Accidental Transcendence by Helena

Note: Helena is a student at Chemeketa Community College, and took her Inside-Out class winter term of 2011. The following piece was written as a reflection, and is published here with her permission.

Walking from my car to the entrance, I am overwhelmed by the cold, grey, formidable walls with their guard towers, assuming I am also being watched as I approach. Not knowing what to expect or how to prepare myself for the events to come, I give in and go with the flow. It's a mental battle. One that is hidden from sight. In the lobby I go through security, feeling as though I am the one in question. My buttons beep as I go through the metal detector, then my necklace beeps, one more time and I will not be allowed to enter, so the sign says. Finally stripped of all things that beep, including my shoes, I pass through the metal detector one last time....it doesn't beep, and I am allowed to enter. Standing in the first corridor before I exchange my driver's license for their red badge of a volunteer, I can faintly hear voices in the distance, distorted by the acoustics that displace sounds into unintelligible noise. Driver's license traded, I am allowed through the second gate, staying to the right of the hall as instructed to do. Waiting to be buzzed through the third gate, I am assaulted by a smell that at first is repulsive and foreign, almost a musk of sorts. Getting clearance from the guard I pass through the fourth gate into an open area, littered with men in navy t-shirts and blue denim jeans. Their uniform, the dress code of an inmate. The guards are also present in this open area, which offers little security to me, as they are obviously outnumbered. Climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, I am plagued by memories of movies I had seen, picturing the worst as I round each corner only to climb another flight of stairs uneventfully. Reaching the fourth floor, I am escorted with my group down a hall past a few rooms that appear to be classrooms, then a bigger room that is used as the chapel. The last room I enter turns out to be a library, as well as our classroom for the next 11 weeks. The chairs are arranged in a huge circle. There are no tables, just the circle of chairs. We are instructed to sit every other chair as the rest will be filled with our other classmates. My nerves are reaching a crescendo of sorts, heart beat is rapid and showing no signs of slowing. One, two, three, four...the room is filling up with our arriving classmates. The chairs are also filling, one classmate on each side of me. I feel my face flush as I muster friendly smiles to ward off my true feelings of nervous anxiety. Who are the new students? How can I really be here? What will happen? The chairs fill, the air is thick with anticipation mixed with uncertainty. I look around the room to see that our arriving classmates are....nervous, too? It can't be. Eyes dart to and fro, not lingering on each person met with a gaze, everyone seems to be taking in the situation. We are then instructed to form an inner circle of chairs facing the chairs we currently are occupying, this is called the "Wagon Wheel" exercise. The students in their blue and denim uniforms fill the inner circle. Knees almost touching, gazes more direct, nerves peaking...this is almost all I can take, before showing obvious signs of my anxiety. What follows is to become the ice-breaker. The inner circle rotates to their right every 3 minutes, in order for everyone to answer a scripted question, to get the communication flowing. At first it was uncomfortable and guarded, as the time went on, the conversations in the room grew louder and louder, I, too, felt more relaxed, almost falling into myself as each new student seated in front of me switched to a new face, only to switch again. That wasn't so bad. Was I expecting monsters? Maybe brutal caveman with limited vocabulary? I'm not really sure what I initially expected. All I know is that when the first words were spoken, I realized that these students were human just like me. They had feelings, emotions, hopes, dreams, families, and humor. From that moment on, it was clear that we were all students. After the first night I left feeling exhausted. On the ride home with two close friends that I happen to car-pool with, we were each telling our feelings about this new and unusual class set up, called the Inside Out Prison Exchange. I, and my friends, composed the Outside student group, and the men in blue were the Inside students. I knew that night after leaving, digesting the events, and then looking forward to the following week, that something big was going to happen.

As the weeks flew by, and they sure did, I found myself dreading the end. Never had I felt so welcomed, appreciated, or involved with classmates in my educational career though Chemeketa Community College, and I was two terms away from leaving Chemeketa on a transfer to Eastern Oregon University. So during my two and a half years as a student, I had never come across the collective energy, magic, or hope that I had encountered while taking SP100 at Oregon State Penitentiary. The level of respect that was constantly shown was admirable, making each class a pleasure to attend. Looking at my syllabus and noting that there were only 3 weeks left until our final presentation as well as our final meeting in the little library that became our unconventional classroom, I felt the sadness. One of the stipulations for being a participant in the Inside Out Prison Exchange is the rule of "no contact." This means no contact whatsoever after classes have commenced. At first it seemed appropriate, after all half of the class were inmates for a crime serious enough for them to be housed at Oregon's only Maximum Security Prison. Knowing then that these faces that blended from unknown into classmates with warm smiles and bright eyes, were only temporary, made my heart ache. These people had earned the privilege of being students, they had overcome daily prison drama in order to keep their heads on straight which afforded them the opportunity to better themselves through education. I admired this, and still do.

The last night of our class was an event in itself. There were dignitaries from the Department of Corrections, as well as the higher ups from Chemeketa Community College, as this was Chemeketa's first class associated with the Inside Out Prison Exchange program. The hope was to show how beneficial the program is and to encourage more involvement in our community. Education is a tool that has been a proven to reduce recidivism. Not only reducing recidivism, but instilling hope, building confidence as the learning process provides encouragement and guidance to these otherwise lost souls who are locked away from society and forgotten. The level of intelligence shown through their vocabulary as well as mannerisms, defied anything I had previously expected from the Inside classmates. What happened in our little classroom over the course of 11 weeks can only be described as magical and enlightening.

Watching the last Inside classmate leave the room, turning to wave for the last time, I felt my heart sink. The room was now empty, the voices were moving further and further away, even with the deceptive qualities of the acoustics, I knew they were gone. It seemed bitter and unfair that these people who were so influential and encouraging were to be locked away and out of contact from the rest of us from this point on. The drive home was filled with memories of the 11 weeks in class. Then the irony hit me. I would miss these guys and the interaction with them each week. Monday nights would be forever changed.

This experience helped me jump ship from my prior desire to become a nurse, out of my overwhelming need to help people. Now I am pursuing my Master's Degree in Sociology and Anthropology, one day hoping to have my own class in the Inside Out Prison Exchange program. The tenacity and drive of the Inside students was contagious. I had never witnessed a classroom filled with people who WANT to be there, while striving to do their very best. This has become my calling. I am forever changed from the inside out.

Directors and Genres Report and Reflection

This term I have the great joy of participating in Film Directors and Genres, taught by Bill Cadbury and Katy Zilverburg at Oregon State Correctional Institution. I graduated from University of Oregon in June, and during my last term there I took Bill’s Ethics and Aesthetics in Film course, which was also held at OSCI, so this is my second time around participating in Inside-Out. My first Inside-Out experience was amazing (one which requires more space for proper reflection than I have here) and although I was grateful to be given the opportunity to participate, it was also bittersweet to find such an amazing program during my last term in school. When I got an email saying that they decided that they’d like a few alumni to participate in this year’s classes, I emailed Bill right away and told him I’d do whatever I needed to do to stay involved.

During our first class we spent a lot of time meeting our classmates; we introduced the person sitting next to us to the class and then did a wagon wheel exercise, which served as an ice breaker and a good excuse to talk about our favorite music, books and why we’re taking the class. We spent the last portion of the class discussing Dirty Harry, the first film we watched for the Clint Eastwood unit we’re doing. There are 12 outside students and 13 inside students in this class; I’m the only alumni from the outside group, but nine of the inside students are guys who were in my class last year, and I was really excited to see my old classmates and friends again as well as getting to know my new classmates, both inside and out.

Each week, Bill asks us to write a one page reflection on the previous week’s class, so that we can get our thoughts in order and provide feedback, so for the past week I have been mulling over what I wanted to say about our first class. I found that my feelings are best summed up by a conversation I had via email with Katie, another experienced Inside-Out participant. I wrote “even though we’ve only had one class, I can tell that this term is going to be a good chance to continue learning and probe deeper into the things that my last experience sparked in me or brought to my attention. It’s also been fun to come back post-graduation as a repeat student; I’m glad to be writing papers again and wrestling with all of the various issues that come up in discussion but also feel like I have something more to offer this time.” I asked if her experience coming back a second time was similar, and she responded by saying “yes to everything you said about class--how familiar and different it is to be in the classroom again with a different mix of people, and the sense of giving more because of a comfort level and past reflection.”

While I recognize what a unique and special opportunity it is to come back for a second class, I don’t feel like I have to spend so much time adjusting to the novelty of being in a class inside of a prison. I feel like I have more to contribute this time around, because so many of these ideas have been stewing in my head and heart for the last several months. Beyond that, my feelings were mostly enthusiasm over getting to see my inside friends again as well as meeting all of the new people (inside and out) and a bit of anxiety about brushing up on my rusty paper-writing skills (even after six months, I’m feeling a bit out of practice!). I caught myself feeling like none of these things were profound enough to really get at the heart of it, but I’ve realized that what may seem like everyday thoughts or feelings about the experience perhaps reveal the depth to which I care about the ideas, people and experience I’m having: enough to let them become normal.

Participating in a second class is making me see with fresh eyes that that really is the magic of Inside-Out. Most of us come in not quite sure of what to expect, but finish the term changed, not because we experienced something unheard of, but because we experienced something so unexpectedly normal: genuine conversation and learning (which, on second thought, maybe isn’t so normal after all…). Inside-Out teaches us that there aren’t many things that could prevent that kind of genuine interaction if we are willing to give it an honest go and it made me realize that even though that type of interaction might be rare, it doesn’t have to be.

First day of class for Institutional Inequalities through UO/OSP

Yesterday was the first full class meeting for Professor Ellen Scott's Inside-Out sociology class at the Oregon State Penitentiary. The class is entitled Institutional Inequalities and Individual Lives, and is focusing on the sociological processes of social injustice and the process of structural inequality. This is Professor Scott's first class, and I'm working with her as a graduate teaching fellow for the class, serving as a teaching assistant and helping with the logistics of university and prison relationships.

Our first day meeting together was wonderful. Our students, inside and outside, are a fabulous group with diverse experiences and interests, who are already bringing profound insights into our group dynamic and the subject material. I can't wait to see what unfolds in the course of the class.

This is my third Inside-Out experience. Watching the group on the first day, I was able to witness the process by which our individuals became a group. The nervousness that had been expressed on both sides was quickly eliminated. The Wagon Wheel became somewhat unruly, with conversations lingering beyond the instruction to move on to new seats. There was laughter and the dynamic feel to the dialogue that emerges when people have a genuine interest in one another. Joksters emerged, as did those who were focused tightly on the sociological theories presented. Within the first hour, we had all spoken with one another, and were developing the baselines of friendships through common and divergent interests and experiences.

Half of the inside students have taken at least one Inside-Out class before. Because of the concentration of Inside-Out professors in Oregon, and their choice to teach a variety of different courses, students have enrolled multiple times, and are accruing university credit and experience. One outside student, in addition to myself, is also an alumni of a previous Inside-Out class. The returning students eased the first class somewhat, through their comfort with the surroundings, but also through their honest expression of their nervousness and the depth of the experience to come. For the new students, the honesty of the experienced class members seemed to open up a space for greater confidence from the first moment.

By the end of our first three-hour meeting, we had covered a lot of ground. We got to know each other through the Wagon Wheel and "Two Truths and a Lie" icebreakers. We introduced one another to the group as a whole, telling a bit of what we'd learned in the icebreaking activities. We established our group rules for dialogue in a collaborative way. We then spent about forty-five minutes discussing the text read for the week: Jay McLeod's Ain't No Making It. The social theory and ethnographic studies produced in the text opened an elevated and engaged conversation about our social positions and the differing theories of class in the United States.

Over the next eight weeks we will discuss the experiences of our fellow Americans who suffer from poverty, a lack of health insurance, the inability to escape the lower class status inherited from their parents, and the situation of those who are incarcerated. I have every faith that our class will tackle these difficult topics with respect and enthusiasm, and that we will arrive at our graduation ceremony with a new idea of our own lives and relationships.

Leaving OSP yesterday, I felt a great surge of hope and inspiration. Our students were shaking hands, wishing each other well, and joking as they left the classroom. Those of us in blue and those of us with visitor nametags were a single group for a moment, leaving as students to return to our various routines. A new cohort of Inside-Out student has been formed, with all the promise and pain that this entails. I can hardly wait to see what will happen next.