Polly's Story - Part One

As a contracted teacher from the 'outside,' I have access to the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections {ODRC) computer systems. This allows me to look up all information for any inmates in the facility. This includes their arrest and conviction records. Or what they did, their crimes, and the length of their sentences.

After eight years of teaching on the inside, I have never pulled this information on any of my incarcerated students. Not a single one! Why not? Because I am honest enough about my shortcomings and biases to know what would happen.

My entire life, there have been two types of men who can push my buttons and make me fighting mad. First, I loathe bullies. I have a terrible habit of starting fights with bullies—zero tolerance. Second, any man who has beaten or sexually abused a child or a woman makes my shortlist.

I know myself well enough to know what would happen if I were to work with any of my students guilty of these offenses. I strive not to let my personal feelings impact my ability to work with these students. But truthfully, I would fail.

*****

During my second year teaching at the private prison, Nerd Central Corrections (NCC), I first met Polly. My heart went out to her because she was constantly being bullied. The gay male prostitutes (bitches} felt threatened by Polly's evident femaleness. The straight guys, who weren't genuinely comfortable with their manhood, thought it necessary to prove how disgusting they found Polly. 

I was teaching a Business Law course. I was the only teacher qualified to teach this course, and I had enough law courses and experience. Initially, I pursued a Juris Doctorate (J.D.) in law, but I changed my mind and pursued a Doctor of Management (D.M.) in Organizational Leadership to pair up with my Ph.D. in Management.

On the first day of class, Polly was late. She grew her brown hair long, down below her shoulders. She wore standard prison denim blues. Under her tight t-shirt, she had rather large breasts—no bra and protruding nipples. Polly swished into a back-row seat, as these were the only seats available.

I quickly scanned my students' faces. Half of them looked disgusted, and the other half looked lustful. Sigh ... I knew right then and there that this would be a challenging class. I started this class like I always do: first, I introduced myself, and then everyone introduced themselves.

While speaking in front of the classroom, I kept hearing disruptive noises in the back. I swiftly marched to the back of the room in time to observe two students poking and prodding at Polly.

I used my drill instructor's voice: "Gentlemen, am I going to have a problem with you? What is so important that you feel it is okay to disrupt my classroom? Well, speak up!"

The two offenders mumbled something about there not being any problem.

Four months before the start of this class, I had both my knees replaced. I was allowed to use a cane on the inside. I chose a large stick made of hickory wood. Truthfully, the knee rehab had gone well, and I should have retired the cane. But- if you recall, NCC was the privately run prison with discipline issues.

I waved the stick at both of them and said, "Gentlemen, if you make me come back here again, I'm going to rap some heads!" Now, if I actually did hit one of my students with the cane. I would be fired on the spot and might do some serious jail time. But- I had the reputation of being just a little bit crazy and not the type of person you wanted to push around.

I looked at Polly and barked, "You, what's your name?"

She stuttered a fearful response, "My name is Polly Green, sir!"

I spoke softer, "Mister- hmm- I mean Miss Green, grab your stuff and come with me." Polly looked like she was about to burst into tears, but she complied.

I always place a student desk close to mine. Everyone calls it the 'hot seat.' I force all of my incarcerated students to give oral presentations. Most students hate it. But- over time, they always thank me for the exposure. They leave my class with the ability to present themselves professionally. Precisely what is needed for job interviews and bank loan officers

I looked at the tearful transvestite, "Miss Green, put your things there!" I clipped while pointing to the hot seat. "How legible is your writing?"

She whispered, "My writing? It's pretty good, Doctor D."

I faced the class and spoke as Polly settled into her new home. "Gentlemen and lady... I have recently had surgery, and standing at the blackboard all class long is hard on this old professor. I have asked Miss Green to be our class scribe."

I handed Polly a slip of paper, "Miss Green, here is a list of questions that each student must answer in their introductions. The chapters to be read by next week and some other pertinent info." She tentatively approached the board and began writing.

That one simple act of kindness sent ripples around the prison.

More to come...

End of Part One