My first paid teaching job was while I was still an undergrad. It was 1986 and I taught a computer programming class in PASCAL for Jackson Community College in Michigan. It was an unusual job because the class was held once a week, Saturday mornings, inside the only maximum security women's prison in the state of Michigan.
When I first heard about the job, I thought to myself "this sounds like an adventure", and it was. On my first visit to the prison, they searched me and my car before I was allowed on the grounds. Then I had to sit through a 4 hour orientation on the does and don'ts of teaching a class at the prison. I bristled a bit when they warned me that I would be subject to a random body cavity search and that they could and would not guarantee my safety at any time.
The first day of class was the most interesting. I showed up on time and had my person and belongings searched thoroughly. As I walked across the prison campus (I think that's what it's called) I saw small groups of inmates who seemed to all mimic the same behavior. As they passed me, they'd giggle to each other and some would wink at me.
When I got to the school building a guard escorted me to my classroom where my students were waiting. He closed the door and locked it from the outside. The door had a double deadbolt arrangement so it required a key to unlock it from the inside. I didn't have a key, nobody told me I'd be locked inside too. I looked out the security glass in the door, hoping to see my guard "guarding" me from the outside, but he was nowhere to be seen. It made me a little more comfortable when I'd see a guard peek through the door once an hour or so.
I really didn't know what a classroom full of maximum security prisoners looked like, so I didn't know what to expect. A few looked hard core, and they behaved that way. I remember them talking about how they wanted to go up and down their row of cells and "cut dem bitches heads right off." Two of them were very easy on the eyes, which really made me nervous and curious. There was one elderly lady who looked exactly like my best friend's grandma. I imagined her bringing a plate of hot cookies to class someday. The rest could have been PTA moms.
I started the class with a review of the syllabus and then went around for introductions. Before we started introductions, I made a very clear, blanket statement that I was not judgmental and that it didn't matter to me why they were here, nor did it matter to me whether they were guilty or not. I told them in jest, that I was only concerned about that if indeed they were in jail for doing something to a college instructor. I explicitly told all 20 ladies that I DID NOT want to know why they were in prison because it would be better for me.
As we made our introductions, I asked each lady what their college goals were and why they were taking my class. I thought to myself that there must be a lot of peer pressure here because nearly every one of them said that taking my Saturday morning class was a whole lot better than working in the factory making license plate expiration stickers. In the end, I decided they were telling the truth.
There was huge attrition in the class and by the time 16 weeks had passed, only 6 students remained. I gave them all passing grades despite the fact that their work was crap. I must have done that out of embarrassment or shame, thinking that it if I was a better teacher, not so many of them would have dropped out.
As I write this today, I still wonder what they did to get locked up.
No comments:
Post a Comment