With the release of this month's unemployment report, we now have a chance to take full stock of what happened to the U.S. job market in 2011. In this politically tumultuous year, employment crawled upwards. Slowly.
Overall, total non-farm employment inched higher by roughly 1.6 million jobs, or about 1.3%. The private sector grew modestly. The public sector shrank, also modestly. The United States economy is still about 6 million jobs short of where it was before the beginning of the Great Recession. And while the unemployment rate is down to 8.5% from 9.4%, it's partly because so many workers have given up on job hunting.
That's the Cliff's Notes version. Beneath the headline figures, America's employment picture is vastly more complicated. If you were a white, or college educated, or in the oil business, odds are you had a fabulous year. For African Americans, high school drop-outs, teachers, and 19-year-olds looking for work, the numbers told a very different story.
A Great Year For Oil Workers, A Terrible Year for Teachers
In 2011, the fastest growing industry sector by employment was mining. By a longshot. Jobs in logging and mining as a combined sector increased by 12.4%, but virtually all of that growth was due to mining -- coal, oil, and gas extraction, as well as the support activities around them. Thank the oil boom in North Dakota and the hunt for natural gas in Appalachia's shale deposits. As you can see in the graph below, no other major industry saw even close to that rate of growth.
But while mining's growth was dramatic, it only contributed a small piece to 2011's overall employment bump -- about 91,000 new hires. The largest boost came from business services, a hodge-podge category encompassing a wide variety of white collar employees. Its growth was powered by increased demand for highly educated workers such as engineers and architects, computer systems designers, and accountants. Administrative support positions, including roughly 90,000 new workers in temp agencies, also made up much of the growth. Other important pieces of the job growth puzzle included health care and social assistance, which added 350,000 workers, and the hospitality businesses, which added 230,000 workers in food services alone.
It's part of an evolving split in the American workforce: On the one hand, we're growing high-skilled jobs in offices and hospitals. On the other, we're producing low-wage service jobs. There's not a ton being created in the middle. Even this year's manufacturing growth only reclaimed a small portion of the millions of factory jobs lost to the economic downturn.
The gloomiest portion of this chart, however, is reserved for government hiring. In a year without the cushion of stimulus spending, local, state, and -- yes -- federal government employment rolls all shrank, shedding a total of 280,000 workers. Public schools let go 113,000 workers alone. To put that in perspective, the loss of government jobs eclipsed the entire growth of manufacturing and construction combined.
A Bad Time to Be Young, or Without A College Degree
More than their industry, however, the most important factor affecting workers ability to get hired in 2011 was their education. At Slate, Matt Yglesias posted this chart showing that more than half of the jobs added went to Americans with a college education. High school graduates, meanwhile, lost half a million jobs.
Beyond education, the next great divide in 2011 remained age. For women and men over the age of 20, the unemployment rate was about 8%. For those aged 16 to 19, the unemployment rate was 23.1%, down from 25.2% a year ago. For black youth, the unemployment rate was a staggering 44%, down from 42% a year before.
Overall African American unemployment refused to budge during the year, staying at exactly 15.8%. The slimming of government payrolls may be the major culprit since, as the New York Timeshas reported, one in five black workers is a public sector employee. Whites and Hispanics, meanwhile, saw unemployment drop from 8.5% to 7.5% and from 11.0% from 12.9%, respectively.
The jobs numbers in 2011 weren't spectacular for your group, no matter where you fit into the jobs picture. But your age, education, and industry made a huge difference.
Forget the Common Core, Finland’s youngsters are in charge of determining what happens in the classroom.
“The changes to kindergarten make me sick,” a veteran teacher in Arkansas recently admitted to me. “Think about what you did in first grade—that’s what my 5-year-old babies are expected to do.”
The difference between first grade and kindergarten may not seem like much, but what I remember about my first-grade experience in the mid-90s doesn’t match the kindergarten she described in her email: three and a half hours of daily literacy instruction, an hour and a half of daily math instruction, 20 minutes of daily “physical activity time” (officially banned from being called “recess”) and two 56-question standardized tests in literacy and math—on the fourth week of school.
That American friend—who teaches 20 students without an aide—has fought to integrate 30 minutes of “station time” into the literacy block, which includes “blocks, science, magnetic letters, play dough with letter stamps to practice words, books, and storytelling.” But the most controversial area of her classroom isn’t the blocks nor the stamps: Rather, it’s the “house station with dolls and toy food”—items her district tried to remove last year. The implication was clear: There’s no time for play in kindergarten anymore.
A new study finds that people today who eat and exercise the same amount as people 20 years ago are still fatter.
There’s a meme aimed at Millennial catharsis called “Old Economy Steve.” It’s a series of pictures of a late-70s teenager, who presumably is now a middle-aged man, that mocks some of the messages Millennials say they hear from older generations—and shows why they’re deeply janky. Old Economy Steve graduates and gets a job right away. Old Economy Steve “worked his way through college” because tuition was $400. And so forth.
We can now add another one to that list: Old Economy Steve ate at McDonald’s almost every day, and he still somehow had a 32-inch waist.
A study published recently in the journal Obesity Research & Clinical Practice found that it’s harder for adults today to maintain the same weight as those 20 to 30 years ago did, even at the same levels of food intake and exercise.
Even in big cities like Tokyo, small children take the subway and run errands by themselves. The reason has a lot to do with group dynamics.
It’s a common sight on Japanese mass transit: Children troop through train cars, singly or in small groups, looking for seats.
They wear knee socks, polished patent-leather shoes, and plaid jumpers, with wide-brimmed hats fastened under the chin and train passes pinned to their backpacks. The kids are as young as 6 or 7, on their way to and from school, and there is nary a guardian in sight.
A popular television show called Hajimete no Otsukai, or My First Errand, features children as young as two or three being sent out to do a task for their family. As they tentatively make their way to the greengrocer or bakery, their progress is secretly filmed by a camera crew. The show has been running for more than 25 years.
Meaning comes from the pursuit of more complex things than happiness
"It is the very pursuit of happiness that thwarts happiness."
In September 1942, Viktor Frankl, a prominent Jewish psychiatrist and neurologist in Vienna, was arrested and transported to a Nazi concentration camp with his wife and parents. Three years later, when his camp was liberated, most of his family, including his pregnant wife, had perished -- but he, prisoner number 119104, had lived. In his bestselling 1946 book, Man's Search for Meaning, which he wrote in nine days about his experiences in the camps, Frankl concluded that the difference between those who had lived and those who had died came down to one thing: Meaning, an insight he came to early in life. When he was a high school student, one of his science teachers declared to the class, "Life is nothing more than a combustion process, a process of oxidation." Frankl jumped out of his chair and responded, "Sir, if this is so, then what can be the meaning of life?"
David Hume, the Buddha, and a search for the Eastern roots of the Western Enlightenment
In2006, i was 50—and I was falling apart.
Until then, I had always known exactly who I was: an exceptionally fortunate and happy woman, full of irrational exuberance and everyday joy.
I knew who I was professionally. When I was 16, I’d discovered cognitive science and analytic philosophy, and knew at once that I wanted the tough-minded, rigorous, intellectual life they could offer me. I’d gotten my doctorate at 25 and had gone on to become a professor of psychology and philosophy at UC Berkeley.
I knew who I was personally, too. For one thing, I liked men. I was never pretty, but the heterosexual dance of attraction and flirtation had always been an important part of my life, a background thrum that brightened and sharpened all the rest. My closest friends and colleagues had all been men.
There are many Americas. There is an America of white picket fences. There is an America of towering skyscrapers. There is the America of dusty plains, cowboys, and ranches. There is an America of cliffs and beaches and sun-kissed surfers. And then there is the America just beyond these postcards, idyllic in its landscape but largely unfamiliar. It is not a land of plenty, nor opportunity, yet it is America nonetheless.
Photographer Danny Ghitis happened upon one of these regions in 2012: Dutchess County. Just a few miles north of New York City, Dutchess was once a thriving area with successful iron mining and dairy-farming industries that have long since gone. “There are small pockets of wealth exported from the big city ... and feeble attempts at small-town tourism,” Ghitis said, noting the economic divide between the western and eastern sides, the latter of which he photographed. “Mostly, the Harlem Valley exists in between the past and future.”
For some parents, the deadline for a kid's financial independence has gotten an extension.
My 22-year-old daughter, Emma, waved goodbye to her college campus last spring and walked into a job this fall. Given the still-tepid state of the economy and all the stories—in the news and from friends—about recent graduates who can’t find work, you might well imagine that my husband and I are thrilled. And we are. Sort of.
Emma’s job is a good one, and she is lucky to have it. She is an editorial assistant at a well-respected magazine. But it is the kind of job that countless millennials are landing these days: part-time, low paying, with no benefits.
So, after we spentnearly a quarter of a million dollars on her college education, one thing has become clear: Our investment in our daughter’s future is far from over.
In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.
Something strange is happening at America’s colleges and universities. A movement is arising, undirected and driven largely by students, to scrub campuses clean of words, ideas, and subjects that might cause discomfort or give offense. Last December, Jeannie Suk wrote in an online article for The New Yorker about law students asking her fellow professors at Harvard not to teach rape law—or, in one case, even use the word violate (as in “that violates the law”) lest it cause students distress. In February, Laura Kipnis, a professor at Northwestern University, wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education describing a new campus politics of sexual paranoia—and was then subjected to a long investigation after students who were offended by the article and by a tweet she’d sent filed Title IX complaints against her. In June, a professor protecting himself with a pseudonym wrote an essay for Vox describing how gingerly he now has to teach. “I’m a Liberal Professor, and My Liberal Students Terrify Me,” the headline said. A number of popular comedians, including Chris Rock, have stopped performing on college campuses (see Caitlin Flanagan’s article in this month’s issue). Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Maher have publicly condemned the oversensitivity of college students, saying too many of them can’t take a joke.
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
What happens when a father, alarmed by his 13-year-old daughter's nightly workload, tries to do her homework for a week
Memorization, not rationalization. That is the advice of my 13-year-old daughter, Esmee, as I struggle to make sense of a paragraph of notes for an upcoming Earth Science test on minerals. “Minerals have crystal systems which are defined by the # of axis and the length of the axis that intersect the crystal faces.” That’s how the notes start, and they only get murkier after that. When I ask Esmee what this actually means, she gives me her homework credo.
Esmee is in the eighth grade at the NYC Lab Middle School for Collaborative Studies, a selective public school in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan. My wife and I have noticed since she started there in February of last year that she has a lot of homework. We moved from Pacific Palisades, California, where Esmee also had a great deal of homework at Paul Revere Charter Middle School in Brentwood. I have found, at both schools, that whenever I bring up the homework issue with teachers or administrators, their response is that they are required by the state to cover a certain amount of material. There are standardized tests, and everyone—students, teachers, schools—is being evaluated on those tests. I’m not interested in the debates over teaching to the test or No Child Left Behind. What I am interested in is what my daughter is doing during those nightly hours between 8 o’clock and midnight, when she finally gets to bed. During the school week, she averages three to four hours of homework a night and six and a half hours of sleep.