The Sign

Inside this facility – correctional center, re-entry center, prison; the word changes almost weekly with the program emphasis shifting – every building looks the same.  There are six double-sided rectangular “dormitory” buildings and, with the exception of the number stenciled dead center, you can’t tell one from the other.

That’s the way prison is.  It’s about uniformity.  Everyone dresses alike – “blues”, shirts and jeans – and everyone eventually looks alike.  Whether intended or not, prison dehumanizes you.  Your seven digit “state number” matters more than anything.  It’s ironic, isn’t it?  To stop guys from re-offending, recommitting, you have to understand their individual stories.  Instead, they’re all lumped together.  And the failure rate rolls on.

Everything looks the same.  Everything feels the same until…last Thursday.  Thursday morning a huge sign went up on the front of our building.  In burgundy letters on a pure white background, a sign, the logo of the sponsoring Virginia Community College prominently displayed in the upper left corner.  It read:

Southside Virginia Community College

Campus within Walls

Our college dorm had an identity.

The Virginia Secretary of Education is visiting our college program Monday afternoon.  She wants to see what’s going on at Lunenburg.  That’s the reaction you get from government when something actually works.  See, Virginia has contributed exactly $0 to this program.  The idea for this campus came from Southside’s President who, coincidentally, is married to our principal.  These two people have devoted their lives to educating prisoners.  And Dr. and Mrs. C, they understood a college education destroys recidivism.

Dr. C sold this idea to skeptics at DOC and in the Governor’s office.  The state provided no money, no materials, nothing.  In fact, everyday at least one officer would push back against the college idea.  I still remember the day CO Newbill, sitting in the building, heard me conduct an English review class.  He called me over, “You’re wasting your time”, he said.  “These scumbags will be back.”  Simply put, that pissed me off.

And that’s the way things went until the Community College won a Bellwether Award about two months ago.  The Bellwether is the most prestigious award granted community colleges for excellence and innovation in their programs.  Southside won a Bellwether for the “Campus within Walls” initiative.  And then, everyone wanted to jump on board.

Governor McDonnell’s office put out a press release touting the Bellwether and then conveniently tied the program into his re-entry initiative.  The community college has been swamped by community colleges in other states asking “How do we start the same program?”  And Monday, Virginia’s Secretary of Education is coming.  She’s scheduled to participate in the computer class I assist.  

After that, there will be pictures in front of the sign:  The Secretary of Education, Dr. and Mrs. C, and the college aides.  Thursday, we had photos taken of us in front of the sign with the Warden, Assistant Warden and unit manager.  Everyone, it seems, wants in on the sign.

Thursday night as I was falling asleep I was trying to figure out what it all meant.  This week marked another birthday I missed of my older son.  I haven’t heard from either of my sons in almost 3 ½ years.  And my ex?  She’s moved on to a new life.  Friends have fallen by the wayside.  In truth, without the hectic schedule of this college program, I think the loneliness and emptiness would overwhelm me.

“What does it mean, God?”  And then I remember Lunenburg wasn’t even on my list of prisons when I was at the receiving unit.  I wasn’t supposed to come here.  Yet, I did.  And two days after my arrival, I was hired as an academic aide in the school.  Thirty days later, I was given permission to start a creative writing class.  Five months later Mrs. C called me in, told me about the grant and asked me to head up the academic aides.

Was it a sign?  Albert Einstein said, “God uses coincidences to remain anonymous.”  Coincidences are nothing more than signs.  And signs matter, sometimes more than we realize. 

Graduation Day

Yesterday forty-one men, convicted felons, failures, losers, refuse; graduated Southside Virginia Community College.  In a ceremony conducted by the college with four members of the House of Delegates present, a dozen senior administrators from DOC, the Assistant Director of the State Council of Higher Education, the head of the Department of Correctional Education and 150 to 200 family members and friends, these forty-one men were conferred degrees and program certificates.  I have been incarcerated over three and one-half years.  Yesterday was the first day I felt joy, true joy, as I contemplated my experience in prison.  It was a day I felt truly blessed and loved by God who has opened my eyes to so much.  It was an extraordinary day.

The day before graduation I was in an IT class with a wonderful professor.  Class had concluded and I was busy packing and recharging the students’ laptops and preparing the room for that evening’s American History class.  The instructor – a woman I have worked with for over a year – was packing up her satchel.  We were talking about her son – a senior at Virginia Tech – and the students, gauging how they were doing.

Ms. T looked at me and spoke.  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I remember when you were arrested, how do you remain so upbeat?” She asked, not in an accusatory or morbidly fascinating way, but in a caring way.  And I told her briefly about the struggles in jail, receiving, the pain and regret of my divorce.  But, for some reason - and I’m not even sure why – I said “I think God’s been trying to tell me something.”

Ms. T’s smile broadened.  “Oh Larry.  Do you know why I love teaching here?  My faith tells me I’ve sinned.  I’m no better than any of these men in here.  I have to be merciful.  We’re all God’s children.  He’s blessed me with this teaching opportunity.”

Graduation Day.  Usually mornings in the building are quiet and slow.  There’s a small morning “crew” - Craig, Saleem, DC, Mike and me – who are up around 4:00 and maneuver through the showers, iron shirts, and the like all before 6:00.  But, this day was different.  By 5:30 the building was alive, every shower, every sink in use.  Guys were six deep for the iron.  Everyone wanted to look their best.

And there was some disconcert in the building.  The graduation, originally scheduled for December, had been moved to January to accommodate the Governor’s schedule.  The Governor, who regularly talks of offender re-entry as a cornerstone of his administration, suddenly “remembered” the General Assembly was in session.  He was too busy with the legislation to drive out.  And, if the Governor was too busy, so were his Director of Public Safety and his Director of Corrections.  Governor McDonnell, it seemed, could take time out of his schedule to endorse Mitt Romney for Republican candidate for President.  He couldn’t spare a few moments for the incarcerated.

At 8:30, the call came across the intercom, “college graduation participants head to program building”.  The 4A and 4B doors popped and off we went; forty or so men heading down the boulevard and around to the visitation room and gym.  The soon to be graduates headed to the library to dress in their caps and gowns and hoods.  Craig, DC and I headed to the VI room to help Ms. C, our principal, and the woman who along with her husband, Dr. C – President of Southside Community College – had dreamt of this program and this day and by their determination secured the grant and the blessings of the powers that be to make the college dream a reality. 

The three of us got to VI expecting the hassle, the pat down, the sneers of the shift officers assigned to clear us.  That wasn’t what we got.  The dayshift captain was there.  Normally a stern, abrupt officer, he was relaxed.  “Let’s get these fellows in”, he said and his officers gave a light pat down.

We helped assemble our grads in the VI room as dozens of family members and friends of the grads walked passed heading to the gym for seats.  I saw Big S’s brother step through the door with his daughter who gave a big wave to her daddy in his cap and gown.  Faculty from the college joined us and began putting their academic regalia on.  Photos of the class were taken.  And, promptly at 10:00, the processional began.

The sound system began the pre-recorded strains of the theme from “Chariots of Fire”.  I love the movie and the music.  For those not familiar with it, “Chariots of Fire” was an Academy Award winning movie based on the life and friendship of two of England’s greatest runners before the First World War.  One, Eric Liddell, was the son of Protestant Missionaries.  He was a beautiful gifted runner who moved with grace and fluidity.  Asked by a reporter to explain his running ability Liddell simply said “God smiles when I run.”  I think of those five simple words often, how when we do the seemingly effortless things, when we are both relaxed and focused, God smiles, knowing we sense the gift He’s given.

And so it was with our graduation.  On a morning which began with wind and rain, the sky cleared, the sun shone, the graduates proceeded forward and I felt God indeed smiled.  The ceremony was brief:  one hour.  DOC’s Regional Director, an early forties soft spoken black man, told the students Harold Clarke – the Department Director – believes in education for prisoners and, more importantly, believes in second chances.  And then came the conferring of degrees and certificates.  Each man stepped forward and received his diploma.  The academic aides were then called forward individually to receive recognition.  A photographer snapping photos, family members applauding, it was a real graduation; for those moments there was no “campus behind walls”. 

At the conclusion of the ceremony Dr. C rose for a final few words.  In a heartfelt gesture, he thanked the men for making his dream come true.  He reminded them they were unique, “the only program of its kind in America”.  And then he added, “And on Monday we travel to accept the prestigious Bell Award for outstanding innovative program in a community college.”

Recessional and then a meal.  The food?  It was the best meal I’ve had since August 18, 2008.  Provided by the college – and prepared and served by the men working in the prison kitchen – it was simply delicious.  Thick slabs of roast beef, real chicken breast, mashed potatoes, green beans, buttered rolls and salad – yes, fresh greens, cherry tomatoes – with homemade peppercorn ranch; heaping bowls of fresh fruit:  three kinds of grapes, cherries, pineapple, apples, honeydew, cantaloupe.  Plates were piled full and everywhere faculty members ate with the men and their families.

And something altogether unprison-like occurred.  There was no “count”.  The officers merely counted ID cards and then grabbed plates and ate with us.  For those few hours there were no “us” and “them”. There was only “we”.  “We” celebrated the achievements.  “We” felt part of something special.  “We” felt blessed.

A number of the grads asked me to get in pictures with them.  I was introduced to parents and wives and kids and it was always the same.  “This is the man I told you about.  He helped me get through the classes.  I couldn’t have done it without him.”  I felt overjoyed.  I felt blessed to be a part of this experience.  And, I felt God smile.

Later, surveying the room the Regional Director and one of the members of the House of Delegates waved me over.  “Thank you for all your efforts”, the Director told me.  In a polite fashion, I told him the efforts we – the offenders – needed to see from Richmond.  “If you really believe in re-entry, you’ll create incentives – more good time earning – for guys like these who are busting it every day to turn their lives around.  We need early release.”

Surprisingly, the Director agreed with me.  “We do need it Larry.  But this man is who you have to convince.”  The Delegate looked at me then with a smirk said, “And even in this tough economy, the crime rate has dropped.”  “In my humble opinion, and you know the studies as well as I do, sir, your policies have nothing to do with the crime rate.  It’s time Sir that you and the other delegates speak honestly about the prison system”, I responded.

We continued to speak for another fifteen minutes.  “You gave me some things to think about”, the delegate said as we shook hands and parted company.

Later in the afternoon I returned to the building.  I lay on my bunk, and drifted off to sleep.  I dreamt of a time years ago when my family was at Hilton Head.  It was a glorious summer day and we were boating on the Westside of the island.  My wife and sons smiling, sitting back enjoying the warm breezes.  We approached the end of the island and I could see where the Inland Waterway merged with the Atlantic.  And the sun gleamed on the Atlantic and the water appeared to go on forever.  And I looked at the water and felt free, at peace and blessed.

I woke from my dream with my heart full.  I was free.  I was at peace.  I was blessed.

Teaching Assistants

January 17, 2012

Jersey (and others) Goin’ Home – The Message on a New Year

Graduation day is fast approaching.  There’s less than a month until the first class of college/IT certificate recipients are recognized in a “behind the wall” ceremony conducted by Southside Virginia Community College.  Thirty-two have completed the program.  One – “VI” went home in October.  Three more leave before graduation and one, “Tattoo”, leaves the Monday after.

I write about these guys so you see they aren’t much different from folks you see every day.  In Virginia today, a state of slightly more than eight million residents, there are in excess of 350,000 convicted felons still denied the right to vote.  Add to that the number presently incarcerated in DOC (or waiting shipping to DOC facilities) and the number approaches 400,000.  That’s 5% of the state population, an astounding number. 

The men in here - as much as DOC and the courts, and even the general public want to make them mere numbers – aren’t just statistics.  They are living, breathing men with families and friends.  Some have committed horrendous, violent crimes.  Others are, in many ways, victims of the ignorance and poverty and despair that surrounded their lives “out there”.  But, they all breathe, all live; they all age and die little by little in here.  And their stories confound me, and move me, and yes, sometimes disgust me.

I’ve learned some things during my stay here:  I’ve learned I know so little about so much.  At the beginning of the Advent season this past December, just a few days past what would have been my thirtieth wedding anniversary to the only woman who ever took my breath away, I began conducting my daily Bible meditations from the Reverend Eugene Peterson’s “The Message”, a complete Bible translation in contemporary language.  In the preface, Rev. Peterson wrote the following:

“Nothing is glossed over.  God works patiently and deeply, but often in hidden ways, in the middle of our humanity and our history.  Ours is not a neat and tidy world in which we are assured that we get everything under our control.  There is mystery everywhere.  The Bible does not give us a predictable cause-effect world in which we can plan our careers and secure our expectations…There is pain and poverty and abuse at which we cry out in indignation ‘You can’t let this happen’.  For most of us it takes years and years to exchange our dream world for this real world of grace and mercy, sacrifice and love, freedom and joy – the God saved world.”

How, I wondered, did Reverend Peterson know so well what I’ve seen and felt for so many years?  I have learned God is here in prison, and in crack houses and homeless shelters and cancer wards.  He’s with gays, and terrorists and pedophiles and good taxpaying, patriotic citizens.  He’s everywhere and He loves all of us, unconditionally.

So, I wish the best for Jersey.  He lived less than two miles from my home.  Early thirties, bright – enrolled in college at Virginia Union and serving in the National Guard, he and his wife began robbing convenient markets to support a drug addiction.  She did three years, he’s finishing five.

Jersey breezed through his college classes and aced the certification test.  His marriage not only survived his – and her – incarceration, it strengthened.  He’s headed home, already admitted to a four-year state University.  Goodwill has helped him line up part-time employment in the computer field.

Jersey should make it.  He’s smart, he’s sober and clean, and he and his wife are in love.

Then there’s Stoney.  Stoney is 44 and is finishing his third bid.  When he was 19 he committed a sex crime.  He did ten years.  Released, he couldn’t find work.  “No one would hire me”, he told me.  He had two children he’d seldom seen.  They needed support.  He couldn’t find work.  He did what so many of the guys do:  he began selling drugs.  And selling drugs is a losing proposition.  He’s been busted and imprisoned twice.

He leaves next week.  He’s scared, deathly scared.  “I don’t want to come back, but I’m afraid no one will give me a chance.”

Stoney is a guy who always has a smile on his face.  He always walks by my cut saying “hey Big Guy!”  And here he was, tears on his face afraid, afraid he’d fail.

“Stoney”, I said.  “I consider it a blessing that I met you, I believe in you.  I know there’s someone out there who’ll take a chance.  It’ll be tough, but I know you can make it.”

I pray about Stoney.  He’s a guy that can go either way.  He needs a chance, just someone to give him a chance, and he’ll be alright.

Then there’s Tex, a fifty year old crack addict.  He did ten years in the Navy, then was discharged for selling drugs while on an aircraft carrier.  He’s been in and out of prison for the last 15 years.  He moves from state to state with his wife, getting high, living in crack hotels, doing odd jobs on the side.

She’s in Texas, at a half-way house waiting on his release after this two year bid.  He’ll tell you he’s learned from this experience and he’s ready to live right.  Then ten minutes later, he’s on the phone explaining to his wife – in code – how to run scams for the extra rent aid and food vouchers.

The sad part is, Tex is a very smart man.  He’s just not smart enough to learn from his mistakes.

Finally, there is Tattoo, aptly named because he is covered in tats.  He shaves his head and has tattoos around his skull.  Twenty-two years incarcerated for murder.  He is one of the scariest looking people I’ve ever seen and also one of the quietest, calmest and peaceful men I’ve ever met.

Prison is not good, but sometimes good can come from prison.  Tattoo proves what Hemingway said:  “The world breaks everyone and some are stronger at the broken places.”  Tattoo has lived the worst prison creates:  the rapes, the beatings, the killings.  And, he’s overcome.  He is scholarly, deep, peaceful.  I count Tattoo as a man I trust and as a friend.

He’s going out into a world he knows little of, yet he has a focus, an inner peace.  Tattoo has paid for his crime.  It’s time for him to live.

Four guys going home.  Some will make it, some will fail.  All have left a mark on me.  As Reverend Peterson said, ours is not a neat and tidy world.  There is mystery everywhere.  And yet, His message remains the same.

May your New Year be blessed.

Campus Within Walls Receives Bellwether Award

Governor McDonnell Congratulates Southside Virginia Community College on Receiving Bellwether Award
– SsVCC received the award for its Campus Within Walls prisoner re-entry program –

RICHMOND - Governor Bob McDonnell announced today that an innovative program begun under his prisoner re-entry initiative has been awarded a national Bellwether Award finalist trophy in the category of Planning, Governance and Finance at the Futures Assembly in Orlando, Florida. The program, called Campus Within Walls, is spearheaded by Southside Virginia Community College (SsVCC) and involves partnerships with the Virginia Department of Corrections, the Sunshine Lady Foundation and Goodwill Industries. Because of these collaborations and a Second Chance Grant from the Department of Justice, the program has operated without cost to Virginia taxpayers.

The Bellwether Awards annually recognize outstanding and innovative programs and practices that are successfully leading community colleges into the future. The award selection process involved a critical review by a panel of national judges of hundreds of nominations from all over the country. Only 10 programs were selected and invited to the Bellwether Futures Assembly in the Planning, Governance and Finance category.

Speaking about the Campus Within Walls program at SsVCC, Governor McDonnell commented, "I want to congratulate Southside Virginia Community College, under the leadership of Dr. John Cavan, on receiving such a prestigious award for a very important program which provides offenders in our prison system with hope for a productive future. Campus Within Walls is a component of our comprehensive prisoner re-entry program. As I have long said, those who commit a crime must first repay their debt to society and take responsibility for their actions. However, it is our job to work with these offenders to prepare them for release from prison. The reality is that the vast majority of the people that we send to prison eventually get out. Therefore, in the interest of public safety and good government, prisoner re-entry strategies must be put in place. This is the responsible and cost-effective approach to 21^st century corrections. We do not want individuals released from our institutions to re-offend. In an effort to further reduce recidivism in the Commonwealth, we have implemented a comprehensive re-entry initiative designed to successfully prepare those who have served their time to go back into their communities as productive members of society. Campus Within Walls works with Virginia inmates to help them receive an education credential so that they have the tools and skills they need to support themselves and get a job once they are released. This valuable program has been successfully implemented at SsVCC. Recently, 40 inmates who participated in the program at Lunenburg Correctional Center graduated. These individuals have made a significant step toward preparing to become successful members of their community upon release from prison. The Department of Corrections, with assistance from its many partners, has implemented a number of innovative re-entry programs throughout our correctional system and Campus Within Walls is an excellent example of what can be done to assist offenders prepare for their return to their neighborhoods."

Dr. John Cavan, Southside Virginia Community College President, commented, "This is just another example of Southside Virginia Community College truly living the mission of a democracy's college. The graduation of students from the Campus Within Walls and receiving the Bellwether Award symbolizes the great commitment of Governor McDonnell in creating a winning team of SsVCC, Department of Correctional Education and the Department of Corrections to forward the governor's re-entry initiative."

Campus Within Walls is an intensive inmate education program with unique features such as the housing of inmate participants together in the prison to create a "learning community," the infusion of modern technology, the use of inmate tutors, and a well defined curriculum designed to allow inmates to attain an educational credential while incarcerated. The program increases safety within the prisons by keeping inmates occupied with positive pursuits. The program also is expected to produce long-term public safety benefits. Research conducted nationally and within the Commonwealth demonstrates that certificate and degree attainment reduces recidivism and thereby increases public safety. Participants are more likely to have the skills and discipline to obtain and keep jobs, become law abiding taxpayers and support themselves and their families.

Southside Virginia Community College (SsVCC), in cooperation with the Department of Corrections (DOC), the Department of Correctional Education (DCE), and Goodwill Industries Network (Lunenburg only) has created this unique prison education program within its service region. On Friday, Jan. 27, SsVCC awarded an Associate Degree of Arts and Science, General Education Certificates, IST Certification, Comp TIA A+ Certification, and Masonry Certification to more than 40 other participants.