The Prison Chair

I’ve had a lot of jobs, as many of my posts reflect.

Sometimes it is frowned upon, but in our modern world of endless competition and highly educated people, it is unavoidable.

So the best perspective, in my opinion, is to identify how every honest pursuit shaped who you are; how every failure and less-than-ideal ending did not make you a failure in this world. And how every job had value in some way, and gave a true understanding of diversity.

When I was a Graduate Assistant in the late 90’s, I came across a part- time opportunity to teach at a community college. At the interview, I learned the classroom was enclosed by prison walls.

So I found myself entering a correctional center, feeling pretty clueless, yet strangely confident it would be okay.

It didn’t take long to realize the only way I could conduct a fair and encouraging environment was to forget the walls, the guards, and the reasons the men were there.

For the brief time I was there, they were simply my students in a Basic Composition course.

I wheeled around in my swivel chair, helping each student with their assignment; I tried my very best and encountered no disciplinary issues.

Regardless of my academic efforts, I knew something bigger was being taught, and learned.

I learned something no one can ever take away — no matter what.

I was, and always have been, a person who deeply cares. That believes in possibilities, even in the worst circumstances. That attempts to help another excavate and identify their best traits.

Call me idealistic.

Call me romantic.

Call me sappy.

Call me what you will–

there should always be a place in this world for those that care.

At the end of the semester, a student wrote a journal entry and gave it to me.

He affirmed I indeed made a difference– not necessarily by the course content– but by who I was and how I interacted.

He wrote that he knew I cared.

If this isn’t the heart of a minister, then I don’t know what is.

I’ll never stop.

I’ll keep wheeling around this world like I did many years ago, in a prison chair, behind a prison wall in a North Carolina town, where I was both student & teacher.

AMEN.