The triad of rehabilitation is: Education, Self-Help, and Healthy Social Networks. Unfortunately, we often find ourselves balancing on two shaky legs, as the institutions that house us rarely provide us with the opportunity to advance our education and/or further our personal growth. While there have been recent improvements to educational opportunities in the state of California, the lack of reformative programs is creating an undue risk of recidivism in many of those who find themselves on the opposite side of the fence.
To understand the problem, you must understand how self-help and rehabilitative programs are usually run in California prisons. First, you must sign up for the program, an easy process that simply requires the submission of a form through the mail. Once received, the assigning official, a Lieutenant or Associate Warden, places the individual on a waiting list. The individual remains on the waiting list until there is an opening, which can take anywhere from three months to six years, depending on how the program is being run and the rate of attrition. It is not unusual for a “career criminal” to be placed on the waiting list at the beginning of his term, and after multiple years, to be paroled without ever setting foot within a classroom environment.
Once you are assigned to the program, you will be required to participate in its weekly or biweekly meetings, which are generally two hours long. A supervising state employee and an inmate facilitator will greet you when you enter. The state employee will check your ID and mark you off on their list, and will later input your hours to ensure you receive credit for your participation. The inmate facilitator will be responsible for providing you with the information and guidance you need to become a fully functional member of society.
Inmate facilitators may or may not be fully knowledgeable in the subject of the program, as the only real requirement to facilitate is a willingness to lead the group. Often, the facilitators’ credentials include nothing more than having previously participated in the program or a similar one at another institution. Another issue is that participation is optional, with many uncaring individuals using the programs to pad their portfolio, or as one individual who was recently granted parole describes it, “play the game” the Parole Board sets up.
You can easily see the problems with this format. It is why I saw no point in joining any “self-help” group, as my time was better spent working on my college work (I have earned multiple degrees).
My view of supposed self-help programs changed when the Prison Education Project (PEP) announced they would be offering courses at my institution. I’ll admit that I only signed up for the courses because they were being run by volunteers from Project Rebound, and I wanted to make a connection to the Cal State system before the Pell Grant kicked in for incarcerated college students (My family has graciously paid for tuition at Colorado State University – Pueblo, where I am working on my BA, but it is very expensive).
To ensure that I would not be stuck on the waiting list, I signed up for one of the less popular courses: Introduction to Autobiographical Writing and Soft Skills. It was a bit of a cheat as I have taken multiple Business, Management, and English courses and already knew how to communicate with other people. I figured I could breeze through their simple curriculums with ease. However, the classes were not as simple as I thought they would be.
For one, the classes were being taught by accomplished individuals with BAs and Master degrees, some of whom had been incarcerated themselves at one point. It was a shock to find out that someone like me was able to become so successful despite their background. Furthermore, some were actual professors from the local colleges (though I use the term “local” very loosely) and they actually taught collegiate classes on the subject matter they were teaching us.
Second, the autobiographical class was insidiously designed to force us into a confrontation with our faults, weaknesses, and the trauma we suffered and caused as victims of and perpetrators of crime. It was a very rough experience to say the least.
What was even more shocking was how easily we fell into their trap. My instructor simply stated, “Did you connect the dots? Do you know what led you to committing your crime?” We all rolled our eyes at him, because we already knew that answer. Every incarcerated individual with a shred of decency has sat on their bunk and pondered the stupidity that has led them into prison, with most looking back in abject horror at our callousness and utter disregard for our victims, our families, and ourselves.
Next, he asked, “Now go farther back … what’s your earliest memory?” Another easy question. We were kids, innocent children being cared for by parents and/or grandparents. “Okay, so how did you get from being a kid, to committing your crime? You didn’t say, at three years old, ‘I’m going to grow up and be a kill’a,’ Did you?” No.
“Then what happened?” We stood silent.
“Okay, so move ahead and tell me what you remember about elementary school. Tell me what you remember about junior high. Tell me what you remember about high school.” It continued on and on and on. It sucked, not because it was a lot of work, but because it opened up a lot of old wounds for us. Absentee parents. Ruthless bullies. Violence. Drugs. Alcohol. All that before we were old enough to vote. It was a very harsh trip the first time around, and revisiting our past was just as painful the second, third, and fifth times.
We couldn’t just revisit it once, no, we were writing our memoirs. We had to revisit our past over and over again as we moved from rough drafts, through revisions, to our final draft. We had to re-experience it while sitting on our bunks for count, while listening to music, while watching tv. It would creep up on us in the silence of our distracted minds, unwanted and unneeded, until it filled us with anger and remorse for what it led us to do. But maybe that was just me.
I doubt it though. You learn to read people in prison, and while not everyone reacted the same way or took the class seriously (there are some who are unwilling to change) I could see that far-off stare in my classmates as they relived the life that brought them to prison. While it will never compare to the pain we caused our victims, the experience allowed us to understand that our crime extended beyond that one instance in time, that our victims carried the pain we caused them everywhere they went.
I would not have understood this had I not signed up for a real self-help class. A class developed, organized, and led by highly skilled professionals who knew how to lead us towards rehabilitation, instead of someone who just felt like talking that day.
A dozen business classes have taught me the importance of training and matching the job’s duty and responsibilities with the right skill sets. Self-help groups are responsible for rehabilitating damaged individuals. They should be designed to ensure that we deal with our issues and problems, that we receive the help we need to live proper lives, and that we don’t come back to prison. They need to be run by qualified people with knowledge and skills in social work, psychology, and education, because the job is too important to be left to chance.
