ngochasarchive

[ngochasarchive]

Đối với những đứa trẻ lớn lên trong hoàn cảnh " thiếu thốn tình thương", tính cách sau khi lớn thường có những đặc điểm:

- dễ yếu lòng. Dễ bị động tâm với những hành động ấm áp của người khác. Khi thiếu thốn tình thương, bản năng sinh tồn tự khắc trong lòng họ hai chữ:" kiên cường, độc lập". Bề ngoài có vẻ khó gần. Nhưng chỉ cần đối xử vs họ tốt một chút, họ nhất định sẽ để tâm. Sẽ coi ng đối xử tốt vs mk như cả bầu trời. Thường đa số những ng này nếu có yêu đương sẽ rơi vào tình trạng lụy tình, nhạy cảm, thíc kiểm soát đối phương.

- Những đứa trẻ đáng thương này khi lớn lên thường rất để tâm đến chuyện cũ. Dù cho cha mẹ, hay ng gây tổn thương có bù đắp ntn họ vẫn cảm thấy xa cách. Bóng ma trong tâm hồn quá lớn khiến họ khó có thể vượt qua được.. K phải họ ác hay k hiểu chuyện, nhưng khi họ đã quá đáng thương rồi sao còn tâm trí để thương cảm đến khác, hơn nữa lại là người gây sự tổn thương đến mk.

- có một kiểu nữa là khao khát yêu thương nhưng k kì vọng vào nó. Muốn tiến lên nhưg lại sợ thương tổn lặp lại.

[ngochasarchive]

On Soothing

It’s the middle of the night, let’s imagine, and we’ve been on the earth for about three months. A lot is still very unclear. We are profoundly helpless, barely able to move our own head and utterly at the mercy of others. The sources of our suffering and joy lie far outside our understanding. Hugely powerful needs pass through us at regular intervals and we have no way of making sense of them to ourselves – let alone of communicating them reliably to others.

A minute ago, we were asleep in a dark enveloping warmth. Now we’re awake, bereft, isolated and very uncomfortable. There seems to be a pain somewhere in our stomach, but the agony is more general; we are lonely and profoundly sad. The room is dark and there’s a mysterious set of shadows on the wall that appear and vanish at random.

In a rising panic, we start to scream out in the darkness. Nothing happens. We pause to recover our breath – and then scream even louder. Our lungs strain with the effort. Still nothing and the darkness and loneliness grow ever more threatening. Now true desperation sets in; this feels like the end of everything good and true – and we scream as if to ward off death.

At last, just when it seems we could not go on any further, the door opens. A warm orange light is turned on. It is a familiar face. They smile at us, say the name they often use around us, pick us up and put us against their shoulder. We can hear a familiar heart beating next to ours and a warm hand caressing the top of our head. They gently move us to and fro, and sing a tender, sweet song. Our sobs start to abate, we pull a weak smile; it feels like the vicious demons and merciless goblins have been sent packing – and that life could be bearable after all.

📷

Soothing is one of the kindest gestures that humans ever perform for one another. It must lie close to the core of love – and is what can make the difference between a desire to die and the capacity to endure.

Awkwardly, it tends to be very hard to soothe ourselves unless we have first – usually in childhood – been properly soothed by someone else. A capacity for self-soothing is the legacy of a history of nurture. If we have been picked up enough times early on, and sufficiently reassured in the midst of panic that we will make it, then one part of the mind learns the art and can practice it on the other – and eventually, on people outside us too.

At moments of crisis, we find ourselves able to access a voice that calms the waves of fear and the blows of self-hatred: we can sort this out; we’ll have a conversation with them; people understand; screw them if they don’t; what matters is you; you are good and valuable. We have available an unflustered, resolute response as much to the most awful events as to routine panics. We have a faith that we can endure, that something will show up and that we don’t deserve the worst.

Reflecting on the art of soothing may bring into focus just how much we are missing. We are not mysteriously deficient, we were brought up by adults who were themselves not soothed. We need to grow attentive and deeply sympathetic to the missing pieces of our psyche. It is because we didn’t benefit from soothing that life is so much harder than it should be; that nowadays rejection is so bitter, social media is so frightening, disapproval feels so fatal, ambiguity is so unbearable, sleep feels so unearnt, holidays are so worrying, the caresses of others feel so alien – and so many of our days and nights are rocked by what feel like near-death experiences.

📷

There are – one must believe – substitutes and opportunities for catching up. We can have recourse to music, diaries, beds, baths but, most importantly, other people. However, seeking out the sort of people who can soothe us may be the hardest step. We may mistake a capacity to soothe for weakness or naivety. We may take the soother for a fool. We may need soothing so much, we find ourselves unable to ask for it nicely, shouting counter-productively instead – or else we withdraw into defensive independence, because help feels like it hasn’t come soon enough. Those in the greatest need of soothing often have no idea of what is missing, no sensible way of articulating their need – and a dogged suspicion of kindness were it to be offered to them.

We should strive not to make things constantly scarier in our own minds than they are in reality. We should offer soothing continuously to others – and insist to the more sceptical and parched parts of our own minds that they too deserve one day to be the beneficiaries of kindness and reassurance.

[ngochasarchive]

A và B là bạn thân. A không chỉ thương cho tuổi thơ khó khăn của B, mà còn hình dung được một cuộc sống với người mẹ bạo hành và người cha nghiện rượu. A hiểu vì vậy mà B phải học cách sống không dựa dẫm vào ai, và luôn thấy khó lên tiếng nhờ giúp đỡ, thậm chí là từ A. Sự thấu cảm đã giúp A tránh những hiểu lầm và chỉ trích với lối sống của B. Đồng thời, A có thể tìm cách giúp đỡ B và giữ vững mối quan hệ này.

[ngochasarchive]

McKinsey, Opioids, & Ethics

A couple of weeks ago, McKinsey settled a major lawsuit regarding the firm’s work with the manufacturer of OxyContin — one of the key drugs in the opioid crisis that has claimed many lives. The settlement was for close to $600 million, as reported by the New York Times.

Here are my thoughts…

First, I’m beyond disappointed in McKinsey’s role in furthering the opioid epidemic. The settlement allows McKinsey to avoid admitting legal wrongdoing. They claim their actions were legal.

I’m sure these remarks were at the insistence of the firm’s lawyers, as admitting to breaking the law opens up even more lawsuits.

That said, just because something is legal doesn’t mean it is moral, ethical, or advised.

If you see someone dying on the side of the street, it is certainly legal to walk on by and not be bothered to call for an ambulance.

What I think McKinsey did was worse. Instead of doing nothing, they accelerated the death of those already addicted to OxyContin and developed strategies to get more patients using the drug and, ultimately, addicted to it.

There is no way that someone on the McKinsey team didn’t run a “what if” model for increasing OxyContin sales and how many more deaths that would create. I’m sure that slide wasn’t presented to the client.

I’m confident someone at McKinsey ran that analysis… and probably during the first week of the first engagement. McKinsey people are not stupid… though clearly misguided on this one.

Over the past few years, I think McKinsey has lost its ethical and moral compass as a firm. I do think the vast majority of those who work at McKinsey have strong ethics.

But… that which is tolerated becomes a part of the culture.

That is the problem. If 99% of McKinsey people do the right thing, but they allow 1% to do the wrong thing… the whole culture is ruined.

(It’s worth re-reading those last three sentences… especially if you have any ambitions to be a leader in your company or field.)

Most companies have a list of values printed up and hung on a nice plaque on the wall and posted on a web page.

It’s much harder to live by one’s values.

The only way to test what your values truly are is by facing a decision in which you have to sacrifice something meaningful in order to live by those values.

In McKinsey’s case, the firm was not willing to sacrifice what was likely tens of millions of dollars in consulting fees to preserve human life.

Your words don’t convey your values. Your actions do.

McKinsey’s actions speak clearly on this one.

There’s a lesson here for those who are open to it.

You can be successful in multiple ways. One way is to achieve it at someone else’s expense. The other is to achieve it in a way that only adds value to everyone around you.

In my Inner Circle mentorship program, I constantly emphasize the latter.

When you succeed in a way that benefits everyone around you, those people become allies who prosper from your success. This is a good thing. I call this creating value and sharing value. It’s a “game” where everybody wins (in varying amounts).

If you’re succeeding in a way that makes others worse off, you’re taking value (from others) more than you’re creating value. This creates a zero-sum game where there are winners and losers. If you win by forcing others to lose, they aren’t your allies… they’re your enemies.

The key is to decide for yourself what you will and will not do in order to succeed. If you don’t decide this in advance, it’s very easy to cross a line that you never set for yourself.

[ngochasarchive]

There have been many posts recently regarding first years striking out with investment banking recruiting.

Now that we are nearing the end of the recruiting cycle, I wanted to provide an update on a prior post that was incredibly helpful for investment banking and Cornell Johnson hopefuls, linked here

'20-'21 was an undoubtedly challenging recruiting cycle for all involved. Not only were fewer firms across the Street recruiting, but the sheer uncertainly resulting from COVID-19 lent itself to much more conservative recruiting decisions, both in terms of headcount and selection. That being said, I believe Johnson held its ground and placed a significant number of investment banking hopefuls, on par versus prior year.

IB Opportunities

Nearly every firm runs a structured recruiting process on campus. Firms that came to campus this year, in no particular order, include: GS, JPM, MS, BoA, Citi, CS, UBS, RBC, Wells Fargo, Evercore, Lazard, Moelis, Greenhill, Guggenheim, Jefferies, Houlihan Lokey, Cain, MTS, Piper Sandler, Simmons Energy, Baird, TD, Greentech, Marathon Capital, and Harris Williams. We also placed at Rothschild and Miller Buckfire. Several firms that did not run processes this year include DB, BMO, William Blair, and Barclays. Classmates also received round 1 invites at PJT. As mentioned last year with respect to Goldman, some of these firms that don't consider Johnson a "core" school will cut 50-60% off the resume drop and maybe extend 3-4 round 1 invites. Johnson students placed into top groups at their respective firms.

The (Virtual) Process

The process can be largely broken up into two phases: Phase I includes on-campus interviews, briefings held by the banks, and on-campus networking. Phase II includes hours of Zoom/phone informationals and coffee chats. The process was a bit accelerated this year given the late start. Phase I kicked off a few weeks after orientation and lasted until the last week of October. Phase II ran until winter break in mid December. During Phase II, candidates were allocated 8 hours of interview slots to meet with 4 banks each week. While under normal circumstances, there would be logistical challenges of meeting with more banks each week, the virtual environment enabled candidates to meet with as many firms as possible any hour of the day. At my peak, I met with 15 banks in one week with coffee chats beginning as early as 6:30AM and as late as midnight. The virtual environment enabled candidates to cast a wider net. There are explicit instructions on where you need to be, what technicals you should be prepared to be asked, what emails to send, who to send them to, and even what specific time to send the emails. Each week, you may be cut from certain bank’s processes depending on your performance the previous week. Performance could entail a tech-screen, behavioral interviews with alumni, informationals, and all the other soft-skill interrogation that is par-for-the-course during IB recruiting from any MBA program.

While I had the benefit of not wasting 10 hours per week traveling to and from NYC, the process was absolutely exhausting. On any given day I had 2-5 hours of informationals + class. Sunday nights, when banks inform if you've been cut, can be demoralizing, and being on top of your technicals, recent transactions, and firm knowledge is mentally draining. Serious candidates were lucky to sleep 5 hours per night and were on the recruiting grind 7 days per week.

A large reason the process is so exhausting is the extremely high standards Cornell Johnson alumni have for their candidates. Candidates must first pass through Johnson alumni before being put in front of other and more senior members of the bank. Johnson alum take the recruiting process very seriously and expect excellence. Compared to a colleague at Stern I probably had 2x the number of informationals and coffee chats, reaching well north of 100. From a technical perspective, Johnson leverages its own set of technical prep questions and the 400 guide. Each week, Johnson candidates are given a set of technicals to be proficient in. Alumni are aware of where we are in the guides and those questions are all fair game to be asked in our informationals. Alumni are also aware that questions asked in informationals are shared essentially in real time over Slack and really push the boundaries of acceptable questions to ask. In one such coffee chat, the interviewer pulled up a case study over Zoom and asked that I create the pro-forma balance sheet from provided information. The technical knowledge necessary compounds and questions get more challenging week over week. Week 1 may include the simple walk me through $10 of depreciation. Week 5 will feature napkin LBOs.

Evaluating the Process

Candidly, my choice to apply to Johnson on a whim was absolutely worth it. The recruiting process was insane, but gave me the structure I needed to get an offer. The schedule was very demanding, coupled with a heavy fall course load, but the schedule gave me the chance to demonstrate my abilities. Even in a virtual environment, my class was very close and worked together throughout the process. I believe this experience creates a bond amongst first years and alumni immediately share that connection. Year over year, we are making in roads at more firms, achieving "target" status at new shops, and generally have developed an image of having the grindy/scrappy mentality that firms look for in summer associates. Johnson gets a lukewarm reputation on various forums for its place in the rankings, but Johnson is absolutely a heavy hitter in IB placement.

I will plug thoughts on competition, negatives, and closing remarks from last year's post because they remain the same:

Competition:

I did not feel competition with classmates while recruiting IB at Johnson. I am not naive; I understand that at some level IB offers are a zero-sum game. However, at Johnson, the sheer totality of structured opportunities changes the thought process from “PrestigiousBank1 has X offers this year so I am competing with my classmates for those offers” to “There are going to be at least 12 offers from one of PrestigiousBank1, PretigiousBank2, or PrestigiousBank3 where I am in the running and if I stay on my game I can get one of them.” That attitude is emphasized by the finance club and behavior which prioritizes yourself above classmates (such as backdooring processes or telling multiple banks they are your number 1 choice) is explicitly discouraged by Johnson alumni at the banks. Your classmates are your support system and alumni expect you to go through the gauntlet together. This attitude creates strong connections amongst the class which translates to a strong Wall Street network. Alumni emphasized this point repeatedly in informationals.

Negatives:

Some people would consider the structure a negative if they are supreme networkers who perform best in entrepreneurial environments. That person is not me so I can’t really speak to it. I think the largest idiosyncratic “downside” to Johnson is that the structure and close alumni network make it neigh- impossible to hoard offers. Alumni will know through their friends where you are tracking so nobody is able to sit on 5-6 offers. 95% of candidates will only have 1-2 offers at the end of the day. Frankly, I don’t consider this a downside. By limiting hoarding offers, we maximize our placement across the street.

The other downside worth mentioning is difficult to evaluate. As of this date there are a few strong candidates without offers. Still, there should be at least two more offers coming through the pipeline. From talking with friends at other business schools, this was a down year for IB recruiting but apparently there are deserving folks who strike out every single year from every single school. I don’t believe the few deserving candidates we currently have without offers are inevitable, but I also can’t identify a specific weakness in the process that led to their outcomes.

Overall:

Anybody who wants to recruit IB out of their MBA program should send an app to Cornell Johnson. It is an ideal safety for someone targeting CBS or Wharton, and if you can wrangle money out of Johnson vs going to some of the other strong finance programs at full sticker price, I think Johnson could be a no-brainer. If you are a career switcher who just wants to get into IB, Johnson will give you the opportunity to recruit across every name brand BB and EB on Wall Street. And if you are a finance stud who wants to work for the best groups at the most prestigious banks in the world, Johnson will let you control your own destiny.

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Having a professional background in finance helps from a learning curve perspective. Those with finance backgrounds have to put a little less effort into learning technicals relative to pure career switchers that have never looked at a P&L before.

I recruited amongst CFAs and CPAs and while they were able to get their foot in the door with banks quite easily, I don't believe they were materially better off than career switchers because cultural fit and personality are far more important than technical proficiency. A few classmates had significant M&A and capital raising experience and they were by far the most sought after.

As every banker will say, technical proficiency is a "check the box". Johnson gives every IB candidate enough resources to "check the box" with every firm. At the end of the day, it comes down to cultural fit, being someone that bankers want to work with, and demonstrating interest in the career path.

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Q:  When (if) they ask about where you see your future career path, is it frowned upon to say you'd like to end up in Corp Dev/Fin after 2 years as an associate or are they looking for the "career banker" response?

A: If you were interviewing for any other job, would you tell the hiring manager that you are planning to leave after a year to pursue something else?Conversely, if you were the hiring manager, would you give an offer to someone who doesn't really want to be there?Play the game, drink the kool aid, you were born to bank.Also, just my opinion, if you go into IB with your eyes set on something else, you will be absolutely miserable.

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reddit ftw

Before going to business school, I had the naive idea that most people chose the jobs they got. Many times I talked to alumni who had amazing non-traditional jobs, and thought “wow, I wonder how this person knew he wanted to work in X before starting his MBA, that job seems so cool”.

Then in business school, I connected the dots of their stories and realized those people had actually struck out from their original targets, but had nevertheless found great opportunities down the road. I’m a 2Y now and every single one of my friends who was in your shoes last year (it’s super common, if it weren’t for COVID and you were bumping into people all day you’d realize that) now have full time jobs lined up. Top schools are designed to make sure you end up doing well, just trust the process.

[ngochasarchive]

Me: “Hey man, that startup you just met…what do they do?” Colleague: “eh…they…eh…” Silence. No answer. Ten minutes after the meeting, and he couldn’t explain. His fault? Or was it because the company failed what I call 'The Gossip Test'? The Gossip Test is simple. Can you make it easy for others to gossip about you? So THEY share YOUR story with others. In simple terms. With clarity. Can you be memorable? Why is that so important? Customers. Candidates. Investors. They all meet many companies. Many will look like yours. Sound like yours - at least at the surface. How can you stand out? The only way to do it: tell a great story! A story that connects. Moves you. Not the boring Problem-Solution-etc. Not just data. But narrative. Help them see a new world. One in which your product is inevitable. Visualize how you transform customers. You want to pass The Gossip Test? Focus on your story. Almost like you’re writing a script. What shift is happening in the market? What’s the conflict? Who is the protagonist? (hint: the customer!) How do you help him/her win? Try it. Keep testing. And you’ll be well on your way to acing The Gossip Test!

[ngochasarchive]

Building a Career in Impact Investing

What do an artificial heart, the theater, and Gabon all have in common? From where you’re sitting, probably not much. For me, however, they are key facets of my life that have led me to a career in impact investing.

Years ago when I was an undergraduate, a team and I were assigned to construct an artificial heart. This heart that we built was intended to test a new piece of medical technology, a hemofoil valve. The valve, we found, held significant promise of reducing the development of fatal blood clots. The technology was pretty straightforward to me, however the questions following the test were not. Who now gets access to this valve? Only those who can pay the price? Only those who are younger, healthier, and have a possibly longer life to live? The discussions exposed me to the world of inequality that we live in – a world in which not everyone has equal access to technology, medicine, and opportunities more broadly.

After graduation I joined the Peace Corp in search of a new adventure and greater exposure to the world. I ended up working in Gabon, where I taught math and English to middle school-aged students. I lived in a small, rural village, of about 100 people, that had no access to electricity or running water. Despite these challenges, the village was able to support and care for each other. It was clear that their survival was very much dependent on their ability to come together as a community. I was impressed by their ability to work as a group, acknowledging and being respectful of each other’s and each of their own interdependence on one another. I realized, that not just here in this small village in Gabon, but in larger, towns, cities, countries, even the whole world, we all operate, fail, and succeed as interdependent communities.

When I returned from Gabon I made the decision to focus on finance. My experiences abroad alongside my education had led me to the thinking that capital equates to power, and is a key determinant of capability for individuals, businesses, and communities. Although now I know that finance is only one piece of the pie of life, I still maintain the important role that it plays.

For several years my career followed this track. I got my MBA from Columbia University and worked at a number of large financial institutions, including Neuberger Berman and Morgan Stanley. Over time, though, I felt that my job was not addressing the issues and the values that were important to me – the ones that I learned from my time in Gabon, and building that artificial heart. I didn’t know what I wanted to do next, but I knew I wanted to do something else. So I took a risk and quit my job.

At the time, I was living in New York City, and the opportunities were endless. A local theater that I was a fan of, The Public Theater, had an opening for a volunteer, and I jumped on it. The Public was special to me because of the values it held. Its founder, Joseph Papp, believed that art should be accessible to everyone, regardless of wealth – and this message very much resonated with me and my (artificial) heart.

Like many small, creative institutions, The Public found itself in some financial peril. It was upsetting to see an institution that was so impactful on the community struggle as much as it did. I didn’t understand how such an asset was being undervalued.

I did some research, and found an organization that valued the arts from a financial perspective, called Nonprofit Finance Fund (NFF). Back then, they were one of the few community development financial institutions (CDFIs) that viewed the arts as investable and valuable commodities in communities. I soon joined the NFF team and dived into the world of community investing.

At the time, the term “impact investing” had yet to be coined. CDFIs however, as established institutions, had been working to provide credit and financial services to underserved markets and communities since the early 1990s. I found that the work that NFF was doing, and other CDFIs, was incredibly valuable – in one way, because they were driving capital to much needed community services, but in another way, because they were also receiving interest from the loans they were making.

Elsewhere in the world, other investors and financial institutions were recognizing this type of double-bottom line opportunity. An opportunity that soon merited its own name – impact investing – and its own space in the investing world.

Through my work at NFF, I came across Calvert Foundation, who had invested in NFF and several other CDFIs. Calvert Foundation, through the Community Investment Note, provided investors the opportunity to actually invest in CDFIs, and benefit from both the financial and social returns that they generated.

The opportunity to work with the investors that were financing CDFI work, and to help grow the amount of investment that was going into CDFI work, was very appealing to me. I later joined Calvert Foundation, only to build my way up to become CEO.

Today I spend a lot of my time explaining what impact investing is and why it is so important. When I meet with a prospective investor, I think back to the artificial heart, and explain how impact investing provides increased opportunities to those who are often underserved. When I’m speaking at an event with large financial institutions, I think about the village in Gabon, and remind the audience that it is only by working together that we can leverage the impact of our investments. When I’m making decisions on the types of organizations we invest in, I think of The Public Theater, and tell my team that it is our mission to finance organizations that are actively making a positive difference in their communities.

Other people, in their own ways, have come to the similar conclusions that I have made from my collected experiences. I have the benefit of working with these people every day, on the Calvert Foundation team, and with the thousands of people who have chosen to invest with us. The Community Investment Note is now more accessible than ever before, available online or through brokerage firms, starting from $20. Anyone who cares about equality, community, opportunity, and finance as a force for good, can make a difference with their investments.

The capital raised through the Note goes to support community organizations, like The Public Theater, and many others sectors such as health, education, small business, affordable housing, sustainable agriculture, and climate change solutions. In my time at Calvert Foundation, we’ve also launched new initiatives that focus our investments on important issues, such as support services for the aging and gender equality.

In the past few years it has been particularly exciting to see our women’s empowerment initiative, Women Investing in Women (WIN-WIN), grow in popularity. This issue that has always been important to me, has also become incredibly important to investors. Now it is proven that investing in women and girls can generate sustainable returns, in the economy and in society. Working in impact investing has enabled me to sit at the forefront of this shift in perspective, and help drive it forward. Today we have raised over $30 million in investments targeted at WIN-WIN, and we continue to move that capital to organizations empowering women and girls around the world.

It has been quite the journey so far, and I know it is far from over. The lessons I’ve learned have taught me that as you grow and establish values in life, they do not have to be sacrificed in the work that you do or in the ways you spend and allocate your money. That is precisely what impact investing is all about, and it is something that we can all be a part of.

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Let’s talk about family wealth

To get into HBS, family money matters. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

“At 38 colleges in America,” The New York Times provocatively declared earlier this year, “more students came from the top 1 percent of the income scale than from the entire bottom 60 percent.”

Stated another way, a child born into the top 1 percent is more than 6,000% more likely to attend an elite university than a child born into the bottom 60 percent. And because low-income households have more children than wealthier households, 6,000% is actually a conservative estimate.

While these conclusions come from a study about undergraduate admissions, it’s hard to imagine HBS is any better. If anything, I’d wager that we are worse.

To contextualize, nationally a family in the “top 1 percent” earns more than $630,000 in annual income. A family in the “bottom” 60 percent earns up to $65,000, which isn’t abject poverty. It’s working class. Yet, the top 1 percent is sending more students to selective schools than the entire working class and those below the working class.

This fact challenges several basic ideals we hold important

First, it tests our university’s meritocratic ideal – that each student “earned” her seat here. That there were no mistakes.

If that’s true, then we must confront the analog: that students who are not enrolled didn’t “earn” their seat here, and that not admitting poor students was also not a mistake.

Second, it confronts our institutional mission – to “educate leaders who make a difference in the world.” Low-income students are more likely to understand the challenges facing poor communities, and to be motivated to address those challenges. A student who comes from poverty is better positioned to “make a difference” for the urban or rural poor than a wealthy student. If we aspire for positive societal impact, then shouldn’t the poor be first to be considered?

Third, economic diversity improves the case method experience for everyone in the classroom. Students who grew up around poverty or even moderate income can help classmates understand the confusion of financial illiteracy, or the inflexibility of a rigid budget, or the threat of unemployment.

These diverse perspectives make us better leaders in business and the world. They add to our empathy with the poor, and to our moral compass as managers. They prepare us to make decisions that affect low-income employees, customers and communities.

Saying that we need more low-income students is undoubtedly the easy argument to make. The more difficult challenge is to do it – to change our class profile.

The first solution is to treat family wealth the same way we treat other diversity metrics in HBS admissions. Universities can consider diversity factors such as race and gender when deciding a class profile, so long as quotas are not involved. Admissions are neither “color-blind” nor “gender-blind,” and should not be “wealth-blind,” either.

HBS is “need-blind” in its admissions. Need-blind policies guarantee that qualified students who require financial aid are not passed over in favor of wealthier students who can afford full tuition. It prevents admissions from putting the financial interest of the university above the merit of the applicant. This is admirable, but if “need blind” equates to “wealth blind,” we deny the value of economic diversity in our student body.

The HBS application asks for information about parents’ employment, level of education, and if they attended HBS. Collectively, these may indicate the privilege a student grew up with. Why not make it less ambiguous? Add family income and assets to the application, itself. Or ask applicants to identify the income or wealth quintile of their family.

Unlike gender and race, growing up in poverty or low income can be hidden during interviews, and students who grew up in poverty may not wear that on their sleeve. This makes it important to be explicit in asking about family income.

Of course, this type of question requires tact and sensitivity, but the information is important. If parents’ income is too sensitive, you could just ask students to describe the circumstances of their youth.

HBS should track the percent of students who come from low-income backgrounds, and, to infuse accountability and energy in the organization, we should publish these statistics alongside other minority enrollment figures. If we are serious about economic diversity, HBS should publish “percent of students from low-income backgrounds” alongside percent of women, international students, and other minority breakdowns.

I don’t know what these percentages would be. It may be embarrassing at first to publicly own that we are doing a poor job reaching low-income students. Here, we can look to the example of Google, which accepted this fate when it publicly disclosed its diversity statistics in 2014, including dismal percentages of women (17% of employees in technical roles) and racial and ethnic minorities (2% Hispanic, 1% African American).

Google took heat for this, but that’s just how it works. You don’t do the right thing because it’s easy. You do it because it’s right. And if a for-profit organization like Google recognizes a responsibility to use transparency to infuse internal discipline, shouldn’t a mission-driven institution like Harvard do the same?

Finally, we should also reconsider our financial aid program, including how it is marketed.

HBS does not offer merit-based financial aid. Low-income students have two need-based fellowship options. The first is based on students’ personal income from the past three years. The second is the Forward Fellowship, which “supports students from lower-income backgrounds who have carried significant financial burdens or obligations.” The fellowship considers family financial circumstances, which is fantastic.

But rather than requiring students to apply for this fellowship separately, as happens today, family wealth should be incorporated into the initial financial aid application. You simply can’t assess a student’s financial need based on personal income without considering family wealth.

Students with the safety net of family wealth can accept low-salaried positions after college, such as high-risk entrepreneurial endeavors. In this context, family wealth isn’t the same as personal income, but it does affect a student’s need profile. Adding family wealth to the application for all students would appropriately address this issue.

HBS should also reconsider the way that it markets tuition. We know from behavioral economics that framing matters. Instead of broadcasting that “tuition starts at $72,000 per year, but fellowships are available to make this affordable,” tell prospective students that “tuition starts at $0 and builds up. We will not charge you more than you can reasonably afford.”

Let’s say a low-income student has a final tuition bill of $22,000 out of a maximum of $72,000. Framed one way, this student needed a $50,000 hand-out to be able to afford attending HBS. Framed the other way, she is able to afford $22,000 tuition based on where she is in life and her expected future income.

The basis of the former is dependency and disadvantage. The basis of the latter is dignity.

When you build up from zero, you don’t alienate students who would be overwhelmed by a $72,000 starting point – which may be a different order of magnitude from investments and risks she is accustomed to considering.

Harvard is a standard-bearer in educational culture, and HBS carries that torch in the business community. When we decide to prioritize economic diversity in the classroom, we not only add to the classroom experience of our students, we challenge the business ecosystem to do the same.

That feels like a goal worth striving for.

[ngochasarchive]

But incarceration also affects a separate number of children who have been isolated from another profound relationship: They are the children with siblings in jail or prison—and much less is known about them. It isn’t even clear how many of them there are.

One recent U.S.-based analysis of grief and coping among “non-offending siblings,” as the literature often refers to them, brands them as the “most often overlooked” family members of adjudicated youth. The study’s author, sociologist Katie Heaton, detailed the levels of daily “emotional stress” siblings may experience, including “bullying by other students who discovered their sibling’s imprisonment, adjusting to new household roles and routines, complex feelings of ambivalence related to their sibling’s safety, visiting their brother or sister, and having their sibling return home after an extended period away.”

Heaton concluded that non-offending siblings suffer from “disenfranchised grief”:

Disenfranchised grief is a particularly difficult form of loss to overcome because the majority of cases involving this form of grief are the consequences of personal decisions of behaviors made. Such loss often creates a sense of shame or guilt within the individual or that person’s family, making it difficult to openly mourn, discuss, or cope with the actions that have created the loss.

[...]

and they are at risk for considerably more physical and mental-health problems, like becoming withdrawn, displaying anger, and having low self-esteem.

[...]

The British advocacy groups Connexions and Action for Prisoners’ Families provide a guidebook, Supporting Young People With a Prisoner in the Family, for social workers and others who work with kids impacted by the incarceration of a relative. The book notes that there is no typical reaction. Some children put the incarcerated sibling’s needs before their own or take on more responsibilities within the family, which can “put them under considerable emotional strain and pressure.” Other children become “angry towards the prisoner for disrupting their lives and causing hurt to their families.” Some children find themselves spiraling into unknown territory—frightened by prison visits, guilt-ridden, or bullied.

Having a sibling in jail or prison can also have severe financial consequences for a family. As it is, children who come from impoverished families are over-represented in the juvenile-justice system. The Annie E. Casey Foundation estimates that “65 percent of families with a member in prison or jail could not meet basic needs.” That can be an especially harsh reality for a non-offending brother or sister who sees limited resources being diverted away from their needs and toward the child in custody.

[...]

And in the shadows, behind all of those statistics, are the left-behind siblings—many of whom will experience incarceration as a kind of mutual sentence.

[ngochasarchive]

ST

Ngày 10 tháng 12 năm 2018

Tôi sẽ không bao giờ quên buổi chiều hôm đó, khi tôi ngồi khóc trong gian thánh đường của một nhà thờ nhỏ đơn sơ ở quận tư.

Đó là một chiều cuối năm, không quá lạnh, đường phố không quá đông đúc bởi đang giờ làm việc, mọi người có lẽ vẫn đang nhìn chăm chăm vào màn hình máy tính ở văn phòng. Tôi không về nhà, tôi đi bộ trong thành phố. Tôi đã đi qua con phố này rất nhiều lần, nhưng chưa khi nào đặt chân vào bên trong nhà thờ. Khu vực này là nơi tập trung hàng quán của những người đồng tính, nên buổi tối thường vui nhộn và đầy ắp những tiếng cười, những sự hào hứng dễ dàng cuốn theo nó cả những người vô tình đi qua trên vỉa hè. Ban ngày, đường phố ở đây không có gì đặc biệt, nhưng cũng bởi tiếng tăm của nó mà ngay cả sự rất đỗi bình thường mà nó khoác lên mình dưới ánh sáng mặt trời cũng chỉ có tác dụng gợi nhắc người ta nhớ đến những vui thú vừa chảy tràn ở chính nơi đây suốt đêm qua. Trước cửa nhà thờ, một nhóm những người vô gia cư dựng lều, họ quây lại cả một khu nhỏ, với bếp và cần câu có một đầu móc chiếc vỏ lon để nhận tiền của người qua đường.

Những bước chân vội vã thậm chí sẽ không kịp nhận ra sự có mặt của nhà thờ.

Nhưng đôi mắt của tôi tuyệt vọng, chúng đã tìm thấy cây thập tự. Tôi chỉ muốn được ngồi xuống, để cảm thấy được che chở bởi một sức mạnh mà tôi không cách nào hiểu thấu. Không, tôi không theo đạo, tôi là kẻ vô thần. Nhưng trong những giờ phút khi con người ta nghĩ rằng mình đã kiệt sức, khi người ta không tìm ra một lối thoát, thì mọi thánh đường, m���i nhà nguyện, mọi ngôi chùa đều là nơi trú ẩn trong phút chốc.

Tôi sẽ không bao giờ quên buổi chiều hôm đó, tôi đã ngồi khóc trong thánh đường của một nhà thờ nhỏ quận tư. Cảm thấy mọi chuyện đều sụp đổ và chỉ có một phép màu mới có thể cứu vãn tất cả. Chỉ cần một phép màu mà thôi.

Buổi tối, tôi kể với anh rằng mình tò mò bước chân vào nhà thờ và ngồi nghỉ ngơi trong chốc lát, rằng bên trong nó chẳng có gì cả, mái vòm không trang trí họa tiết, không một bức vẽ dù là của một họa sĩ ít tên tuổi, những chiếc cột không chạm trổ cầu kỳ, không có bức tượng nào khiến người ta có thể nán lại lâu hơn để ngắm nhìn. Anh nói rằng thực ra nó khá đặc biệt, rằng đó là nơi khi xưa người ta đã ... Nhưng tôi không nghe thấy lời nào nữa. Những giọt nước mắt lại tuôn trào, tôi không sao ngăn nổi chúng. Tôi ôm lấy mặt. Anh đã ôm tôi thật chặt và nói rằng anh sẽ làm mọi cách để chuyện này chấm dứt, rằng anh sẽ không để tôi đơn độc. Tôi đã thầm nghĩ rằng cuối cùng Chúa có thể đã nghe thấy lời cầu nguyện của mình.

Không lâu sau, anh nói lời xin lỗi và rời đi.

Tôi xoay sở một mình, mọi việc dần trở lại bình thường. Không có gì quan trọng, tôi tưởng như đã vô vọng đến thế và giờ thì tất cả vẫn được sắp xếp một cách ổn thoả, không cần tới một phép màu.

Nhà thờ quận tư quả thật không có gì đặc biệt, nó tẻ nhạt với những cột kèo trơn tuột và mất đi vẻ lấp lánh khi ta không nhìn nó qua làn nước mắt. Mỗi khi đi qua cánh cửa này, tôi dựng cổ áo cao lên, quấn khăn chặt hơn và khép lại hai hàng khuy áo khoác. Tôi cố gắng không nhìn vào sâu bên trong.

Tôi đâu có tha thiết cần vòng tay ai đến thế. Tôi không cần ai cứu rỗi mình. Khi bình tĩnh để hiểu ra điều này, tôi thấy lòng mình nhẹ nhàng như một chiều nắng đẹp.

_MC.