Lessons I Learned in ‘The Big House’

Lessons I Learned in ‘The Big House’

Just last week Greg Little, Editor of the Standard-Journal, and I were swapping stories of where we had lived and worked. I was surprised when he shared some observations about his experience working in correctional facilities. I have to say that I learned some valuable lessons while teaching parenting classes in Lompoc Federal Penitentiary.

My family and I lived almost 17 years on California’s beautiful Central Coast, nestled on the water between Santa Barbara and Monterey. I had been teaching parenting classes since 1988 in conjunction with the marriage and family therapy I provided, but was surprised when I was invited to teach parenting courses to federal inmates. I saw it as a great way to learn while teaching and jumped at the chance.

The first round of classes was taught in the “camp” adjacent to the high security facility, where men requiring less supervision lived. When offered a chance to teach “on the inside” I didn’t hesitate, though I did stall a bit once they showed the film of a prison riot and had me sign a contract acknowledging that the prison warden would not negotiate for my release if taken hostage.

When the big day came I arrived early to be carefully searched, surrendered my wallet and care keys to the white bucket lowered from the guard tower, and looked up to see a rifle trained on me as I walked between the gate and the stone building. I was admitted through a total of eleven remotely-operated locks before being let into the classroom. (The guards later explained that they open and close doors remotely to avoid putting their lives in danger by interacting directly with the inmates.)

I was starting to feel a little queasy, thinking maybe I had the flu, and really ought to come back next week instead.

30 men quickly filed into the room and filled the desks. After brief introductions I realized that most of the men had very long sentences hanging over their heads, not likely to ever see their children again in this life. I expressed surprise that they would be taking a class like this, under the circumstances. A hand went into the air. “We only had a day to sign up for this class, and it filled in less than an hour. There is also a waiting list of 30 others who signed up in case somebody didn’t make it and they might have a chance.”

I chuckled and suggested perhaps they were glad to go to any class to get a break from the monotony of prison life. No one laughed in response. One man raised his hand, then explained. “We know we’ve already destroyed our own lives, as well as our wives and kids’ lives. But if we have even one tiny chance of helping our grandkids not follow our paths, we’ll do anything.”

29 heads nodded in agreement. It was later confirmed that this had become the most-requested course in the prison system.

I have to say that the class proceeded with a kind of reverence I never expected in a prison—and have not experienced anywhere else. The men were extremely eager and motivated to learn how children are affected by their parents’ behavior and what they can do differently to meet those children’s needs. They recognized mistakes their own parents had made. Some were moved to tears of regret as they considered the results of their choices, and wished to God—literally—for a “do-over”.

I particularly remember their sincere compassion when one of my children seriously injured his younger brother by accident. I received beautiful hand-lettered cards, and promises they were praying for both of my sons.

Perhaps I was the greatest beneficiary of that class. It helped me to not take my own children for granted, and to carefully consider that I am always teaching them by my words and actions.

But it also made me look at adults differently, recognizing that every man or woman who made a serious mistake was also someone else’ child, and that patterns not carefully addressed early in life can mean the end of a life. Or the end of several lives.

I also learned a lot about humanity and humility from those men. Sometimes I pray for them and hope to see them again under much different circumstances.

I could never have imagined just how much I would learn while teaching.