Good Hunting, Will

Like any other teacher, I can't help but like some students better than others. There are some who can't exit fast enough for my liking. But every once in awhile one comes along that gives me hope. Such a one is Will. He's been locked up for a long time -- long enough to go completely gray; long enough to lose whatever contacts he had on the outside. This can be a bad thing of course, but it can also be a good thing. For Will, it's been a good thing.


He finished High School with me about a year ago, but has continued to stop by my classroom to chat and to let me know how he's doing. As his parole date neared, he teeter-tottered between over-the-top anticipation and paralyzing fear of what life was going to be like for him on the outside. As fast as the world is changing, how do you make the transition from being told what to do, how to do it, and when to do it to having unlimited choices as well as unlimited consequences? How do you go from knowing exactly what you'll wear every morning, noon, and night, which is exactly what every other inmate is wearing every morning, noon, and night to having to make a choice about style, color, appropriateness, and all of the subtleties that go along with dressing yourself?


And food.....does he remember how to grocery shop, cook, or eat with something other than a plastic fork? Where does he begin.......again? To make better choices, and better friends, and ask for help when he needs it? These are all things I wonder about when I think of Will. I wonder what he did after he walked out the front gate. How did he spend that first day? Did he sleep well that first night? For several years now, he's been living in a dorm-setting with 50 other guys where there is virtually NO privacy. It was never completely dark; it was never completely quiet; the temperature was never completely right. He had a flashlight shined in his face every hour during the night, and he shared toilet time with 5 other guys.


How does he walk away from that and assimilate back into society? When he came to say goodbye to me, we hugged (against all the rules), he shed a few tears. He told me he had a place to stay, a job waiting for him, and support from his adopted family (volunteers from the LDS church program at the prison). I told him to go buy some cool duds to wear -- NOT white -- and take life verrrrrryyyyy slowly.


When I asked him if he felt strong, he said, "I've forgiven God -- and He's forgiven me -- we're working things out." It's hard not to know the end of the story, but I only want to know it if it has a happy ending. I have high hopes for Will.


Good hunting, Will.