What it's like to be a woman working in a men's prison. Pt. 9

All the state counselors had been invited to a conference in Montgomery, the capital of Alabama. This is where all administration for the state prisons took place. Where all department heads worked. I was really looking forward to meeting all the other counselors from across the state. I was hoping that here I would finally meet other counselors that were really doing the work of rehabilitators and would be able to share ideas. It was a four hour drive and we all went in one car. My boss and a male counselor rode in the front. The other female counselor and myself in the back. She went directly asleep while I was too excited to do so. The rest of the ride I endured every inappropriate male conversation between the two men as if I wasn't even in the car. They battered their wives verbally and women in general and laughed boisterously when I asked for a rest stop two hours in. "Just like a woman to need a bathroom break." I half expected them to be gone when I came back out of the restroom. When we arrived in Montgomery I was surprised out how clean the state building was. There were inmates working there wearing all white uniforms and were immaculately groomed. Any interaction with them was met with cordial "Yes ma'am, no ma'am." We found our meeting room and had time to enjoy coffee and pastries before it began. Most of the facilities present sat at tables with their own people. I made a mad dash to a table where I knew no one. Not only to get away from the "nappers" but hopefully to meet new mindsets. Looking around I was surprised to see the lack of diversity. Out of around 80 people I was one of three white teachers, and the other two were men. This made me realize even more how unique my situation was. The heads of mental health, drug treatment, and re-entry arrived and the meeting began. Before we were given any sort of introductions a podium was put on a platform by an inmate. He then put an old boom-box on the pedestal and pushed play. Out of it came the sounds of traffic, kids playing, birds chirping, horns honking and the inmate began speaking into a microphone telling his story. The boom-box got louder and louder and it became very difficult to hear or understand the inmate. The audience was wide-eyed at first, then came people shifting uncomfortably in there seats. Then came nervous laughter. The inmate began pacing around awkwardly with the microphone still steadily talking. Then several different tables of people starting engaging in whispering and leaning and talking amongst themselves. Some outwardly pointing and laughing. The head of mental health walked up to the podium, turned off the boom-box, excused the inmate apologetically and walked him out. The department head shut the doors and returned to the podium visibly upset. He then began to yell at everyone in the room. Nostrils flaring, pulled in brows, and spitting his words of how we were the most unprofessional group of people and he was embarrassed to even be associated with us. How could we even call ourselves counselors. We had made fun of and belittled the one man who was willing to come before us and give us a demonstration of what its like to live with schizophrenia. The room fell silent as all of admin. got up and walked out. A very few of us sat there stunned, some were saying "oh, thats what he was doing." Others got up and helped themselves to drinks and snacks, the rest laughed and carried on like it was all a big joke. I felt an even bigger let down than I had been living at the facility I worked at. I got up and went outside for a cigarette. Sitting their smoking shaking my head. I couldn't believe the disrespect that I had just witnessed. I personally got a great deal of information from the inmates performance. It gave me a much better perspective of what its like for someone in the over-stimulated universe of schizophrenia. That sounds, voices, lights, and movement are all competing with thoughts and vocalizing. How hard it must be for a person enduring all of that. No wonder there is such a tear in reality for them. I did not want to go back in that conference room, but I returned. When I did there were what appeared to be secretaries handing out workbook sets to each facility. Then we were all told to return to work and the secretaries left. Immediately there was an out-pouring of outrage and dissatisfaction. Mostly bitching about driving all that way for nothing. Many upset that we weren't even being given lunch. The nappers and I returned to the car. They carried on for about an hour about the injustice. I sat incredulous in silence then slept the rest of the way back. When we arrived the others had decided that they were putting in their time for the entirety of the day that we were supposed to have spent there as well as per diem for lunch and mileage. They went to their cars in the prison parking lot and told me that I better do the same. I went home shaking my head in disbelief of the entitlement that I had witnessed that day. Thanks for reading this series, stay tuned!