9/22/10
A SYSTEM OF JUSTICE
“Ask any man with a long-enough experience of prisons, and he’ll tell you that all it takes to harden a man’s heart is a system of justice.”
Gregory David Roberts, “Shantaram”
The tiniest of things bother me and even though I have boat loads of patience my low tolerance for nonsense makes me a prime candidate for stress induced health problems. During my morning classes—that time of day where old timers are more prone to heart attacks—I’m busy stomping out fires. Ten prisoners under the age of twenty-one, know-it-alls who can’t keep their hands off of one another, who think “getting louder” wins the argument, give me few options.
“Listen up,” I’ve announced on more than one occasion, usually during an impromptu rap session, “this is adult education, not ‘jooovy’ education.” They think prison is like sixth grade camp. “I’m giving everyone a direct order to remain seated for the duration of class.”
They scamper to their seats. A few minutes later a young white prisoner decides to test the waters. He gets up and walks past my desk.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask. Before he can answer I say, “Give me the pencil.”
“I bought this pencil,” he says.
I take it anyway and order him to leave the classroom immediately.
He accuses me of stealing what is rightfully his. I’m beyond caring. “Out!” I point toward the door.
When class ends I exchange prisoner identification cards for pencils. One youngster has reached a crossroads. “Can I have my I.D. card?” he asks.
“Pencil!” I bark.
“I don’t have one.”
“Then I don’t have your I.D.”
“Yes you do,” he says. “It’s in your desk, along with the pencil. You took it from Harmon.”
“I’ll need a written statement,” I say.
We both know a written statement is out of the question. Not that it matters, this young man is doing time for slitting someone’s throat over a debt. I tell him that not only did Prisoner Harmon disrespect me but he disrespected him as well. He understands. I give him his I.D. card. I’m sure a discussion between the two will take place out on the yard. Perhaps there’ll be a little prison justice after all.
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14 comments:
As one of them might exclaim... Dayum!
I might be broke as a joke right now, but I am certainly glad I have no debts. Especially with folks like that.
Does it matter who does the serving, as long as justice is served? I say no, let them police themselves.
The Gulag archipenciolo?
What a tough job!
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. Got to do what you got to do and Ivan (not you old man) has got to take what he gets.
Mark,
I live in a beautiful New England-style town in Canada that is rapidly being ringed by monster home subdivisions with no front or back yards.
Rich kids going crazy stuck in the house, no entertainment. Ah the devil will find things to do. Some of the houses are huge grow-ops.
Subdivision Gulags?
JR: do I detect a little teacher-attitude here? Frankly, I'm right there with ya. I know kids like these - and they scare me. Their "parents" scare me more.
Ah the human race. Sweet little angels all.
I,m still stuck with the image of two Indian boys studying an algebra book under a street light. These idiots need a wake up call and the MDOC doesn't seem to be doing it. Boot camp might. MW
Oh man. Sharply observed, indeed.
Love the quote at the beginning! And sometime you'll have to tell me if you have any prison ghost stories for a new book I'm working on.
Powerful stuff, JR. Before I started reading your blog, I never thought about the health of prison workers. I don't mean that to be flippant, though. I think many people on the outside don't think of it. As long as the demons are behind bars, we're happy. It's selfish (or maybe just ignorant) of me.
But it's an interesting subject. I would have already had a heart attack or a meltdown from the stress.
I agree with Rick. The quote is great.
Welcome to pre-school from hell.
Your job is insane. Wonderful, if it changes just one life, but insane nonetheless. I know a correctional officer and I've heard all of his stories. I never want to be in his or your shoes.
I agree with Mr. Woodman
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