Pushups!!!

Wednesday, an inmate suggested that when an inmate uses that naughty F word, he should be made to do push-ups.  Hmmmmm . . . great idea!  So the very next morning, an inmate was insructed to do 10 push-ups.  He said, "Really?!?!"  I said, "REALLY!"   Ten push-ups it was.  No one else that day had to do push-ups.  Yesterday, I was on another yard where the inmates are all on lock down so they were escorted over and remained in waist restraints.  The morning group was fine.  The afternoon group . . . sheesh guys!!!  I couldn't really make them do them on the floor so I made them do them at the counter.  One guy thought I couldn't count or maybe wasn't paying attention.  When he finished, I looked at him and said, "Three more!"  His eyes were incredulous, and he went back to the counter and did three more.  I did have one scrawny inmate say to me that it was unconstitutional, cruel and unusual punishment.  "Perhaps if you exercised more push-ups would be easy and not a punishment."  He shut up. 

Beauty Advice??

One of the yards I work on is the "Sensitive Needs Yard."  It's comprised of gang dropouts, gays, wanna-be girls, and other unmentionables.  Just before Christmas I went to see my miracle worker (hairstylist).  My yucky gray hair with a variety of home-coloring attempts at beauty was transformed into a cute style with blond and gold highlights over a dark background.  Yesterday an inmate told me, "Ms. D, that hair color doesn't look good."  "Oh really," I said.  He said, "Yeah, you should go for auburn."  "Really?" (Said with my cute little sarcastic tone.) "And you need to use Head and Shoulders."  "Really, do I have dandruff?"  "No, but you have split ends and Head and Shoulders works best for split ends."  He then went on to say he worked in the beauty industry on the streets.  I just wrinkled my brow at him and walked away.  But I have to say that I am intrigued about adding auburn to my hair and even trying Head and Shoulders.  What do you all think?

Firetruck!

I have a rule in my library that if it starts with F and ends in U C K, the only acceptable word is Firetruck.  I have this printed on bright yellow paper and posted in several spots in the library.   It amazes the inmates that I may appear to not be listening and that word pops out of their mouth directly to my ears.  I tell them I have "mom ears."  The regulars have been heard to say, "Firetruck!" on more than one occasion.  I even have some of the officers say it when I'm within hearing distance.  Today I noticed that an inmate had F U C K tattooed on his knuckles.  I told him that he knew that particular word was not allowed in the library, and he would have to cut off his fingers before he came back again.  I don't think he believed me!  LOLOLOL! 

Not Your Fairy Godmother

Today an inmate, a "frequent flyer," needed copies, envelopes, etc.  He completed the necessary paperwork to have the money deducted from his trust account.  Then he asked me to call and find out if he had money on his books.  As it turned out, he did.  He said that he had sent a request to have the money sent to family or friend, and expressed dismay that it hadn't.  Then, without actually asking me, he hinted at my holding the trust withdrawals until that money had been sent.  I just looked at him.  He said, "Can't you grant my wish?"  I looked at him and said, "I am not your fairy godmother."  He tried again later, and again I said, "I am not your fairy godmother."  Silly inmate!!! 

Converations With Inmates

Because the yard I worked on today is on lock down, all inmates had to be escorted, one on one, to and from the library.  This afternoon I was left with one very young inmate, about 22 or 23, while the rest of the group was escorted back to their buildings and one of the officers could return for him.  He's working on his case, and has been to the library every week for a few weeks.  He is always very respectful and laughs at my jokes (or attempts at jokes). 

He has been in prison since he was 18.  He has tattoos on his head, neck, hands and who knows were else (who wants to know).  I asked him if it had hurt when he received the tattoos on his head.  He told me they didn't, but that those on his neck did.  He also expressed regret at ever having gotten them, and wished they could be removed because he knew that people looked at him differently.  We had a brief discussion about how some people respond to being served their dinner at a restaurant by someone with tattoos on their neck and knuckles.

I asked him if he'd be paroling anytime soon, and he said only if he could get another chance in court.  He said that the District Attorney didn't want him back on the street.  I told him that the "people" probably didn't want him back on the street either.  He replied that I was probably right, and then said that he just got caught up in the wrong crowd.  I replied, "Everyone thinks they got caught up in the wrong crowd.  If that's so, then who really is the 'wrong crowd'?"  He was quiet for a minute and then said, "I guess I should be honest and say that I was both.  I got caught up in the wrong crowd, but I was also the wrong crowd." Honest insight from a very young inmate.  It takes many others a lot longer to have such insight. 

It makes my mother's heart sad at times when I meet these young men who have already thrown their lives away by the choices they make.  Some of them really have the potential to be productive citizens.  But too many times, it's too late for them. 

Nothing

I decorated a bit; don't you love that bright background? 

It has been somewhat of an uneventful week.  I am currently running two libraries:  Bravo Yard and Charlie Yard.  Charlie Yard is on lockdown, but I can still schedule inmates.  They have to be escorted over and remain in waist restraints.  I always forget they're in waist restraints.  I've been known to throw a bottle of white-out at an inmate in waist restraints.  Ooooops! 

It's been a pretty low-key week.  It's  pretty stressful running two libraries, so I really need the low key. 

Stay tuned!

The Beginning

I never thought I would work in a prison.  Yes, work in, not live in.  I don't know why I thought that.  Maybe because criminals were scary.  But in 1997 I started working at a Level IV prison in Northeastern California as a medical transcriptionist and then an office technician (the State of California's version of a secretary).  None of those jobs had too much inmate contact, though I did supervise the inmates who cleaned our building when I worked in Mental Health.

In March 2007, looking for a bit more money and to get away from a cranky supervisor,  I became a Library Technical Assistant, which is somewhat of a misnomer.  Most days I feel like I'm babysitting someone's delinquent children.  Wait, I am!  My job is to manage an inmate library, with three inmate clerks assigned to me, and up to eight (albeit sometimes more) inmates using the library to work on their appeals or to find yet another way to sue the State of California.  Once in a while someone will actually want to read a book other than legal.

I have no "custody" experience and certainly no formal custody training unless you count the annual training we are forced to endure.   I am alone with these guys all day, without a cop. I have an alarm should I need immediate help.  Mostly, I rely on my training as a mom and my sense of humor. 

I never thought of doing a blog about my days in prison.  I have amused people with some of the experiences I have had, and it was suggested I write them down.  A friend suggested a blog.  So here I am.

Now that I've made my introduction, I'll work on prettying this place up.  I wish I could remember some of the stories from the past four years of working with inmates, but I assure you that there will be more to come.