Prison educator

About 11 years ago, I left the prison system to teach in the public schools.  I started teaching for the State of California with the Department of the Youth Authority in 1992, at the Northern Reception Center and Clinic. My job was to assess wards in small groups and individually to see if they had learning problems in reading, writing or math. I also wrote their Individual Educational Plans (I.E.P.) before they transferred to their permanent institution.

The last few years I worked for the Youth Authority, I taught longer-term residents—students who were juvenile, mentally ill, felony offenders.  Since I was trained in working with student deficits, I helped many young men learn to read or to calculate enough to maintain a bank account or budget. Several students I worked with went on to graduate from high school or get their GED.

Teaching in a prison changes you as a teacher and a human being. I gained confidence in my abilities to educate by seeing young men learn who had been discarded by society. I learned not to fear the look of a young man, but his true intention. I also learned true intentions are not easy to spot.

As time went on, I had several wards tell me I should be working in the public schools where I could make a difference. I told them I thought I was making a difference with them. Their response was that in many cases, they were lost causes. By the time they got as far as the Youth Authority, they would dabble in crime for the rest of their lives. (Recidivism rates for those incarcerated under the age of 18 bear this out.)

"Go teach seventh graders," one ward said. "I would be a different person if I had someone care about my education when I was in seventh grade."

So here I am, teaching seventh and eighth graders for my 11th year. I must admit those young men I met in the YA were correct—it does make a difference when a person cares about a student's education.  

We are five weeks into the school year and already I am seeing positive results. I hope it's a good year.