My interest in poverty, education, incarceration and social issues overall has its roots in my mom. I decided to speak with her and her thoughts, as a teacher, on what schools are doing to help students. 

Credit: Times Online

More than 1,600 Rochester City School District students are in the County Jail each year. Some serve short sentences, some are there for much longer. Most usually come back to the classroom, to face another host of issues.

LaToya Manon, a former teacher at the now closed Dr. Freddie Thomas High School said the problem was frequent.

“There’s about one to two students a year if not more, that have gone through the system, brushed it, or started off the year in it,” she said.  

Although it was just 1 of the 20-30 students in an average classroom, often the presence they created in the classroom was marked.

“It can go to extremes,” she said of the behavior, recalling one student in her own class a few years back.

He sat in the back, she said, intently observing his peers for days. After a few days had passed, she said, he decided which student he believed to be the leader of the class. The very next day, he sat in that student’s seats: a direct challenge.  The two boys fought and were removed from the classroom.

Manon said eventually the boy went back to jail for another crime.

The circumstances leading to the altercation are unlikely to happen among students who haven’t interacted with the system. In jail, there is an extreme focus on status because it’s often all inmates have to define themselves.

“He felt like he needed to prove something, like in jail,” she said.

Eventually Manon left teaching, to return to school. In 2014, she will begin her doctoral program at the U of R studying mass incarceration and its effect on our District and the city of Rochester as a whole.

“It felt like there was an audience I couldn’t connect with,” she said, explaining the motivation behind pursuing a new degree. “I never knew how to reach that group. And I could never say to the kids, ‘I know what you’re going through’ because I didn’t know.”

Hundreds of teachers in the District face the same struggle. The Districts boasts professional development that teachers can take but it’s not mandated. Although it has increased its counseling staff, students also interact with teachers. Therefore, ensuring teachers are properly equipped as well is very important.

“There is nothing in the classroom to help them get re-acclimated,” Manon said. “They’re forgetting the emotional piece. Even if it’s just three days, if they don’t transition well, it can be detrimental to the classroom environment.”

Manon says she believes the District may want a seamless transition from the schooling done in jail and the return to the classroom. However, they don’t account for the maturation many undergo behind bars- and the psychological change is more evident the longer they’re in jail.

However, Manon also stressed the need for a preventive approach. This reactionary approach of helping students transition is excellent, but what if we could keep them from being incarcerated in the first place?

She said that there simply isn’t enough in school to keep students from traveling down this path.

But until we can do this, she said, there is a responsibility to these kids to help them forward.

“We can’t stick them in jail with limited opportunities and wonder why they’re still stuck,” she said. “I honestly feel that from an academic stance we forgot that we should be socializing kids to be good contributors to society.”  

Credit: Weknowmemes.com

Is there a real way to help youth transition from jail into school?

Research shows that youths’ biggest influence is their peer group, not their parents, not their schools. How much would it actually help if schools engorged their budgets to help but after the bell rings, students continue to interact with people they did prior to their incarceration, and go home to struggle with the same environments?

Surprisingly, it seems like a lot. Very few youths commit crimes out of love for criminal livelihood. Instead, they’re often out of desperation. If schools could show alternatives and demonstrate that there are ways out past what they’ve been shown in their environments, it could touch a few more students. We know for sure current attempts to cut art, sports, and standardize education are only hindering student progress. I wonder how many students would have found a release in painting, in playing football, or even learning history or chemistry under a teacher that created lessons out of passion and not out of the State’s book.

How many would have then pursued these passions, studied them at a higher level, and made a career out of them?

School had a larger effect on me than my parents. It’s there that I learned about poetry and used it to express my emotions, there that I learned I’m not half bad at drawing, and there that I learned about the world and social issues that motivates my writing today. I wasn’t at risk as many other students but many of my friends were and found the same solace. Their poetry was often deeper, the art richer, and their contributions to class discussions better. But only when they felt like contributing was worth it. It took special teachers to cultivate a sense of self-worth in students to allow them to take the classes seriously.

I agree with my mom; schools should be contributing more to the progress and transition of students. These students are asked to be upstanding members of society without the same opportunities that molded other students around the nation.

The money in our budget is supposed to help students by standardizing the way they are taught but it fails to address the true root of the failure. Students aren’t performing badly because the curriculum is poorly done; they are failing because they face issues larger than anyone their age should cope with. Until you uplift the communities these schools serve, they will continue to serve as a catch-all for what these environments create. And that usually entails angry, poor youth who have given up hope that they will ever escape. 

Does Incarceration Really Affect Us All?

Credit: Laporte County Sheriff's Office

The idea for this week’s post focusing on pop culture came from the idea that by writing about one person’s experiences, I was giving the speaker an audience but not starting a larger discussion.

It was easy to discredit my sources’ stories as issues that wouldn’t affect most other people.

I discovered this after a conversation with a friend about Clare, who lost her brother to an alternative program for drug addicts, and Shaq, who lost his brother because of a murder conviction and his mother for bad checks.

The friend responded by saying, my brother is in college, and my parents can provide for us, so I guess I’m good.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Was he “good?” I could explain to him that as a taxpayer he was affected, but it didn’t seem worth it. He said he didn’t know anyone close to him who’d gone to jail. So it made me wonder, how do I make my topic relevant to people who don’t have interact with the system directly?

I thought it would be a good idea to look at larger influences that demonstrate how we’re affected. So I came up with four reasons the incarceration system is relevant to everyone:

As a taxpayer

There is no denying it; the incarceration system is expensive. According to Vera the Institute of Justice, “the total price to taxpayers was $39 billion, $5.4 more than the $33.5 billion reflected in corrections budgets alone.” According to the same report, these extra costs were employee benefits, retiree benefits, hospital and care for the prison population, underfunded pensions and state contributions to pensions and retiree health care.

This is not a critique of whether it’s unnecessarily expensive and should cut down, but a simple note on how expensive and how we foot  a lot of the bill.

As a Viewer

Earlier, I spoke about how pop culture can shape our thinking of prison. For some of us, it’s glorified, for others it’s put down and crime is deterred. However, by being so negative on crime and criminals we allow the behaviors that strip them of their rights to flourish. We allow shady dealings to happen. As of now, we know that with the privatization of prison, many in these administrations are incredibly corruptible and prisoners have no outlet to speak. Pop culture becomes the voices of these facilities, and unfortunately this voice doesn’t represent the inmates very well. Nobody should want to go to jail but we also shouldn’t think whatever injustices they sustain are deserved.

As a human rights advocate

Again, we know that many rights we see on the “outside” are stripped. And many people think this is only right. But at what point do we draw a line and remind ourselves that inmates are still human.

Prisoners often don’t see good health care, their mental health isn’t properly assessed nor cared for. Transsexual inmates are also horribly abused by inmates and sometimes by ruthless guards. We may not agree what hormones or operations should be available to transsexual inmates, but abuse should be a universal concern.

As an academic

If you consider yourself intelligent about society, history or politics, then you understand how large a role incarceration has played in all three. From Gandhi to Martin Luther King, Jr. it can make a huge political statement that turns the tides of society. It can also showcase huge problems a nation is facing: to the disproportionate population of blacks and Hispanics in America to the impoverished natives in Latin America. Incarceration, and more importantly who is incarcerated can say more about a nation then its leaders can.

Although this a short list with reasons that barely scratch the surface, it’s enough to start us thinking. And the first question we have to ask ourselves is: what do we believe the incarceration experience should be? Should it be about punishment (and therefore rights aren’t as important), should it be about rehabilitation or determent? However, one thing is for sure: incarceration affects us all, some more than others. You may not be taking collect calls from loved ones, an inmate, or the one working in the system, but you are affected regardless. Therefore, we have all a stake. 

Inmate tells girl his story to scare her out of misbehaving. Credit: AETV

There’s no doubt: we love our crime shows.

Law & Order, Cold Case, CSI, Beyond Scared Straight, Orange is the New Black.

But have we made it a point to rely on pop culture too much to define our views of prison? And what happens when we don’t try to fill in the gaps left by pop culture?

We’ve been told to take everything on TV with a grain of salt, and yet incarceration is a structure shrouded in so much mystery that a grain of salt isn’t nearly enough to keep us from forming destructive ideas of the system and the people in it just by looking at what is portrayed on TV.

I spoke to my friend a few days ago about Orange is the New Black and she commented about how free the inmates on the show are. They roam about the facility, allowing them the freedom needed to enact revenge and begin and maintain relationships.

What most viewers don’t know is that Piper Chapman is in a minimum security facility. And this isn’t part of the summary on IMDB or even the show’s summary on its home network, Netflix. And so we begin to think that inmates have a lot of freedom. Perhaps not to the extent the characters on the show enjoy because they understand everything on TV is exaggerated, but we think it’s a lot more freedom than inmates actually get.

Screenshot of the show's profile on Netflix

For instance, on the show the inmates interact regularly with each other, moving between floors and dorms, and even entering the kitchen at will. In most jails, the structure is more regulated. At just the county jails, where inmates haven’t even been sentenced, every inmate is accounted for at all times. There is no wandering because it’s a safety hazard for other inmates and for the guards.

In Law & Order and Cold Case, most judges and guards are corrupt. Judges earn money from sending inmates to certain prisons and guards routinely abuse inmate. Yet, most facilities see a sexual abuse rate of 4.4% and jails see 3.4%, both of  which are 4.4% and 3.4% too high, but not nearly as common as these shows demonstrate.

Finally, there are shows like Beyond Scared Straight, which prey upon our fear of the violence in prisons, using it to scare youngsters into behaving correctly. But are these facilities as violent and are the inmates truly that barbaric, regardless of whatever crime they committed to land them there? According to statistics, about 83,000 jail inmates reported being injured, 7% by fight. Inmates under age 24 were twice as likely to report an injury.

The media plays a big role in shaping minds, whether it wants that responsibility or not. But we also have to understand that these shows are meant to entertain and ensure that they go no further and don’t inform. Although they should be factually correct, they aren’t so we have to make sure that we don’t allow these shows to shape our views of prison.

Instead, we should allow them to raise question and begin a national discourse. Incarceration is a shadowy structure which allows biases prejudices and misinformation to flourish. However, every lie has a bit of truth and we should focus on what we can do to help the system. For example, that 4.4% sexual abuse rate: how can we lower it?  

Sitting Down with Two Criminal Justice Majors

Nysenbaum, left, and Campbell, right

This week I sat down with Jamal Campbell and Joshua Nysenbaum, two third-year Criminal Justice majors at RIT. We discussed the incarceration system, the policies that harmed the community most, and what it would take to better the system for future generations.

Being a C.O.

Data from the New York State Dept. of Corrections and Community Supervision. 

The average New York State Corrections Officer makes about $47,000 and can retire after 25 years of service.

But does this pay account for the increased emotional damage officers often suffer from?

According to Corrections, officers face a 39% higher suicide rate, higher divorce rate, and are more likely to abuse substances than the rest of the population.

“The job is hard,” said Cpl. Providence Crowder. She has worked as a Deputy Sheriff in the Monroe County Correctional Facility for 12 years.

When we think of the dangers of the position, most of us think of riots, assaults and other forms of physical damage, and Crowder says.

“You begin each day, hoping nothing will happen. And it’s by the grace of God that we get through each day.” 

However, the nature of the job itself can be very taxing.

"It's a very thankless job" -Cpl. Providence Crowder

Too often, officers don’t make a difference in inmates’ lives. The cyclical nature of incarceration means they often meet their inmates’ children as well. .

“It opened my eyes to reality,” said Crowder. “I was sheltered.” She said she saw firsthand how drugs and poverty can be such large roles in incarceration rates.

And even if she was able to change an inmate’s life, she’s likely to never see them again because they wouldn’t be returning to jail.

“The most rewarding part is when you don’t see them again,” said Crowder, who admits it doesn’t happen often.

And yet, the officers retain hope. The ones I spoke to only seemed tired because their shift had begun at 6 a.m., not because of the daily stress of the position. They genuinely wanted to help the inmates and were frustrated that they were unable to do so because they were up against forces too large. Often they watched helplessly as inmates reentered through the jail’s “revolving door.”

Crowder’s close relationship with God helped ease the stress. She also channeled her frustration into higher education. She began the position with just her Associates degree, but is now completing her Master’s at Roberts Wesleyan.

“I would look at job boards and for other jobs,” she said. “And I would pray to God for guidance but he just kept bringing me back here.”

She said she appreciates the time she spent here because she grew as a person.

“I still recommend the position,” she said. “And I get happy when I hear people are interested. Just do it early, put in your 25, and get out so you can do what you want with your own life and with what you learned.” 

Going to Jail

The Monroe County Jail
Credit: Rochesterhomepage.net

I was fidgeting; my hands repeatedly tugging my old black T-shirt down over my jeans or playing with the pen and notepad I was allowed. My hands just didn’t know what to do without a phone to occupy them. But it was lying with my other personal belonging in the locker the sheriff assigned me when I’d checked in.

Only my pen and notebook were allowed in the jail, she said.

I’d been looking forward to a tour of the Monroe County Correctional Facility for days. Weeks ago, I’d interviewed Cpl. Providence Crowder about being a Corrections Officer and later asked for a tour of the jail. To my surprise, she arranged it. 

But now I was nervous. And I realized this stemmed from stereotypes that eight weeks of research for this blog couldn’t even get rid of.

“Tianna?”

I almost didn’t hear my name at first. I was too deep in imagining inmate riots, assaults and a possible jailbreak.

But the sheriff looked up at me and I quickly realized I’d been called.

I rounded the corner to meet Cpl. Crowder at the door leading into the jail. It was my first time meeting her and I was taken aback. I was shabby in my T-shirt, jeans, unmade face, and my hair pulled sloppily into a bun. And she wore a gorgeous shade of purple eye shadow and her hair swept up in a glamorous ‘do. To put it simply, she was pretty. Not what you see on TV for female guards.

“Lady, don’t you know you’re in jail?” I thought to myself as I shook her hand. “You don’t want to look like that here.” I was unconsciously echoing the words my friends and family had spoken to me as they advised my wardrobe for the visit.

But as we made our way through the facility and no inmate spoke rudely or lasciviously to her. Instead, they greeted her warmly, clearly happy to see her.

Nor was I treated to these comments despite not being as commanding with my 5’2 stature and 90 pounds of what I consider pure muscle.

My favorite stop along the tour was the tower.

It’s set up with a large courtyard in the middle. Cells lined the back wall, which was split into two floors. When I entered inmates were sitting at tables in the courtyard. They were watching football and conversing.

I was immediately overwhelmed by the ocean of orange jumpsuits.

We crossed the courtyard to speak with the lone officer on duty. He was responsible for the 50 or so inmates that surrounded us. If I hadn’t written down his answers to my questions, I wouldn’t remember them. I was too focused on the inmates who were just feet away from me. My brain was anticipating a danger it thought to be imminent.

“You’ve spoken to their girlfriends, their kids, their officers, families, not them,” it hissed at me. “You don’t know them- or what they’re capable of.”

A few minutes later, I walked out, feeling foolish.

It was this moment that shattered every remaining stereotype I was holding onto. Granted, I was only in county jail and we’d avoided the male minors area because Crowder believed they would be lewd, thinking I was their age. But I was taught that any inmate will harm me in some way if given the chance, and I believe to some extent, most of us feel the same way.

But they hadn’t. They were gracious, advising me in my tour, and offering their stories and perspectives.  They were people. Dressed in orange or khaki, but people nevertheless.

I asked myself, at what point had we stopped seeing them this way? And was doing so thought to deter future crime or just another way to dehumanize criminals in a way that the loss of freedom and time, colored jumpsuits and sheer chaos in prisons and jails couldn’t do?

I’d walked in with one set of questions: what if they attacked me? What if they verbally assaulted me? And left with a different set of questions. But this time I wasn’t asking whether the stigma and stereotypes were true but what they said about us.