MJ-Way

This was not going to be easy, but I was determined to be healed. Walking up stairs was probably the hardest, and most challenging. By the time I reached the top stair I was exhausted. I now realized I had some serious surgery. The hospital sent to my home a physical therapist 3 times a week, and a visiting nurse daily. I met with my surgeon every two weeks at his office in the hospital. Once I started gaining my strength, going up stairs became easier, and I was able to take walks outside with my therapist. My wife would walk with me bringing our dog Kasha who couldn’t understand why we weren’t going on our five plus mile hikes. The healing process seemed to go on forever but even though I lacked the patience at times, I was thankful God decided to keep me here. I was looking forward to going back to teach with my colleagues at the prison. I survived this. I had a zipper incision in the middle of my chest, and my chest plate was held together with American steel cable. World class technology kept me alive. My surgeon, Dr. Omar Habib, informed me that seeing the size of my biceps and chest, he made sure to use heavy duty medical cable to close my chest plate. I thanked him for that.

I began thinking about an experience I had working in one of the factories as a teenager. I was (supposedly) accidentally gassed to unconsciousness. As I got older and was working at the Detroit Medical Center, I received a call from a doctor who wanted me to go up to the power house on the roof of the Hudson building, and let him know of anything being on the ledge of the sixth floor. That ledge was only visible from the power house on the roof. The Medical Facility Maintenance personnel supervisors were the only ones who would have access to that power house. I made my way to the power house. Upon opening the doors of the power house and looking out at the ledge, I could see what looked like an old beat up tennis shoe. I called the doctor back and let him know what was on the ledge. I was curious on why he was asking about this? He was an accomplished surgeon and had begun tracking his patients’ near death experiences known as NDEs. He gave me the exact description of the tennis shoe on the ledge given to him from one of his patients who had recently been resuscitated. The patient claimed to have an NDE. Seeing the shoe was the proof. It was not visible from any area in the hospital they would have access to. I was intrigued by the phenomena and spoke with him in depth about his research.

The NDEs’ the patients talked talked about made me think about what I had experienced in the factory after being gassed. However, I was surprised I did not experience an NDE while being operated on this time. My heart was stopped and I was hooked up to a heart blood pump while the grafts were completed. The operation took 12 hours. I had no recollection of this surgery. I awoke on a ventilator a day later, with my hands restrained, and the nurses removing me from the ventilator. I do remember questioning them about my hands being restrained, and their knowing smiles. “You’re back on earth,” they chided after undoing my restraints and handing me an Italian ice to eat. I felt at peace, a real peace, I hadn’t experienced in sometime. I was now well aware of my mortality but was not fearful because of it. I had an understanding instead. If my Creator wanted me, that would have been prime time for Him to take me, and that obviously didn’t occur. Again, I felt relaxed and at peace. I knew that I had been shown every bit of kindness by the medical staff, my family, friends, and colleagues who wished me a speedy recovery. Most importantly, my relationship with God grew even stronger. My recovery would be imminent. I felt assured in His grace. That was my peace. I will continue to work on being the best version of myself I can be.

TO BE CONTINUED… If I was still teaching, this is Black History month and I would be showing the poetry of Maya Angelou to my students via her readings on you tube: https://youtu.be/NzQtGCw49uc Copy the link and enjoy.

I had an exceptional team of Doctors, Nurses, and therapists who brought me back to life. I stayed on the ventilator for a day, and when I awoke my hands were restrained. I kept falling in an out of sleep but my nurse informed me they will be removing the breathing tube. They wanted me to eat. She unfastened the restraints on my hands and another nurse removed the tube. It felt good to breathe. My voice was hoarse as I tried to ask why my hands had been restrained. She offered me some Italian ice and smiled. It seems I pulled all my wires and tubes and decided it was time to leave the hospital. A bad unconscious decision on my part. I wasn’t surprised. Sounds like something I’d do in a conscious state. I looked under my patient gown noting two tubes coming out of my chest and what looked like color coded electrical wires. All I could think of was that my heart is running on batteries, and the tubes were draining what looked like a zipper incision in the middle of my chest. I was wearing some kind of chest bandage with handles. I was instructed by my nurses to pull the handles together when I coughed or got up. This two handled wrap, that looked like a bra, was holding by rib cage together, and my surgeon completed closing my cracked open chest plate with a permanent sutured steel cable. Hence, a zipper. Wow!

While thinking about all the medical personnel who were working for my quick recovery, I couldn’t help vision them as a team of professionals each doing their separate jobs effectively and passing me on to the next professional so they could do their part. I was healing quickly and began walking the next day. That was my awakening. After about ten steps, I got very tired. The nurses assured me to keep trying and I would get stronger as I healed. They were right. Everyday I kept doing more and I did eventually grow much stronger. I could walk down the corridors and walk back without being tired. Before being discharged from the hospital my tubes and wires would have to be removed. I was asked by my surgeon if I wouldn’t mind surgical residents viewing the removal? It was fine by me. I was still a teacher and wanted to continue to contribute to education. My battery wires would be removed first and then the tubes. The process was completed quickly and I didn’t feel anything. Being numb with pain meds helped I’m sure. The only thing I was hooked up to now was an IV. A finger clamp monitored my vitals and could be removed easily for when I wanted to walk. I was amazed by how fast I was getting back my strength. It seemed everyday I could do more, and my surgeon had to remind me that even though he used a extra heavy duty cable to put my rib cage back together, I still needed to rest so it could heal properly

I was able to celebrate being married 37 years to my wife, August 1, 1981. There was a chance that almost didn’t happen. She’s unbelievable and stayed by my side the whole time. My surgeon set up appointments to see me in two week intervals, a visiting nurse would visit me daily, and a physical therapist would visit me two times a week. The surgeon informed me I was not allowed to drive, and when I was in a car traveling, I had to be in the back seat. Taking an air bag to the chest in an accident would be a major concern for me while my chest plate was mending. I thought about the team of medical professionals I was leaving and about the team of educators I someday hoped to return to at the prison school. I missed them all. Their jobs were no less glorious than the medical professionals I had just spent ten days with. They always seemed to give their best given the extreme stress of the prison environment, and looking back at it now, I was glad to be their colleague. It would take me a three months to recover fully, and I did eventually. Thanks be to God! TO BE CONTINUED…

Life for me comes what seems to be in triplet. The three unproductive employees no longer affected the decisions made in our school. The mismanagement and harassment was gone. I was informed by my colleague that there were only three Horticulture Instructors left teaching in the DOC and when Instructors left they were not being replaced. The curriculum my colleagues redesigned was a herculean effort and for the first time our students would be able to secure, upon passing the testing process, Michigan Department of Agriculture: pesticide licenses. In addition, our students could study and test through the curriculum of the Michigan Landscaping and Nurserymen Association. Passing the exams would guarantee them a credential once they were released from prison and they began working in the green industry. I had to give my colleagues credit. It was a huge effort on their part, they faced many obstacles because of the prison but their persistence paid off. However, there were only 3 instructors left to teach it.

The stress the prison environment had created for me over the years began taking its toll on my physical health. I started feeling tired after hiking a couple of miles with my dog and over the next few months I seemed to get a whole lot worse. I made an appointment with my doctor and he ordered a stress test. I flunked the stress test and was told to make an appointment with a heart doctor. I made the appointment but never made it. The day before my appointment I came home from work exhausted and had a strange pressure in my chest. I had coworkers help me make a donation of around 500 lbs. of produce grown from our prison gardens to our local food bank earlier in the day but I just seemed to be getting worse. The pressure in my chest was increasing and when I got home my wife took my blood pressure. It was very high and she called for an ambulance. I was feeling exhausted, by the time the ambulance arrived. I knew from experience this was not going to be a good thing, and made peace with my creator. I felt I gave life my best shot and if I was now cashing it in, I better make it right by him. So of course I prayed. Even this shall pass, and hopefully not me Lord.

When the medics arrived I was immediately treated and transported to Ascension St. John Hospital where I was kept on an IV of nitroglycerin. I was then sent to the heart lab where the Doctors determined three of my arteries were blocked at 98, 97, and 96 percent. I would not be a candidate for angioplasty. To stay alive, I would need triple by pass surgery. That news had me saying some immediate prayers. The Doctors informed me that the nitroglycerin was keeping me from having a heart attack. Had I waited one more day, my wife would have been widowed. I met the Doctor in charge of thoracic surgery, and he introduced me to the surgeon, his colleague, who would be doing the surgery. His name was Dr. Omar Habib. He explained that he would remove a vein from my leg, my arm, and my chest to by pass the arteries that were blocked. He also explained that it would be minimum 8 hour surgery. I would be put on a ventilator when the surgery was completed and moved to the intensive care unit where my healing process would begin. He shook my hand , and told me not to worry. I would heal well. I thanked him in advance and prayed a whole lot more hoping the three mined veins would be healthy. My life, prayerfully, would not end in a surgical attempt of saving it with triple by pass surgery. To be continued….

She thought she was protected. She had friends in all the right places. The department’s manager was her best friend, the Warden in charge of the other prison she reported to thought highly of her professionalism, and the new Warden at our facility was friends with our department manager. He too thought she was exceptional. So where did she go wrong? Why, after only a few short years, did it seem to all go southward? We are products of the relationships we nurture. I don’t believe she understood that. I was a student of administrations as long as she was old, but it wasn’t her inexperience that caused her failure. In part, it was the people she chose to listen to. Yes people. The incarnate weasel was now forced to work at his new job, and found a quick retirement. The slime-ball secretary was dismissed by the Facility Correctional Administration and our Warden secretly felt contempt for those who brought this to the attention of the IA. The Warden no longer felt our school principal was exceptional, and now her rocket seemed to be sputtering. She stayed preoccupied but not at our facility. Apparently, not at the other prison either. My colleagues there reported her missing on a regular basis.

She stopped attending the monthly administrative management meetings held in the Warden’s conference room. The department heads took immediate notice and questioned who ever she sent in her place as to her whereabouts. Especially, when the replacement showed up fifteen minutes late because they had just been notified by her to drop what they were doing an attend the meeting representing the school. I’m quite sure that didn’t sit well with the Warden either. Then the inevitable happened. The replacement she had scheduled to attend the next meeting could not be at that meeting. The facility administration was going to be discussing a new prisoner movement schedule and wanted her input on how it would effect the school. I was asked to fill in, review the schedule and give my input on how I thought this new movement might impact our school schedule. It didn’t take me long to find some problems the school would have with the proposal. I was wondering if our school principal had even looked at it.

Understanding the intricacies of prisoner movement in a multiple level security prison is not easy. The underlying goal is that the different security level prisoners will not meet or interact with each other. The school had exceptions. School prisoner tutors and clerks where allowed in the presence of supervisors to interact. The new movement schedule would not allow this and I raised an immediate concern. The Deputy Warden believed this wasn’t a concern of our school principal, and the Warden announced the school principal was on stop order. Her input didn’t matter! I was stunned by the open announcement. The Warden then directed the Deputy Warden to work out the school staff’s concerns about the movement. A separate meeting would be arranged. I was quiet for the rest of the meeting and when it ended I hurried back to the school building. The school staff had already been informed. An acting principal had been assigned to our school, and would be here tomorrow. All I could envision was a star exploding in the mist of dysfunction and a new one being formed out of the chaos to replace its orbit. In the DOC, one could go from hero to zero in a heartbeat. I wondered if that was her fate? To be continued…

He was picked by our new school principal to be our school secretary after they wanted him out of the Business Office in the Administration Building. I found out later that he wasn’t liked there because he was lazy and he lied about the work he supposedly had finished. They had deadlines in accounting and he lied that he had completed his work. Perfect credentials for our new administration. I found him doing the same thing here in a matter of days as the purchase orders I had processed for our new greenhouse he mysteriously claimed were never received. Luckily I had made copies of them. What usually took our past school secretaries a couple of hours to do, took a month for him to complete, and he rarely did it correctly. When I mentioned this to our new school principal she had informed me that she would look into it. Nothing ever happened, and over the years his lack of productivity became worse.

I had lobbied the new administration to have the same abilities as my Trades Instructor colleagues had but that fell on deaf ears. My colleagues did not have to rely on a school secretary to complete work for them. They did it themselves. My requests were ignored. After about six years our school principal was promoted to be the manager over prison education through out the state, and her replacement, (her friend) didn’t much care for our school secretary. Our school secretary felt that he didn’t have to follow her direction and continued to do whatever he wanted. Eventually his refusal to follow her direction was brought to a head by the new school principal, and our promoted new manager. Their cherished reunion in the school principal’s suite was referred to by our school staff as a “kumbaya” moment. From that day on, they agreed that from here on out, they would stick up for each other no matter what and the real enemy was our school staff. In particular, my colleague across the hall from me and myself. They would also target two of our academic teachers for special treatment. Anyone who spoke up would become a target.

The monthly reports we turned in to our office were often lost. We constantly had to resubmit them and I was lucky enough to send my reports through emails which showed a date and time. We were inundated with nasty gram emails. I enjoyed those because they became the evidence used in an investigation into our school secretaries activities. So after years of harassment, and stress from this management, I received an email from Internal Affairs. They wanted to speak with me about our school secretary. I had to respond within the time frame stated, and I was to say nothing to our school secretary about this. I later found out that all the teachers received the same email from IA. The investigation was started because of a complaint filed from support staff personnel against our school secretary. Our Personnel department turned the case over to Internal Affairs. After Two months of IA Interviews, it did not end well for our school secretary. IA recommended his employment with the DOC be terminated .We were informed the administration concurred, and acted upon it. We were also informed that the investigation was not over. I could only imagine who was under investigation now. TO BE CONTINUED… Colossians 3:23-24

The prison in Detroit was closed so after making sure he had a position at our facility, he loaded up the truck and began to move in. He made sure that everyone was made aware that he was on a first name basis with the department’s new director. He didn’t have a clue on where he would set up his Building Trades classroom, but since the director told him he was being retained, he could wait for further instruction. Waiting in the DOC could go on forever, and he was ok with that. What he didn’t realize was that he wasn’t making friends with the managers that would eventually lead this facility’s administration. For now it was all sunshine and lollipops for him as he began to move in. This Weasel Incarnate decided our school needed chairs, he began moving our old chairs out, and the new blue plastic metal weapon making chairs in. He had such an insight. A real intellectual. So when one of our academic teachers got fed up with his students making weapons from the new furniture and reported it to the administration, our new Weasel Incarnate blamed the teacher for letting such a thing happen in his classroom. He left out the detail about being the one who brought in the chairs. Our new school principal, and slime ball school secretary, sided with the WI. They blamed the teacher. How could he let such a thing happen?

The new WI felt empowered by his support from our incompetent management, and became the voice for the garbage they supported. Our new school principal proved her incompetence the two or three times a week she would make an appearance at our facility. She used our SB school secretary as her official mouth piece, and when he was ignored, she used the WI. They were known by the School staff as “dysfunction junction.” The moniker was befitting their unproductiveness. When issues arose in the school between custody staff and our education staff, we would be directed by this incompetent administration to ignore custody staff. This only caused friction. Especially, when the direction given to us by them was denied when “dysfunction junction” was questioned by custody administration. They would claim we misunderstood their direction. This game was played so often I found it easier to ask for written instructions. That never happened and because of my requests, I was beginning to be viewed by them as a trouble maker. This didn’t stop the WI from earning his moniker. When our new school principal wasn’t at our prison, he decided to make himself the heir apparent. He walked our school hallways and reported to the principal what was happening in our classrooms by email.

I loved the email game because I found it kept a good record of the direction or lack of direction we would get from our administrators. In his case, it proved he was an instructor without students. Unfortunately, that wasn’t acted upon until he had the time to disrupt our school operations. Because of his reporting, teachers had to answer emails that accused them of some wrong doing. When he found out the emails were making him look incompetent, he quit sending them. He decided it would be easier to call the school principal and she would then send a nasty email(nasty gram) to the perceived offender. When I would see him in the office, I made sure to ask him when was he going to begin teaching. He avoided me when possible but at one of our graduation ceremonies, where he had no graduates, he made comments on how the ceremony was conducted. Two of our teachers were disciplined because his comments were taken and acted upon by an incompetent administration. I let him know his days at this facility were limited and he let me know that he thought I was threatening him. I had the last laugh. He was told to report to another prison on the west side of the state a week after our conversation. I never saw him again. Our slime ball school secretary would be next as the dysfunction junction began to disintegrate under the weight of their created chaos. TO BE CONTINUED…

Psalm 103

This is where the Russian antagonists will be spending much time being tried for their war crimes against the Ukraine. Praying that day happens soon. Slava Ukraini Glory to the heroes

She was by far, the most talented, educated, and appreciative school principal I ever had the privilege to work for. She was only with our school for a short period of time, but with her as our school principal I could have worked much longer than I did. She was a great motivator and made the teaching staff know she appreciated their contributions. Our staff meetings were professional and she was informative. She had a doctorates in education but she did not make you aware of it. We called her “Dr. B” out of respect. A major shake up in our state capital and change in leadership would determine her fate, or how much longer she would choose to work for the DOC. The short time I worked for her I was elevated, and appreciated. She saw my passion for wanting my students to complete my class successfully. The job opportunities I had worked to get them, a fresh new start once released from prison, and for making the prison ground laboratories a show case for their work. She affectionately called me “the wizard.”

Our school secretary, who was out again on a stop order, she referred to as “slime ball”, was being investigated again and was not part of her administration. It was amazing how well everything ran without him. He wasn’t missed by us. She divided her time between our prison and a prison in a nearby county. She also brought staff that came with the closing of the prison in Detroit. Much needed, accept for an arrogant Trades Instructor, who secured his position by calling the director. He wasn’t taken seriously by staff. They thought he was a name dropping weasel. He thought this Administration and teachers saw his important contribution to prison education. He was delusional. He wasn’t able to get students easily, and the students he did eventually get made bird houses. He didn’t have a problem making items with team names on them and never was questioned about trade mark violations, or infringements. This was the perfect department for him. He reported to no one, acted like he was in charge, and did most of what ever he wanted. He even had the audacity to question teachers who had full classrooms, when he had no students, but was being paid an Instructors salary.

I questioned his reporting. As his colleague, I knew he was responsible for turning in monthly utilization reports. He wasn’t turning in utilization reports because he didn’t have students. It wasn’t long before he was forced to move to another prison where he eventually retired. I was glad to see him leave but changes in our department administration would mean the end of our current principal’s employment with us. She was asked to take over two prison education departments over 150 miles from her home in the city. Her husband had terminal cancer and she didn’t want to be that far away from him. I felt the new administration new this and forced her hand only to remove her. A real slacker was appointed by the administration to fill her shoes at our prison whom mostly echoed the current administration’s ineptness. She became friends immediately with our school secretary who was back to work after being on administrative stop orders. A school administration of pure garbage would follow. The good Doctor never knew how badly she would be missed. The new principal and school secretary would eventually be fired after causing much turmoil with our staff, our department, and custody staff, but that will have to be a story for another day. TO BE CONTINUED..

The Ukraine will find justice when this murderer is brought to the International Court of Justice, “The Hague.” His days are limited. Slava Ukraini Glory to the heroes

CL was my first African American Horticulture student and he was selected by me to be a potential tutor once he completed the class requirements. He was bright and non confrontational. Something he seemed to keep learning after killing a man over what he now called “a bunch of nonsense!” He would spend the rest of his life in prison over it. No parole. After interviewing him for the class, I was surprised to find out he had been working for a demolition company we had used at the Detroit Medical Center before “catching his case,” as he referred to it. I thought what a small world I live in, and how interwoven relationships are. The DMC was my family. I had grown from a young college student into a responsible adult earning an Associate of Arts, Bachelor of Science, and a Master of Arts degree using their tuition reimbursement program. The company he had worked for helped in the demolition and expansion of the Detroit Medical Center. I had a great respect for him. He acknowledged he messed up and accepted his fate. .

He completed the requirements for my class and earned his certification. I hired him for a tutor position in my classroom. By hiring him I was able to attract younger African American students to Horticulture and hopefully give them the skills they needed to be successful once they left the prison. It was always an uphill battle for my students involved in the drug trade. I had seen it first hand when I worked at the DMC, and I was seeing it here at the prison. The greenhouse, garden and grounds were viewed by my critics as nothing more than a plantation. Many imprisoned on drug charges viewed themselves as political prisoners, and my Horticulture class was the “man’s way of saying they needed to be back on the plantation.” This convoluted logic I worked to change through out my career. CL helped by being a positive role model and he brought integrity to my program. He explained as he recruited all the benefits my class could offer them, and the waiting list grew exponentially. I lost contact with CL as he moved on to pursue an opportunity in maintenance, and he was transferred to a prison in Detroit.

Towards the end of my career of 25 years I was surprised to run in to him again. He was now working as a monitor in our new psychiatric housing unit and couldn’t seem happier. The prison in Detroit had been closed and he asked to be transferred back here. He also explained that his sentencing judge had been out to visit him and he was shocked. That just doesn’t happen. He believed it to be an answer to his prayers. I had to agree. The judge was getting ready to retire and was looking at the prison records of all the inmates he had sentenced and he came across CL. He could not believe that in his 25 plus years of imprisonment, CL had nothing but good work reports, and evaluations in his file. He had been ticket free, and never given a bad report. The judge thought that was incredible and he wanted to know if CL was remorseful for killing the man he had been imprisoned for. CL explained that he was and that just recently he had to bury his father. That pain was unbearable. He now knew of the pain he created for the family of the man he killed and was very remorseful. He recognized it was a sin to murder, and he became a model prisoner as part of his repentance. Though he had to admit it was not an easy road to follow in prison.

He said the judge looked at him and shook his head. All he kept thinking was that this was impossible. For his sentencing judge to be talking to him in the prisoner visiting room and rehashing his case on an autumn Sunday afternoon was mind boggling. Most guys would be watching football games. He then informed me that the judge smiled at him and informed him that he would be recommending CL be released from prison at a public hearing at an undisclosed date. CL would be brought to that hearing by the DOC. They said their goodbyes and CL was still in a state of shock. Just like the judge had told him, CL was brought to the public hearing in belly chains and handcuffs. The judge reviewed his prison record for those in attendance, and made his recommendation that CL be released from prison as time served. His prayers had been answered when he received a letter from the judge’s office explaining that he would be released. CL was glad to have run into me 25 years earlier, and for everything I had taught him about life, but mostly ,for being a positive role model for him. I explained the feeling was mutual. He brought integrity to my program and for that I am grateful. I wished him well on his upcoming release, and we said our goodbyes. I am certain he is making a positive impact in his community. TO BE CONTINUED….

Putin’s war and invasion of the Ukraine continues. His propaganda is reminiscent of another who made similar mistakes and met a tragic end. I believe his fate will end in the same way. Slava Ukraini Glory to the heroes.

This was not going to be easy. I was called by the union to inform me that the contracted nurses from Canada were hired by the State Employer as employees and they elected to be represented by UAW Local 6000. I was to meet with them asap and welcome them to the union. They seemed very happy when I met them for the first time in the training room in the Administration Building and gave them all the current contract UAW Local 6000 had agreed upon with the state employer. The first thing they wanted to know was how their seniority was going to be determined? I was stumped, and thought this should have been worked out before being hired. I called the Union and asked for clarification on this issue. They needed an answer because the sick time and vacation accrual rates needed to be determined. Seniority was also used in the offer and assignment of overtime work. They were all contracted from the same company as well. The employer listed the start date as the date they accepted employment with the state. Again, complicating the issue because they accepted State employment on the same day. Our employer wasn’t keen on the details. It was left to me to hammer out the details, and believe me when I say that “hammering” was what I had to do.

The seniority issued was resolved with the date being used when they began working for the contractor. It was great to get this resolved. Health Care at the prison was unique. To have dedicated professionals working with us as part of a team was even more important to our overall mission. Having worked in health care prior to teaching in the prison, I had a good idea of what the nurses would be facing here. Between the prisoner’s and the administration’s demands they would be hard pressed. They showed a lot of positive enthusiasm and I was glad to represent them. As what always seemed to be the case, when the employees had their department operating well, an incompetent manager was hired to run it and prove how bad a manager they were. So in a three year span our new nurses had a couple of new bosses and a number of new reporting relationships. It never failed to amaze me at those hired to be managers. The governor had eliminated the civil service examination process and manager’s were hired by the “good-ole -boy,” better known as, “who do you know and not “what you know” method. This process provides much managerial inbreeding and results in dysfunction. The number of law suits settled in court and out of court in favor of the employee plaintiffs is the tale of the tape.

In my last year of representing the nurses, I got to see one them promoted to the newly created Heath Unit Manager position, and was happy for them. Timing was everything, and while demonstrating to my students on the proper way of pruning, I took off the tip of my left index finger. My first reaction to inform my students that making sure your fingers were no where near the pruners seemed moot. The blood traveled quickly over my hand and arm. An officer who saw my distress immediately wrapped my hand, radioed for my supervisor, and took me to Health Care. His partner collected my students tools and sent them back to their housing unit. I felt like an idiot. My thought, “this was a good lesson for my students on what can happen if you are not careful,” seemed ludicrous. Once inside Health Care the nurses hurried me to a procedure room where they unwrapped the dressing which was now soaked in blood. They asked me if I knew where the tip of my finger was, and my response was, “its not on my finger ?” They shook their heads no, and smiled. This was going to be a long day. They cleaned my finger, hand and arm. I didn’t feel anything as they rewrapped it and sent me to the control center where an officer was dispatched to drive me to our local hospital emergency room. I felt a sense of calm. The nurses cared for me as much as I had cared and represented their grievances. The respect was mutual. TO BE CONTINUED .. Readers go to the next web site to see what mad man thug Putin is lying about in his war to exterminate Ukrainians. Slava Ukraini Highlight and right click.

https://youtu.be/fzIPwR-FHEM

My supervisor reminded me that just because I was the facility union representative did not mean that I could neglect my classroom. I was expected to still hold class. Any investigations I was involved in with our union members had to be conducted on my time. This issue was going to be my very first conflict with my immediate supervisor. In the beginning he had to divide his time between our facility and another facility to the north west of us. So if I had union business, I would try to conduct it when he wasn’t at our facility. This was the easiest way of avoiding the conflict with him. Another way was for me to conduct my business over the telephone. Unfortunately, I did not have access to a telephone in my classroom from the beginning. However, my colleague across the hall from me, our Food Technology teacher, did. She would even listen to our members complaint and give me the heads up on what was happening. That gave me time to review the contract and go on the offensive. In the beginning most of the grievances were basic protocol issues, and I could get settlements at the first or second stage of the grievance procedure. Tardiness, call off, and overtime issues could usually be settled in those stages, and from the beginning that was the majority of my cases.

The most difficult cases, however, were immediate terminations. For those, I was always called to come to the Warden’s conference room. When the call went out for me to report to the conference room , my colleagues would always wonder, who is it this time, or if my employment was being terminated? It always amazed me that my boss didn’t have anything to say about me being on union business when I was called to the Warden’s conference room. I would lay in my class (send my students back to their housing unit) letting him know I wouldn’t be teaching. He would just shake his head OK and acted like nothing was happening. I have to admit that I was always hesitant. Not knowing what was awaiting me in the Warden’s conference room could be stressful. I tried not to think about it and said a prayer for strength. Our school officer informed me that he just received a call that I was to immediately report to the Warden’s conference room. He would take care of my classroom, and let the principal know I was called. It was not the usual way I received notice and I was concerned as I left the school.

As I passed through the gate leading to the Administration Building an officer showed me a stop order that was placed on one of the school’s Administrative Assistants. “Stop Orders” are only placed on staff when an investigation is being conducted for rule violations. The accused are not allowed into the security perimeter of the prison until the investigation has been completed and they are found not guilty. I thanked her for the heads up. I had a good idea now of what I would be facing. As I entered the conference room, the Administrative Assistant from the school, the Warden, and Inspector entered from the Warden’s office. They did not look happy. The Deputy Inspector informed me that the employee had requested my presence. They began laying out their case against her and it was not good. She was having an intimate relationship with one of her inmate clerks and the Inspector had been recording her telephone conversations made through a third party. It was damning evidence. I felt very sorry for her and could tell she was embarrassed having me hear the recordings. I wanted to know how long this had been going on, and the Inspector informed me for over six months with 40 conversations recorded., and they also had the letters she wrote him. The inmate and his relation(third party) also gave statements about the relationship. I had heard enough. I asked management to leave the room while I spoke with her.

I had to inform her that by law they were required to press charges against her. At first, she didn’t believe me but when I showed her the MLS and DOC Policy she started crying. She realized she could really be prosecuted and go to prison. She was in a position of authority over the inmate, and his statement was that, “he didn’t want to lose his prison job so he obliged her.” This is totally messed up I thought. He obliged her? Total-garbage.! He was a total manipulator and she was his prey. She had a Master of Science Degree, and was being paid a good salary with benefits. I asked her, “why on earth would you mess that up?” She tearfully said, “Her heart has no limits.” Without being too crude I informed her,” I hope your unlimited heart likes prison. If they press charges, that’s where the heart will be.” She asked me, “what should she do.? ” My response was “to get a good lawyer.” She asked, “what if I just resign.” I informed her to only offer her resignation if they are willing to sign documents that they will not press charges once she leaves.

I also informed her to hire an attorney for her protection, and reputation. She could make an argument of her vulnerability and management’s inability to diffuse this in its early stages. She looked at me with teary eyes and said, ” you should be a lawyer.” I shook my head no. I felt drained. I didn’t want to talk to her about this any longer. I knew I could not save her job, and asked management to come back into the room. They were quick to point out that with the new laws and policies she will be facing prosecution. I made my plea on her vulnerability and managements not intervening in the early stages. This was not my first termination case at this facility and I felt that management had a history of waiting too long to address issues when they knew an employee had been compromised. We were at a standstill. Then against my advice, she offered her resignation. Management’s answer was, “by resigning her employment they would not press charges.” I wanted everything documented and it was. I never saw her again after this meeting and I felt exhausted. This termination was painful, and there would be more to come, unfortunately. TO BE CONTINUED…

Psalm 63 Slava Ukraine God bless the heroes