MJ-Way

After about a month of teaching at the prison I had an experience that not even the Corrections Academy had prepared me for. It seemed that the correctional facility I had accepted employment with was under investigation at the Federal level. No one, except the current administration and their minions, new this was occurring. What was discovered through FBI informants was that some Correctional Officers were selling handcuff keys , pepper spray, and drugs to the prisoners. The FBI came in during the Correctional Officers roll call (between shifts) and arrested those Correctional Officers involved in this malfeasance. One Correctional Officer, who had thought he could escape to the Caribbean, was arrested two weeks later when he returned home.( Not the brightest star in the sky this side of the Mississippi River.) He ended up pleading his case and did Federal time. Greed was the motivating factor for all of them.

The Correctional Officers in question were paid anywhere between 500 to 1000 dollars per inmate request. What bothered me the most was the compromised CO’s inability to realize that their fellow Correctional Officers could be slain at the hands of prisoners whom they empowered to escape when being transported. The prisoners feel we all have our price. For them it’s just a matter of time before some other staff person would become their paid- go to mule. The sharks were always looking for blood in the water. A staff person who was having difficulty on the job, someone having a difficult time at home, and finally someone who they thought could be manipulated for their purpose because of other perceived weaknesses were the characteristics of their “set up victims.” The proverbial “blood in the water,” is what they looked for on a daily basis. When a trickle was discovered an attack was immediate and continued until the staff person either capitulated to their demands or had the strength to tell the prisoners to back off. My standard answer to any request, that was questionable: “Please put your requests in writing and I will submit them to the Inspector.” Unfortunately, not one of my students took me up on my offer. I was so ready!

After the FBI sting, and the violence in the Library, I questioned what I thought I was doing here? I am a trained MBA and I often wondered if I was wasting my time working here. My experience had been with two large urban University Teaching Hospitals and I had received requests to return to them. Unfortunately/or fortunately, I am fickle. What appeared to me to be my life’s mission today, could be my nemesis tomorrow, but I felt divine providence wanted me here. My father used to say, “I don’t care if you choose to be a ditch digger; just be the best ditch digger you can possibly be!” I wanted to be the best I could possibly be and I put all my energy into achieving that. It was a difficult road, but it was the road I chose. I will never regret it. I felt at the time I was a warrior for making sure that good things could happen here. I was trained as a management change agent and I believed I could start applying the theory with my students. It provided mix results. (To be continued)

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.