My Own Little One-Room School

There probably aren’t many of them around anymore, at least out where the general public can see them. But the prisons are full of them. Here’s a written snapshot of mine:

*Over in the corner are the 4 guys that make up what I call the Mexican Mafia. I, of course, never call them that out loud. I’m careless sometimes, but I’m not totally stupid.

*The Polynesians claim the center back of the room. They’re Tongans, Samoans, and Hawaiians. On the Outside, they would be enemies, but on the Inside, they join forces to increase their numbers.

*My newest student is a 17-year-old who still acts like he’s in a public high school. That is, he shows up with no books, paper, pencil, or pen. He slouches, mumbles, curses, and scowls. He likes to stroke the teardrop tattoo he sports on his cheek. And he has these huge, brown, cow-like eyes that never let you forget that he’s just a kid.

*Sitting next to him is the 57-year-old gentle giant who refuses to let the State fit him with a set of false teeth. He’s a bartender by trade and likes to listen to the other guys’ stories. Big surprise there, huh? He spends a lot of time scoffing at the 17-year-old next to him, and rolling his eyes with impatience when the Kid says something stupid. Neither of them know their times tables.

*Over in the corner in the front row is the Loner. He came from SDS, so he’s clearly a sex predator of some kind, shunned by the rest of the class. I’d never try to push for inclusion for this guy. There are some unwritten prison rules that you just don’t mess around with if you’re an Outsider.

*Front and center are the 2 or 3 guys who’ve “caught the learning bug” and figured out not only are they capable of learning something, but they actually enjoy it. The closer they get to completing all requirements for graduation, the more demanding and impatient they become. They say things like, “I took that test this morning. You tellin’ me it’s not corrected YET?” “I know you’re busy, and I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I need more work!” Translated, that means, “I don’t care how busy you are, I’m here to interrupt you and exercise some of my entitlement issues!”

*Sitting in the desks closest to mine, are the pair of Needies that always seem to show up. They ask endless questions, need reassurance about every step of whatever they’re doing, can’t for the life of them decipher written instructions on their own, and ask permission to leave the room to pass gas! (Do you hear me screaming, “Yech!! Too much information!”)

*Roaming around the room is a slight, unassuming 42-year-old who can read, write effectively, spell correctly, and has walked himself through 10 levels of Algebra and 6 levels of Geometry. He’s in great demand as a tutor, and knows how to reach the guys on their own levels. He’s pleasant and interesting, and I just keep thinking, “What are you doing in prison? And how did you not manage to graduate from High School?”
I haven’t asked those questions yet, but I will before he leaves. I’m seeing “Student of the Year” written all over him.

And to this motley crew I’m supposed to teach whatever they need to graduate. Did I tell you that I love my job, it’s just the hours I hate. Oh, and I’m not too crazy about my principal……but whatever. So I challenge the 17-year-old and the 57-year-old to teach each other the times tables, I engage the Mexican Mafia to jointly prepare a mini-lesson on “Rosa Parks and the Fight for Equal Rights,” I separate the Polynesians and test them on the Middle Ages Part II (“and don’t ignore the essay questions this time!”), I tell the Needies they’re allowed to ask a maximum of 2 questions per hour so they better consider them carefully, then I corral the rest of them and do a direct teaching session on plotting the slope of a line in Algebra Bk. 4.

Thankfully, there’s a 10-minute break at the top of every hour, and I only have this particular group of mish-mash for 3 hours. Starting at 1:00 p.m., I get a new bunch and start over. That’s how my day goes unless there’s a stabbing or a fight. Then school gets real interesting!

"But it's what I do!"

Let me set this up for you:

I was rushing the last week of school to get through the last unit of Financial Literacy. Unit 7 is titled "Your Career: Doing What Matters Most." It talks a lot about the reasons people work, beyond just having to pay the bills.....you know, job satisfaction, making a meaningful contribution, learning new skills, adding value to your life.....stuff like that.

Realistically, I know the vast majority of my students will never see the inside of an institution of higher learning. So I try to gear it toward identifying what they enjoy doing and what they already have some expertise or experience with. This course if now required for high school graduation, so the text is aimed at typical 17- and 18-year-olds who aspire to actual careers where they will pay taxes and get benefits and such.

My students, on the other hand, proudly talk about:
a. the precision required for making meth
b. the use of fractions when splitting 8-balls for drug deals
c. the amount of time needed to properly strip a car
d. the money available to top-ranking car thieves
e. the downside of not being able to get insurance and benefits for a
job well done!

I take a deep breath, quote a line from Pretty Woman ("Your parents must be so proud of you.") and dive into the value of a good education. I'm telling you, it's an uphill struggle some days.

So when we get to the part about the statistics of lifetime earnings, broken down by years of education, where I point out that the average worker who has some high school but no diploma earns about $1 million (that's in a lifetime), and the worker who has a bachelor's degree typically earns about $2.1 million, I'm thinking this is where they'll really "get it".

No such luck. These are the comments I got:

1. "$1 million over a lifetime? Are you kidding me? That's why I'm a car thief."
2. "Benefits aren't all that important anyway. My family is all on welfare, so that's not really an issue."
3. "Do you know how much money I'd miss out on if I took 4 years to go to college? I'm already 26 years old!"
4. "Miss Gae, do you have any idea how much it costs to get together everything you need for a topnotch meth lab?"

Now, granted these are only some of the comments I got. Of course there are the ones who understand the intended message of the lesson, even if they can't see how they're ever going to get a job, pay child support to 3 different mothers, pay court-ordered restitution, and somehow manage to procure a college education!

Some days, my job is harder than other days.

I Am A Sometimes-Blogger

It's not that I'm not committed to it. It's not even that I have a short attention span. It's that I have so many interests, I have to spread my time around. Yeh, that's it! That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it! (either that or I'm lazy......)

I've been on hiatus...you know, like popular TV shows. Now I'm coming back, like Lost and Big Love and Dateline. It'll be all new, not necessarily improved. Let's see now......

There was September where not much happened. Then there was October where not much happened either, until Halloween (see pictures below). then there was November where even less happened, but it happened faster because the month seemed to fly by until Thanksgiving (again, see pictures below). All in all, my life is pretty mundane and predictable.

I actually have no idea where these pictures will end up. I know now why I don't add pictures to my blog. It's too damn hard! Thanks for the blogging lesson, Tracy.

Thanksgiving was a special one this year. It's the first time (and I mean the first time EVER) that all of my siblings have been together for the holiday. We grew up in one of those families where parents raise two sets of kids. The two boys, followed by several childless years, and finally two girls. When we talk about our childhoods, it's almost like we didn't even belong to the same family. You know how raising kids kind of wears you down. The boys trained my parents in so they were broken and tolerable by the time my sister and I came along. And, of course, being the youngest, I was the spoiled one. They just wanted to be done with it by the time I appeared.

I was conceived in a meadow, by a stream, while my parents were on a picnic with friends. They went to get water. And came back with.........moi! It's a sweet story, isn't it? I didn't know it until the day of my dad's funeral. One of the picnic friends came to the mortuary, threw her arms around me, and said, "There's our little pail of water!" After some lengthy questioning, my mom finally came clean with the whole story. I'll take it. I think it was a nice beginning.

So here it is...December. Another year will bite the dust. My cheeks (all of them) will sag a little more. I'll bother less often with make-up because it doesn't make much difference anymore. I'll gain a few more pounds and redistribute the ones I have until I have that nice matronly girth that photographs so well. I'll no doubt read more obituaries and less self-help books. But you know what? I enjoy sunsets more that ever before. I watch the deer lying on the hillside and think, "Ah...this is why I got up this morning!" Nothing cheers me up like talking to my grandkids on the phone, even if they have to be dragged there by the upper arm. I don't jump up off the couch like I used to; now I stand there for a few seconds until the blood flow through my extremities catches up with thought process that says, "We're moving now!"

All in all, life is good.

No, really. Just checking to see if you're still checking........are you?

JUST CHECKING

JUST CHECKING

Oh The Times.....They Are A-changing....

My week started with a kick in the chest from a dying deer. Here's where it went from there:

The nation is in a financial crisis. I don't know if I'll have a retirement, insurance, or Social Security. The State legislature is in special session, cutting every agency's budget to make up for a sudden $275 million deficit! Just weeks ago, we had a huge surplus. Where did it go? Am I the only one asking? Who, pray tell, is keeping the books -- or cooking them?

The only budget protected from cuts right now is Education. Good for me, huh? Sadly, no. If Education can't be touched, our little South Park Academy becomes part of the Corrections budget, which CAN be cut. So, cut they did. They've let all of our part time teachers go, no night school, no summer school next year, no new hires to replace anyone who retires this year. Oh! And don't forget, several of us are sitting there with $1,000's worth of Interwrite boards that we can't use! I've already shared my feelings about that fiasco, I believe.

Corrections has already let 17 upper level officers go. Needless to say, moral is keeping company with the slings and arrows of misfortune in the nether world.

And then out of nowhere comes this bright spot. The ConQuest director asked me to be the keynote speaker at Graduation, which was held last week. Let's see, how do you paint a hopeful future for guys who are leaving prison with what they think are new skills and a fresh determination to make it on the outside, when the outside is as corrupt and grueling as the inside? The Big House or the White House -- it all gets mixed up sometimes.

Anyway, I delivered my commencement address. I was a whole lot nervous and a little bit funny. I tried to remember to talk slowly and look individuals in the eye. I willed my hands not to shake and tried not to bump the microphone with my teeth. When it was all said and done, 100+ convicted felons and their hopeful families stood on their feet and applauded.

That might not ring your chimes, but it was cathedral bells for me!