TL
Michael Yates wrote:
> Pennsylvania's Western Penitentiary sits along the Ohio River on the far
> north side of Pittsburgh. The spot is a pretty one, although in the
> fenced in former parking lot to which the inmates have occassional
> access, the fence itself is covered with plastic sheeting so that they
> cannot actually see the river.
>
> 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