Archive for the ‘adult education’ Category

h1

Fear factor

March 27, 2011

Randall had been at the rehab for years. He was a youthful-looking African-American in his forties who dressed like a kid. To me, It looked like his mom had picked out his clothes, typically plaid shorts, a crisp white polo shirt, and tennis shoes. His clothes always looked new, right off the rack. His drug of choice, heroin. He had worked his way up the ladder in the community, making sure, during hourly monitoring, that everyone was accounted for; manning the reception desk; answering phones; and eventually becoming a role model. In order to advance to intern, he had to have his GED and he studied sporadically in my school to take the test.

Randall is bright and he worked hard, passing the pre-GED in all five subjects. I recommended he be funded by the program to take the test, and he registered for for it. The morning of his test I saw him smoking out in front of the rehab. He told me he went to the testing center but was the only one who showed up, so they rescheduled the math and writing for next week. The odd thing is I believed him. After ten years working with parolees I somehow didn’t have my “cheater meter” up and running. Two days later coming in to work I saw his name on the board that lists the names of residents who split or were kicked out. Randall had left in the middle of the night. I called the GED testing center and they told me they’d had a full house for that week’s math and writing exam. Damn. My heart dropped.

It’s common for prisoners to mess up right before their release or to work toward a goal and sabotage it. They say success is the hardest thing for this population. Increased expectations, increased responsibility, increased fear. About the same time Randall left, most likely relapsing on heroin, I received a new student, Geraldo. Geraldo scored 100% on four of the five pre-GED tests. This is unprecedented in my experience. I immediately recommended him for the full test and he is set to take the GED next month. this time I’m not keeping my fingers crossed. Geraldo exceeds my expectations and I have no fear that he will succeed.

h1

77, but who’s counting?

December 30, 2010

Yesterday marked one year since I started Parole Call. My goal was 100 posts; counting this one I wrote 77. Anniversaries are funny things in my line of work. Mostly everything my students — all felons on parole — recognize as a milestone is followed by the statement, on the outside. “This is the first birthday/Christmas/Thanksgiving I’ve spent on the outside in X many years.” I’ve never heard anyone say, “This is the first anniversary of my not stealing.” Maybe we should honor the passage of time from iniquity as well.

So this is my first anniversary of blogging. I have learned a lot about my work through this process of written reflection. I realize I spend all day helping people see their potential, celebrate small victories, and recognize incremental growth in themselves. But I also see humanity in turmoil, locked into destructive patterns, unable to break away from drugs, poverty, and the grip of mental illness. My work environment is never boring. On any given day when I walk into the greater rehab, there is likely someone yelling, getting yelled at, crying, laughing, ready to walk, steaming mad, or heartbroken. I see people in survival mode, working the system for food and shelter. Some students leave without completing the program and come back years later, fresh out of prison all over again. I might see a former student sitting on the couch near the intake desk, black-eyed, thin and homeless. “Welcome back,” I say. “I hope you will come back to school, we missed you.” It’s about a thimble of hope.

h1

School supplies

November 12, 2010

 

One of my former students returned this week. Bart was in my class in 2008. I remember him getting close to taking his GED right before taking off. Everyone likes Bart. Barely out of his twenties, he makes eccentricity seem cool right down to his blond mohawk that turns into a long pony tail. Since I last saw him Bart has been working on expanding the holes pierced in his ears. Yesterday he walked in with two AA batteries in each lobe.  “Have a look in your junk drawer, Ms. P, ” he said. He wanted me to find him something else to put in the holes now stretched to nearly an inch in diameter.  “Inside I used chess pieces,” he said of his time in prison. “Queens because the kings were too big.”

I try to withhold even the simplest supply request lest word get out in the community that I am soft and can be milked for goods. I never let parolees use my office phone or borrow money, not even a quarter. If you give an inmate a paper clip in prison you can lose your job. It’s a matter of safety and security. Here are some items I did give out this week: pencils to do math problems, an envelope to send for official GED transcripts, a rubber band to hold together a student’s dreadlocks so they don’t fall in his eyes during computer work.

Stuffing your ears with batteries can’t be good. So I found a dried-out orange highlighter in my desk and gave it to Bart. The next day he came in to class with the highlighter’s plastic orange barrel neatly cut into fat, hollow pegs that he proudly wore in each earlobe. Then he watched a skateboard video on Microsoft Encarta. I saw it was too late to ask for my highlighter back.

h1

Jump in

October 31, 2010

Every day my work brings sweet surprises. I rely on volunteer tutors to help my students. They tutor in the classroom and sometimes outside of class, so students get  all the benefits of a private boarding school in parole housing. I’ve had many tutors over the years and most of them have been amazing.  One of my class tutors came back to say hi. She had one of my former students with her and they had news — they are now engaged and living together. They seemed stable, found jobs, were saving for a car. Though it is highly discouraged during recovery, relationships are formed in rehab, even here in my little one-room schoolhouse.

I recently lost my volunteer math tutor and found a new one in the community. A recovering cocaine addict, Khadim was raised in West Africa, speaks fluent French, Spanish and Yoruba. He went to universities in Africa and New York and has a degree in economics. He leaves early on Friday mornings to attend a Mosque dressed in beautiful African attire. He is over a foot taller than I. Very quiet, he waits for students to ask for his help. “Jump in,” I tell him, or I just call out his name, “Khadim!” Once he sits down and gets started, he’s one of the loudest people in the room, and I have to remind him, “Use your whispering voice.”

h1

Cranes disappear

September 16, 2010

I can’t count how many math tutors I have had on board over the years but one always seems to show up in the form of a smart student shortly after another has split.  My last teacher’s assistant was great. Not only was Byron willing to help, he genuinely loved learning, and he was on deck to take his own GED.

When he arrived at the rehab, he asked me if I had a book on Origami. I bought him some Origami paper in a Japanese gift shop and printed the instructions for the crane off the Internet. He sat and made the most beautiful birds and taught others to make them as well. Soon my room had colorful Origami cranes tucked among the books and on the computer consoles. Then the cranes started to disappear. I asked one of my students if he knew where the green crane went?  ”One minute Ms. P.,” he said as he ran to his room to get the green crane that he had sprayed with very strong men’s cologne. “It’s the color of money,” he said as he returned it to its flock, “my favorite.”

Over the next couple weeks, the cranes Byron made vanished one by one. I always gave a crane to anyone who asked. Then last week, Byron didn’t show up to help tutor.  He split two days before his own GED exam, left without permission. He probably neatly folded his few belongings and took flight.

h1

Stepping stone

August 27, 2010

Z passed the GED!! She ran into my room holding her scores in front of her, her hand on the paper shaking in excitement. I’m not supposed to hug my students, but after working with her for two years and close to 500 hours of preparation, I couldn’t help myself.

I wanted to take her picture. We dressed her in the black cap and gown I keep on hand. For my students, getting their GED and having their picture taken holding their diploma is monumental. For the better part of their lives they have faced the camera for mug shots holding their name and a number just below their face.

Z was invited to speak to the community. She said earning her diploma was the second greatest achievement in her life next to having children. Her children are all adopted out, I’m not sure of the circumstances behind this. I told her no one could take away her diploma but it was not in itself a destination. “It’s a stepping stone,” I said.

You don’t go into teaching to change people’s lives. You work in sales. I sell confidence, hope and determination. No guarantees.

h1

Alpha dogs

August 18, 2010

I gave a few students copies of the American Sign Language alphabet. I had no idea they make use of signing inside prison when they are in lockdown. They said they sign larger so someone else can see it from far away. These are the hazards of my job — any well meaning comment or teaching tool can be misconstrued. Soon every new arrival from prison will be asking me for the sign language alphabet. So for now I put the sign language worksheets away and go back to teaching long division.

h1

Red Cross

August 13, 2010

Z took the writing and math section of the GED yesterday. I asked her what the essay question was. “You mean the one in the blue book?” she asked. “Yes,” I said, smiling, “the question we aren’t supposed to tell to anyone.” She told me it was, If you had a million dollars and couldn’t spend it on yourself, what charity would you donate to? “I wrote that I would give it to the Red Cross,” she said, “because they help save lives all over the world.” Today she went back and took the remainder of the test. She even dressed up, saw it as a special occasion. Walking into my class afterward, she looked so light and unburdened. SHE FINISHED.

On a less happy note, a couple residents were caught receiving crack cocaine thrown under the fence. Someone must have paid for the deal on the outside and had it delivered. Others use drugs when they go off site to visit families or while looking for work. Yes, there are residents who are still deep in their addiction and still using. It happens all the time. They’re not finished with drugs.

h1

Sagacious

July 28, 2010

Luis studied the dictionary while incarcerated. He read all the way through to the section beginning with S. He loves vocabulary and asks me for two words a day to look up and learn. Today I gave him inchoate and insalubrious. He knew insalubrious. I need to get smart and start giving him words starting with T onward. I need to be a little more sagacious.

h1

Last ten feet

July 23, 2010

In the week I have not written, Sequoia relapsed on heroin, Winton started drinking and Ricky took his first paycheck and smoked it up on crack. Here’s the good news. My student Z is finally enrolled to take the GED in August. It’s her third and last time at the rehab and getting her GED could be life changing. She has a mind for social studies and math and she writes well, really loves learning.  Her self-esteem goes up by increments and then plummets pretty quickly. She went swimming the other day and told me how she barely got through a whole lap. She struggled the last ten feet because of severe obesity and general lack of exercise. But I give her credit for getting in the pool. I told her, “This is like the GED. After you have tackled three hours of math and writing, they will hit you with science, reading, and social studies. It will feel like the last ten feet in the pool. But you can do it. Put the pencil down every 50 minutes and stretch you hands, close your eyes and take a breath, then pick up the pencil and start fresh. Don’t be a tired tester, don’t leave half the test section for the last ten minutes allotted.” I added, “You’re ready this time.”

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.