Former young mothers’ pathways through higher education: a chance to rethink the narrative

ABSTRACT

This paper draws attention to how markers of adulthood linked to education and employment form an influential social narrative and argues that these help to construct teenage motherhood as problematic. Social policies, informed by this narrative, reinforce the idea of a “correct” path through education and into employment from which young mothers deviate and must be realigned to. This paper draws on a sample of former young mothers who had largely progressed into higher education and sheds light on how their pathways were possible and what challenges they encountered. It therefore joins others in challenging common conceptualisations of teenage motherhood as inevitably leading to educational failure. This paper seeks to open a further avenue to this debate however, in that it questions the wisdom of utilising predetermined markers of success to measure the achievement of young mothers. As the accounts discussed here show, a later data collection point enables us to see how “outcomes”, but also priorities, change. Furthermore, by highlighting stories of pride and joy outside of markers of adulthood, it also encourages us to reflect on the effects of a normative social narrative which depicts divergence as failure. The paper therefore seeks to strike a note of caution in the ways in which we define success.

KEYWORDS:

• Teenage motherhood
• teenage mothers
• young mothers
• adolescent mothers
• stigma
• adulthood

Introduction: the teenage motherhood “problem”

In Western societies, adulthood is linked to the attainment of specific markers, variously described but generally including the completion of education and entering full-time work (Aronson, 2008; Blatterer, 2007; Mary, 2014; Sharon, 2016). These key markers of adulthood form part of what has been referred to as a “culturally mandated social clock” (Sharon, 2016, p. 162) or a prescriptive “social narrative” (Dolan, 2019). Importantly, Dolan (2019, p. x) argues that a social norm or narrative has “a sense of ‘oughtness’ to it” with “sanctions associated with deviating from it. As such, social norms have become fairly limiting behavioural rules that people are expected to follow”. Young mothers are not exempt from these expectations in that the attainment of one particular marker of adulthood (parenthood) being entered into “too early” causes concern partly because it is believed to prevent the attainment of other markers of adulthood. As Gibb et al. (2014, p. 9) put it, the association between later economic disadvantage and early motherhood may be because “having a child before age 20 interferes with important life tasks … such as completing education and entering the job market”.

Table 1. Participants.

Name	Age at pregnancy	Age at interview	Class background (self-defined)	Ethnicity	Educational level
Sarah	19	49	WC	White British	Postgraduate degree
Jennifer	17	40	MC	White British	Graduate degree
Kelly	19	40	–	“Third culture”^3	Graduate degree
Kate	17	36	WC	White British	Further education
Gemma	18	40	MC	Mixed Race	Postgraduate degree
Abigail	18	41	MC	White British	Postgraduate degree
Catherine	19	41	WC	White British	PhD
Lynda	17	37	–	White British	Graduate degree
Jade	16	39	MC	White British	Postgraduate degree
Ronnie	19	65	MC	–	PhD
Charlotte	19	33	WC	White British	Graduate degree (about to start postgraduate study)
Cally	17	37	MC	White British	NVQ 3 (currently studying for foundation degree)

Yet the claim that teenage motherhood causes poor educational or employment outcomes is questionable. When longer term outcomes and experiences are considered, the effects of teenage motherhood may be less disastrous than is often maintained (Ellis-Sloan, 2019). In other words, young motherhood may not warrant the definition of social problem. For example, the problematisation of teenage motherhood has been linked to contemporary expectations of womanhood which demand economic activity and non-reliance on welfare (Allen & Osgood, 2009). Furthermore, and as “dictated” by accepted routes to adulthood, family formation is deemed acceptable only after key milestones (such as the completion of higher education and the establishing of a career) are reached (Wilson & Huntington, 2006). The problematisation of teenage motherhood therefore rests on a conceptualisation of young mothers as having deviated from a normative path in which value is placed on women’s success in education and employment, ideally completed before motherhood and to which they must be re-orientated after childbirth.

This paper draws on qualitative research with a group of women in the UK who first became pregnant as teenagers but are now aged over 30. The study aimed to bring to light the context behind measures often used to evaluate the impact of young motherhood. For example, educational qualifications, employment, housing tenure and relationship status. This paper focuses on data pertaining to their educational pathways, particularly with regards to higher education. It considers the pressures and challenges of returning to or continuing in education as a young mother as well as the advantages of combining young motherhood with education. By focusing on women who have (in accordance with the social narrative) “made it”, this paper challenges common conceptualisations of young motherhood as inevitably leading to educational failure. Nonetheless, the paper also draws attention to points in the women’s lives where they did not adhere to the social narrative in that motherhood, or the self, took precedence over commonly articulated modes of “success” in terms of their education. This paper therefore argues that support for young parents needs to enable and facilitate the many and varied paths young mothers take as they seek to combine parenthood with education and employment rather than attempting to realign their lives with a normative trajectory. Furthermore, it argues that we need to reconsider the narrow ways in which we define success and achievement to take into account the experiences of those we seek to measure.

Before expanding on how young mothers’ lives are framed by an expected social narrative it is important to note the use of language in this paper. Wherever possible, the term “young mothers” rather than “teenage mothers” has been used. This reflects the preference of young mothers who often dislike the term “teenage mother” due to the negative connotations attached to it. In terms of the sample referred to by this paper, it is also more accurate. Although all of the women interviewed here had a teenage pregnancy, not all were still teenagers at the point of becoming mothers. It is however necessary on occasion to use the term for purposes of clarity as to what is conceptualised as problematic.

“The” normative social narrative: education, education, education

Contemporary transitions to adulthood are set in the context of economic and market fragility as well as an increasingly individualised and neoliberal social realm. As a result, the transition to adulthood is no longer linear but a complex and fragmented process (Horowitz & Bromnick, 2007) with many traditional markers of adulthood achieved much later in the life course (ONS, 2019a). Nonetheless, those who came of age in the relative stability of the post-war era have set “the archetypal framework for today’s process of transition” (Mary, 2014, p. 416) which then continues to be utilised as “the evaluative and policy-forming standard by which young people’s successes and failures are judged” (Blatterer, 2007, p. 778–779). Furthermore, trajectories are framed by a neoliberal individualised paradigm which lauds choice and personal responsibility and obscures the effect of structural forces. As Reay (2003, p. 314) concludes from her study with older working-class mothers in higher education, prevalent Western understandings of individualisation “are premised on the norms of white middle class masculinity … .[Working-class women] do not escape the processes of individualisation” but are positioned very differently in relation to them. In other words, whilst expectations remain the same for such women, their material realities make their lived experiences very different. This is no less the case for young mothers.

For example, young motherhood can be an alternative life course; a rational and positive response to social circumstances (Duncan, 2007). Yet policy makers have defined teenage pregnancy as a result of “low expectations” (SEU, 1999) and public discourses ascribe it with immoral motivations resulting in stigmatising caricatures (Ellis-Sloan, 2014). Young mothers are therefore reacted to as children with deficits rather than emerging adults with potential (Leadbeater & Way, 2001). Indeed, the accumulation of markers related to education and employment are often used as measures to determine the “outcomes” of teenage motherhood (see for example Chevalier & Viitanen, 2003; Kane et al., 2013). Shortfalls in these areas are used to argue that teenage motherhood is a less than desirable situation (SEU, 1999; Public Health England, 2018) and to push policy initiatives which focus on encouraging young mothers to return to a normative path. For example, the Teenage Pregnancy Strategy (TPS) in the UK aimed to increase the numbers of teenage mothers returning to education, employment and training (EET). Whilst parenting was acknowledged as important, this was addressed in the form of parenting education and interventions (see Rudoe, 2014) rather than enabling time and space to care. Housing related support also focused on encouraging teenage parents to continue or return to education (Giullari & Shaw, 2005). As Duncan et al. (2010, p. 8) observes, “there is an insistence on education, training and paid employment as the sole legitimate pathway to social inclusion and to ameliorating the negative effects of young parenthood”. What is more, education has often been constructed as a “now or never” opportunity (Giullari & Shaw, 2005, p. 412). Following the disbanding of the TPS, Public Health England (2018) identified key areas of action for local authorities. The resumption of educational pathways for teenage mothers remains a priority (Local Government Association, 2018). This approach is not solely a UK one; in the USA, the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act includes “job preparation, work and marriage” as key objectives (Office of Family Assistance, 2017) and in Canada, teenage mothers are encouraged to participate in the Learning, Earning and Parenting (LEAP) program for teenage parents “as soon as possible following childbirth” (Government of Ontario, 2015, p. 2).

These attempts to reorientate young mothers back into education are not always helpful however. Those not in education or employment continue to be identified as NEET (Local Government Association, 2018). However, as Yardley (2009) points out, defining young mothers as NEET supports assumptions that young parents are “doing nothing” and being rewarded by the welfare state. Furthermore, the educational pathways young mothers are directed to are often limited. As Chase (2017) recognises, the focus often remains on vocational or base level qualifications rather than academic pathways. These factors ramp up pressures on young mothers who are already expected to participate in the labour market in order to be recognised as “responsible citizens” and necessitates children being placed into childcare to facilitate their mothers’ entrance (or return) to education. As a consequence, the future potential of young parents is foreshortened, motherhood devalued and care marginalised.

Yet it is questionable whether the educational and employment deficits at the heart of these policy intentions are even caused by young motherhood. There is an ongoing methodological debate as to whether poor outcomes of teenage motherhood are better explained by pre-existing and ongoing social exclusion and deprivation (Duncan, 2007; Ellis-Sloan, 2019; SmithBattle, 2018). Furthermore, policy makers (and others) often present outcomes as a forgone and stable conclusion despite evidence that outcomes can and do shift over time. For example, Schulkind and Sandler (2019) found that in their US study differences in educational attainment between mothers who gave birth whilst in high school and older mothers narrow over time. They suggest this is due to later take up of alternative educational pathways. Such a claim is supported by a number of longitudinal studies (Bradshaw et al., 2014; Furstenberg et al., 1987; Leadbeater & Way, 2001; Rich & Kim, 1999; Werner & Smith, 2001). As Wiggins et al. (2005) conclude, the passage of time is a key factor for teenage mothers as investment in education and employment becomes more possible as children age.

Research design and methods

This paper draws on a study designed to consider the lived experience and long-term outcomes of young motherhood. It focused on outcomes typically measured in quantitative studies (education, employment, relationship status and housing tenure) and aimed to supplement these measures with an understanding of how such outcomes may come about and how they are experienced. As I argue elsewhere (Ellis-Sloan, 2019), policy is largely informed by quantitative research which lacks this detail. Furthermore, policy makers rarely acknowledge the potential for change over the life-course. The retrospective approach employed by this research enables considerable reflection and acknowledgment of the ways in which lives can change over time and therefore also questions the use of the term outcomes given that they are not stable. Moreover, given the paucity of longitudinal qualitative research (Ellis-Sloan, 2019) and the fact that much of the qualitative research with young mothers occurs within the first few years of childbirth (SmithBattle, 2018), this study fills an important gap.

The research was conducted in 2018 in the UK with 12 women. The study employed a purposive sampling technique in that the research question and the purpose of the study guided the recruitment process. Participation rested on the criteria that respondents were aged over 30 and had had a teenage pregnancy which resulted in them raising the baby. Participants were primarily recruited via an advocate for young mothers (8) and some personal contacts (3) with one participant recruited via snowballing. Details of the sample can be found in Table 1.

As shown in the table, the sample group were predominantly white with six of the women describing themselves as coming from a middle-class background. This does then hamper the ability to make a more detailed comparative or intersectional analysis and highlights the potential for this research to develop with a more ethnically diverse sample. Such work would be able to take into account the role of race and ethnicity in discourses of teenage motherhood. For example, wider discourses of motherhood often render black mothering practices as dangerous or present black mothers as burdens on the state (Hamilton, 2020). Such constructions are likely to further impact on young mothers. Indeed, as Phoenix (1991) notes, narrow and problematic definitions of culture have often been used to explain teenage pregnancy among young black women which has reinforced problematic social constructions of young black mothers. The experiences of black and minority young mothers therefore need to be centred to challenge these constructions.

Nevertheless, this paper does open up some unique areas for observation in terms of social class. Although young motherhood is often associated with working-class young women (Nayak & Kehily, 2014), middle class young parenting is not as uncommon as is often assumed and more research is needed to understand the significant differences in these experiences (Hirst et al., 2006). It is also worth noting the impact of age of the women when they became pregnant at this point.¹ The sample is broadly representative in that conceptions to under 16s are comparatively rare (ONS, 2019b); however, continuing in or returning to education may be additionally challenging for younger teenage mothers. For example, the absence of choice (even when choice is framed by normative expectations) for those legally compelled to return to education are not accounted for here.

The sampling technique meant that women were recruited from various locations in the UK which necessitated the use of Skype to facilitate some interviews. Those accessed more locally were interviewed either in a café or the participants’ home. All interviews were semi-structured in design with the women asked to report on current circumstances and reflect on their pathways from young motherhood to the present day. The use of a qualitative research design was intended to supplement the predominance of quantitative research in this area and the use of predetermined “outcomes” to measure the impact of a teenage pregnancy. The women were therefore asked to reflect on their experiences related to typical measures taken in the quantitative research (education, employment, relationship status, housing tenure). They were also asked what made them happy or proud and to reflect on any other significant experiences in order to get at a broader understanding of outcomes than simply the accumulation of resources and qualifications.

All interviews were recorded, with consent, and transcribed verbatim. A thematic analysis was then conducted drawing on the approach of Braun and Clarke (2006). Familiarity with the data was achieved by repeated reading of the interview data and a construction of narrative accounts of each participant’s life course. The data were then searched for initial codes and organised into documents. These were then re-visited and grouped into further themes and sub-themes. Verbatim extracts were taken for illustrative purposes. It is to these that the paper will now turn.

Expectations and pressures

As discussed above, young mothers are seen to transgress from a preferred social narrative and confound the expected pathway through education and into employment. The women in this study reflected on these expectations as they shared a sense of a “mythical right time” (Lynda) to have a baby from which they had deviated. For most, continuing through education was anticipated or even expected. As Gemma puts it:

… coming from the kind of affluent background I had, everyone had quite high expectations

Interestingly however, expectations of the women were lowered at the point at which they became pregnant in that young motherhood was conceptualised as an ending which prevented further attainment. For example:

You didn’t see successful single women, single mothers, you know, especially young ones, there was never a story about that women who had a baby at 18 and ended up well. And you were conscious of it constantly as an underlying thing, that that wasn’t the expectation, nobody expected anything kind of good to happen (Abigail)

As a result, some of the women expressed a need to confound such judgments:

I had something to prove because of being young, I didn't want to be judged that I was living off the state (Cally)

I think, a lot of that [being proud of her return to education] is about kind of showing everyone else in my family that it wasn’t the end, that wasn’t the end of my story (Abigail)

Furthermore, the data demonstrates how these expectations have the potential to cause pressures:

I got this real overwhelming sense of I’ve brought these two lives into the world, I really need to be able to support them and I’m not sure I can do that very well right now so when he was 5 months old I did a foundation at the Open University (Cath)

Interestingly, we can also see from the data how these pressures translated into particular desires for or expectations of children:

I felt like you needed to prove yourself all the time, and I needed to feel that [son] was always the best at sport and he was always the best academically and he was top of the class and he would win every sports day and, and now when I look back, I've had to sit down and I've had to say “I'm so sorry for pushing you” (Kate)

I'm glad that they both got a degree, I know that's not the be all and end all, but I think for me that, that was quite important … maybe proving something because I had them young and that I hadn't had an education and I had to really strive to get that later on (Sarah)

As is hinted by these women’s reflections, moving through education as a young mother is not without challenges. In addition to the pressures noted above, two of the women shared how the timing of their pregnancies meant they were “out of step” with their contemporaries, leading to them feeling isolated. For Kelly, this was not only due to her age and circumstance which led her to feel “worlds apart” from the average student but also because she “didn’t have the time, or the energy, or the money to go out and socialise”. Similarly, Lynda related that she was “incredibly isolated” at university because she couldn’t live in halls or take part in student activities such as Freshers’ week. Combining studying with care was also challenging:

I never really felt like I had a proper run at anything. And that used to really frustrate me … constantly feeling like you’re always, you know, running to get a bus because you’ve got a pick-up to do or a drop-off to do, or you’ve got a party to go to or, you know, there’s someone needs a present or, you know, all that kind of crap that you’ve got to fill your brain with (Cath)

As Sniekers and van den Brink (2019) found, other challenges were exacerbated (or indeed caused) by institutional policies or inflexibilities however. For instance, Cath related how the late release of timetables by the university meant organising childcare was difficult. This was compounded by the university’s less than empathetic response, in which “they [staff] just looked at me and … just shrugged their shoulders, they were like ‘well you’re just going to have to sort it out‘”. Gemma shared how the benefit system was not set up to deal with her circumstances as a single parent and student nurse on placement:

They decided that I wasn’t entitled to it [family credit] and they didn’t even tell me, I just didn’t have the money in my account one day so that was a bit of a shock but I only got it for 6 months in the 3 years that I trained. I wasn’t entitled to Housing Benefit because I was classed as working because I was a student nurse who did shifts on the ward and somehow I fell through the middle.

As a result, Gemma suffered considerable financial hardship leading to missed rent and childcare payments, meals of leftovers snuck from patients' plates and payday loans.

Some of the challenges shared by the women as they sought to combine motherhood with education are likely to be experienced at any age. As Moreau and Kerner (2015) note, the higher education system is not set up to recognise the dual role of student parents, which leads to financial struggles and the juggling of multiple tasks. Youthful parenting does appear to add an extra dimension of pressure here however. In Western society, “good” mothering has increasingly been linked to the notion of intensive mothering. This means anything which takes time away from mothering (working, studying, having a social life) often becomes fraught with conflicting pressures. Indeed, Brooks (2015) reported student mothers’ experiences of guilt which she linked to the influence of intensive mothering discourses and their incompatibility with the demands of higher education. Young mothers are no less influenced by these discourses. However, because of assumptions made about young mothers having babies to access housing and benefits, taking time out of education and work in order to care is often seen as suspect rather than as evidence of a desire to mother. To be seen as a “good” teenage mother, engagement in education or employment is required which directly contravenes the construction of good motherhood as being intensive and therefore present in the home. As Sniekers and van den Brink (2019, p. 200) argue from their Dutch study with young mothers, “one set of norms contradicts another set of norms [which are] complicated further by specific expectations about motherhood and youth”. When we combine this with problematising discourses of teenage motherhood, the pressure mounts. Yet, as the “outcomes” of the women in this sample demonstrate, most of them did succeed in education and even discussed some of the advantages of their trajectory through education.

Making it work

As shown in the table, at the point of interview, all of the women had completed school and further education and many had gone on to university or postgraduate study. For some, this was a result of a relatively uninterrupted pathway enabled by accommodating childcare needs into their educational pathways. Jade, for example, changed her A levels to AS levels and returned to complete one full A level after having her son over the summer break. Jen also had her baby during the summer months and returned to college in the September with a compressed timetable.

Most of the women’s educational attainments did not follow this linear accumulation of qualifications however. Many returned to education after periods in employment. For example, Abigail started her degree at the age of 30 and Cally at 37. As noted above, the passage of time is a key factor for young mothers in that education becomes more possible as children age. In part, this is because the practical aspects of childcare reduce. As Sarah noted, the growing independence of her children enabled her to focus on her own education. The need (or expectation) to be so present when children are young, as expressed by the women above, also reduces over time. When this reduces, it has been found that young mothers are far more likely to engage with education and training (Alexander et al., 2010). Whilst this is an important finding in itself, we also need to consider what facilitated the ability to return to and continue in education. In the case of this study, it is the women’s pathways into and through higher education which is of particular interest.

Firstly, higher education needed to be accessible. For many of the women, having a university close to home enabled them to commute and make use of family support while they studied. For others (Sarah, Cally, Ronnie, Charlotte, Cath), the Open University (OU) provided a route into higher education. This enabled the women to continue working, avoid an expensive commute and meant children did not need to be uprooted from friends and family. Secondly, continuing in or returning to education was only possible where this was financially viable. This was made possible through a range of sources. For Ronnie, university grants were still available and formed the majority of her income whilst studying. For Abigail, it was home ownership which reduced her outgoings and made surviving on a reduced income while studying possible. Cally’s course was funded by the local council who also helped towards the costs of a laptop, broadband and petrol. She noted that she would not have been able to manage otherwise. For other women, formal support was less forthcoming or was not sufficient. For instance, Jade and Jen combined remnants of the grant system with parental help and student loans. Lynda received a university bursary and support from a local charitable foundation. Nonetheless, maintaining herself and her son whilst studying required considerable work and debt:

… you had to take the full loan out for your fees and for your living costs … but it didn’t have to cover your costs during the holidays, so I would go on benefits during the holidays … so I had about five credit cards that I used to juggle things, rent payments things like that, and be constantly paying myself back with any benefits payments that come in in the holidays and stuff like that and keep it going and clocking around and around. And then when my course finished, I was eligible for an overdraft, professional loan thing to pay off the overdraft so I did that, and then I got another loan out to pay that, and so I just got more and more loans … until eventually I’d paid it all off, about two years ago

Lastly, informal support was vital for a number of the women. Partner support was evident and took various indirect forms described as “encouragement”, “support” and participating in (or taking the lead in) childcare and housework. For example:

… he looked after the kids while I was studying, and that [studying] was treated as a priority (Ronnie)

… he's [partner] always, always encouraged me to do whatever I've wanted to do. So if it wasn't for him I probably wouldn't, couldn't have done it (Sarah)

In most cases however, support came from the family of origin and took the form of childcare or in some cases financial aid. For example, the financial support provided by Jade’s parents meant she did not have to get a student loan. Families also supplied indirect financial support by enabling women and their children to remain in the family home, providing meals or after school pick-ups and care. Without such help, Jen concludes, “I would never have been able to afford to go to university otherwise”.

Where informal support did not exist, it was clear the women faced additional struggles in juggling their caring roles with education. For instance, Gemma shared profound financial difficulties as well as the absence of day-to-day childcare as she sought to pursue higher education as a single mother without family support. Charlotte shared how her partner actively tried to hinder progress by putting on loud music to distract her studying and tried to convince her to give up. Whilst both women graduated regardless, the challenges they experienced were significant and indicate what others may face and not overcome. As Chase (2017, p. 515) found with her study of young mothers’ experiences of high school graduation in the USA, “support from a mother or another family member was either the greatest contribution to her efforts or the absence that she felt most acutely”. It is clear here that the kinds of supports which enabled the women to succeed in their educational pathways cannot be guaranteed and there is then a need for the state to step in when this is absent.

These women’s accounts demonstrate how alternative pathways through and into higher education are possible for young mothers. Interestingly, they also shared their thoughts on some of the benefits of studying as a young parent:

I had loads of time for studying and revision … I reckon I probably did more work and was more focused than most other people (Jen)

One advantage of me having [son] when I went to uni was that I was really mega-focused because I couldn’t just, you know, so I had to get my essays written at the time … it gave me a real focus and a real drive (Gemma)

In contrast to the accounts above which cast mothering in an education setting as isolating and pressurised, combining studying with children is presented here not only as workable, but as advantageous. This alternative path was also found by some to have advantages in employment. For example, a later entry enabled career decisions which would have been impossible or undesirable when children were small such as commuting long distances (Cath) or living away from home part of the week for work (Jade). As Ronnie summarises:

I think that I did it the right way round, at the time when a career becomes absolutely ridiculous in terms of workload and what it demands of you, my kids are grown up and people I know who have got young children, who are trying to sort of deal with a really high-pressured job and the young children, I didn’t have that, I was bringing them up at the same time as being a student, there was the space, the flexibility, and I just think having kids and then going off and doing the career bit is a much better way around than doing the career bit and then having kids and having a tough time (Ronnie)

That these women draw attention to their advantages of their alternative (and stigmatised) life paths may be a way to deflect from potential judgement and criticism. Nonetheless, this does not mean that advantages do not exist. Neither should it prevent us from questioning some of the contradictions imbedded in the dominant social narrative in which parenting occurs later in the life course, thus entailing juggling small children with employment.

Questioning the narrative

Consequently, we need to expand our understanding of what constitutes a marker of success by considering participants’ own values and moments of pride rather than simply measuring predefined markers of success such as entrance to higher education. In doing so, we can see how the women’s narrations of success did detail educational achievements and career highs. However, these sat alongside expressions of pride in their parenting and joy in their children. For example:

I think most of the enjoyment I’ve had in my life is because I’m a parent, because I have her. She’s hilarious, and I think all kids essentially are, if you let them be. I’ve had a lot of reasons to laugh, I mean we go to the forest, I would never go to the forest on my own, you know, just like when they’re little, feeding the ducks, I would never feed the ducks on my own, so you have a better quality of life by default because you do the things that make them happy, and those are, the things that make you happy as well, but we just forget that these things make us happy (Kelly)

I'm proud I have managed to support my family doing what I love – writing. I was told multiple times it would never happen for me and it has, plus not only that, my kids have what they need, not only financially but in terms of my attention too (Lynda)

At the point of interview, some of the women were re-evaluating their educational and employment pathways. For some, this entailed asking questions such as “what do I want to be doing in ten years’ time?” (Cath) and “what do I want to do?” (Abigail). For others, as demands made on them by children reduce with age, women were more able to put self-care at the core of their education and employment decisions. For Kate, this meant turning down her employer’s offer to complete a foundation degree, instead choosing to prioritise her own mental wellbeing. For Sarah, it meant leaving a full-time, well-paid job that she was finding increasingly stressful for a part-time job on a lower income. On paper, and measured as an “outcome”, this does not reflect well on the consequences of young motherhood. Put in context, Sarah’s employment status reads somewhat differently:

… I've started doing art, which I haven't done for twenty years, which I'm really loving, so I do a little bit of art most days or every couple of days, which is really good. Just doing nice things like reading more, walking … what's really been lovely is seeing lots more of my mum and my sisters, I've been able to spend lots and lots more time with my mum, which is so much harder, you know, when you're working long, long hours (Sarah)

When children were young, as Cally puts it “needs must”, but with reduced care needs, more freedom emerges, including for the self. The ability to put yourself first might also become more possible once the women have achieved some of the normative markers of adulthood. In having made their challenge to their critics, the pressure recedes. As Cath notes, whereas the stigma attached to having a teenage pregnancy shaped many of her educational and career decisions, she has now reached a point where her achievements allow her to say “it doesn’t matter now”.

Concluding discussion

All of the women in this study had, at the point of interview, completed at least further education and entered employment. This finding supports longitudinal work which indicates that educational and employment outcomes improve over time (Bradshaw et al., 2014; Furstenberg et al., 1987; Rich & Kim, 1999; Wiggins et al., 2005). These accounts highlight the importance of not drawing conclusions from snapshots of data, particularly when that data is collected in the early months and years after birth when women are often bogged down with the pressures of care. This paper therefore contributes to a burgeoning bank of research which argues that concerns in these areas may be unfounded or at least overstated. That is not to say, however, that continuing in or returning to education as a young parent is equally inevitable, but to draw attention to some alternative stories which are too often dismissed or overshadowed by depictions of young motherhood as a failed trajectory. Importantly, rather than simply challenging these tropes, the retrospective and qualitative nature of this research allows us to reflect on the how these paths unfolded. As noted above, a number of factors hindered or supported these women’s pathways through education. This section reflects on these in relation to the wider context in which they are situated.

The data above draws attention to some of the financial means by which these women maintained themselves and their families whilst in higher education. For some, this was through the benefit system. Whilst it would be a stretch to describe the system these women utilised as generous, we can see in these narratives some of the more flexible elements of the system as it was delivered during the late 1990s and early 2000s. For example, Gemma relates hiding from the rent man in her council house when he came to collect rent and so stretching out a few extra days for her to be able to pay. Those becoming young mothers today are parenting in a period with a considerably reduced social safety net. Since these women became parents, we have seen considerable welfare policy changes mired by intense criticism. For instance, Universal Credit² has been found to cause considerable hardship (Flew, 2018), the benefit cap linked to rent arrears and food bank use (Citizens Advice Scotland, 2017; Shelter, 2019) and severe (and often wrongfully applied) sanctions described as having caused “social damage” (Webster, 2016) including an increase in the use of food banks (Loopstra et al., 2016). Taken together, such changes indicate a far harsher environment for those who may need support today.

Education policy has also shifted in the intervening years. When these women became parents, young people were required to remain in education until the age of sixteen; legislation introduced in 2013, however, means it is now compulsory to continue in education or training until the age of eighteen. Three of the women from this cohort (Jen, Kate and Jade) would have been affected had such legislation been in place at the time. Of the three, only Kate did not continue in education at the time. It is worth noting that the two who did remain did so due to the timing of having summer babies, college staff who amended timetables to accommodate them and parents who helped with childcare. Such a smooth path cannot be guaranteed however. Whilst local authorities are technically able to use their discretion in agreeing a suitable return date dependent on individual circumstances, the autonomy of young mothers in making decisions which work for them, their child and their education is reduced. This is evident in the harrowing narrative of one young mother and the testimony of one of the professionals tasked with aiding young mothers in their return to education in Ellis-Sloan (2018, p. 200). The picture of higher education has also changed. In 1998 in the UK, tuition fees were introduced by the Labour government and subsequently raised to £9000 in 2010 by the Coalition government. These women were in higher education at a point at which it was either free or substantially cheaper. Whilst payment for higher education is deferred in the form of loans, meaning that, in theory, there remains an equality of access, inequalities in the system are evident. For example, West et al. (2015) draw attention to the ability for more affluent families to protect their children from student loan debt. The increased cost of higher education coupled with a reluctance to move children away from family networks and schools could explain why many of these women turned to the OU as a way to study without needing to leave their home towns. It is therefore regretful that university satellite campuses, previously utilised as part of widening participation practices, are increasingly being closed as universities apply financial measures over and above those of social justice (Leaney & Mwale, 2021).

These points indicate that the period in which women become young mothers can have a direct impact on what paths become possible for them. Firstly, we can see this in terms of what policy decisions are being made and the practical implications these have for the women’s finances, options and experiences. Qualitative research such as this is an important way of understanding how policies look when they “hit the ground” and to inform further policy decisions. This study demonstrates that educational success is not solely at the control of individual women’s will to succeed and resilience. Practical support (from families, from the benefit system) and cultural advantages (discussed below) remain integral. In the absence of these, ensuring education remains accessible is key. As others have found, alternative educational settings may help younger young mothers re-engage with education whilst combining pregnancy and motherhood (Rudoe, 2014; Vincent, 2016). However, the women in this study would have been too old for such avenues and alternative educational settings for young mothers have also been criticised as being limited. As Smith-Carrier (2010) found in her study of a Canadian educational policy for young mothers, provision tends to focus on secondary level with little thought for post-secondary opportunities. Similarly, in the UK, “some young mothers are encouraged to embark on certain pathways that are matched to their young mother NEET status rather than as intellectual career infused women” (Russell, 2016, p. 105). These approaches are underpinned by a “subtext of reducing the need for public assistance” (Chase, 2019, p. 564) and often simply ensure “the perpetuation of a pool of low-wage labour” (Smith-Carrier, 2010, p. 160). Yet as the women in this study demonstrate, this drastically underestimates the potential of young mothers. Furthermore, as with participants reported in Vincent’s (2016) study of alternative educational settings, what mattered to young mothers was staff who understood the ways in which their mothering responsibilities might impact on studies and reacted non-judgmentally with flexibility. However, without this being embedded in policy, these kinds of experiences will remain dependent on the whims of individual establishments or even tutors. Moreover, such policies would need to be supported by a welfare system which recognised parents’ dual roles and the sometimes complex lives we lead which do not always fit into a standardised deployment of benefits.

Secondly, the fact these women’s lives and experiences are shaped by the wider context in which they reside highlights the limitations in making claims about outcomes based on past experiences of young mothers. Moreover, this leads us to the possibility that the timing of these women’s experiences may actually underplay the challenges associated with youthful parenting in today’s context. That said, such a point adds to arguments made by Duncan (2007) and Arai (2009) in their questioning of a teenage pregnancy problem. They argue that it is important to attend to the socially constructed problematisation of teenage pregnancy and parenthood. For Duncan, pre-existing disadvantage is key in explaining poor outcomes; for Arai, it is the ways in which wider social concerns are attached to young parents. This paper points to the way in which outcomes are directly impacted by structures of support beyond the control of young mothers themselves. Take these points together and we can see how important the wider context is.

The role of social class therefore also requires some interrogation at this point. Duncan (2007) focuses on disadvantage as a way of explaining post-pregnancy outcomes of young mothers; here we can see the converse, how pre-existing advantage plays out and supports post-pregnancy outcomes. Crudely speaking, for some of these women, their middle-class backgrounds provided the financial security those reliant on benefits were missing. This was either as a safety net when things went wrong (such as returning to live in the family home), or as a means to propel these women into and through higher education (such as helping with university fees).

Nonetheless, to make sense of these women’s pathways to and through higher education, a more complex reading of class is required than one which simply accounts for financial advantage. As Reay et al. (2001, p. 857) note, “the old binary between working-class and middle class has never explained enough about the myriad ways in which social class is acted out in people’s lives”. Here then it is useful to turn to Bourdieu’s reading of class as being based around cultural and economic capital. A definition of social class as one which encompasses culture allows us to explore the idea that it is not just financial advantages that matter; cultural norms and expectations open up higher education as a possibility. As Bourdieu (1984, p. 62) notes, “ … cultural capital has its own structure of value, which amounts to convertibility into social power, independent of income or money”. This may take the form of socially structured “hot” knowledge about higher education pathways from parents and peers who have directly experienced higher education (Slack et al., 2012). Additionally, and as Reay (2018, p. 529), notes, decisions around education are also made on the basis of a “historically-derived and socially-constructed common base of knowledge, values and norms for action with which young people had grown up”. This can be seen in the narratives of Gemma and Abigail in which they recount the “high” familial expectations made of them.

Nonetheless, cultural expectations and norms can compound the pressures experienced by young mothers. Consequently, this paper also asks us to re-think the expectations of normative transitions to adulthood which entails a pathway from education into employment with parenting occurring later in the life-course. As Mary (2014, p. 426) notes, unconventional patterns (such as youthful parenting) are defined as “deviant” and can result in “negative social sanctions, unflattering social comparisons or fewer support resources” (Sharon, 2016, p. 162). However, as we can see from this research, we fail to give young people recognition for their achievements or alternative routes of integration (Mary, 2014). Blatterer (2007) argues that we also do not give sufficient credit to the social inequalities which frame their experience of (and inability to meet) social markers of adulthood. Given the data shared here, it can also be argued that neither do we give enough credit to advantages which smooth the path for some. Either way, we impose meaning onto the lives of young people and interpret what they “do” rather than how they feel or experience those roles. As a result, practices may be “discursively misrecognised” (Blatterer, 2007, p. 758).

This paper has shown how the desire to prove critics wrong in their summation of what it means to be a young mother entailed further study or full-time employment with small children. An impetus to succeed stemming from the experience of a teenage pregnancy has been noted elsewhere (Duncan, 2007). However, if this drive to succeed is linked to negative stereotypes of young motherhood we need to be mindful of the pressures young parents are under to “succeed” and the price of not meeting socially constructed goals of adulthood. Care therefore needs to be exercised in claiming (as indeed I have done in the past) that a drive to succeed is a positive outcome of a teenage pregnancy. This claim relies on a conceptualisation of a teenage pregnancy as a potential failure which women have to prove themselves against. Furthermore, by focusing on this drive for success we, as academics, risk shoring up individualised discourses which emphasise hard work and resilience and erase the fact that support (institutional or informal) is foundational.

These women “made it” and their successes should rightly be celebrated and their experiences utilised to critique the tired narrative of young mothers as destined for failure. However, we should also attempt to push that critique a little further to point to the very measures used both to bash and to celebrate the achievements of young mothers. The importance of an adequate income is unequivocal, however this does not mean education and employment are end goals in and of themselves. Their role in enabling other achievements, goals and successes needs to be acknowledged. When we take educational and employment achievements as sole measurements of success, we overlook other sources of pride and happiness. This paper does not advocate a return to a period in which women were expected to find complete fulfilment and joy in parenting. Nonetheless, we should also be wary of shifting to a period in which we impose meanings of success and achievement which do not reflect lived experiences. Indeed Dolan’s (2019) concern with “the” social narrative is based on an argument that it becomes a “narrative trap” which we impose on ourselves and others regardless of how happy it might make us. As a consequence, Dolan argues we may be limited in that we do not pursue alternative social narratives which may potentially be happier for us. For example, the women in this study shared how a later entry into the workplace without being encumbered by small children may improve the work/life balance that is the Holy Grail for so many parents.

Accordingly, we should be questioning not only the normative pathway, but the accepted markers of success which underpin it. As Mary (2014, p. 427) suggests, we need to “recognise and encourage young people’s strategies for integration”. This entails taking an “asset-based” approach to working with young mothers rather than seeing teenage pregnancy as precipitating reduced opportunities. This involves listening to what young parents want and smoothing the path for them rather than attempting to fit them into one which does not meet their needs as a parent. Key professionals working with young mothers have the potential to fulfil such a role. They, argues SmithBattle (2005, p. 844), can, through trusting relationships, “take teen mothers’ perspectives seriously, validate their difficulties and challenges” and “play a pivotal role in linking teens to resources … to imagine and carve out a meaningful future”.

To conclude, although these women “made it”, we cannot take this as evidence that all is well, any more than we can take evidence of those who do not and conclude that young motherhood is a woeful and tragic ending. These women’s experiences of inflexible institutions, feelings of guilt, complicated (and shrinking) financial support systems and competing pressures to mother and study can overwhelm even the most dedicated of students. Practical support from families was integral and where support did not exist, considerable struggles ensued. That said, I do not wish to suggest that in order for young mothers to achieve happiness and contentment, the key is simply that they need more time and better support to accumulate a specified level of resources or to reach a predefined outcome. Instead, we need to recognise what it is young mothers need and respond to that. This only becomes possible when we adjust our research and policy approaches to account for the possibility of change, to consider what young parents value and define success on their terms; measuring the accumulation of resources only tells part of the story.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 All but one of the women were aged 17–19 when they became pregnant and had left compulsory schooling.

2 UC was introduced in 2013 to consolidate a range of benefits into one monthly payment intended to simplify the system and to encourage people off benefits.

3 British child growing up in international schooling systems.