While conducting fieldwork in Los Angeles, I observed a family working together to enroll a young child in a pre-school program. I visited the Cousin family regularly because one of the children, Mark, was a hip hop deejay. When I first met Mark, I was fascinated with his resourcefulness in procuring old vinyl recordings and updating his mixing equipment. Originally, I paid little attention to the rest of Mark's family, except to note that he lived at his grandmother's home more often than he did at his parents'. His mixing equipment and thousands of records were in his grandmother's basement – and he preferred to sleep with his records. Everything about him – and his parents and grandmother – was middle class. It was only after his nephew Rob began his campaign to enter school early that I paid attention to Mark's sister, who regularly visited their grandmother.

Mark's nineteen-year-old sister Dina had a four-year-old son named Rob who desperately wanted to go to school. When asked if he wanted to go to daycare Rob would reply, “Not day care! School!” All of Rob's aunts and great aunts and uncles, his mother, grandmother and great grandmother thought Rob was special – an old soul. They use to say “He been here before!” And getting him into school was an elaborate undertaking that included the entire family. As I watched them work to fulfill Rob's dream I found myself repeatedly thinking “Just a typical black family in America.