life2thesequel
08-19-2003, 07:46 PM
Some sort of intro (from your's truly) is in the works... I thought though that this would serve some purpose in the meantime, and perhaps in the long run.
This IS about the long run, after all.
I wrote an article for the maiden issue of a CJ periodical called 'The Offender Employment Report",.., This is part of the article--previously published.
"One day, in mid-afternoon, a resident of the Kentucky Correctional Institution for Women crossed the yard in response to a page requesting her to report to Operations for Legal Mail. A correctional officer in training, posted in the nearly abandoned prison yard, intercepted the inmate. He demanded that the resident produce a "pass". The pass produced was issued by the Prison Industries division. Pass inspection is a routine event in the correctional institutions, but the inquiry did not end there.
"What do you do in Industries?" asked the officer. The officer had no doubt been given a tour of the facility as part of his orientation. He was apparently aware that the industries division consisted of a print shop, silk screening operations, mail services, and a mattress factory. Being told that the resident worked in the print shop did not seem to satisfy the officer, "What do you DO in the print shop?" The inmate replied, "I run an offset press." The officer handed back the pass and with a smile said, "Well, that's really good.. at least you've learned a TRADE.."
The value of having a trade is a subject to which I have devoted more than passing consideration. I was the resident crossing the yard that afternoon.
When the officer returned the pass to me, I mentioned that I had a trade before I came to prison but Correctional Industries was the closest thing to a day's work I could find on the inside. He seemed slightly puzzled. I'm sure it passed eventually.
I had been paged to sign for legal mail, something that happened with some regularity and always broke the monotony of life in prison. The officer's remark lingered with me as I went in to pick up my mail. The comment was certainly well intentioned, if unintentionally provocative. In its simplicity, it spoke volumes about the nature and state of prison employment goals and the bell curve of performance. It was the opinion of "the man in the yard" that there was some virture in a prisoner being taught something productive, or perhaps just a confirmation that at least a prisoner can be taught to be productive.
Certainly it is an ideal thing if a prison provides vocational training and educational programs for the sake of prisoners who will eventually re-enter society. Ideally, eventually, this could prove to be an investment in society. With a proper outlook and intervention there would be some improvement in that individual upon release. In fact, if there was some "improvement" in the prisoner, it would occur prior to release. The correctional institution would be the first to realize the benefit of an inmate's growth and personal development.
One of the more lighthearted thoughts I had concerned the irony of the comment having been made to me. It was not because I was a stranger to a 6 day work week, it was not because I gave up a career as a table dancer, or had been the proud recipient of one or more government checks each month before coming to prison--like a lot of women I met along the way.... I found the comment ironic because I was one of those prisoners who was not supposed to get out, ever.
The officer was so involved in scrutinizing my pass, he failed to notice that my identification badge was issued with all the telltale markings of someone housed in the institutions Longterm Offender Unit. A woman housed in this section has a sentence of 10 years or more. Such women will remain in prison until they are eligible for parole, serve-out their term, or die. I arrived at this prison with a Life sentence. Resident record card reads quite plainly, "0000-LIFE". Like so many other ladies, I was there to homestead. To live the remainder of my life in prison.
There is a familiar axiom in such circles, "Each must do his(her) own time. No one is going to do it for you". Given the Life sentence, I found that simply "doing it" was not an option for me. Doing it well, not wasting any of it, and finding a purpose became driving forces in my life. Just as in the "civilian" world, the ability to fend for myself and the desire to grow and be challenged were assets I relied on.
Those in the free world natually think in terms of "future" and generally have long-term goals. Lifers within the prison population are unique and it is evidenced by their outlook and disposition. They may or may not consider the future, but they do have a quite natural desire to achieve. Some are more motivate than others. Barring mental defect each can and will eventually seek to mark time BY ACCOMPLISHMENT. Achievements vary in significance. Simply "not losing any more ground" is significant.
The ability to thrive within a prison setting is a considerable accomplishment in and of itself. Thriving AND growing--rather than merely growing older---is more a of challenge. The opportunity to maintain a homestead of sorts, to gain privilege, and to live without being accosted by my neighbors or staff were of some consolation. Opportunities to contribute to or impact the little world I was given to live in were scarce but well worth the search and effort to pursue....
---
Long term offenders and Lifers, myself included, have a different gauge by which life and time are measured. There is little but routine to rely on for continuity. Disruptions to routine become routine. The only disruptions that seem worth particular scrutiny are those that threaten to disrupt or reduce the quality of life for a longterm offender.
A good day is one during which nothing in your 'house' is declared contraband. A good day is one during which no policy has been implemented to restrict some privilege or relative freedom that you may have within the institution. A better than average day is one in which you have not lost any ground and might even be able to take some pride in a job well done, and perhaps, a tangible product...."
___________
This IS about the long run, after all.
I wrote an article for the maiden issue of a CJ periodical called 'The Offender Employment Report",.., This is part of the article--previously published.
"One day, in mid-afternoon, a resident of the Kentucky Correctional Institution for Women crossed the yard in response to a page requesting her to report to Operations for Legal Mail. A correctional officer in training, posted in the nearly abandoned prison yard, intercepted the inmate. He demanded that the resident produce a "pass". The pass produced was issued by the Prison Industries division. Pass inspection is a routine event in the correctional institutions, but the inquiry did not end there.
"What do you do in Industries?" asked the officer. The officer had no doubt been given a tour of the facility as part of his orientation. He was apparently aware that the industries division consisted of a print shop, silk screening operations, mail services, and a mattress factory. Being told that the resident worked in the print shop did not seem to satisfy the officer, "What do you DO in the print shop?" The inmate replied, "I run an offset press." The officer handed back the pass and with a smile said, "Well, that's really good.. at least you've learned a TRADE.."
The value of having a trade is a subject to which I have devoted more than passing consideration. I was the resident crossing the yard that afternoon.
When the officer returned the pass to me, I mentioned that I had a trade before I came to prison but Correctional Industries was the closest thing to a day's work I could find on the inside. He seemed slightly puzzled. I'm sure it passed eventually.
I had been paged to sign for legal mail, something that happened with some regularity and always broke the monotony of life in prison. The officer's remark lingered with me as I went in to pick up my mail. The comment was certainly well intentioned, if unintentionally provocative. In its simplicity, it spoke volumes about the nature and state of prison employment goals and the bell curve of performance. It was the opinion of "the man in the yard" that there was some virture in a prisoner being taught something productive, or perhaps just a confirmation that at least a prisoner can be taught to be productive.
Certainly it is an ideal thing if a prison provides vocational training and educational programs for the sake of prisoners who will eventually re-enter society. Ideally, eventually, this could prove to be an investment in society. With a proper outlook and intervention there would be some improvement in that individual upon release. In fact, if there was some "improvement" in the prisoner, it would occur prior to release. The correctional institution would be the first to realize the benefit of an inmate's growth and personal development.
One of the more lighthearted thoughts I had concerned the irony of the comment having been made to me. It was not because I was a stranger to a 6 day work week, it was not because I gave up a career as a table dancer, or had been the proud recipient of one or more government checks each month before coming to prison--like a lot of women I met along the way.... I found the comment ironic because I was one of those prisoners who was not supposed to get out, ever.
The officer was so involved in scrutinizing my pass, he failed to notice that my identification badge was issued with all the telltale markings of someone housed in the institutions Longterm Offender Unit. A woman housed in this section has a sentence of 10 years or more. Such women will remain in prison until they are eligible for parole, serve-out their term, or die. I arrived at this prison with a Life sentence. Resident record card reads quite plainly, "0000-LIFE". Like so many other ladies, I was there to homestead. To live the remainder of my life in prison.
There is a familiar axiom in such circles, "Each must do his(her) own time. No one is going to do it for you". Given the Life sentence, I found that simply "doing it" was not an option for me. Doing it well, not wasting any of it, and finding a purpose became driving forces in my life. Just as in the "civilian" world, the ability to fend for myself and the desire to grow and be challenged were assets I relied on.
Those in the free world natually think in terms of "future" and generally have long-term goals. Lifers within the prison population are unique and it is evidenced by their outlook and disposition. They may or may not consider the future, but they do have a quite natural desire to achieve. Some are more motivate than others. Barring mental defect each can and will eventually seek to mark time BY ACCOMPLISHMENT. Achievements vary in significance. Simply "not losing any more ground" is significant.
The ability to thrive within a prison setting is a considerable accomplishment in and of itself. Thriving AND growing--rather than merely growing older---is more a of challenge. The opportunity to maintain a homestead of sorts, to gain privilege, and to live without being accosted by my neighbors or staff were of some consolation. Opportunities to contribute to or impact the little world I was given to live in were scarce but well worth the search and effort to pursue....
---
Long term offenders and Lifers, myself included, have a different gauge by which life and time are measured. There is little but routine to rely on for continuity. Disruptions to routine become routine. The only disruptions that seem worth particular scrutiny are those that threaten to disrupt or reduce the quality of life for a longterm offender.
A good day is one during which nothing in your 'house' is declared contraband. A good day is one during which no policy has been implemented to restrict some privilege or relative freedom that you may have within the institution. A better than average day is one in which you have not lost any ground and might even be able to take some pride in a job well done, and perhaps, a tangible product...."
___________