I have been teaching a class in economics at this prison for two hours every Tuesday evening. Upon entering, I sign in and present myself to a guard. I empty my pockets and take off my belt and my shoes (if they have any metal on them). The guard checks my bag, and I walk through a metal detector. I have a cushion with me because I cannot sit for long on a hard chair without pain. I had to get permission from a supervisor to bring this cushion in, and it is checked by the guard each time I arrive for class. After going through the metal detector and back out again, I go in and am drug checked. Another guard takes a filter of some sort and puts it into a machine that looks a little like a miniature dust buster. He runs this over my palms, my jacket pockets, my pants and shirt pockets, and my cuffs. Then he takes out the filter and puts it into another machine which checks for any signs of a wide variety of drugs. A marker visible to a special light is used by the guard to mark my hand. I am given an ID card with my picture on it and I place this in a visible place on my shirt or jacket. Then another guard is called and he comes out to escort me to the school building inside the prison. We await the opening of a set of double doors by still another guard invisible to us. The doors open and we go down a hallway to another set of doors which open into the yard of the prison. We walk a block or so to the school building and the guard lets me into the class room. I await the arrival of the students. They may be late for any number of reasons; prisons have many checks on prisoners and these take time. Not all of the students may make every class; some of them may be on various sorts of punishment (one man missed last week's class, perhaps because he rebelled when he was not allowed to go to the funeral home to see his dead mother's body). I make small talk with the guards. It is best to keep on their good side as they can make life difficult for me if they want. (If I plan to use a video I have to let them have it in advance. My friend who helps runs the education program is trying to get this procedure eliminated. Before it was implemented, she showd "Battle of Algiers" to a class studying Franz Fanon's "Wretched of the Earth." This probably would have been prohibited had she had to show them the film first. Generally, you can use any material you want, but titles referring to persons such as Mumia or Leonard Peltier will probably be confiscated, if not from us then from the inmates.)
In my first clas I had them sign the roster sheet and asked them to put down, in addition to their given names, any name they preferred me to use. Some wrote down Muslim names, one an Egyptian name, and some nicknames. So I have Khalifa, Senifer, Heru, Farid Rafiq, Bamoni, Crump, Capone, Tacuma,and Muscles as well as Deion and Slutzker. They range in age from early 20s to late 40s. I do not know why they are in prison. All but one of the students are black (I am white), and it struck me right away that none of the black students is light-skinned. They do not look like the African American newscasters we see now on television. Not only do black americans face an abominable discrimination that puts so many in prison but those with the darkest skin color face this discrimination most forcefully.
I have never felt unsafe in the prison. However, I did jump the first time the double doors slammed behind me (just like in the movies). And I was very nervous about the class. It is not a credit class. The government took away Pell grants from the prisoners and so they cannot afford to attend college and the Univ. of Pittsburgh closed the program it once had there. My friend did not want to see all nonvocational education programs end at the prison, so she and another person started a noncredit certificate program. So far, it has been a great success.
Anyway, I started the first class by saying something about myself. Then I passed out some handouts. I started to talk about capitalism and what I thought of as its main features. Then I asked a question about wealth and the discussion began. I can only describe it as a runaway train. We talked about many things for at least an hour without a stop. Some comments were as sharp as any I have ever heard from a student, some were funny, and some reflected views common on the outside. But all were made seriously, by men wanting to know and wanting to have their voices heard. I was exhilarated in a way seldom so in my regular classes. When I got home I could not sleep. I kept thinking about the class and I kept seeing the students' faces. I dreamed about them most of the night.
The next class was just like the first. We discussed an article called "Buddhist Economics" by E.F. Schumacher (from his book "Small is Beautiful") and compared the Buddhist concept of Right Livelihood with work and consumption in capitalism. Then I talked about the accumulation of capital. The class ended with me pounding my fist on the table, saying "Accumulate, Accumulate, that is Moses and the Prophets." I had their complete and undivided attention when I said this and then argued that capital will be accumulated whatever the human cost, whether it be enslavement, theft, or murder.
During the last class I felt something I have never felt in a class before. I know this will sound corny and some of you will think that I am naive, but I felt sitting there with convicts all around me, that we really were brothers. We left the class together after the whistle shrilly blew the signal that they had to get to their cellblocks. We walked down the steps of the classroom buiding and out into the yard among the general prison population. I looked up at the stars and my heart was filled with a hard sadness.
Michael Yates