*A fictional piece on prison brutality.
By: Alonna Berry
All the doors are locked, and everyone is finally setting in to go to sleep. After a long day of work, they only thing I want to do is rest my head. I slowly walk to my room, barely able to make the semen block under my legs move. Every time I step it feels as though my legs are locking. I just have to make it to my room, and then I can rest my head. I have been waiting all day for this – the one thing I my life that hasn’t been stripped away from is, the one thing and the only place I can call my own - it is complete bliss. When I lay my head down to sleep, I am finally free, free to dream and explore the world beyond these four walls – I am free to fly. As I finally make it to my room, I am so relieved to be in the comfort of my home. As I slowly begin to take off my clothes for the day, my roommate come in. We have a brief conversation about what had happened today, who had been taken away, and about a letter he had received from his daughter. Even though the conversation wasn’t long (a relief), it was touching, and it gave me warm thoughts to think about as I would drift into freedom.
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I began to fade away. The ways of peace and serenity began to wash over my face. The rhythmic sound of the ocean numbed my body, and lulled me to sleep. Oh I loved the ocean, I dreamt about it always. I would never try to imagine when I would see it again, because it would depress me, I would only remember the good times I had there. Dream were the only place I could…
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG….
I’m not going to open my eyes yet, I will not give up my dream. Why are they banging? We just go to sleep. They haven’t called my name; they haven’t called anyone’s name. Maybe it’s not for me, maybe it’s not for anymore. Maybe there just being CO’s and thought it would be fun to wake up all up after we just went to sleep.
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG
I could feel the blood pressure in my body rising. I was going to lose control, I hated loosing control. The only place in my life I had control is at night, and they strip that away from me to. I cant…
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG
Why won’t they…
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG
I can’t live like…
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG
UUUGHHH! That’s it!
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG
“Shut Up!” I exclaimed before I could even catch myself. Oh no, I shouldn’t have spoken, I shouldn’t have done that.
-Did you have something to say Monroe?
-No sir, not at all, I must have wake up from a bad dream.
-A bad dream, I coulda swore I heard you say something. What did ya say boy?
-I don know sir, sometimes I talk in my sleep, maybe I was doin that again…
-In ya sleep you yell boy?
-When I am havin a bad dream
-You were havin a bad dream tonight boy?
-Yes sir.
- I don’t take very kindly to lyin – Monroe. Get your ass up and out here now
He unlocked the door; I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. By now a few other men had woken up, and as I walked from my door I felt my legs begin to shake.
-You lyin to me Monroe?
-No sir, I was dreamin.
-You were havin a bad dream?
-It turned into one
-You bein smart Monroe?
-No sir
-What did ya say?
-No sir
-No ya stupid fuck! What did ya say when ya woke up from ya dream?
-I’m not sure sir
-I was right beside your cell, Monroe, I heard you clearly….
He began to move his night stick, slowly back and forth. I noticed, and he wanted me to. He was giving fair warning that if I continued to lie, I would have to suffer my punishment. But I knew if I ad mitted to lying, I would suffer as well. I would stand my ground.
-You got something to say boy?
-Uhh, no sir I don’t remember
He pulled his night stick up and began patting it on his hand.
-You said “Shut up” boy! Ya don remember that?
-No sir
Then I felt it his stick came down on the back of my head like a ton of bricks. He was yelling something as he continued to hit me. I lost all sense of what was going on. I began to fade away. But not to a place where I had control, I was drifting to the bottom of the sea. Soon I would feel the big thud, as my body would slam against the ocean floor.
Showing posts with label prison system. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prison system. Show all posts
Monday, May 10, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
Pencils, Pages and Power
It’s amazing the how significant a small detail can become when it’s the little things that you live for. In a prison the smallest object can send the most pungent point. Let’s take a pencil for example, it is a utensil used for writing, it is a utensil made to allow mistakes to easily be erased, it is a utensil used for learning. Each and every week I step into Auburn prison prepared to teach, prepared to learn and prepared to tutor. The Auburn GED program is promised GED books to tutor with, pencils to write with, and scrap paper to work on. Each week we roll a small cart containing these materials into Room #10 and the other tutors and I prepare to help one another and the inmates.
Every week one of the first questions the inmates ask if for pencil and paper. Unlike other classrooms I have been in (for learning) these students are prepared to learn and wanting to learn. In order for that learning to take place simple tools are needed to encourage that learning (pencils, paper, and a textbook). Each week I dread when that question is asked. “Judge Alonna” they call me.
-Hey Judge Alonna can we have a book and a pencil?
-Sure one second.
I slowly walk across the room dreading the implications of my actions. I slowly lift the book. It reads GED. It is falling apart at the seam, the pages are ripped. They are not ripped out of frustration or anger from a misguided or “troubled” student like other textbooks I’ve seen. They are ripped from use, from countless nights of relentless studying and work. I pick up the book with two hands, carefully, not wanting to rip another page.
-Here you go.
-Are there pencils?
-Oh I almost forgot… one sec..
I turn to get the pencils. There is a pile of over 20 pencils, all of them smaller then my hand – none of them sharpened. I pick up a few, desperately searching for a point that is usable. I can’t find one – not a single a pencil. I begin to frantically look for a pencil that is large enough to fit into the pencil sharpener. I slowly turn and glance around. The inmates are making their way to the cart – one book out, two books, three… I’m going to need more than one pencil.
I slowly lift my hand to the sharpener and shove the pencil inside. I can barely hold on to the edge of the pencil. By the time it is finished sharpening I couldn’t imagine it fitting into any of the inmate’s hands. I try another… then another…
-I think I have one for you to use… Sorry it’s so small…
-Thank you Alonna.
-Your welcome.
I sit down to tutor. We begin to work algebra problems. As I sit and watch the inmate struggle to hold the toy sized pencil in his hand as he flips through the ripped pages I realize that this is the system. It’s an institution built with subtle and constant reminders of what the system think they are worth. They give you a classroom to learn it but no tools to learn with. Who are they really helping?
-That’s good! You did a good job here.
-Is that the right answer Alonna?
-That’s what I got! Let’s check in the back of the book to make sure…
As my finger slid across the page I found the page number with the answers.
-Its page number 357.
We flip through the pages. The last section has been ripped out.
The book ends with page 345…
Every week one of the first questions the inmates ask if for pencil and paper. Unlike other classrooms I have been in (for learning) these students are prepared to learn and wanting to learn. In order for that learning to take place simple tools are needed to encourage that learning (pencils, paper, and a textbook). Each week I dread when that question is asked. “Judge Alonna” they call me.
-Hey Judge Alonna can we have a book and a pencil?
-Sure one second.
I slowly walk across the room dreading the implications of my actions. I slowly lift the book. It reads GED. It is falling apart at the seam, the pages are ripped. They are not ripped out of frustration or anger from a misguided or “troubled” student like other textbooks I’ve seen. They are ripped from use, from countless nights of relentless studying and work. I pick up the book with two hands, carefully, not wanting to rip another page.
-Here you go.
-Are there pencils?
-Oh I almost forgot… one sec..
I turn to get the pencils. There is a pile of over 20 pencils, all of them smaller then my hand – none of them sharpened. I pick up a few, desperately searching for a point that is usable. I can’t find one – not a single a pencil. I begin to frantically look for a pencil that is large enough to fit into the pencil sharpener. I slowly turn and glance around. The inmates are making their way to the cart – one book out, two books, three… I’m going to need more than one pencil.
I slowly lift my hand to the sharpener and shove the pencil inside. I can barely hold on to the edge of the pencil. By the time it is finished sharpening I couldn’t imagine it fitting into any of the inmate’s hands. I try another… then another…
-I think I have one for you to use… Sorry it’s so small…
-Thank you Alonna.
-Your welcome.
I sit down to tutor. We begin to work algebra problems. As I sit and watch the inmate struggle to hold the toy sized pencil in his hand as he flips through the ripped pages I realize that this is the system. It’s an institution built with subtle and constant reminders of what the system think they are worth. They give you a classroom to learn it but no tools to learn with. Who are they really helping?
-That’s good! You did a good job here.
-Is that the right answer Alonna?
-That’s what I got! Let’s check in the back of the book to make sure…
As my finger slid across the page I found the page number with the answers.
-Its page number 357.
We flip through the pages. The last section has been ripped out.
The book ends with page 345…
Monday, December 14, 2009
We are humans too...
“I don’t know what you mean ms?” one of the inmates said during a lengthy discussion on an excerpt from a poem another prison had read aloud. “What don’t you understand?” the two teachers in the front of the room said in unison. “Juxtaposition… what does that mean?” The other tutor and I went through a brief discussion explaining what the work juxtaposition meant. After the inmate began to nod in agreement the discussion continued. As the conversation continued to evolve it merged from a discussion about literal analysis to a discussion about life experiences. I listened as experiences bounced one mouth to the next and it began to seem hard for the teachers to keep the class under control.
At the end of the class one of the other tutors, Joe, older white haired man, came to speak to the inmates about a topic Victoria and I had been too scared to talk to them about ourselves.
With 20 minutes to go he re-directed the. As he makes his way to the front of the class, the laughter and smiles on the inmate’s faces turn to concern. For a brief moment I saw all the pain and torment in their faces. Joe moved to the front of the room. He began to explain that he had been informed by the female’s teachers that there had been some inappropriate comments between the inmates and the teachers. He explained that in order for this program (The GED Program) to continue, there are certain rules that need to be followed. If those rules are not followed – this program would be in jeopardy.
“You have to understand that this facility is set up to dehumanize us. They tell you to be scared of us, because they want you to be scared. They tell you to not sit on the same side of the table as us because they tell you we will touch you, and try to harm you…” A prisoner said.
“Look at the poster on the wall over there?” another prisoner chimed in. In unison we all turned our heads and looked. Prisoners are human too – is what the sign read. “They tell you that we aren’t human, but they are the ones that spit in our face, they yell at us for wanting a drink of water or to take a piss. They have the power and they know they have the power, and because they have it they use it without hesitation. Now that we have an opportunity to learn, think, and talk in class… they want to take that away from us as well; it’s cruel.”
The conversation continued on until the end of the class. I was astonished at the depth of the conversation.
I left that day learning one thing: verbal brutality can sting as much as physical brutality, but neither should be accepted.
At the end of the class one of the other tutors, Joe, older white haired man, came to speak to the inmates about a topic Victoria and I had been too scared to talk to them about ourselves.
With 20 minutes to go he re-directed the. As he makes his way to the front of the class, the laughter and smiles on the inmate’s faces turn to concern. For a brief moment I saw all the pain and torment in their faces. Joe moved to the front of the room. He began to explain that he had been informed by the female’s teachers that there had been some inappropriate comments between the inmates and the teachers. He explained that in order for this program (The GED Program) to continue, there are certain rules that need to be followed. If those rules are not followed – this program would be in jeopardy.
“You have to understand that this facility is set up to dehumanize us. They tell you to be scared of us, because they want you to be scared. They tell you to not sit on the same side of the table as us because they tell you we will touch you, and try to harm you…” A prisoner said.
“Look at the poster on the wall over there?” another prisoner chimed in. In unison we all turned our heads and looked. Prisoners are human too – is what the sign read. “They tell you that we aren’t human, but they are the ones that spit in our face, they yell at us for wanting a drink of water or to take a piss. They have the power and they know they have the power, and because they have it they use it without hesitation. Now that we have an opportunity to learn, think, and talk in class… they want to take that away from us as well; it’s cruel.”
The conversation continued on until the end of the class. I was astonished at the depth of the conversation.
I left that day learning one thing: verbal brutality can sting as much as physical brutality, but neither should be accepted.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
The Communication of Races...
So I must admit that it had been a while since my last post. I apologize. The truth is that it has been hard for me to articulate what I want to say. You see every week there are so many different things that happen. In a prison, just like in life there is never just one layer to things. There are layers upon layers upon layers to work with. Like an onion it takes time to peel, and sometimes tears are involved while you are fighting to get to the center. The problem with trying to peel an onion is that you never pick each layer to get to the center; after you peel the skin and just cut through to the center (it’s easier). A lot of times in life we cut straight through to the center – sometimes it’s easier and sometimes it makes things a bit more complicated. I hope that you can allow me to use this space and the next few posts to sort through the layers…. And try to make sense of it all.
There are a few layers to the prison system that I have been having a lot of trouble with recently. Being an African-American female it is almost impossible to realize that everyone in the GED tutoring class and in the yard are either African American or Latino. Why is that? You know before going into an actual prison, and working their every week I had done a little research on the prison systems. It had been a lecture topic on one or two of my African American studies classes, but I had never truly thought about what that all meant. I had heard before that African American and Latino males make up the largest percentage of the prison population. But it is always easy to read a fact and forget about it, but experiences are a lot harder to forget.
So once a week I go to Auburn prison. We park our car, and walk towards the massive structure and metal bars. The guards open the oversized metal gate for us to walk in. Then we walk to the main desk and sign in then we show our IDs and they give us our visitor’s ID (which we have to attach and wear the entire time we are in the prison). Next we had to take off our shoes, jackets, IDS, put down our books, and walk through the metal detector. Assuming I don’t set the detector off, the Corrections Officer (CO) will then check off my name and stamp my hand. After patiently waiting for every volunteer to go through this process we then proceed through the next oversized gate into the small corridor with the black light. After each person crowds into the small gated room and show there hand under the black light so that the CO behind the glass window can see it, the next gate opens and we walk inside. We are now past security, and the next step is getting to the education building. This building is located on the other side of the prison property (in the back). So in order to get there us (the group of volunteers) has to walk through the entire prison to get there. After walking up the stairs, and through several other small gated rooms and hallways we have to walk through the yard. Our only protection walking through the yard is our number, and the 3 CO’s that are accompanying us with their big black sticks swinging in their hands. Deep down though I know they are no protection… I have already been told that our true protection is the inmates that we tutor and the high image they have of us (volunteers) in their head. I, and fellow volunteers, have been told several times that we never have to worry about anyone messing with us because they will always protect us. It’s prison loyalty – just another layer that hasn’t quite been peeled back yet. As I walk through the yard, I listen to the whistling and sexual comments from the prisoners. When I first walked through the yard that was really upsetting for me… and I felt very uncomfortable. But now those comments don’t bother me, I now have the ability to tune them out. What I see now is color, and condition. It’s truly heartbreaking. As I walk through the yard, I pass through bathrooms that you can see-through, and seas and seas of adult African-American and Latino men. After my first couple of visits to the prison I began to search the crowd to see if I could spot a man of a different race – no luck. In fact this past week was the first time there was a man in the class who was not African-American or Latino. It added an interesting dynamic to the class, he didn’t speak much during the discussion time – but he didn’t have to. Just his presence and expressions changed the atmosphere. There are a lot of problems that I have with a prison of this security level being “colored” (if I can use that word)…
The other evening I was watching an old film, a favorite of mine; it’s called “Cool Hand Luke”. If you haven’t seen this movie I would really suggest that you watch it! But anyway this movie is about a prison, prison life, a chain gang – I had watched this movie before several times in fact, but this time the movie had a very different meaning to me. This is a 1967 film about the prison system; it is about a time when prisons were divided colored prison and white prison. This particular chain gang was a white chain gang; they had all committed crimes and were serving their time. Some of them were murders, and others were not but they all worked and served their time together and they were all white. So my question here, one that I have been pondering; are all the criminals just “colored” people now? Or somehow in some weir d way is there a white prison, with all the other white criminals? They must have been put there because their crimes in some way were less heinous then the drug smugglers, gang bangers, murders, and innocent men of Auburn. Maybe I’m imagining things… or maybe there really is a pattern of racial profiling, and biases that place only people or mostly people that reflect my skin color or the skin color of our president in jail…? I’m not sure, I don’t want to pass judgments on our justice system, but I do want to change it! Exactly why I am striving so hard to fulfill my dream and become a judge someday, because hopefully in fulfilling that dream I will also been allowing young African-American and Latino men to dream as well…
I’m not saying that the justice system is faulty, I’m just saying…
“What we have here is a failure to communicate!”
Maybe the justice system and people of color just don’t know how to communicate with one another and comprehend each other’s struggle. Maybe the justice system needs a clearer reflection, a reflection with a little more color, a reflection that could really match the individuals who have to stand in front of that bench…
According to the Washington Post, “one in nine black men 20 to 34 is behind bars.”
Communications is key…
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
A Developing Understanding...
I was 16 when I first went into that prison; The Smyrna correctional facility, in Smyrna Delaware. I remember thinking it looked so massive. The barbed wire appeared to stretch across the entire sky. Silver stars cascading between every cloud, floating in a sea of blue. The fences seemed so high that almost climbed into outer space. I couldn’t believe my eyes. People actually live here? The bricks were carefully mounded on top, one after the other, brick cement, brick cement to ensure the structure to never breathe. What is it like to live in a structure that never allows you to breathe? The weight of the lifelessness of such a building began to weigh heavy on my heart. I began to feel a loss of my breathe, with each step closer, and closer to the prison I began to feel my heart tighten. If I stepped inside I may suffocate. My surroundings faded; ba bump, ba bump, ba bump, ba bump, bump… bump… bu…mp... “Alonna its time to go in, the Cornell students are waiting for us…” Ok I’ll be right out, one second! I had to do it, I had to force my legs to release the cement stacks from beneath my feet, and allow me to walk again. I had to open the door, the wind pushing against the door suddenly attached with the intensity of a category 7 Hurricane. See its mother nature, it doesn’t want me to go in, the universe is protecting me. I can’t go in, I’m only 20 what if something happens, I want a family, a career… why did I decide to do this? “Alonna were going in, do you have your ID? Remember to leave your cell phone and everything else in the car.” “OK guys, yea I’m coming.” Suddenly the hurricane winds subsided, the cement disappeared and I moved forward.
This prison looked much different. It was built like a castle, but not one the Cinderella lived in. It reminded me of Dracula’s castle in Transylvania, Romania. The eerie feeling of death surrounded the building. The familiar breathless bricks were there, stacked stone cold one on top of the other, so solitary, so lifeless. I was out of the car, but I wasn’t sure how to make my feet walk through the gates…
On my first day at the prison, I vividly remember being so scared, and not knowing what to expect and how to act. After just completing my 3rd tutoring session, my views and opinions have definitely began to change, and the “big bad” prison is not so scary anymore. This week’s tutoring sessions was especially significant and eye opening for me; which is why I chose to juxtapose this week’s experience with my feelings prior to my tutoring sessions at Auburn prison.
In every tutoring session we begin with a piece of writing or a poem that is read aloud, and a brief discussion is held about those particular pieces. This week, after being so encouraged by the experiences and the inmates I decided that I wanted to bring in a discussion piece for this week. I chose 3 of my personal favorite poems, that when read in conjunction with one another have very similar themes and meanings. The three poems I chose to read this week were: I Too, by Langston Hughes, Still I Rise, by Maya Angeluo, and the last verse of Keep Ya’ Head Up by Tupac Shakur. The reason I chose these three pieces is because each write is from a very different era, each piece was written at leave 20 years apart but the pieces all had a similar theme. Each piece was talking about surviving from a struggle, overcoming obstacles, and moving on. These themes and these pieces evoked a lot of emotion in the prisoners and a discussion significant discussion began to form out of the context of these poems.
There were two comments in particular that struck me during the conversation, and both comments were directed towards me. Since the tutoring program is still in its beginning stages and the group of inmates is new and the group of tutors (myself) are new to the inmates; there are various trust struggles that come up in tutoring as well as in general discussions. One inmate asked me, “Why did you choose these poems? Are you trying to say somethin to us?” I was taken off guard by the directness of the question, and I said, “What do you think I would be trying to say?” and he simply replied, “What everyone else says; just cause you’re in prison doesn’t mean you can’t do nothing.” I was glad that the inmate clearly picked up on the symmetry between the poems, but that wasn’t what I wanted to imply with the poetry. So I told him, “All of those pieces were personal favorites of mine and I tried to find something that I thought everyone would enjoy to read.” At that second another prisoner chimed in, “We can relate to poetry like this, but the stuff on the test, the poems they give us… they’re not like this…” That’s what I truly began to understand, I knew exactly what he was saying, what they all were saying…
At that point I decided I wanted to help; as the discussion continued I asked my fellow tutors to find a poem in the GED book, so we could analyze that. Shortly after, ironically they found a Langston Hughes poem, “A Dream Deferred”.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-- And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I broke the poem down line by line, and explained it. I started by asking, “do you know what a dream deferred is?” Many prisoners didn’t understand the word “deferred”. After explaining that is was like a dream you could never get to, something you wanted to do but couldn’t accomplish… head began to nod and I knew they understood. After that we took it line by line, and got into Hughes imagery… “Can you see a raisin drying up in a sun?” or “have you ever smelled rotten meat?” After discussing this poem is seemed like the answer to the question jumped out at the prisoners and everyone got it correct.
This experience was very encouraging to me because not only did the prisoners begin to accept me, I began to accept them. Within a prison acceptance is a hard thing to understand. I knew that going into this internship; hence the fear and anxiety referenced to in the opening story. Now my opinions are beginning to change. I think the one thing I enjoy most about this experience is I learn and grow so much every Thursday night in two hours then I have in twenty years.
Other Poems We Read:
http://www.cswnet.com/~menamc/langston.htm - A Dream Deferred
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-too/ - I Too
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-i-rise/ - Still I Rise
http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Keep-Ya-Head-Up-lyrics-2Pac/C4EC4762B806B8824825686A000CD809 - Keep Ya Head Up Lyrics
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlQcJAjYxaI – Keep Ya Head Up Music Video
This prison looked much different. It was built like a castle, but not one the Cinderella lived in. It reminded me of Dracula’s castle in Transylvania, Romania. The eerie feeling of death surrounded the building. The familiar breathless bricks were there, stacked stone cold one on top of the other, so solitary, so lifeless. I was out of the car, but I wasn’t sure how to make my feet walk through the gates…
On my first day at the prison, I vividly remember being so scared, and not knowing what to expect and how to act. After just completing my 3rd tutoring session, my views and opinions have definitely began to change, and the “big bad” prison is not so scary anymore. This week’s tutoring sessions was especially significant and eye opening for me; which is why I chose to juxtapose this week’s experience with my feelings prior to my tutoring sessions at Auburn prison.
In every tutoring session we begin with a piece of writing or a poem that is read aloud, and a brief discussion is held about those particular pieces. This week, after being so encouraged by the experiences and the inmates I decided that I wanted to bring in a discussion piece for this week. I chose 3 of my personal favorite poems, that when read in conjunction with one another have very similar themes and meanings. The three poems I chose to read this week were: I Too, by Langston Hughes, Still I Rise, by Maya Angeluo, and the last verse of Keep Ya’ Head Up by Tupac Shakur. The reason I chose these three pieces is because each write is from a very different era, each piece was written at leave 20 years apart but the pieces all had a similar theme. Each piece was talking about surviving from a struggle, overcoming obstacles, and moving on. These themes and these pieces evoked a lot of emotion in the prisoners and a discussion significant discussion began to form out of the context of these poems.
There were two comments in particular that struck me during the conversation, and both comments were directed towards me. Since the tutoring program is still in its beginning stages and the group of inmates is new and the group of tutors (myself) are new to the inmates; there are various trust struggles that come up in tutoring as well as in general discussions. One inmate asked me, “Why did you choose these poems? Are you trying to say somethin to us?” I was taken off guard by the directness of the question, and I said, “What do you think I would be trying to say?” and he simply replied, “What everyone else says; just cause you’re in prison doesn’t mean you can’t do nothing.” I was glad that the inmate clearly picked up on the symmetry between the poems, but that wasn’t what I wanted to imply with the poetry. So I told him, “All of those pieces were personal favorites of mine and I tried to find something that I thought everyone would enjoy to read.” At that second another prisoner chimed in, “We can relate to poetry like this, but the stuff on the test, the poems they give us… they’re not like this…” That’s what I truly began to understand, I knew exactly what he was saying, what they all were saying…
At that point I decided I wanted to help; as the discussion continued I asked my fellow tutors to find a poem in the GED book, so we could analyze that. Shortly after, ironically they found a Langston Hughes poem, “A Dream Deferred”.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-- And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I broke the poem down line by line, and explained it. I started by asking, “do you know what a dream deferred is?” Many prisoners didn’t understand the word “deferred”. After explaining that is was like a dream you could never get to, something you wanted to do but couldn’t accomplish… head began to nod and I knew they understood. After that we took it line by line, and got into Hughes imagery… “Can you see a raisin drying up in a sun?” or “have you ever smelled rotten meat?” After discussing this poem is seemed like the answer to the question jumped out at the prisoners and everyone got it correct.
This experience was very encouraging to me because not only did the prisoners begin to accept me, I began to accept them. Within a prison acceptance is a hard thing to understand. I knew that going into this internship; hence the fear and anxiety referenced to in the opening story. Now my opinions are beginning to change. I think the one thing I enjoy most about this experience is I learn and grow so much every Thursday night in two hours then I have in twenty years.
Other Poems We Read:
http://www.cswnet.com/~menamc/langston.htm - A Dream Deferred
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-too/ - I Too
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-i-rise/ - Still I Rise
http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Keep-Ya-Head-Up-lyrics-2Pac/C4EC4762B806B8824825686A000CD809 - Keep Ya Head Up Lyrics
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlQcJAjYxaI – Keep Ya Head Up Music Video
Monday, September 28, 2009
Educational Perspective
First, I want to begin by saying I had an amazing time tutoring at the prison, I am so encouraged and enthused from just one tutoring session that I’m positive this internship is going to be an amazing experience. I think more than anything there were several things that I learned from the prisoners I tutored that really sparked and interest for me to research, and talk about.
I’ve only been to one other prison in my life, a much smaller prison in my home state. Walking into a prison is an extremely unique experience, and being immersed into prison life is extraordinary. Walking into a prison is like walking into a time warp, everything stops, the world around you seems to come to a complete halt, the walls seems to fade, and you almost put yourself in trance. Walking from room to cage to room to cage, lock, lock, lock. There is no movement that is not monitored, it seems like every step I take is recorded and logged deep within the tiles that I step on. As I began to think about the immensity of the footsteps, how many steps forward actually were steps backward, because each step forward was a loss of time. How many lives were halted, family connections lost, and lives forgotten behind the medal bars of Auburn?
The Auburn state prison has a very interesting history, and has been one of the leading prison institutions for change in the prison system throughout history. The Auburn Correctional Facility was the United States first prison ever built, in 1817. As the prison system has changed over time, Auburn has been a leading agent in change and reform within the prison system. In the State of New York, Auburn prison was the first prison to use capital punishment for harsher crimes. The Auburn Prison continued this reputation of change; with being one of the first prisons in the United States and New York State to make an active effort in changing to prison for rehabilitation.
In fact, when tutoring the prisoners the immensity of Auburn prisons reform system, and the effects is has had in the inmates life is extraordinary. For example, there were two inmates that I tutoring last session. There was an older inmate in his mid 40s, and a younger inmate he was 19 (the youngest in the prison). They had formed this bond, like a father and son in a sense. As we were reviewing countless algebraic equations, math word problems, I began to get to know the inmates a little better. The elder prisoner began to tell me about the prison educational system. He stated that every prisoner under the age of 65 is required by the State of New York to take educational classes. There are three levels of classes for prisoners to take. Every prisoner willing takes a placement test that places them in one of the three levels. The first level is for inmates who score lower then a high school level overall, and they take classes, and have independent study within their cells, etc. Then there is the intermediate level, where inmates are studying for their GEDs (which is where my tutoring sessions fit in), and then if inmates achieve their GEDs and they have the option of getting a college degree, in the third level.
He also talked about the “Box Prisons.” If at any time while in prison a prisoner gets in trouble they can be sent to solitary confinement prison. In this prison inmates are allowed to test for their levels. While in box prison inmates are confided to their cell for 23 hours a day and are let out one hour a day. Even though these conditions may seem extreme, these prisoners are being punished for committing crimes while in prison. But even while being punished prisoners are offered the opportunity to better themselves and grow. While in solitary confinement they have cell-to-cell teaching, where a tutor where a tutor will bring a study book to each cell, and if the prisoners have questions they can write the tutor and the tutor will write back to the prisoner. This may not seem like the best learning atmosphere, but for inmates the opportunity is immense. The older inmate told me “your locked up for23 hours a day what else is there to do but study your book?” He said from being in solitary confinement he studied enough to be able to pass the GED placement test and be placed in the GED course. What was so astonishing to me was the number of inmates who don’t take advantage of these opportunities. The elder inmates states that out of all of the prisoners in the Auburn prison system only six opted to take the GED placement test when he took it, and out of those six only three passed the test; even though every prisoner was offered the opportunity. This brings me back to my question of rehabilitation… the prison offers rehabilitation; but just like in the public school systems and in universities; everyone is offered an opportunity but not everyone grasps the importance of that opportunity. Just sitting and listening to these two inmates talk about life and their perspectives. This elder inmate in his 40s has been in prison for 12 years already and in year twelve after being placed in solitary confinement he is taking the steps to make a change in his life. As the 19 year old sat and listened he tuned out half way through the tutoring session, and didn’t care anymore. Here his is sitting with help in front of him, but he isn’t listening, he doesn’t care….
What does that mean?
Sites to look at:
· http://www.insideprison.com/auburn-correctional-facility.asp
· http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auburn_Correctional_Facility
· http://www.co.cayuga.ny.us/history/cayugahistory/prison.html -history
· http://media.www.dailyorange.com/media/storage/paper522/news/2007/03/02/Feature/Perp-School.Su.Students.Give.Inmates.At.Auburn.Correctional.Facility.Second.Chan-2753467.shtml
I’ve only been to one other prison in my life, a much smaller prison in my home state. Walking into a prison is an extremely unique experience, and being immersed into prison life is extraordinary. Walking into a prison is like walking into a time warp, everything stops, the world around you seems to come to a complete halt, the walls seems to fade, and you almost put yourself in trance. Walking from room to cage to room to cage, lock, lock, lock. There is no movement that is not monitored, it seems like every step I take is recorded and logged deep within the tiles that I step on. As I began to think about the immensity of the footsteps, how many steps forward actually were steps backward, because each step forward was a loss of time. How many lives were halted, family connections lost, and lives forgotten behind the medal bars of Auburn?
The Auburn state prison has a very interesting history, and has been one of the leading prison institutions for change in the prison system throughout history. The Auburn Correctional Facility was the United States first prison ever built, in 1817. As the prison system has changed over time, Auburn has been a leading agent in change and reform within the prison system. In the State of New York, Auburn prison was the first prison to use capital punishment for harsher crimes. The Auburn Prison continued this reputation of change; with being one of the first prisons in the United States and New York State to make an active effort in changing to prison for rehabilitation.
In fact, when tutoring the prisoners the immensity of Auburn prisons reform system, and the effects is has had in the inmates life is extraordinary. For example, there were two inmates that I tutoring last session. There was an older inmate in his mid 40s, and a younger inmate he was 19 (the youngest in the prison). They had formed this bond, like a father and son in a sense. As we were reviewing countless algebraic equations, math word problems, I began to get to know the inmates a little better. The elder prisoner began to tell me about the prison educational system. He stated that every prisoner under the age of 65 is required by the State of New York to take educational classes. There are three levels of classes for prisoners to take. Every prisoner willing takes a placement test that places them in one of the three levels. The first level is for inmates who score lower then a high school level overall, and they take classes, and have independent study within their cells, etc. Then there is the intermediate level, where inmates are studying for their GEDs (which is where my tutoring sessions fit in), and then if inmates achieve their GEDs and they have the option of getting a college degree, in the third level.
He also talked about the “Box Prisons.” If at any time while in prison a prisoner gets in trouble they can be sent to solitary confinement prison. In this prison inmates are allowed to test for their levels. While in box prison inmates are confided to their cell for 23 hours a day and are let out one hour a day. Even though these conditions may seem extreme, these prisoners are being punished for committing crimes while in prison. But even while being punished prisoners are offered the opportunity to better themselves and grow. While in solitary confinement they have cell-to-cell teaching, where a tutor where a tutor will bring a study book to each cell, and if the prisoners have questions they can write the tutor and the tutor will write back to the prisoner. This may not seem like the best learning atmosphere, but for inmates the opportunity is immense. The older inmate told me “your locked up for23 hours a day what else is there to do but study your book?” He said from being in solitary confinement he studied enough to be able to pass the GED placement test and be placed in the GED course. What was so astonishing to me was the number of inmates who don’t take advantage of these opportunities. The elder inmates states that out of all of the prisoners in the Auburn prison system only six opted to take the GED placement test when he took it, and out of those six only three passed the test; even though every prisoner was offered the opportunity. This brings me back to my question of rehabilitation… the prison offers rehabilitation; but just like in the public school systems and in universities; everyone is offered an opportunity but not everyone grasps the importance of that opportunity. Just sitting and listening to these two inmates talk about life and their perspectives. This elder inmate in his 40s has been in prison for 12 years already and in year twelve after being placed in solitary confinement he is taking the steps to make a change in his life. As the 19 year old sat and listened he tuned out half way through the tutoring session, and didn’t care anymore. Here his is sitting with help in front of him, but he isn’t listening, he doesn’t care….
What does that mean?
Sites to look at:
· http://www.insideprison.com/auburn-correctional-facility.asp
· http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auburn_Correctional_Facility
· http://www.co.cayuga.ny.us/history/cayugahistory/prison.html -history
· http://media.www.dailyorange.com/media/storage/paper522/news/2007/03/02/Feature/Perp-School.Su.Students.Give.Inmates.At.Auburn.Correctional.Facility.Second.Chan-2753467.shtml
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