Tell Your Story Walking

 TELL YOUR STORY WALKING

Carlos King

In 2007, I had the pleasure of being at the Ryan Correctional Facility when the Inside/Out prison exchange program was first brought to Michigan prisons. I remember thinking, "how will this work? How would undeveloped men, foreign to textbook language be able to exist in the same space with college students; and what would be the criteria to be accepted in such a program?" I admit, I was a little intimidated back then despite the level of intelligence and skill I had accumulated during those sixteen years of confinement.

I wasn't courageous/vulnerable enough to put myself out there, so when the sign up sheet came around, I didn't sign it. I feared I couldn't exist on the same intellectual level as college students, but boy was I wrong! After receiving so much positive feedback from the incarcerated men attending the class, I began to regret my previous decision. They told me I would of fit right in, that the information I possessed would of been pertinent in those round chair discussions. Wow, an opportunity missed is what I told myself! But it wouldn't be over for me. In 2009, I was interviewed by Lora Lempert, and during the interview I told her of the reservations I had when first approached about the class. Lora told me about stigmas and labels and said I should come and be apart of the next class as those would be the topic of discussion. I accepted her offer and the rest is history!

I was in awe the first time I met all of the students, nervous and sweating from all the what if's that circled my mind. But the icebreaking session that preceded changed the dynamics of my nervousness. I became astute instead of afraid at what was transpiring. The introduction of the circle was a great way for the men/women to connect with one another on a human level while denouncing the preconceived notions that may have came with us. In that moment of focused connection, the wholeness of OUR circled was solidified.

I uncovered a tremendous amount of information about myself and the world around me during those classes. I started to see differently due to the effect the class was having on me. Each class offered another perspective, another emotion, and another opportunity to be more! Engaging with those students became a hunger in my life, a need I wasn't willing to sacrifice with arrogance or misbehavior. But I wasn't so lucky! Now at the beginning of the class, Lora said their could be no notes passed between the outside/inside students, the consequences for that was termination.

After about six weeks in, I became very connected with mostly all of the students. It was one student in particular that seemed to always be apart of my group. She shared countless stories about the world beyond prison, while I let her see into the world of prison. Lora was always using the blackboard to fast write down information for us to remember, and this particular classmate was a good note taker so I would always look at her paper and get the info Lora was writing down. In any event, this particular class she was seated in another group, and I absentmindedly passed her a note that said, "let me see those notes once you finished." She said okay and that was that. The class ended and we were dismissed.

The following week when I came to class I was denied entrance. When Lora came into the hallway I asked, "what is all this about?" She said one of the students reported they saw me give a note to another student. I said, "I just asked her for a copy of the notes she was taking that you were writing on the board." But she said still, the rules are the rules and the Warden told me to kick you out of the class. I was sick to the stomach by her words and I immediately felt this overwhelming feeling of lost. I had connected in a genuine way with the class and felt slighted the student did that to me. I was emotionally and mentally affected by my departure, and a week later they transferred me out of Ryan Correctional Facility.

I arrived at Cotton Correctional Facility and was still in disbelief by what had brought me there. Not only did I lose my place in the class, but I also lost the ability to see my family on a regular basis. Ryan Correctional Facility was located in my hometown of Detroit and it only took my family five minutes to get there. Now I was two hours away and I knew it would be a long while before I saw my family again. It took a minute, but normalcy would be restored to my way of doing things. As I became familiar with Cotton Corr. Fac., I became excited by the opportunity it afforded me.