Eyes opened

By Trudy Chiswell

“I will walk about in freedom, for I have sought out your precepts.”  Psalm 119:45

The glorious spring day was just right for a ride in the country, but the gnawing anxiety about my destination haunted me like a phantom. I slid into the car and started out on my quest. The rays of the sun streamed through the window, warming my weary soul as if to tempt me to a faraway beach. The 20 minute car ride seemed to fly by! I tried to sort out the avalanche of thoughts that cascaded through my mind. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the grounds of the Correctional Institution, more commonly known as ‘the jail’. My destination.

I was still working for the Continuing Education Department when I visited the Correctional Institution to talk to the principal about their continuing education program for inmates. I was here to learn more about students striving to get their grade 12 diploma, but most of these students were still teenagers who had gotten in trouble with the law.

Driving down the long winding driveway, my first clue this was not the office building it appeared to be, was the signs at strategic spots along my entry. They stated, “All cars must be locked on these grounds.” Stopping my car in the parking area, a glance to the roof of the building gave me my second clue to affirm just where I was. In great cylinders along the top of the open areas were rolls of barbed wire, like silent sentinels keeping watch over their charges.

The reception area could have been any office building in any city. Men, in white shirts with grey trousers and sweaters, lounged against the reception desk. They looked like any office workers. After giving my name to the receptionist and sitting down to wait for the principal’s secretary, my mind again started running wild. I pondered! Which was the inmate and which was the guard?

Soon the secretary came to guide me to the principal’s office. It seemed like a very normal courtesy. However; I was soon to realize that a guest went nowhere in this building without an escort. I signed in with the name of my company and the person I was visiting and was given a number to pin on my lapel. The secretary chattered on in small talk; slipping in a seemingly casual statement. “Oh yes, if you notice this tag missing be sure to let someone know immediately, but not an inmate. They would love to get one of these tags!” she said. I sensed this was not as casual a statement as she tried to make it sound.

We stood in front of a large electronic door. From somewhere inside the mirror-windowed cage, a button was pushed. The immense door slid open with amazing ease. As the secretary chattered on, obviously to abate any uneasiness I may have had, we stepped through the door.

Standing in the passageway the door clanged shut behind us and we were in a cubical, much like an air-lock chamber. Gradually, the second electronic door opened and I found myself in a long hallway like that of a hospital. I was surprised to see female guards as we passed down to the second air-lock type chamber. This led into the school area for the young offenders. Lining the halls of the office area were pieces of furniture, making it look like a furniture store. This puzzled me! The secretary explained that these pieces were made by the inmates and proudly on display here.

After my interview with the principal, the counsellor took me on a tour of the school. The thought struck me as we walked around that, except for the absence of girls, this looked just like my local high school. The boys were all under 18 years of age. The school had different types of shops, as well as Math, English and Basic Literacy programs. Half a dozen boys were lounging in the Resource Centre or working on one of the three computers. They looked like teenagers in any school library. How sad that these young men were already labeled and their freedom taken away because of foolish choices. It made me consider, why?

As we went through the woodworking shop, my guide stopped to introduce me to one of the boys working on a table. Mark had come into the institution’s school three months previously, a rebellious, angry young man. After his assessment, Mark was put into a basic literacy program. It was discovered that he was a truly learning disabled person. After many long hours of counselling and nurturing Mark asked one day, “Do you really think I can learn to read?” Today he smiles at me as he sings the praises of his teachers by announcing, “I can even read ‘cinnamon buns’ on the label now. This was one clue as to why some of the boys were here and how helping them get an education could change their lives. This was obviously the work of another caring teacher. Change one thing, and you can change everything! Education was the key to turn this boy’s life around. This was not what I was expecting to see when I came for the interview that day.

I was taken back to the principal’s office and offered coffee while I waited for someone to escort me back to the front office. As I sat chatting with the principal, plying him with questions, it would be easy to forget I was in a jail. I was quickly brought back to reality when the phone jangled and the principal excused himself. “Two missing,” he said sheepishly. He tried to act casual about this information as if to conceal the real importance of his statement.

Shortly after, I was escorted to the front office. Now I went through the same process as upon entry, only in reverse. As we entered the last air-lock type chamber, my lapel number had to be put in a little sliding drawer which went through to the guard in the mirror-windowed cage. All this had to be done before he would open the last electronic door to the lobby and my freedom to the outside world.

I slid back into my car again quickly and locked the doors behind me. Spooky feeling! The sun again streamed through the car window warming my winter weary soul. However, this time it did not beckon me to far away beaches.

Now as I drove out the curving drive, I noticed the renewing of life in the spring grass and the spring flowers struggling to announce their presence. How seldom I stop in my busy schedule to realize what a precious treasure freedom is to enjoy a glorious spring day. The experience made me thankful for the freedom I take for granted every day. The students I met were still striving to get that grade 12 diploma and better themselves. Here I also found caring teachers motivating students to reach and stretch to grasp the ring to better themselves even in a place of incarceration. It made me more determined to encourage more young people how important getting and education was.