I was hired in the fall of 1994 as a vocational instructor for the Department of Corrections in a newly constructed state run facility in a large metropolitan area. My new Principal informed me I was selected out of 250 candidates and he believed I would have an exceptional career teaching in the prison school. He was absolutely correct. I spent 25 years behind three barbwire fences working with men ranging in age between 18 and 60 years old teaching them life skills and a trade they could possibly use to find employment upon their release from prison. It was a daunting task and I enjoyed the challenge.
After spending two weeks in non custody employee training at the academy, I was sufficiently trained to begin my teaching career in corrections. So I thought. I found it hard to believe the stories the academy instructors had conveyed about what happens to people (both custody and non custody) working in the prison environment. After time I not only experienced what they prepared me for, I saw it happening on a regular basis. Manipulation, violence and stress were always present in this environment. Unfortunately, it could come from staff as well as inmates. The later was expected. Staff having their own agenda could make things much worse and often did. That was not expected.
My classroom was only for my use during the day. At night it was used for hobby craft. I didn’t really know what “hobby craft” entailed. I found out when I began to notice that my desk top and student tables were being cut up on a regular basis. Large scratches were being made on the tops of tables, my desk, and even two drawer file cabinets nightly. I finally had enough and asked my Principal to look at the furniture in my classroom. After he saw the damage he smiled. He informed me that somehow the prison was going to have to get this under control. The prisoners are allowed to have on their person as they travel to the school for hobby craft the following items as long as they are listed on their hobby craft card: Scissors for cutting fabric, knives and razors for cutting leather goods. My tables were replaced, but I could not stop thinking about what my Principal said.
I began the first couple of years teaching “Custodial Maintenance, Blood Born Pathogens and Pre Release life skills as requested by the Prison School Principal. I had worked at two major urban teaching hospitals as a facilities executive before coming to the Department of Corrections to teach. This would be easy I thought. When compared to my twelve hour days at the medical centers, this was a relief. So I thought. Then it happened. The School Correctional Officer (CO) made an announcement over the school public address system that prisoners are not to leave their classrooms. That did not keep my students from sticking their heads out the door way and announcing to the class that something big just went down in the School Library.
My classroom faced the outside walk way and through the barred windows my students could see the rush of Correctional Officers into the school building. It did not take long to secure the building. I was informed later in the day by the School Officer that an inmate with a melted razor in a toothbrush handle had slit the throat of a prisoner who he had been stalking for at least three years. It seems the prisoner whose throat he slit from ear to ear had raped his grandmother. I experienced many things working in the medical centers, but I can honestly say I had not seen this amount of blood outside of the medical environment. The prisoner who slit his throat was immediately subdued and handcuffed.
He was covered in blood, and was screaming that he “will kill that ‘asshole.” The victim was being transported to health care in a wheel chair with his shirt being compressed against his jugular with blood visibly soaking his t-shirt and improvised compress. The perpetrator was taken to the segregation unit. The weapon was put in a baggie and taken to the control center. The prisoners were told to vacate the school and were sent back to their housing units. The school was closed and the library was now a crime scene. I was asked to give the remaining prisoner school porters directions on cleaning up the blood once the facility Inspectors had finished taking pictures. I was in uncharted waters. School resumed the next day as if nothing had happened. “There but for the grace of God go I,” was my immediate thought.
MJ-Way 