The Queen Regains Control

It's all a matter of "Smile and carry a big stick.....or in this case a shank".

The next time I started the class from Hell, I took a new approach. I forgot you have to do that with kids, and these guys are after all stuck somewhere back there where you thought absolutely EVERYTHING was about you. Remember? It doesn't matter that some of them are 28 or 30 or 50. Emotionally, they're still 14 or 15. It's one of the reasons they're where they are. For the most part, they never learned that lesson about delayed gratification and not always looking for the easiest possible route.

Anyway, I waited until they all straggled in, signed in, and made their way to their desks. I stood in front of the room, exchanged NO pleasantries with them, responded to NO demands for paper, books, tests, and I didn't make a single attempt to get them directed or started. I just stood there with the most engaging and friendly expression I could muster. I think it was plain curiosity that finally made them focus on me and shush each other into compliance. What a golden moment! When it was finally so quiet you could hear a handcuff clink shut, I smiled, spoke in a voice that was quiet, tranquil, and laced with acid as I said,

"Please consider what I'm about to say very carefully. If you're incapable of maintaining even a modicum of self-restraint or you can't muster even the slightest inclination to learn something in the next three hours, please do us all a favor and leave now. Save yourself the humiliation of an OMR referral, and save me the indignation of shouting 'Shut-The-Hell-Up' to a roomful of adults. If you have any questions, save them. There is no room for discussion. Do I look like I'm negotiating?" (They haven't seen the movie of course!)

It worked like a charm. Total silence and cooperation ensued. A fair number of them were no doubt baffled by my bullshit, but there was no mistaking my intent. They didn't need to understand all the words. Besides, it throws them off balance when I use vocabulary they don't know. It was a moment of hard-earned and well-deserved power, and I enjoyed every nano-second of it. Maybe I understand an officer's need to exercise power and control a little better. Whatever. I have to say I liked exercising my Gestapo side for a bit.

I wonder sometimes if one of them ever turned on me, would I crumble and cry like a scared little girl, or would I go berserk and try to slap the shit out of him (and probably get myself a load of lumps and bruises or worse). And yet, I maintain, you couldn't drag me back into the public schools! What's wrong with me?

"SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!!"

Okay, this would be me today. Not one of my more inspired teaching moments to say the least. You know, every individual class develops its own unique personality. I've known this since my first year of teaching. In a typical classroom, you expect to have a full range of abilities, 3 or 4 ADD (attention deficit disorder) kids, 2 or 3 BD's (behaviorially disordered), maybe 1 or 2 physically handicapped, a handful of whiners, a smattering of troublemakers, and if you're lucky a dozen or so students who are interested in learning something.

Granted, a classroom of 18 adult prison inmates isn't a typical situation. But I swear, my Monday/Wednesday flock has developed the unique personality of an ADD-BD-whining-troublemaker-who-says-whatever-the-hell-random-thought-pops-into-his-head-and-has-to pee-every-hour-on-the-hour. I'm not talking here about 1 or 2 students, I'm saying 15 of the 18 of them share these maladies. Of the other three, one is totally deaf, and the other two think they're both smarter than I am! I endure this group for 3 straight hours every Monday and Wednesday morning. And my Monday/Wednesday afternoon class is only marginally better. I leave the prison on those two days exhausted and longing for a double shot of something amber colored, really strong, straight out of a bottle.

I'm too old for this. THEY'RE too old for this. Even 6th graders understood when they'd pushed me to the edge. But not this group, no, they entertain themselves and each other by trying to be the funniest, the most outrageous, the grossest, the baddest one of the bunch. It's almost humiliating (or should be) to have to tell adults, "You need to sit down and get busy" or "I'm sorry. Am I interrupting your conversation with Mr. So-and-so?" or "Which part of GET-TO-WORK don't you understand?" All of which, led me to a dramatic, high volume, "SHUT THE HELL UP!!!"

Tonight, I'm tired. I've been worn down by drug-lovin' deadbeats. I yelled at a room full of criminals who outweigh me by 50 to 150 lbs. My favorite student is totally deaf. Tomorrow is only Thrusday. And for all of this, I rake in an extra $27 a month hazard pay.

I'm going to bed.

Huh?.....Stupidest Questions and Answers of the Week #1

Just a sampling of the questions I was asked or the answers I was given this past week.

1. Inmate #27350 (during an Algebra lesson):

"After I subtract, I don't got no more x's. Is that right?

Me:

"You mean you don't have any more x's?

Inmate #27350 (much disgusted):

"Geez! I thought this was Math, not English."


2. Me (during a Financial Literacy lesson):

"Now that you've made a budget, what factors could influence it?"

Inmate #37268:

"If my wife or my girlfriend quits sending me money."


3. Me (again, during a Financial Literacy lesson):

"Who should carry Disability insurance?"

Inmate #41023:

"People with disabilities."


4. Me:

"Mr. Smith, it's obvious to me you and Mr. Jones cheated on this test!"

Inmate #37592:

"I'm sorry I gave him the answers, but I'm trying to do what ConQuest says and be a more caring and sharing person."


5. Inmate #37592 (much later that day):

"I know I'm gonna get suspended, but can you just wait until after I finish the 1.5 credits I need to graduate?"


6. Inmate #15083:

"Is that a picture of your weiner dog?"

Me: (frustrated and tired of answering stupid questions)

"No, Mr. Brown, that's a picture of my great dane."

Inmate #15083:

"Oh......hmmmm......, it looks like a weiner dog."


7. Me: (during an Algebra lesson)

"Any questions about the Order of Operations?"

Inmate #39871:

"I'm not doin' Algebra witchall. I'm workin' on Health. What's coitus interuptus?"


8. Inmate #40036:

"I need to pass gas, and out of consideration for my fellow students, I'd like to go out in the hall to do it. That okay?"


9. Inmate #36015:

"How do you spell copacetic?"

Me: (a bit surprised he even knows the word)

"Interesting. How are you using it?"

Inmate #36015:

"Like in 'When I get out, let's you and me copacetic.' "

Me:

"It doesn't matter how you spell it."


10. Inmate #41029 (during a Financial Literacy: Investing lesson):

"I don't really need any of this. On the outside, I'm a stock broker."

Me:

"And yet, here you sit in my High School class. How does that happen?"


I'm tellin' ya.....I don't get paid enough!!!

"Oops...Did I say that out loud?"

If you're going to see the humor in this little incident, you need just a tiny bit of background information about 2 points.

1. The ConQuest program at the prison is a 12-18 month drug rehab program. It is contained in a separate facility from the rest of the prison and houses about 400 inmates. This is where I teach, and these inmates are my students. ConQuest is a therapeutic community (or TC) where residents (that's what they're called rather than inmates) oversee the day-to-day workings of living, therapy, group sessions, school, seminars, etc. As a TC, each resident is partially responsible for contributing to the success of all members. The residents live in 8 dorms that house 50 guys each. These dorms can be locked down, but there are no bars or doors within the dorm. It looks more like a military barracks than anything else.

2. The high school has a separate site clerk or secretary for each of its 5 sites. I'll call ours Ms. Tayk (because she makes so many of them!) Nice lady, but not the sharpest pencil in the box. Ms. Tayk often enrolls residents in our classes, but fails to let teachers know anything about it. So new guys show up, saying "I'm in your class now." And I say something like, "No, you're not. You're not on my roll, you're not on my sign-in sheet, I don't know what you need, and I'm just not prepared for you!" It's a broken system that makes me look like an idiot 2 or 3 times a week. No amount of remediation or support seems to boost the competence of Ms. Tayk, so we patiently (or, in my case, IMpatiently) limp along and try to keep our classes going.

Okay, so here's the incident that happened last Wednesday. We were in class (that would be me and 18 convicted felons in a room made of cinder blocks with only 1 exit) when all the power went out. No backup generators, no natural light. Prisons have a minimal number of windows, and there are NONE in any of our classrooms. Luckily, I was sitting at my desk, so I had my flashlight out in seconds. Of course, you just sit tight for a few seconds to see if the power comes back on. When I say the lights are out, I mean it's TOTALLY dark, you know, the you-can't-see-your-hand-infront-of-your-face kind of dark.

After about 5 minutes, it seems obvious this is a serious blackout, so an officer shows up and officially sends everybody back to the dorms. Once in the dorms, residents have to lie on their beds for the duration of the power outage because it's the easiest way to keep track of them. You can't let too many of them have free reign in an open area during a blackout, you see.

The majority of officers report to the dorms to make sure everybody is "racked-up" and not getting into mischief. Everyone else just kind of gravitates to the central hallway where there is a bit of light coming from the doors at either end of the central hall. So, while we're mingling there (Ms. Tayk happens to be there with us), out of the Coordinator's office comes BIG Black Dude, who seems to have slipped through the "rack-up" order. BIG Black Dude realizes he's in the wrong place and could face consequences for not being in the dorm. He considers, out loud, whether he should stay with us or make his way down the dark hallway, unescorted, to his dorm.

Now here's the precious part. Ms. Tayk, in her irreverent grating voice, says (nice and loud) to BIG Black Dude, "What do you care? If you stand still, they won't know you're here."

So, now we have not only total dark, but awkward total silence! Almost as if we had rehearsed it, everyone else just walks away, leaving Ms. Tayk there to explain to BIG Black Dude how that was really just a joke, and you're not offended are you? Because you know I was just being funny, and oh, sometimes I'm so dumb, and I say dumb things, but really........I'm.....just......being.......funny........

And her voice trails off as I reach my pitch-black classroom, shaking my head, and muttering, "I don't believe she just said that!"

Happy Birthday, Aubrey!

I just have to share with you the experience I had today. This sweet 10-year-old is my niece's daughter. Does that make her my great-niece? Well, whatever, she IS a great niece. I wish this picture captured her gorgeous eyes and her unbeatable smile.

Her party was at the Make-A-Wish Foundation, a place I'd never visited before. If you haven't been there, you must go. If you haven't learned about the Foundation, you must find out. If you weren't at the party today, you'll just have to experience it through me.

Before the party really got started, the hostess asked if we wanted a tour of the facility. Sure, why not. The building is unimposing, but tastefully done and well designed. Through big double doors you can see a fountain outside with an impressive bronze statue of two small children and a unicorn. Touching to look at, but frozen in the freezing temperatures of January in Utah. In the main entryway, your attention is drawn to the ceiling where you see a huge wrought-iron framework with gentle waves in it that flows across the ceiling for about 25 feet. Hanging from this frame are scores of individual leaded glass stars organized in the colors of the rainbow. Each star represents a wish granted by the Foundation and bears the name of the Recipient. As you watch them twist and turn with the slightest breeze, the colors sparkle and catch whatever light comes through the glass doors at either end of the rainbow. A small lump forms in your throat as you begin to realize the enormity and generosity these stars represent.

Then the hostess took us upstairs to the Wishing Room. This room is locked and must be opened by a key that is given to each Wish Recipient. As the door opens, you see a cool blue-lighted circular room whose centerpiece is a huge standing marble slab with water cascading down both sides. The whole room makes you feel like you're standing on water. Around the outside of the room, the floor tiles are clear and cover a series of lights that change and bathe the room in a kind of surreal light show. At this point, the lump in your throat is keeping you from saying anything, which is fine because this feels like a sacred place that shouldn't be disturbed by human speech anyway.

In front of the cascading fountain sits a cone about 3 ft. high where the actual Wish Cylinder is deposited. When the cylinder containing the wish is inserted in the cone, the entire room turns red and pink, and triumphant music begins to bounce off the round walls. There is no escaping the fact now that you couldn't speak if you wanted to. You look around and realize that everyone has this hazy, wavy look to them because you can't control the tears cascading down your cheeks any more than you can control the water cascading down the marble slab. I wasn't prepared for a spiritual experience for crying out loud!

We solemnly filed out of the Wishing Room and made our way back to the party room, where we sang Happy Birthday, ate cake, and watched an incredible slide show of Aubrey's life. Then Aubrey took center stage and, with Mom's help, told everyone she hoped all our wishes come true. She was so happy, and that smile said everything she couldn't say.

When I was sure I was emotionally drained and couldn't take another tug on my fragile heart strings, they called everyone out into the entry way where there was a small podium set up. On it sat Aubrey's blue star. Attached to the star was a long rope-and-pulley. Everyone got quiet, soft strains of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" could be heard, and Aubrey (again with Mom's help) pulled on the rope hand-over-hand as she raised her star to join the rainbow overhead. Well, I pretty much lost all composure at that point, but it was okay because we were all in the same blubber-boat! Beautiful Mom-Delsa then tearfully thanked everyone for sharing Aubrey's celebration of 10 years of ups-and-downs, triumphs and tribulations, heartache and happiness.

Did I say I had a good time? Did I say how glad I was to have been part of her day? Did I say how much respect and love I have for Delsa and her family? And did I tell you about Aubrey's heart-stopping smile? I meant to say all that.....but I'm all choked up again! It's time to take stock and count your blessings. And after you do that, make a contribution to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. These are people who really do make wishes come true.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AUBREY!

"Bring out your dead.......bring out your dead...."

I take extra Vitamin C. I got a flu shot. I wash my hands obsessively. So how come I still got sick? And I don't mean just "oh-mama's-got-the-sniffles" sick. This has been more like "the-Mucinex-guy-waged-war-and-I-think-he-won" sick. At this point, I think I'm going to live, but the jury's still out on whether or not I'm better.

It seems like everybody I talk to has either been sick or lives with somebody who's been sick. I'm reading World Without End by Ken Follett about the devastation of the plague in 1300's England, (hence, the reference to "bring out your dead") and I figure I would've gone in the first wave of illness. I don't see me as one of those tireless and selfless souls who tends to the sick and injured, and manages to escape the ravages of the dreaded plague. "Take me Lord, take me now. Before I disgrace myself by throwing up in public."

Anyway, that's the reason for my lack of communication. I went back to school a day too soon and ended up spreading my coat out on my classroom floor so I could lie down rather than fall down. I don't know why I felt like I needed to be back. It's not like somebody will swoop in and take my job from me. It's also not as if my students are going anywhere. I literally have a captive audience. I opted not to have students, figuring I could use a prep day to get ready for the new quarter. I posted a sign on my classroom door and locked it, thinking I'd have peace and quiet in which to work. No such luck. The inmates could see my light was on, so they repeatedly ignored the locked door, peaked over my "No Admittance" sign, and generally pestered me until I dragged my sorry sick self to the door and opened it to them. Then they'd say something really perceptive, like "Oh! You're here! Are we having class?" Or "Just wanted to say hi." Or (love this one!) "You been sick? You look sick. You should just lock your door."

Anyway, I persevered until about 3:30 when there was no longer any question about coming back too soon. I came home, crawled back into my bed, and stayed there until Big D had dinner ready. I know all you mothers-of-little-ones out there are saying, "Oh you big baby. Try feeling that crappy and still having to take care of kids, fix meals, buy goceries, and keep the family afloat!" I only have this to say to you........"Been there, done that, bite me!"

New Year's Revolving Resolutions

And here it is! Time to drag out the same old resolutions, dust them off, and give them a little exercise. If history is any indication, the workout will last until about mid-February. With a bit of a push, maybe even by the Ides of March. But thankfully, they'll be tucked safely back in the vault by my birthday.

There's a sign at the prison prominently displayed between the sliders so you have something to contemplate while you're trapped in that No-Man's-Land where you're completely at the mercy of someone you don't know and can't see. He/she literally has your life in his/her hands because he/she can sit for agonizing minutes with a finger poised over the button that can perform daily minor miracles. He/she actually has many options. Among them:

a. Ignore you completely as you stare expectantly at the steel bars of your little prison.

b. Push the button, but release it too soon, so you're left looking at an opening that would admit a runway model, but no mature woman carrying a midsection that represents the knowledge and experience of 60 years of living and learning.

c. Activate the slider for entry, but start it closing before you've managed to complete your passage through. They're not like garage doors that sense a solid object and stop before they crush you. Oh no, these doors can (and gruesomely have) literally squeezed the life out of the not-quick-enough.

d. OR, on a good day, the unseen operator opens the slider promptly, waits while you pass through, closes it comfortably behind you, and anticipates your arrival at the next gate. On a REALLY good day, a disembodied voice might actually greet you and insist you have a good day.

ANYWAY, while you consider the possibilities concerning the reinforced sliders, your eye falls upon the sign. It says:

INSANITY: Doing the same thing over and over again
But expecting a different result.
Do Something Different!

My eye is drawn to the sign probably a dozen times each day. I can't even stop my mind from reading it a dozen times each day. And yet........I make the same tired resolutions every year! Why am I surprised that convicted felons don't get the message when an educated, well-intentioned, insightful person like myself can't make the mental leap?

Oh well, uncork that bottle of champaign, wipe the dust off those damn scales, and let's try this once more.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!