Who I Impact

"He who opens a school door, closes a prison."

~ Victor Hugo

Some might say I spend my day with the damaged, unwanted, disposable people who do not matter nor have anything positive to contribute. But I actually spend my day with the eager, appreciative, and hopeful who just need someone to see them as humans, not the monsters, degenerates, gangsters, or thugs that so many in society have labeled them.

As I write this, I am sitting in my backyard on a sunny spring day. I can hear the birds singing, feel the cool breeze on my face, and in the background, the fountain trickles soothingly. At the same time, my students are in a cell: probably smelly, hot, humid, crowded, a toilet in the corner, someone telling them when they can move, where they can go, what to wear, when to eat, when to sleep, with whom they must live. I am not at all condoning what they may have done to be where they are; I am just describing their reality and what they bring with them when they walk through my classroom door.

Hard as I might try to make the Corrections classroom feel just like an Edmonds College classroom (Edmonds College is painted in huge, bright blue letters on the classroom wall), my students are still keenly aware that they are in prison. The uniformed Corrections Officer just outside the always-open classroom door is a constant reminder. That is the external baggage they carry. The invisible, internal baggage is most often more profound. Mental health issues, learning disabilities, anger, low if not nonexistent self-esteem, fear, loneliness. Those students enrolled in High School+ and GED are mandated to attend these programs. Some of them want to go to school; some do not. And for those who do not wish to attend school, they also bring resistance, attitude, and often hostility into the classroom.

Sounds fun, huh? Actually, on most days, it is. Many of my students say that coming to school is the only time they feel "normal" and have hope. They can learn to believe in themselves again, discover that they do have skills, abilities, are smart, and are not the monsters, degenerates, gangsters, or thugs that so many label them. They can remember that they have something positive and meaningful to offer themselves and others.

I clearly remember my very first day teaching in Corrections. I was excited and nervous, standing in front of a room full of men from all walks of life, all ages, a myriad of ethnicities, languages, some totally tatted, all wearing the same uniform in a futile attempt to assimilate those who will always forever be wildly different. One student sat in the back corner of the room, in the seat furthest away from me, his back to everyone. It looked as if he was intentionally "standing in the corner." The entire time I was addressing the classroom, introducing myself, and getting to know them, he never moved, his body seemingly frozen, his face tucked into the back corner of the room. At one point, he abruptly turned to face me, disdain clearly drawn all over his face, his entire being. He interrupted me mid-sentence and spat out, "You are a woman. I will never listen to anything you say. I will never do anything you tell me to do." And with that, his head snapped back into his corner. My response was a simple, "We'll see."

I am beyond proud that this student has since graduated with a high school diploma, earned a high grade point average, became a classroom role model and leader, and has released from prison an educated, confident, caring, and happy man. Thankfully, there have been many more to follow in the past two+ years of my time teaching in Corrections. If he had been the only student on whom I had made a positive impact, I would tell myself, "Well done." But there have been many more to follow, and I so look forward to working with the many more to come.