Steven, teacher and convict (part 2) by thadeusz

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During the next interview, the Psychologist asked me again how I reacted to the fact that I was a prisoner and a teacher. He explained that this was my only opportunity to really help the young detainees. Remembering his previous reactions I replied as follows:
"SIR, I now had time to think about it and I am glad that I can help these miserable and ignorant young men learn something. But after all, it is their fault if they did not learn at school. I learned what I now know and it was not easy, but I am a College graduate, SIR."
I had carefully started and ended my answer with a respectful "SIR", even if I did not really respect this so-called psychologist.
The psychologist asked then a second question:
"Do you really think that these prisoners refused to learn, that they did not even try to learn to read and write?"
"SIR, of course they refused because they are miserable individuals who do not really deserve all the efforts I invest in their forced education, SIR."
The psychologist sent me to the barber and the clothing department. After that he left me alone for several weeks.
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Dr Nowak’s note : prisoner 87.203 seems ready to help the young detainees but he keeps despising them. This must be carefully followed, prisoner 87.203 must be forced, if needed, to respect and to keep helping the young prisoners. Prisoner 87.203 has still not understood how important his work can be to bring the other detainees back to an honest path. This confirmed to me the importance of my plan: prisoner 87.203 must be compelled to work with and for the destitute boys he despises.
/signed: O.Nowak, Prison Psychologist
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The next time I was brought in front of the Psychologist, chained like a dog pulled to his niche, I arrived there rather furious. In my mind, I was convinced that nothing worse could happen to me and anyway that I had been "sentenced" illegally to one year Administrative Detention Time, and no more. So I decided to speak as freely as I wanted.

When the Psychologist asked his usual question:
"How do you feel about being detained here ?"
I replied:
"I hate it, this is an illegal detention sentence."
"87.203, you forgot again to start and end your sentence with ‘SIR’. Do you want me to add time to your time in prison ?"
I was careful and replied:
"SIR, can you do that, SIR ?"
"I hear that you are now suddenly polite, that’s good for you. It shows that you are a sort of recoverable item for our society. Are you ready to obey all orders as of now ?"
"SIR, yes, SIR." I said so because I was tired of this harassment.
"Well, if you don’t behave according to the disciplinary rules imposed on you, you will be kept here to learn these rules. Go now and come back next week."

I took the position of attention, saluted the psychologist in the prescribed manner, put my prisoner’s hat on my head, waited till I was chained for the "trip" to my cell and let a guard pull me back to my place of destination.

I spent several more weeks working as a chained librarian every morning and as a teacher in the afternoon. For that part of my work, the Director had assigned me to a big room provided with several tables and chairs. I was led there wearing chains, according to the regulations, but once there I was freed of my chains. The prisoners-learners came from several blocks of cells and remained chained during the lessons. There was just one exception to this "chaining" process : their hands were free so that they could easily learn to write. But each one had to keep his wide belt and was chained to a ring placed in front of his seat. A guard was always present during the lessons.

The next time I had to go to the Psychologist’s office, this man asked me once again:
"87.203, do you now understand why your presence here is necessary ?"
"SIR, no, SIR".
"So you don’t want to help the prisoners who want to learn something ?"
"SIR, they don’t deserve it: they could have learned at school. Anyway, they won’t do anything good with what they learn."
"I did not hear the end of your sentence detainee."
"What they learn, SIR," and I nearly shouted the last word.
"Good. And now, with everything you are doing here, do you still dislike being here ?"
"SIR, yes SIR."
"Why ? You have the opportunity to teach, which was your aim in College ?"
"SIR, it was my aim in College, but not with destitute boys. Moreover, I hate the three inspections a day I have to undergo, SIR."
"What do you mean, prisoner ?"
"SIR, three times a day I have to stand in the position of attention -which I hate- near my bed while a guard who knows me asks me to say ‘present’ when he calls my name. SIR. I also hate being reduced to a number, SIR."
"87.203, we do this to do everything we can to place you exactly in the same situation as a real detainee."
"SIR, why, SIR ?" was my only reply.
"To help you learn about humility, something you don’t really know yet."
The Psychologist did not give me the opportunity to reply to his last comment. He wrote something on a piece of paper, called a guard, gave him the piece of paper and told him to take me "through the usual circuit".

I knew what that was: weekly disinfection and shower, clean set of uniforms including a clean prison hat. All that followed by a buzz cut at the prison Barber.

I did not really care: many months had already passed since my stupid entrance in this prison and I knew that I would soon be free again.

Once more, I was seated on the barber’s chair. I didn't even try to protest anymore. The chief guard, looking at the piece of paper written by the psychologist, told the barber that the Director had decided that I should once more be shorn to the woods. The barber, who behaved as a vile brute, started the same process as before, but this time without any guard.

I behaved more calmly and when the barber was done I accepted without any difficulty to go in shackles to my permanent cell, cell number 7 on the ground floor. What else could I have done ?

Later, as usual, a long and loud ringing resonated. I knew that this was the evening siren and that I had to hurry up to my cell, hat on my head, and stand in the position of attention in front of my bed for the evening inspection. Gary followed me rapidly. A guard came, checked who was in the cell and who was supposed to be there: everything was OK since prisoner 87.005 (Gary) and prisoner 87.203 (me) were standing there, silently and in the position of attention. The guard closed the cell door and locked it from outside noisily. He then opened a little trap in the door and looking at me, he simply said: "I keep an eye on you, 87.203".

One morning, after breakfast, I was told to go and have another discussion with the psychologist who reviewed with me everything I had done since I arrived in the prison and the way I felt about it. I simply told him that I was doing my best, as I always do but that keeping me in prison was an injustice. I added:
"There is no reason to keep me here with these poor destitute boys, I am a College graduate."
The psychologist made no comment but kept notes.

Shortly after that, Gary and I received a letter each. I got a letter from my advisor while Gary received for the first time a real letter from his parents. My advisor simply said that he was sorry that I was now still in prison. He added that there was nothing he could do since apparently my behaviour had been very unsatisfactory. He hoped that this stay in prison would be morally beneficial and that I would understand that poor people also deserve an education.

Gary’s mother had written a good letter saying that she was pleased he had found another prisoner to help him. She added that she hoped that this new cell companion (me) would really help him to learn to read and write. She hoped that this new prisoner sharing his cell was a better person than the guy who had won all his money on cards previously. She added that she was no longer going to pay his card debts. She ended with kind words, similar to those my mother tried to use with me and I refused to hear. Gary, very proudly, replied writing himself his first letter. He wrote several letters after that, specifying that he was now able to read and write. Some of these letters were new applications for serious jobs after his release from prison.

I was now starting to understand my cellmate much better: he was not stupid but had been misunderstood by those who should have cared for him when he was a young boy. I started having compassion for Gary, but I also despised him for being a prisoner. In fact I felt much superior to all my co-detainees who were merely "criminals".

In order to avoid further punishments, I worked as well as I could: this was also a way to keep my mind busy, far from the smell of these stupid young prisoners. It also enabled me to forget during a few moments that I was one of these prisoners. I also felt humiliated not by the job I had to do, after all it was my chosen job as teacher, but by the way I had to do it with chained stupid detainees.

I also hated the brutal and regular haircuts. I tried to protest and a guard told me that the only person able to change my situation was the Director. So, I asked to see him.
That’s when the guard asked me:
" Do you want him to give you more administrative detention time ?"
I realized that this was a serious possibility and I did not want to try: I knew now that all the guards had been informed that I was here only because of my lack of immediate obedience during the intake process. I chose to abandon my request, which would have been interesting.

Every week, I went without hesitation to the barber who scrubbed my head in his way. It was still painful, but I got used to his brutal ways and he seemed to get used to the shape of my head: there were no cuts anymore.

Every week, I had to go to appointments with the prison psychologist. This psychologist did not advise me, he made me tell what I had done during the previous week. He asked me also to evaluate what I had done: was it good or bad and why. Slowly, he made me realize that I was always overreacting, brutal with people I considered as subordinates, impatient and that my decision to refuse to teach in a school for the underprivileged was a way to keep feeling constantly superior to my equals.

Eventually, I admitted more or less spontaneously that I was not better than the other prisoners and thus that I deserved to be in prison for my bad initial behaviour. After several months in this jail, working as a slave first in the kitchen and later in the library, I fully accepted that I was neither better nor worse than the other prisoners. I was certainly not superior except in knowledge, but not in the way to tell them how to get that knowledge.

About 7 months after I was arrested and sentenced to Additional Detention Time, Gary was called to the Director’s office. He had served his time and was told that he should now leave the prison. He was also told that he should rapidly find a good and honest job. Gary was then in front of me, he was told to put on his "usual civilian clothes" while I had to remain in prison uniform. He appeared very happy and left me immediately, saying barely "goodbye" proving thus that he had no respect for his Teacher.

The next day, I was led to the little cell which served as a communication boot, the cell I had already visited when my mother came to visit me. I was chained according to the usual rules and I saw Gary, in civilian attire, enter the other part of this boot. He simply told me:
"I am free now and I know how to read and write. All that thanks to you, Steven. I will try now to find an honest job. I will find one thanks to your teaching. Thank you very much my cell brother. You probably saved me."
He seemed very moved and left immediately. I must say that I was also moved: my first pupil was out of the prison by now. But I was still inside with these despicable young boys.
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Dr Nowak’s note : prisoner 87.203 seemed moved by the very positive reaction of his former cellmate. This is a change in this prisoner’s attitude which is probably the start of an excellent change.
/signed: O.Nowak, Prison Psychologist
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I did not know that the Director had been made aware of everything I did. He had also received weekly reports from the psychologist describing my mood and the way I lived under duress, duress resulting from the constraints imposed on me by my prisoner’s life. Finally, a little bit after I had become a "well behaving prisoner", the Director called me into his office. I did not know why.

A guard led me there, handcuffed and in shackles. He took the handcuffs off when we reached the Director’s door.
I entered his office, took off my prison hat to show him the respect he deserved as Director, and took the position of attention as I did for every cell inspection. He looked at me and finally spoke:
"87.203, are you still the rebellious guy who had to be calmed down with prison time?"
"Sir, I hope I learned my lesson. I work hard on the job you have told me to do. I have not been punished since the day you gave me my present job."
"87.203, do you still think that all the other prisoners are ‘poor destitute boys’ not worth your help. In other words, do you think that they are bad criminals while you are a superior College graduate?"
"No Sir, I noticed that there is a lot of good in most of them. They simply were not as lucky as I was as far as education was concerned, Sir."
I had carefully started and ended my reply with ‘SIR’ as required.
"So you don’t think anymore that sentencing you to one year in prison was a bad thing?"
"Sir you know what you have to do with this prisoner and I try to make the best out of it, Sir."
"I heard that you helped your cellmate write and read letters, was there any payment for that?"
"SIR, no, Sir".
"Not even when your cell door was locked at night?"
At first I wondered trying to guess what the Director meant, suddenly I understood and despite my age, I started to blush and said:
"No Sir, certainly not that, Sir. I simply did it because I felt I owed him that for all the education I had had, Sir."
"87.203, that tallies more or less with what the Psychologist and the Guards told me about you."
He looked at me for several minutes. I blushed even more, I was barely 22!
"Go now, and do as told. I have other projects for you."
I respectfully put on my prison hat, took the position of attention, saluted the Director as prescribed and turned towards the door in order to leave this office and start my new job. As soon as I was out of the Director’s office, I presented my hands automatically to let a guard place the handcuffs on my wrists. I hated it, but it was the rule as soon as we were out of our assigned space, which was now the case.

The next day, I started working immediately after breakfast. The library was outside of our space, this implied that I had again to be handcuffed just to go there. I felt nervous and really wanted this time in prison to come to an end, not knowing what would come next: I would probably never be a teacher since I would be an ex-con when I left the prison.

I did my job as well as I could. I also did it as humbly as I was able to do it. Part of this job involved taking books on a little cart and bringing them in the different halls of the prison in order to lend them to the detainees. While doing so, I had to be handcuffed and shackled each time we moved from one hall to another, and there were four halls in that prison. A guard took the little chain attached to my dog collar and pulled me as if I were a dog, and I obeyed now !

I also continued to teach detainees, who wanted it, how to read and how to write. It was easier for me than for them since they had to come from their respective halls for the lessons while I remained cosy in "my" library. But it worked.

The situation with the barber had also changed a lot. I kept paying him a visit every week after my cold shower and disinfection. I was of course handcuffed but after a certain time the guard in charge of me did not keep the end of my leash in his hands. In the beginning the barber kept doing as he had done before, despite the announcement made by the Director and being tamed now, I did not react. The fourth time I payed him a visit he simply said:
"Prisoner 87.203, you seem calm now and also tamed. The Director gave me the permission to give you a better haircut. How do you feel about a plain buzzcut ?"
"Chief, if you think that this prisoner deserves this favour, who am I to say that I don’t want it, Sir ?"
"87.203, do you want it, yes or no ?"
"Chief, YES chief" was my brief but polite answer. The respectuous form of my answer, more than its content, surprised all the guards in this barber room, me included, but it was really how I felt that I had to answer.

The barber did not say a word and started to work. He took a small set of clippers and took off the guard in order to shave a straight line just above my ears, all around my head. I did not move while he was doing that. He then took bigger clippers, again without guard, in order to shave everything below that line. He did it smoothly and not briskly as previously. He kept turning, pushing and pulling my head in all possible directions in order to easily clean my sides and my back, but he no longer hurt me. He also warned me every time he was going to provoke such a move, in order to kindly warn me about what he was going to do. Finally he said:
"I did not use any guard here, in order to let you be really clean without hurting you. I am not going to touch the top of your head: your stubbles are too small. I will keep an eye on them, but I will only start to shave them when I can use a number 3 guard. It will give you a nice and short buzz cut, my boy. I hope that you liked this."

In fact I really liked it: I used to go and visit him every week and I would not have missed this visit if it had not been imposed on me. I realized that for the first time on that day. I also realized that the barber had taken lots of time compared to what he usually did, but he had done so without hurting me. He was not a brute after all !

None of the guards tried to pull me by the leash attached to my dog collar as they usually did, so I tried to get out of the barber chair all by myself. But with the handcuffs, it was not easy. That’s when the barber shouted:
"Nobody is helping him. Is it still useful to put handcuffs on his wrists if things are like that ?"
One guard replied:
"I have orders to let this prisoner behave as much as possible all by himself."
That was the last time a guard held that stupid little leash attached to my dog collar. Nevertheless this little chain and the dog collar were useful: whenever they were imposed on me, they reminded me of the fact that I was a prisoner and that I had a task to perform, they reminded me of the fact that I had to remain humble and respectful of the other prisoners who wanted me to help them learn to read and write. These handcuffs, and this little leash reminded me that I was in no way superior to my pupils. They even helped me realize that I had only been lucky and that I had a sort of debt towards those who had not been equally lucky and who had landed in prison otherwise than I did.

At the end of the year, one day before my "Administrative Detention Time" was up, I was called in the Director’s office. This wise man spoke to me in those terms:
"Prisoner 87.203 you worked well as librarian. Your work as a teacher was also good. How much time do you need to teach a boy who wants to do it, to read all by himself ?"
"Sir, I think I would need 6 months, Sir."
"In that case, I would like to keep you here for at least 6 more months."
"As a prisoner, Sir ?" was my immediate question.
"Yes, I don’t need to pay a lot for that, my boy. I think I could even keep you for a full year."
"Sir, you cannot do that, Sir. During this year as a prisoner I worked hard and I think I was humble enough."
"That’s true. You made great progress and this year in prison was useful for you. I should now let you go now as a free man. But yet I would like to keep you here as a librarian and as a teacher."
"Sir, tomorrow I will be free but I will be an ex-con. I don’t think I will easily find a job as a teacher. Good schools will not want me in their staff, Sir."
"87.203, I never sent to the authorities a notification of this administrative sentence to 12 months prison. In fact, these 12 months behind the bars were for your good. It was an idea, a great idea, of your advisor who considered you as intelligent but also as a conceited and arrogant person. You are thus not an ex-con and you are no longer conceited or arrogant.
"But, Sir, I missed several appointments for a job and I cannot afford being jobless, Sir."
"Steven," it was the first time the Director called me by my name and not by my number, "you worked so well with the underprivileged prisoners that I want to hire you as a permanent, free, librarian and teacher."
"Sir, I could accept if the pay is good enough, Sir."
"Steven, I have no money for that job, but I have two solutions. First I could keep you prisoner for many years. You would remain prisoner 87.203 and you would keep your chains."
"You cannot do that, Sir !"
"87.203, you are not out of this prison and I already told you that I could do it."
I looked at him indignantly and also powerless. I knew the Director had the required powers to keep me in jail for several years. But he continued.
"There is a second possibility. I could hire you as a special guard. You would of course have to wear a guard’s uniform, but you would not be required to function exactly as a guard would."
"Sir, that would be a bad signal for the detainees who would not have the same contact with me as before."
"In that case, and since I want you as a teacher for my detainees, there is only one solution: the first one".
"But Sir, I already said that you cannot do that, Sir."
"What is going to stop me ?"
"The law is. And in any case, I could make an appeal."
"Not with my motivation. I give you one more year of Administrative Detention Time for bad behaviour at night with your cellmate: you had a bad influence on him."
"What do you mean ? That I forced him to have sex with me ?"
"Certainly not, simply that you had a bad influence on him."
"How can you prove that ?"
"The chief guard, who is present here, looked through the pee hole at night, without you knowing it."
"I cannot accept that. I am asking for an appeal in front of a higher court."
"You can’t do that: I remind you that you have never been sentenced by a lesser court, nor by any court. You simply got here Administrative Detention Time for bad behaviour."
The Director told the Chief Guard to put handcuffs and ankle shackles on me, to link them as before and to send me to an isolation cell for a full week.

When I came out of this dreadful place I was completely disgusted but ready to accept everything but being in prison uniform for one more minute. The Chief Guard brought me back to the Director’s Office where the Director asked me:
"87.203, did you have time to think in your cell ? Did you change your mind ?"
"Yes Sir" was my answer.
The Chief Guard gave me a hit with his truncheon saying:
"That’s not the correct way to speak to the Director, reframe."
I decided to obey this order and said:
"SIR, yes, SIR"
"That’s good", said the Director, "for the time being you are going first to serve your additional year of Administrative Detention Time, no I immediately make it two additional years. At the end of this test period, and if you behave well during these two years, you will become a Guard in charge of the Library and the Education of the prisoners. You will be paid as such. If you are punished just once during this additional Administrative Detention Time, your Administrative Detention Time will be extended once more."
He added:
"Chief Guard, bring him back to the Library."

That’s how I had to serve more time for no reason and why I was later forced to sign a 10 year contract making me technically only an assistant teacher, with a low, but reasonable, pay.

7 months after this first extension, while I was still a prisoner, I had the pleasure to see Gary leaving the prison, able to read, write, compute and learn by himself from other books. I regularly receive, in prison, a consoling letter from this former cellmate.

Two months after Gary left the prison, I was told that I had a visitor at the parlor. I did not know who could come and visit me since nobody, except my former advisor and my parents, knew where I was. I let a guard do what was required: place me in handcuffs and in shackles. After that the guard led me to the usual small box where I could see my visitor through a grid. That’s how I noticed that as a prisoner, I was visited by Gary and his mother. Gary seemed happy to be free and to have a new and good job. His mother thanked me for everything I had done for her son. I simply said that as a teacher it was my duty to do what I did. I did not feel happy to be scrutinized by a mother who had not felt able to visit her own son while he was in prison.

Gary asked me why I was still in prison uniform and I told him what the Director had decided. That’s when Gary really astonished me by saying:
"Steven, I can understand the Director. You are an exceptional teacher who helped many detainees become good men. The Director does not want to lose you. So, if he cannot keep you of your own free will, he will keep you by force. Next time the question of a renewal arises, accept his conditions."

Gary and other former detainees and students of mine came several times to visit me. Gary was the only one to bring me chocolates he had bought in the grocery shop where he now works.

At the end of these two additional years, I signed the teacher and guard’s contract the Director imposed on me.

I still have to visit the psychologist and the barber every week, despite the fact that I now wear a guard’s uniform. My pay is low but reasonable. I cannot avoid this situation: I am an educated and poor man. I am also a happy man now with my job in uniform teaching poor boys who had an unlucky start in life.

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