Did you know you could make a gun out of a bar of soap? Or a usable key from a tuna can? No? Neither did I. But these are some of the first things I learned when I went to prison—well, I wasn’t incarcerated, but I did visit twice a week.
In the fall of 2010, I jumped at the chance to teach interpersonal communication, a common general education course, at DCI. I have certainly learned how to bend the course material to fit inside the prison barbed wire fences. The facility has a limited number of classrooms and even more limitations in the computer lab and library, but it has been worth every adjustment. Sinclair students at DCI are much like our students on campus: interested to learn, struggling with personal issues, and surprised to learn so much.
I was elated when most of the spring quarter students excelled in a difficult writing assignment. I mentioned it to colleagues and friends only to hear them laugh and say, “Well, they should! They have lots of time to study and read.” But the reality is that’s not true. These women—some young mothers, some grandmothers—work eight-hour jobs, take more than one class and stand in lines to use a computer just to type an assignment. We believe it’d be a long day in prison, but the most active inmates are working and volunteering and exercising and attending chapel services, as well as participating in the required classes for their rehabilitation. Every interaction requires standing in a line: buying food from the commissary, eating lunch, drying laundry, accessing medication, requesting a sweatshirt for cooler weather, making a short phone call, or visiting a loved one.
Despite the large number of women incarcerated at the facility, interactions between the women are friendly. But the women hide most emotions since a tough exterior is required to live a decent day inside the walls. However, when I develop trust in the classroom between the women and myself, I am delighted to hear them share stories of their personal life, their self-concept, and their determination to leave and not return. This kind of talk is not typical and is kept quiet. These students do not take this opportunity lightly. They appreciate all the time devoted for a faculty member to get into the gates, understand “the system” and become familiar with the environment and jargon.
Some may ethically believe inmates should not be able to benefit from a college course, but until someone meets them and believes the mistakes made by the prisoner could have been their own, they should reserve judgment. I will continue to teach at the prison; it has been rewarding in ways I don’t experience on campus. Maybe it’s because I see them wearing the same outfit day after day or because I know they have not seen their family in years. I can see their entire campus from north to south from the parking lot, but I sense the course concepts are running strong through their minds. They will use the skills from the course as they are released back into the world with $75 and a box of belongings, hopeful to use their time for something more valuable than carving soap and making illegal keys.