As a social scientist I
live for Census data. I thrive on Census
data and I wait with great expectation for the next round of Census data
releases. I use the data to qualify and
quantify my research findings and Census data is surely the basis of the
validity of most of my study findings.
But until this week I didn’t
really understand that the Census is not just a form we return in the mail or a
data set on the Census Web site. There are Census workers who risk
life, limb and dignity to ensure that social scientists like me have access to
this great resource.
So the situation is
this. I have a big, old, incontinent rescue
dog and she needs walking several times each day. On a recent walk in my neighborhood at 7 pm,
I met a young man with a huge backpack.
He looked hot, tired and frustrated.
I saw his identification tag and asked if he was a Census worker. He said yes and then we talked about his interesting
findings and challenges in our neighborhood.
I shared my goals to work for the Census in 1980 but that I got a better
job in health care administration. We
talked about how working with the Census could build his career and his
understanding of our society and ways to make life better. I showed him (using my IPhone) how I link to
Census Web sites and access the data. We
tried out finding some answers to his questions about race and educational
attainment.
I offered my new friend some
water, but he declined and said that was against the rules for his job. He thanked me for the support and shared that
he had been in our neighborhood several days.
My neighborhood was especially difficult for him since so many of the
residents had not sent in their surveys by mail or did not have easily
recognizable addresses. I bid him well
and my big old dog and I moved on.
That is the good part but
the situation gets worse. A few houses
down on my walk, I met a neighbor calling the Sheriff’s department and
reporting a young black male checking out the houses on our street; my neighbor
thought the young guy was a “potential home invader.” About the time I offered to my neighbor that this
young guy was a Census worker, the Sheriff’s Department arrived with blue
lights flashing. We worked it out and
our Census worker young guy did finally accept water and some time on my front
porch.
So the Census data that
we take for granted as social scientists has a cost for the in-field data
collectors. Census data collectors deserve our respect and support. As social scientists, here are some questions
to consider. Did you respond to the Census
form by mail? Are there Census workers
in your neighborhood and how can you help them?
Finally, do you take the Census data for granted?
