This is the unedited version of Professor Perloff's letter:
During her four years at Stanford (1973-76), Wendy Petersmeyer, the woman who "had it all" careerwise but gave it up to stay at home with her three daughters, now 5, 9, and 11, presumably took a variety of liberal arts courses -- courses designed to enhance the student's knowledge, promote her intellectual curiosity, and teach her how to be a more active and useful citizen in today's very complicated society.
So what does Mrs. Petersmeyer's typical day look like, two decades after her graduation from Stanford and a decade after she quit work to "raise her family"? To read her schedule, as reproduced in Theresa Johnston's article, is a sobering experience. I have a wonderful housekeeper who never went beyond the ninth grade. Yet I am convinced there is not a single item on Petersmeyer's schedule that my housekeeper couldn't perform with comparable skill and energy. Like Petersmeyer, she has a degree in Driver Ed and she has not, to my knowledge, ever committed a traffic violation. She is good at selecting fruit at the market; she fixes terrific lunches and snacks, she knows how to give baths, fill out permission slips, and make finger paintings. The only item on Petersmeyer's agenda she would want to skip is the 5:30 a.m. fitness workout: cleaning houses all week keeps her so trim she doesn't need a workout, and besides she couldn't afford the health club fee.
What signals, then, does the Petersmeyer lifestyle (and related lifestyles treated with great respect in your article) send to members of the Stanford community? Evidently that we are making a big mistake admitting as many women as men to the class of 2,000. And an even bigger mistake in demanding equal access for women who go on to professional and graduate schools. Women, we must also conclude, should be paid lower salaries than men in comparable positions since they will probably quit soon anyway. These are the inevitable implications of Theresa Johnston's "The Mommy Maze." We must, it seems resign ourselves to the fact that mommies are people who drive their mindless kids back and forth to schools in which they seem to spend very little time (judging from the home-for-lunch schedule) and then to endless soccer and volleyball games. And further: mommies are those who collapse in front of the TV at night with their devoted hubbies, hubbies who are, during the day, absentee daddies, raking in the bread to pay for those orthodontists and fitness workouts and those station wagons that take mommy to the market where she buys the week's supply of fruit.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) this life will not be an option for 90 percent of female undergrads, let alone an option for women in general, who will just have to get out there and earn their living. In the U.S., as in the other industrialized nations, of the world, people (male or female, rich or poor) work.They won't all want to be account executives working a 12-hour day like Mrs. Petersmeyer, part of their work (especially when their children are very young) may well be community service, and they may, like their husbands, have home offices and flexible schedules. Hopefully, they will encourage their children to be learners -- whether of a musical instrument or a foreign language or how to solve a difficult computer problem. Who knows: in return the kids might actually do a turn-around and teach Mommy something they've learned -- something even more important to the health of an advanced society than carpooling and volleyball.
Marjorie Perloff
Sadie Dernham Patek
Professor of Humanities
Mother of Nancy '79, Carey '80, and grandmother
of Alexandra, Nicholas, and Benjamin.
This is the edited version of Professor Perloff's letter, which originally ran in the September/October 1997 issue of Stanford.
What does Wendy Petersmeyer's typical day look like, two decades after her graduation from Stanford and a decade after she quit work to "raise her family"? To read her schedule, as reproduced in Theresa Johnston's article, is a sobering experience. I have a wonderful house- keeper who never went beyond the ninth grade. Yet I am convinced there is not a single item on Petersmeyer's schedule that my housekeeper couldn't perform with comparable skill and energy. Like Petersmeyer, she has a degree in driver ed and she has not, to my knowledge, ever committed a traffic violation. She is good at selecting fruit at the market; she fixes terrific lunches and snacks; she knows how to give baths, fill out permission slips and make finger paintings. The only item on Petersmeyer's agenda she would want to skip is the 5:30 a.m. fitness workout: Cleaning houses all week keeps her so trim she doesn't need a workout, and besides, she couldn't afford the health club fee.
What signals does the Petersmeyer lifestyle send? Evidently that we are making a mistake admitting as many women as men to the class of 2000. And an even bigger mistake in demanding equal access for women who go on to professional and graduate schools. We must, it seems, resign ourselves to the fact that mommies are people who drive their mindless kids back and forth to schools in which they seem to spend very little time and then to endless soccer and volleyball games.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), this life will not be an option for 90 percent of female undergrads, let alone women in general, who will just have to get out there and earn their livings. Hopefully, they will encourage their children to be learners. In return, the kids might do a turnaround and teach mommy something they've learned--something even more important to the health of an advanced society than carpooling and volleyball.
Marjorie Perloff
Sadie Dernham Patek
Professor of Humanities
