In conjunction with KCDEE and the warden of the Fox Valley ATC in Aurora, IL, I Created a program dedicated towards teaching inmates at the ATC. The curriculum was based on what I knew, Computers and overcoming adversity. I was almost desperate in my desire to work with these particular students as I felt I had a message that would resonate within this class. The message was about overcoming adversity and it was every bit as important as learning computer software skills. Without the inspiration and motivation to go out into the world and create a new life what good are software skills? These students needed to become believers that change is possible and they are the masters of change for their lives. They were in control. I felt as if I stood as a living testament to the fact that change is possible.
The class covered MS Office, The Windows OS and How to use the Internet as a resource. It was the same material I was teaching at the college, these students were getting college level material. The only requirement I had for getting into this class was having a high school diploma or GED along with the desire to be there. The class met once a week (4 hr) and ran for 12 weeks. I bought the textbooks for the students with money out of my own pocket.
Initially the warden was not too keen on idea of sending eight of his residents (prison inmates) into the classroom of an ex-con wanting to do volunteer teaching. It took some cajoling and gentle arm twisting to make this happen. Eventually I was given an award for “Volunteer of the Year” by the warden. I felt as much pride in that award as I did for my college degrees but I was not in pursuit of awards, I was in pursuit of helping. The award was proof the warden valued my efforts, but did the students value them as well?
Six months in to the program I was offered a full time job I could not refuse, working for the Federal Government as an IT Consultant. The volunteer work had to end but I vowed to go back.
The class covered MS Office, The Windows OS and How to use the Internet as a resource. It was the same material I was teaching at the college, these students were getting college level material. The only requirement I had for getting into this class was having a high school diploma or GED along with the desire to be there. The class met once a week (4 hr) and ran for 12 weeks. I bought the textbooks for the students with money out of my own pocket.
Initially the warden was not too keen on idea of sending eight of his residents (prison inmates) into the classroom of an ex-con wanting to do volunteer teaching. It took some cajoling and gentle arm twisting to make this happen. Eventually I was given an award for “Volunteer of the Year” by the warden. I felt as much pride in that award as I did for my college degrees but I was not in pursuit of awards, I was in pursuit of helping. The award was proof the warden valued my efforts, but did the students value them as well?
Six months in to the program I was offered a full time job I could not refuse, working for the Federal Government as an IT Consultant. The volunteer work had to end but I vowed to go back.
A few things stood out about the volunteer teaching
1) I found out several weeks in to the volunteer teaching one of the students was a classmate of mine at Robert Morris College back in 2001. We were Freshman's together on the exact same campus. She dropped out after her first semester.
"Why" I asked
She responded: "I struggled with the computer classes"
"How can this be, you are such a good student here" I said to her and she was one of the better students. "Had you been my teacher I would have stayed in school". (I heard similar statements from students at Harrington College). As it turns out she had a teacher that was qualified on paper to teach but was a horrible teacher.
I took a database class at RMC where I became the de facto teacher. After the teacher gave his lecture and handed out assignments the students would line up in a nice quiet row waiting to ask me questions. I taught this same material so I knew all the questions and all the answers. The teacher provided by RMC did not speak English well and this fact intimated the students. The teacher was a fucking genius and one of my favorites teachers at RMC but being a genius he could be difficult to understand at times.
In spite of the gift given to the residents at the ATC I had to kick one of them out of the class, a student from the second group. I should have kicked two students out, one from each group. Some people just don't get it. I understand this, I've suffer from this from time to time. There was a girl in the first class (Caucasian) I should have kicked out on day one when she had her boyfriend show up and hanging around outside the class. He was only there for a few minutes on day one. I told this student, "that can never happen again" and it didn't but she found a way almost each week to problamatic and methaporically spit in my face. She was a pain in the ass for the entire twelve weeks. I remember her saying;
"I'm not like these people" and made reference to her classmates. I thought, contempt for her classmate. She must be popular around at the prison. I told her, "I am, just like them", I waved my hand, palm up, across the room. "Just like them I was convicted of a crime and sent to prison. How are you different than us"? She looked like I pulled out a gun and was pointing it directly at her. She was so full of anger and rage all she wanted to do was cause problems for everyone in her world. I understand that mindset even more now because of the motorcycle accident. I think it's related to the trauma.
I finished grad school in December of 2006. The volunteer teaching began about five months later and went on for six months. I ran two classes back to back and each class ran for twelve weeks, just like a college semester.
The first class taught me not to accept any aggravation from the students. Zero. The 80/20 rule was in effect here. Eighty percent of your time will be dominated by twenty percent of your students. I had one pain in the ass in the first class and I had another pain in the ass in the second. The new pain was not terribly interested in what I had to say. My instruction served only to annoy her. Apparently she would give me minimal attention, only enough to churn out the work I was having all the students churn out. She would then proceed to get on the Internet and email friends. For those interested in emailing friends I told them, there would be a few minutes at the end of class for which they could email but that would be at the end of class. This girl did not get it. She wanted to spend the class period on the web doing as she pleased.
It was the second time this class and I had gotten together and I had to go to the length of unplugging my new pain in the ass's computer from the network denying her access to the Internet. During class she interrupted me to ask about plugging her PC into the network so she could surf the web. ---- Another fucking spitter. Another student wanting to spit in my face.
After the class ended I sent the warden an email asking he not sent the "spitter" back. "I never want to see her again. I don't want her to come down here and apologize. I never want to see her again. Not for any reason".
The warden had her write out a letter of apology. I did not want to see or read it. I wanted the memory of her out of my mind. This girl was scheduled to go home on parole soon. The warden threatened to yank her parole. There was no part of me that wanted to see her parole taken. That, in my opinion, would have been excessive.
When I began with the volunteer teaching I was struggling financially. I was struggling so badly I was about to become homeless. I could not afford to pay my rent and all I was doing was renting a room. I was forced to move back in with my second ex-wife. She threw me a rescue line. This was October 2007.
The first class taught me not to accept any aggravation from the students. Zero. The 80/20 rule was in effect here. Eighty percent of your time will be dominated by twenty percent of your students. I had one pain in the ass in the first class and I had another pain in the ass in the second. The new pain was not terribly interested in what I had to say. My instruction served only to annoy her. Apparently she would give me minimal attention, only enough to churn out the work I was having all the students churn out. She would then proceed to get on the Internet and email friends. For those interested in emailing friends I told them, there would be a few minutes at the end of class for which they could email but that would be at the end of class. This girl did not get it. She wanted to spend the class period on the web doing as she pleased.
It was the second time this class and I had gotten together and I had to go to the length of unplugging my new pain in the ass's computer from the network denying her access to the Internet. During class she interrupted me to ask about plugging her PC into the network so she could surf the web. ---- Another fucking spitter. Another student wanting to spit in my face.
After the class ended I sent the warden an email asking he not sent the "spitter" back. "I never want to see her again. I don't want her to come down here and apologize. I never want to see her again. Not for any reason".
The warden had her write out a letter of apology. I did not want to see or read it. I wanted the memory of her out of my mind. This girl was scheduled to go home on parole soon. The warden threatened to yank her parole. There was no part of me that wanted to see her parole taken. That, in my opinion, would have been excessive.
When I began with the volunteer teaching I was struggling financially. I was struggling so badly I was about to become homeless. I could not afford to pay my rent and all I was doing was renting a room. I was forced to move back in with my second ex-wife. She threw me a rescue line. This was October 2007.
I remember thinking this cannot be happening. Eighty thousand dollars spent on an education and a resume that looks pretty darn good but I cannot even afford to rent a room. This beckons the question, what was it all for? I looked up at the Universe and said "What was it all for. I survived eight years as a trafficker, six years as a convict and spent the last eight years in school and rebuilding my life for what. So I could be homeless"?
I became absolutely convinced there was a job out there for me. No, not just one job but job(s) plural. It was up to me to go find the jobs, to go get the jobs. I redoubled my efforts with job searching.
I began to feel someone like a fraud with the volunteer teaching and the message I was sending out. I was telling the students rebuilding your life was possible and I was struggling.
Then, on December 12, 2007, during a break when in class for my volunteer teaching I check my email. There it was. A job offer. The job offer. It was the offer from a Consulting Firm in Washington DC. The email message stated they sent an official offer via FedEx and it should be at the house right now. I called my ex-wife and asked her about the FedEx. Sure enough it was there.
It was a miracle. I was to become an IT Consultant to the Federal Government.
Unbelievable...
I had been spouting the message of what's possible but I had my doubts. Those doubts began to diminish.
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