Chris Dankovich explains why public speaking in prison can be more terrifying for incarcerated college students than violence, solitary confinement, or other dangers they have faced.
When you imagine the scariest place to be in prison, you may picture a dimly lit corner of a back room, where you encounter an enemy or a predator. Or perhaps it’s the Hole, solitary confinement for extended periods of sensory deprivation, where you face nothing but yourself. But for many, the most terrifying place in the prison where I’ve spent most of my life is a climate-controlled, carpeted room decorated with a giant yellow sign that reads “Congratulations” and lists recent GED graduates.
The Scariest Classroom in Prison
This is one of seven classrooms in the prison’s education building, and it also houses college classes for Mott Community College—including the dreaded Public Speaking class.
“I’d rather do an extra year in prison than take this class,” said Ross, an incarcerated student at the prison, as we waited for the first class of the semester to begin. “I’d rather fight the biggest, meanest guy here than do this.”
I’ve read that phobias of public speaking are more common than phobias of almost any other kind. Many fear speaking before an audience more than they fear injury or death. Nowhere does this concept play out more interestingly than where public speaking and prison intersect.
You may initially think that a bunch of hardened prisoners, people convicted of every sort of crime, would fear little. After all, prison is a scary place, with this one—among others—referred to as “Gladiator School” when I first came in. But while prison may condition and desensitize a person against outer threats, or at least make you bury your feelings down deep, public speaking puts you on display and makes you dive into yourself.
For dozens of people in this prison, there is nothing more terrifying. In the light of day, in front of others, themselves laid out vulnerable, many of even the hardest of men shiver, blink, and break down.
Students Try to Escape Public Speaking in Prison
Our first class, before the kind and cheery Professor Connie, involved a few fun exercises to open up and get to know everyone—well, they were designed to be fun. Nothing else, no speeches required, no grading on eloquence or delivery.
Half of the class tried to quit after day one.
G, a bald, middle-aged man who had been an Airborne Ranger with extensive combat training and what he estimates to be around a hundred jumps from various aircraft before coming to prison, practically ran from the classroom after the warm-up exercises. “Uh-uh… I’m done. Throw me out of an airplane, shoot me, but this ain’t for me.”
Miguel Z., who has served decades in some of the worst prisons in the state, exclaimed, “Nope! Can’t do this!” and then left and never came back.
Those who tried to quit were reminded by the Mott liaison, Mary Cusack, that the class is required for graduation. Most reluctantly chose to return to class the next week, but not all. College in prison is a wonderful privilege, and the alternative is to stay in the cellblock and not finish your degree. Still, some students chose this option over speaking before the professor and audience.
One of the factors in why recidivism rates for those who earn a degree while in prison are around 90% lower than those who do not is that many of those who cannot handle the work, the pressure, and the required good behavior inevitably wash out.
The First Speech
Our first speech was an introduction speech on week three. The speech was designed to be simple: Talk about yourself, your interests, your achievements, and your goals for three to five minutes.
Had you walked by the door window of Room 215 in Building 300 at Thumb Correctional Facility that day, you may have thought that the professor had cruelly forced us to explain quantum mechanics in detail in order to pass the class.
The fear and reticence of opening oneself up, even to a small degree in a room full of people you’ve known for years, with nothing to hide behind and no help or protection, can be overwhelming. As G told me later—without trouble speaking one-on-one—”In the military, at least I had a parachute and a gun. What do I have to stand with but my bare hands and my thoughts? That’s hard.”
About a third of the students forgot what they were saying and clammed up before they finished speaking.
For full disclosure: I have many fears and some phobias of my own, but years of speaking in the prison church and performing in prison bands have left me without fear of standing before a group of people.
Learning to Communicate Openly
But this is what Public Speaking class is for. Those who are expert speakers are not the target students for this course—those who have little experience are. Professor Connie has organized the class to steadily introduce more examples, more speaking styles, more subject matters, and more opportunities to speak.
She is getting results. As the class progresses, every student has managed to speak successfully—as defined by staying on subject for the allotted time and actually finishing the speech. But much more than this, these incarcerated students are being forced out of their comfort zones to find better, open ways to communicate.
They are not being educated… they’re being forced to become wiser and more open.
G would still rather jump out of a plane than give a speech. But he gave a great one on Saturday where he made a joke about that very fact that got the audience laughing and showed him that it’s okay to open up and truly communicate.
Public speaking in prison may remain terrifying, but it is also teaching these students how to confront fear, express themselves, and connect with others.
