earlier), suggests
that the experience of living in diversity has promoted degrees of ‘increased
reflexivity in Bourdieu’s sense of heightened consciousness, lucidity, and
critique’ (Aarseth et al. 2016, p. 158) but that that reflexivity ‘does not
necessarily produce change’ (ibid.). We do not underestimate the demands
of bridging difference, however, and, like the respondents in Aarseth and
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 191
Enablers
[The transversal enabler] are the ones who kind of zip around the locality
or context, the ones who gather everybody in, who can be in the hallway
and get everyone to lunch, but also there is a particular kind of disposition
to do that. Transversality comes out of the tradition of feminist scholarship.
It goes beyond connection to borders—I’m interested in how boundaries
open up and can be reconfigured and transversality is pointing to that.
These are figures that open up and connect across difference or even differ-
ent sections of the community, together opening up borders. (Wise speak-
ing in Neal 2015, p. 991)
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 193
reflexive approach to the skills and competencies needed to live a life that
is open to relationships across difference and an awareness of the poten-
tial difficulties. In his efforts to develop relationships with the neighbours
in his block of flats, he is modelling for his children the importance of
these overtures and the persistence that they can require (see Chap. 5).
The enablers are not simply extroverts—Kaleb, for instance, comments
that he sees himself as a self-contained person—but there may be a cul-
tural element to the enablers’ approach to sociability with Kaleb and Elif
both commenting that they find British society reserved compared to the
norms in their countries of origin. All four parents were rooted in their
networks of co-ethnics but also had strong ties and relationships across
difference. Our focus on Fareeda and Iman offers several interesting
points of comparison in terms of their experiences, attitudes and prac-
tices, and thus, we hope, serves to illustrate the complexities inherent in
bridging difference.
Iman was born in Somalia, she has been in England for over 25 years,
and her children were all born here. Over the course of two interviews,
Iman spoke about her work, her position within the local Somali com-
munity, her son’s friends, and about being Black and Muslim in London
today.
Iman’s account, like Nadeem’s, shows the fluidity of individuals travel-
ling across the categories we are using. As we noted earlier, Iman does not
clearly fit within the category of enabler, although she does fulfil the cri-
teria we are using in some respects. For example, her work colleagues (the
first time we met her she was working as a community nutritionist as part
of a multiracial team) are very important to her, she talks of socialising
with them outside work, and these friendships persist after she leaves the
job. She also makes a concerted effort to get on more friendly terms with
her neighbours, although she experiences hostility from some of them.
Thus, in her relationships with adults she makes intentional and purpose-
ful efforts to cross difference. ‘You know I am the kind of person who
would like to be friends with everybody. You know to create an environ-
ment where everybody is mixing happy’.
With regard to her youngest son, Aslam (Fernhill School), however,
she is cautious in encouraging his out-of-school socialising (see Chap. 6).
Iman is happy to have Aslam’s friend Usain (Black Caribbean) at her
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 195
house for extended periods of time, but when Aslam goes to his friend’s
house, she feels uncomfortable after an hour or two and will go and get
him. At the root of her discomfort is the fact that she only has a slight
relationship with Usain’s mother, and feels she knows nothing about the
family, and therefore the environment into which her son is going. ‘You
don’t know […] That is why you cannot trust 100%….Their son is a
really good boy, [so] I thought, oh yes maybe the family, they are not that
bad’. The local Somali community can be expected, she feels, to offer the
behaviours and attitudes she finds important and so she feels easier in
Somali company but does not confine herself to it.
The context for Iman is that she can be and has been viewed negatively
on three grounds: as an immigrant, as a member of a minority ethnic
group, and as a Muslim (she and her daughters wear the hijab, so her
religion is visible). Talking of the hostility of some of her neighbours, she
describes an encounter with one who comments on her NHS lanyard.
So I explained where I work and all that, she is asking me but at least it let
them know that I am not what they think. Like most people they thought,
ok these people are coming from somewhere else, coming to live in this
country, … they are all getting income support…but I’m a tax payer as well
[…] [They judge me because of ] the way I look, my scarf and also because
I’m Black […]The good thing is that I don’t use public transport, [I drive]…
My daughters when they come from uni or work, they will say, even the
train or the bus, they say, everybody is moving away from you, saying all
these sort of words you know…terrorism and that […] And I am not
blaming them [the accusers] because of what is happening, it [recent ter-
rorist events] makes all this hatred (Iman, Black African middle-class,
Fernhill School)
I know some of the Bengali mums might see me as like ‘oh my God she has
got like so much independence’—but I still abide by my in-laws. I still
respect them, but yes, I do have that independence.
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 197
and practices. Rollock et al. (2015) argue in their study of the Black
Caribbean-origin middle classes, that understandings of class within
the British context are racialised, shaped and informed by White privi-
lege, and a quiet, but persistent racism. We suggest that a similar argu-
ment can be made about intersecting minoritised religious and ethnic
identities. Fareeda does not mention the same kind of direct hostility
that Iman identifies. (It may be that Fareeda had experienced similar
behaviours, but chose not to divulge them to us). Nevertheless, activat-
ing her social and cultural capitals requires considerable labour from
Fareeda, as she seeks to maintain relationships with diverse others.
We have used the examples of Fareeda and Iman to show that enabling
behaviour requires a certain attitude as Wise discusses above—of open-
ness, of convivial intention, of a willingness to and emphasis upon bridg-
ing difference and developing relationships with the ‘other’. Yet, enabling
behaviours are also hugely affected by the political, social and cultural
context in which individuals are living. Issues around who is seen as an
outsider, and who is understood to belong (seemingly less of an issue for
British-born Fareeda than for Iman, although we have also emphasised
that Fareeda does not ‘experience [her] belonging unconditionally’
either), have profound effects on the dispositions and actions of even
those who prioritise bridging difference. Additionally, as we have shown,
enabling behaviours are labour-intensive, and we emphasise that in our
sample, the labour is carried out by minoritised and mostly female
individuals.
Privileged Clusters?
In the previous section of the chapter, we compiled a continuum of atti-
tudes towards diversity in order to interrogate the assumption that
homophilous networks can be assumed as the norm. We illustrated the
different positions the adult respondents took up regarding social
relationships and how these positions reflect the ‘intersubjective and
negotiated nature of difference’ (Bottero 2009, p. 418). We turn now to
consider the different degrees of privilege and social resources that
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 199
events (such as the summer fairs), but the organising committees were
run by small groups of mainly White, middle-class parents. At all three
schools, governors and PTA committee members described attempts to
get wider representation on both the PTAs and the governing bodies,
which had some success, although there were some miss-steps (i.e. at
Leewood, PTA meetings were at one point held in a local pub, and we
heard of a fund-raising art auction which had taken place before the field-
work period and caused controversy due to the expense of the exhibits).
This exclusive representation is not a new finding (see also Posey-Maddox
2014), but we show that this applies even in highly diverse contexts such
as these three schools. We suggest that membership of the PTA commit-
tee/governing body acted as a sign of confident ‘belonging’ to the school
world. Those White middle-class parents who were not part of the formal
PTA/governing body structures—but usually knew those who were—
still held valuable social and cultural capital that gave them advantages in
the field of primary schooling. They knew the routines of the school,
understood the expectations of the staff, and were knowledgeable about
the curriculum and structure of primary schooling. Their networks pro-
vided sources of further knowledge about the schools.
Observing the playgrounds, we could see the way different groups
clustered together in ‘rooms without walls’—a term Vertovec use to
describe the way in which people in open outdoor spaces socially cluster
as if inside smaller, ‘carved out’ spaces (Vertovec 2015, p. 16). Gemma
describes the playground at Junction School:
There have been some occasions when you do go into the playground and
I think if there is a group of White middle-class parents standing around
having a chat, it is hard for someone else to come into it. In the same sense
if you have got a group of people speaking another language, sometimes
you are not even sure what language it is, it is harder to integrate. So I think
perhaps it cuts both ways, and we all gravitate to someone similar and it is
sometimes harder to break out of that than you think, perhaps the kids do
a bit (Gemma, White British, middle-class)
privileged in social space (see Chap. 2). However, this picture of ‘flat’
diversity is misleading. Collective spaces are not necessarily ones where
‘larger social inequalities’ are bracketed (Aptekar 2015, p. 118). Whilst
we would agree with Gemma that the affective micro-experience of being
excluded from a group might feel similar to two individuals, the larger
picture of playground relations differs depending on who you are. The
social networks are, of course, not equal, some provide more than an
enjoyable chat. The playgrounds, where parents meet, are highly strati-
fied, and as we argue above in relation to PTAs and governing bodies,
different parents bring different forms and volumes of social, economic
and cultural capitals, and some are more valuable than others in the field
of primary schooling, as part of the process of negotiating parents’ rela-
tionships with the school as an institution. Class and ethnicity-related
resources both play a part here. ‘White privilege’ (McIntosh 1988) is
often assumed by White people to be a reflection of the ‘normal’ social
order where one’s race remains invisible, despite accruing individual and
collective advantages for a White person. Thus, we suggest that the ben-
efits that accrued from White middle-class clustering were invisible to
this group of respondents. In interviews, they often positioned their clus-
tering as ‘natural’—what everyone does—they were one group amongst
many. However, in seeing themselves and their clustering as an identical
process of gathering together that could also be seen amongst minority
groups in the playgrounds, the White middle-class respondents occasion-
ally recognised, but often overlooked, the realities of their structural
advantages.
However, we would not want to suggest that playground relations are
completely fixed and stable in terms of the in/exclusionary capitals and
feelings they generate. Gemma’s description above exposes some of her
internal conversation about managing difference and a degree of reflexiv-
ity that recognises both a desire to seek sameness and the alternative to
it—her reference to children being able to ‘break out’. Similarly, we have
already described some of the White middle-class parents’ reflections and
concerns about their homogeneous networks, and the degree of
their engagement with the diverse communities of their localities, despite
their stated preference for and appreciation of such localities. However,
202 C. Vincent et al.
Conclusion
In this chapter, we have drawn in some depth on individual narratives to
illustrate the complexities of individuals’ engagement with difference.
Physical location and social space are closely connected in these
intensely diverse areas of London through shared use of social resources
such as the primary schools, which engender encounters with difference.
For the recent migrant, such as Theresa, for those who have lived here
many years like Iman but remain acutely aware of their difference, as well
as those like Mick and Hugh whose surroundings have changed hugely
(for Mick a change from a familiar working-class locale to a gentrified
neighbourhood, and for Hugh, a change from the English countryside to
the city), the experience of living in areas with high levels of class and
ethnic diversity presents the habitus with a dislocating experience.
Habitus ‘is both a stable and conservative entity, and yet one which is
profoundly dynamic’ (Noble 2013b, p. 344). Thus the possibility of
destabilisation and dislocation leads to ambivalence in the habitus (ibid.
p. 347). As a result, approaches to difference are saturated by emotion:
ambivalence, anxiety and uncertainty, as well as positivity, security, and
confidence.
As we have shown, some of the parent respondents in our study,
responded by cocooning, sometimes with a certain degree of guilt in so
doing; other parents respond by negotiating the degree of interaction
with difference to a level with which they feel comfortable (e.g. Nadeem),
and a few, like Fareeda, by prioritising interactions across difference. We
have identified some examples of enabling behaviour, following Amanda
Wise’s definition, but also emphasise the labour that is involved for those
individuals. Additionally, we discussed Iman as an example of the effects
of being positioned as ‘other’ on one’s willingness to act to intentionally
bridge difference.
However, we can broadly conclude that Bourdieu’s assumption of dis-
taste for classed and ethnic ‘others’ does not generally apply to our respon-
Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 203
Notes
1. There were several instances when respondents noted the diversity of
nationalities represented by Muslims in London.
2. As noted in chap. 3, we use ‘intermediate class’ to describe families where
occupations combine aspects from both the professional middle classes,
sometimes known as the ‘service class’, and those with a labour contract
(working-class routine jobs). In this case Svetlana works as a cleaner, and
runs a small cleaning business with a friend. Her partner is a sales assis-
tant. Nadeem, cited below, also works in retail but with supervisory
responsibilities and his partner is an at-home mother.
3. Here is an example of Bourdieu’s (1999, p.125) point that the sellers of
the ‘rarest goods’ can only be understood in their entirety by contrast with
other businesses. They are part of the same field, but in lesser positions.
All Mick’s local ‘caffs’ have either disappeared or been transformed into
boutique cafes selling—not his preference, a traditional fried breakfast—
but expensive drinks, sandwiches and cakes.
4. He notes that he understands Islam as not holding a child accountable for
accidentally breaking dietary laws.
5. https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/extremism-pm-speech
6. Nadeem may engage in enabling behaviour at the mosque where he is
involved in community coordination, including the planning of open
days. However, we have limited data on this area of his life.
204 C. Vincent et al.
7. Lorna and Fareeda both clearly value their mutual friendship. (Lorna: ‘we
often go for tea and chat for hours on end yes, about goodness knows
what’). In our second interviews with her, Lorna notes that Fareeda is
tutoring her son for a selective state school, a move she disagrees with, but
their relationship survives. ‘It is just us having a conversation, this is what
she believes, this is what I believe. There are certain people that would get
quite aggressive about it and she doesn’t and I don’t’ (Lorna).
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Antagonisms, Ambivalences and Association: Parents’… 205
Introduction
In a recent report on social cohesion intended to inform policy develop-
ment in London, Plumb et al. (2016) emphasise the identification of
spaces that seem to offer possibilities for mixing and engagement. In one
of their examples, they cite a community-based research report that dem-
onstrates ‘the power of well-designed informal meeting spaces (or ‘bump-
ing places’) to inspire connections between local people’ (Plumb et al.
2016, p. 41), and identify primary schools as offering particular opportu-
nities for this. Having spaces to ‘linger’ (like ‘the installation of a rain
shelter or benches for use by parents’ (Plumb et al. 2016, p. 41) is per-
ceived as an important aspect of enabling positive interaction. One par-
ticipant in the research cited by Plumb et al., describing her experience at
the school gates, stated: ‘It brings together a diverse group of people, but
you do have something in common. It’s not like standing next to some-
one on the train, you know you have a child in common and you have an
institution in common’ (Price 2015, p. 27).
Contributing Themes
In the opening chapter of this book, we identified and discussed some
key issues within the sociology of friendship. Throughout the intervening
pages, we have discussed the importance of space, place, habitus and
social structures for shaping impulses towards association and disassocia-
tion. We have written about friendships in relation to the pull of homoph-
ily, the changing nature of place, the intersections of class and ethnicity,
the role of schools, and the role of emotions in engaging with difference.
Using literature mainly from the urban multiculture, everyday encoun-
ters, and sociology of friendship literatures, and from Goffman and
Bourdieu, to further illuminate our data, we have offered analyses of
adults’ and children’s friendship relations focusing around three class-
rooms in three different primary schools. As well as identifying the pull
of homophily amongst the adults in relation to their own friendships, we
have also noted their appreciative attitudes towards the diversity of their
localities. This diversity is mostly described by the adults in terms of eth-
nic and cultural diversity; the socio-economic diversity was less frequently
mentioned, but its effects were palpable. One of the major contributions
of this book has been to consider diversity in terms of ethnicity and social
class, not solely the former. For example, in Chap. 7, we argued that the
appearance of shops and services to provision the middle classes changed
210 C. Vincent et al.
the local shopping streets, confirming the economic power of the middle
classes, and highlighting the processes of establishing middle-class
‘belonging’ to the area. We have also argued that both adults and children
cross ethnic difference in their friendships more frequently than class dif-
ference. We acknowledge, however, that there are overlaps between class
and ethnicity: although there are increasing numbers of people from
minority ethnic backgrounds in middle-class professional jobs, inequali-
ties in access persist, making many minority groups underrepresented in
the middle classes (Saggar et al. 2016). Certainly middle-class non-White
individuals were in a minority in this research, partly because some of the
parents born overseas were working in jobs classified (by NS-SEC) as
working-class occupations, which did not reflect their possession of for-
mal credentials and past experience.
We have also focused on school worlds, and argued for the impor-
tance of primary schools as an emotive and connective site that brings
together disparate and intergenerational family members with a shared
investment in the school as a social as well as an educational resource.
We have reflected on the social lives of children in and around the
schools, and we have also shown, particularly in Chap. 6, that it is not
impossible but very difficult to have children attend a diverse school
such as the three featured here, and not have some level of exchange with
and recognition of differently positioned others. We argue that the pri-
mary schools in our study do offer a space in which ‘new intimacies [can
be] struck and sustained…through a relational dynamic of co-cultiva-
tion, mutual regard and affinity between unexpected allies’ (Amin 2012,
p. 29; also Noble 2013).
Additionally, we have argued that the role of emotions cannot be over-
looked. This may seem like a truism when discussing friendship, but we are
also talking of a wide range of emotions that may limit opportunities for a
dyadic relationship to be established. An avoidance of difference threads
through a number of the accounts—sometimes racialised, sometimes
classed, sometimes both—and usually coded as awkwardness, anxiety,
unease over the behaviour of others (or possible or suspected behaviours),
a hesitation to trust, a sense of being somewhat on edge, not able to relax,
rather than as any more explicit antipathy or hostility. We have shown how
avoidance and discomfort with difference patterned social interactions
Conclusion: Understanding Friendship and Diversity 211
seven years. As we note in Chap. 6, all the children and adult participants
spoke of having established and experienced some form of friendship
relations that they had developed through being part of the primary
school world.
Echoing Engin Isin’s description of cities as ‘difference machines’ (Isin
2002), primary schools can act as ‘friendship machines’ working effec-
tively as public sites of affective and invested social interaction. While the
nature of those friendship formations may vary—some emotionally close,
some more situational, not necessarily permanent, nor without conflict
or social patterning—the intergenerational, connective work primary
schools can do presents opportunities for mutualism, engagement and
interaction across difference. Primary schools in diverse localities, with
their geographical embeddedness and their topological stretch, are social
sites in which ethnic and social difference can be held at a distance but
where there is also a high likelihood that this distancing will not always
be possible and such strategies (conscious or otherwise) will be disrupted
at some points. The nature of the primary school world and the popula-
tion using it, as well as the intergenerational dynamics of the social rela-
tionships within it, can demand that difference has to be negotiated often
through an uneven mix of recognition, interaction or reflexivity.
In Chap. 2, we reviewed literature suggesting the co-presence of con-
flict and conviviality as integral to situations of dense and diverse urban
living, and noted that this emphasis may counter romanticised ‘impera-
tives to love difference’ (Ahmed 2014). However, such theoretical asser-
tions may also act to gloss over the costs for individuals of living with and
around conflict and tension. It may be that limiting one’s responses to
those who are different to oneself, confining oneself to the detachment of
urban etiquette, the thin line of civil attention, may allow individuals to
contain and/or avoid instances of conflict, and that this may be an easier
response to adopt than the more risky ‘openness’ to difference, a convivial
disposition. Similarly, Wessendorf (2014) argues that people even in
semi-public spaces (such as local groups and associations) refrain from
asking personal questions of each other, perhaps for fear of causing
offence. She continues, ‘not engaging with difference could also be inter-
preted as a way of avoiding conflict and tensions’ (Wessendorf 2014,
p. 402), a ‘tactical reserve of non-engagement’ (Husband et al. 2016,
Conclusion: Understanding Friendship and Diversity 219
‘other’ and the other’s legitimate interest and investment in the school.
Building on this acceptance, interactions through and around the children,
and the children’s own mixing and fluidity, offer opportunities for a range
of thin and thicker, light, and more substantial and lasting affective rela-
tionships. We suggest that, while the outcomes may be complex, modest
and uncertain, these interactions are nevertheless potentially generative of
dispositions of civility and conviviality, encouraging small resistances to
the well-documented pull of homophily, and the ease and comfort of simi-
larity within personal lives and friendship relations.
Notes
1. We are thinking here for example of access to a level of economic resources
that ensured some degree of stability in addition to the possession of for-
mal education credentials.
2. https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/pms-speech-at-munich-
security-conference
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Conclusion: Understanding Friendship and Diversity 221
(continued )
Table A.1 (continued)
Leewood School—adult participants
Mother’s Father’s Child’s
highest highest Current ethnicity Self-description
Pseudonym Name of Mother’s Father’s education education housing Mother’s Father’s and of class by
of Parent child occupation occupation qualification qualification situation ethnicity ethnicity heritage NS-SECa participants
Stuart (m) Shauna University Electrician (own PhD PGCE Owner White White IrishWhite 1.2 Middle class
lecturer business) occupied British British
Mira (f) Harris Pub owner Pub owner Degree GCSEs Owner Mixed British Mixed 2 Middle class
occupied heritage Asian heritage
Mick (m) Helen No data Construction GCSEs GNVQ Council White White White 6 Working
housing British British British
Amanda (f) Lucas Curator Banker Postgraduate Postgraduate Owner White White White 1.1 Middle class
museum degree degree occupied other other British
Catherine Emma Full time Banker Degree N/A Owner White White White 1.2 Middle class
(f) mother occupied British British British
Ava (f) Queenie Child care N/A Child care N/A Council Black Black Black 6 Working class
worker training housing Caribbean Caribbean Caribbean
Julia (f) Alfie Teaching Building A levels A levels Owner White White White 3 Working class
assistant contractor occupied British British British
Aarthi (f) Ben University Banker Postgraduate Degree Owner Mixed White Mixed 1.1 Middle class
lecturer education occupied heritage British heritage
a
See table below for details of NS-SEC
b
Requested an interview. Child not in target class
Junction School—adult participants
Mother’s Father’s
highest highest Current Child’s Self-description
Pseudonym Name of Mother’s Father’s educational educational housing Mother’s Father’s ethnicity and of class by
of parent child occupation occupation qualification qualification situation ethnicity ethnicity heritage NS-SECa participants
Pat (f) Jordon Administrator N/A BTEC N/A Private Black N/A Black British 3 Working class
rented Caribbean
Nadeem (m) Musa Full time Retail GCSEs Degree Council/ British Asian British British Asian 3 Working class
mother housing Asian
association
Lorna (f) Sam Mother, school Own business A levels Degree Shared White White White British 4 Lower middle
meal ownership British British class
supervisor
Gemma (f) Bethany Marketing Private sector A levels Degree Owner White White White British 2 Middle class
manager occupied British British
Hugh (m) Gwenyth Arts Arts Degree Degree Owner White White White British 2 Middle class
occupied British British
Rabia (f) Ahmed Full time Electrician Degree Degree Owner British Asian British British Asian 5 Lower middle
mother occupied Asian class
Elizabeth (f) Ollie Third sector Third sector Postgraduate Postgraduate Owner White White White British 2 Middle class
degree degree occupied British British
Sahar (f) Omar Full time Mini cab Degree A levels Private Arab Arab Arab 7 Lower middle
mother driver rented
Kalina (f) Alex Nurse Driver Degree A levels Private White other White White other Not enough Working class
rented other data
Svetlana (f) Krystina Partner in Sales Degree A levels Private White other White White other 4 Lower middle
small assistant rented other
company
(continued )
(continued)
Junction School—adult participants
Mother’s Father’s
highest highest Current Child’s Self-description
Pseudonym Name of Mother’s Father’s educational educational housing Mother’s Father’s ethnicity and of class by
of parent child occupation occupation qualification qualification situation ethnicity ethnicity heritage NS-SECa participants
Dana (f) Abner Royal Mail N/A Degree N/A Private Black Black Black African 6 Working class
rented African African
Theresa (f) Juan English student Cleaner High school High school Private White other White White other 7 Working class
rented other
Jose (m) Tina Cleaning Full time Postgraduate High school Council/ White other White White other 5 Working class
supervisor mother degree housing other
association
Clive (m)b Child not HR director Public sector N/A Degree Owner White White White British 1.1 Middle class
in class consultant occupied British British
Fareeda (f)b In other Secondary Hospital Postgraduate Postgraduate Owner British Asian British British Asian 1.2 Middle class
class school consultant degree degree occupied Asian
teacher
a
See table below for details of NS-SEC
b
Interviewed as part of the Parents’ Association at the school. These parents are included in this table because their work in the Parents’ Association was only a small
part of the interview. Two mothers from Leewood who are included on the following table of school staff are there as the majority of their interview was about the
Parents’ Association and their work for it
Fernhill School—adult participants
Mother’s Father’s Child’s Self-
highest highest Current ethnicity description
Name of Mother’s Father’s educational educational housing Mother’s Father’s and of class by
Pseudonym child occupation occupation qualification qualification situation ethnicity ethnicity heritage NS-SECa participants
Mehek (f) Adil Student Store A levels Postgraduate Private British Asian British Asian British Asian 3 Lower
manager degree rented middle
class
Nadifa (f) Noor Retail N/A Primary N/A Council Black Black Black 6 Lower
school housing African African African middle
class
Patricia (f) Kelly Teacher N/A Degree N/A Owner Black N/A Black 2 Working
occupied Caribbean Caribbean class
Dawn (f) David Student Project Degree Degree Owner White other White White 1.1 Middle class
manager occupied British British
Iman (f) Aslam Nutritionist N/A Postgraduate N/A N/A Black Black Black 2 Middle class
degree African African African
Gabriela (f) Andre Cleaning Construction Degree High school Private White other White other White other 4 Working
manager rented class
Jackie (f) Bella Full-time N/A Access course N/A Council Black N/A Black 8 Working
mother foundation housing Caribbean Caribbean class
Rosina (f) Donatello Retail Private Postgraduate NVQ Council Black Black Black 2 Lower
banking sector degree housing African African African middle
customer class
services
Amal (f) Child not Full-time N/A No data N/A Council Black N/A Black No Working
in class mother housing African African data class
(continued )
(continued)
Fernhill School—adult participants
Mother’s Father’s Child’s Self-
highest highest Current ethnicity description
Name of Mother’s Father’s educational educational housing Mother’s Father’s and of class by
Pseudonym child occupation occupation qualification qualification situation ethnicity ethnicity heritage NS-SECa participants
Saija (f) Jason Full-time Public sector Degree Degree Rented White other British Asian Mixed 2 Middle class
mother manager heritage
Annette (f) Serena Therapist Builder Vocational None Owner White other White White 2 Middle class
occupied British British
Carrie (f)b Child not Social Public sector Postgraduate PhD Owner White White White 2 Middle class
in class worker manager degree occupied British British British
a
See table for details of NS-SEC
b
Interviewed as part of the Parents’ Association. These parents are included in this table because their role in the Parents’ Association at the school was only a
short part of the interview. Two mothers from Leewood who are included on the following table of school staff are there as the majority of their interview was
about the Parents’ Association and their work for it
230 Appendix
Other Notes
We asked parents to self-ascribe their ethnicity and social class. We have
given reduced this information and some of the information given
about occupations in the tables above to preserve anonymity. We have
reported social class using two separate columns—parents’ own descrip-
tion and the NS-SEC categories. Regarding ethnicity, we found parents
mostly used descriptions that related to census categories (we assume
because these were fairly familiar to parents), and so we have reported
these. We are aware of the inadequacies of these, and the problematic of
appending ‘British’ to some groups and not all. Where parents’ occupa-
tions would place them in different NS-SEC categories we have used
the ‘highest’.
To give a clearer picture of the range of ethnicities and nationalities
involved in the project, the largest ethnic groups amongst our parent
respondents were White other (15 parents including those from Turkey,
Eastern European, Western European, North America, and South
American countries), White British (13 parents), Black British (11 par-
ents in total: 7 Black African and 4 Black Caribbean origin), British Asian
(4 parents with origins in Pakistan and Bangladesh) and ‘other’ (3 par-
ents, Arab and mixed heritage).
The NS-SEC—Analytic classes
1 Higher managerial, administrative and professional occupations
1.1 Large employers and higher managerial and administrative occupations
1.2 Higher professional occupations
2 Lower managerial, administrative and professional occupations
3 Intermediate occupations
4 Small employers and own account workers
5 Lower supervisory and technical occupations
6 Semi-routine occupations
7 Routine occupations
8 Never worked and long-term unemployed
Appendix
231
1
Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.
F Gilroy, P., 40
Fernhill School, 67, 71, 183 Goffman, E., 18, 21, 32, 61, 68–69,
children’s friendships, 103, 74, 76, 77, 85, 159, 209,
106–107 212, 213
list of research study participants, Governing bodies, 83, 199–200
children, 232
list of research study participants,
parents, 228–229 H
school policy and friendships, Habitus, 20, 42–48, 50n5, 51n6, 89,
128–131 108–109, 117, 146n1, 180,
Football, 100, 104, 107 202, 203, 212
Fox, E. J., 94 Hage, G., 158–159, 215
Friendship, 65, 209, 210 Hagemans, I., 34
concept of, 1–2 Harris, A., 42
dyadic dynamics of, 7 Hate crimes, 40, 208
establishment of a sociology of Healy, Mary, 130
friendship, 9–16, 217–220 Hemming, P., 31
friendship networks, 11 Hewitt, Roger, 10, 31
as a marginalised sociological Hewstone, M., 42
concept, 4–9 Hoffman, D., 132
social and ethnic difference, Holloway, S., 72, 114, 155, 162
effects of, 12 Home spaces, 167–172
sociology of friendship, need for Homophily, 4–5, 12, 22, 44–46,
development of, 13–16 211
structural factors, 6–9 and parents, 138, 140, 179–180,
See also Researching friendship 183–188
reflexivity about homophily,
188–192
G Housing, 34, 35, 67–68, 112, 113
Gender imbalance, 67, 99–100, 107 Huber, V. P., 115–116
Gentrification, 5, 14, 19, 20, 29, 30, Hughes, K. A., 167
47, 63, 64, 154, 165 Husband, C., 32, 33
emerging gentrification, 65, 66,
199
established gentrification, 66 I
partial gentrification, 66 Identities, 11–12
and super-diversity, 33–38 classroom identification, 99
working-class view of, 186–188 and complex friendship practices,
George, Rosalyn, 93, 130 114–117
Index
239
Neal, S., 38, 39, 41, 165–167 reflexivity about homophily and
Noble, G., 40, 185, 193, 213, 215 difference, 188–192
Nutbrown, C., 91, 92 refusing diversity, 181–183
responses to children’s friendships,
125, 131–132
O school choice, 36
Oakley, Ann, 73 spatial practices, 15
Otherness, 15, 36, 37, 48, 112, 117, Parks, 165–166
118, 144, 170 Paton, K., 34, 186
Out-of-school activities, 131–132, Pellandini-Simanyi, L., 9, 11, 12
140–144 Personal communities, 7, 9
home spaces, 167–172 Personal Social and Health
Education (PSHE),
127–128
P Pilkington, Hilary, 75, 77
Pahl, R., 6–9, 12, 123, 157 Pink, S., 5
Pain, R., 100 Pinkster, F., 35
Parents, 2, 10, 14, 21, 60, 62, Plage, S., 41
130–132 Playgrounds, 15
anxiety, 169–170, 184, 186, 194 clustering in the playground,
clusters, 3, 15–16, 160, 161, 200
198–202 Plumb, N., 207
continuum in attitudes to Power, 17
diversity, 198 children’s friendships, 94–95
enablers, 16, 22, 192–198, 211 power symmetries, 3–4
friendships, 9–11, 22, 157–161, structural power relations, 7–9
164–165 Primary schools, 10, 60
homophilous tendencies, access to, 68–70
137–140, 183–188 case studies and geographies,
interviews with, 79–81 62–68
list of research study participants, encounter, places and primary
224–229 schools, 153–156, 208, 210,
main project methodology, 218
18–20 Fernhill School, 66–68, 72, 103,
migrant parents, 184–185 106–109, 128, 183, 228,
parent-teacher associations 232
(PTAs), 85, 199, 200, 211 friendship role, 2–3
pilot study, 16–18 governing bodies, 84, 199–200
Index
241