Today, I finally got to teach the class I was supposed to teach in prison last October. I was a bit concerned about building rapport with a bunch of adults I'd never met before within the space of a class period, but it went great.
Things that stuck with me:
- In pre-class training, the liaison said that if anyone held the door open for me, I should wave them through first--I shouldn't let anyone walk behind me. (And then they assigned me a Personal Protection Device.)
- But apart from some people in the hallway who were gawking at the classroom, everyone was welcoming and respectful.
- When I mused out loud that the classroom didn't have a clock (and as no smart phones are allowed in the building, I didn't have mine), one of the students gave me his watch to use.
- How eager my students were to laugh at my silly jokes. My kids could stand to take some lessons on how they did NOT roll their eyes. Ha.
- But seriously, 100% of the class wanted to be there, had done their homework, and were active participants.
- How dependent they were on forces completely out of their control--whether the program would continue or not, whether they'd receive funding or not, if people would find the time and inclination to come visit/teach them or not.
- What they said about freedom, the way rehabilitations had been rolled back, how when you grow up hearing gunshots every day, you don't even think to duck.
- How in the space of two hours, I was already assigning place values to the students as the philosopher, the historian, the memoirist, the media consultant and so on.
- The new things I learned in these texts I've read a zillion times--from my reading of course--but more importantly from the ways other people read, shared, and built on in community. I love this part of teaching so much.
- How they must have picked up on the small coded things I said (there was an official observer in class) about the carceral system, restorative justice, needing a Malcolm in order to have the government negotiate with a Martin, etc. When I answered their question about why I was there, I got a deep "I understand" from the person who asked it. And at the end of the class when we we were taking the desks from the circle and putting them back into the mandated and regimented rows (metaphor much?) three students shook my hand and told me to "keep fighting the good fight."
I will.
Lots of moving parts to the prison education program currently, but I want to keep being involved. Surprisingly Big A, who usually supports everything I want to do, was a bit taken aback when I mentioned taking this on as an extra class and wondered if I might need to pace myself.
(Also, I don't like shaking hands. If I resort to my heritage and start offering namastes instead--would that be rude?)
Pic: Spring is really coming! A sunshiny-bright patch of crocuses on the MSU campus.