While working in a prison teaching high school equivalency classes, new students could show up at any time without warning.
I had a class of 32 female offenders who were required to get their GEDs before being paroled. Every table was set up and every chair was being used. That’s when my new student arrived.
Her body nearly filled the entire doorway, and she looked like she could easily be Michael Clarke Duncan’s twin sister.
Her face was stern, yet there was a distant look in her eyes as if she just found out that a loved one had died. She didn't say a word as she robotically handed me her enrollment slip.
I told myself, “Keep a smile on your face, welcome her to the room, DO NOT show fear! NO fear!”
It seemed, however, that she could hear my heart beating and see my forehead start to sweat. “Oh NO! Where is she going to sit?!?” I wondered. I suddenly found myself sliding my desk off to the side, right under a map of the world, and I gave her my chair. She was separated from the rest of the class and in the front of the room, but that was the best I could do with no notice.
My new student was completely silent. When she was not studying the map from her seat, she looked at me as if she hated my guts.
When class was over, my students filed out into the hallway, but my new student remained seated. She continued to stare at me as if she wanted to say something, but was waiting until we were the only two in the room.
Flashbacks to my training sessions when we were warned to never be alone with an offender flooded my brain! I visualized the poor teacher before me who was stabbed through her knee with a pencil. I scrambled to remember those self defense moves that we had practiced for a whole week, but then I realized, “None of those tactics are going to work with a woman at least three times my size!”
She stood up and blocked the door with her massive body; her eyes locked on mine. She motioned for me to go to the back of the room, and I thought, “Oh crap! This is it! She’s going to kill me!” My heart was racing.
When we were both in the back corner of the now empty classroom, she spoke, “I need to talk to you in public, I have some questions and I don't want anyone else to hear.”
PUBLIC? What? Then I realized what she meant and I answered her, straining to keep my voice steady, “Yes, you can ask me some questions in PRIVATE.” And I forced a smile.
Her questions completely shocked me, and I suddenly felt like a mother figure comforting a confused, terrified and vulnerable little girl.
QUESTION #1:
“What does it mean to have a 79 IQ?”
~An average IQ is 90–110. A person with an intellectual disability has an IQ of 75 or lower. She doesn't need to know that, I figured. That would be an unnecessary hit to her self-esteem.
I replied, “That score could be considered within the average range.” I lied but I felt it was justified.
QUESTION #2:
“Is the world round or flat? I thought my 3rd grade teacher said it was round, but I can't remember, and on that map it’s flat.”
I explained that the world is in fact round, but it would be hard to tape a globe to the wall, so the world is shown as flat on the map so we can see it easily.
- I thought, unless the third question is, “What are your final words before you die?” this encounter is going to be just fine.
QUESTION #3:
“Is there a cure for AIDS? Magic Johnson has AIDS and he’s still alive.”
~Upon being admitted to prison, tests are performed (including IQ and a blood tests). My 22 year old student had just found out she had AIDS. Any fear I had instantly turned to sympathy. My throat was so tight with sadness, I had to swallow in order to speak.
“There is not a cure for AIDS yet, but treatments are much better than they used to be and people can live a long time with AIDS.”
I felt so guilty for thinking my new student was going to kill me!
At her request, for the next year she sat right under that map of the world. During restroom breaks, and any spare moment in class, she studied the oceans and continents, the rivers and countries.
She worked as hard as she possibly could to learn to read better and solve math problems. Her life situation was horrible, some would even consider it hopeless, but she kept plugging away at getting an education. She even formed a tutoring group in her dorm and helped other students with their homework.
I never felt safer in that prison classroom because I knew the strongest student in the room had my back.
And…
my student, who had also been scared she was going to die, found out how strong she really was.
One year and three months after she handed me her enrollment slip, she passed the high school equivalency test and received her GED.
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