Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.

– C.S. Lewis

***

I put myself in prison to heal. This seems like an odd place to do that, but as I mentioned in one of my earlier articles, it was less a choice I made consciously, and more of something I knew I needed to do to work toward letting go of painful experiences that had built up over the preceding six months.

In the moment that had rendered me completely powerless in the way that occurs when your life and the life of someone you care about is threatened in a violent manner, and you are completely at the mercy of someone else’s decision to pull a trigger that may send a bullet into your forehead, I made a promise to myself to regain my power somehow. Understanding that I would never have that moment back, and also appreciating that the night had not gone differently, I knew I needed to contribute to the universal system in a positive way in order to feel as though the energies were back in balance and to reclaim the control I had lost. My way of doing that may seem unconventional to you, but something I’ve learned about myself in this journey, specifically over the past year, is that I’m not uncomfortable with my unconventionality.

My goal throughout this process of teaching on the inside was twofold. The first part was selfish. I wanted to learn more about this terrible, God-forsaken place we call prison; where men are confined by the basics of survival, and respect is a rare gem. I wanted to sit in a room of convicted criminals and understand them better. If this did not scare me, then at least I could say that I’ve faced a real-life representation of the men who violated me, and I had the opportunity to see them as humans and not just monsters. This realization trades anger for forgiveness, and grants power where it was robbed. If I could get through this experience, then I had faced some of the worst of the worst, and proven to myself that I was in charge of how that interaction goes. Through that interaction, I would give myself control back.

The second part of what I wanted to accomplish throughout this experience had to do with providing value to the guys, and I knew it would be harder to judge success on this. I wanted to provide a positive influence in arguably one of the most negative places in the world; a small piece of reprieve in a place where there is rarely any. This sounds naïve, right? You’re thinking right now that I’m one of those idealists who considers recycling a water bottle saving the planet, and who believes in the goodness in all, but I can assure you that is not the case entirely.

Some of these men have done terrible things, and they are being punished appropriately. I won’t deny that. I also won’t tell you that I think all of them are worth their victims’ forgiveness or even another shot at society. But I will tell you that respect should be a mutual arrangement and that none of the men in that room with me violated that pact between us. I will also tell you that each one of them expressed gratitude for the opportunity to learn together over the course of the 10 weeks of class. At the conclusion of the last class, we discussed how the semester went, what they learned (or didn’t), and ways that the class could be improved. Each one thanked me for treating them like the human beings that they are, and never breaking the respect that we established in the room from day one. Some even acknowledged that I had helped them find the voice they had lost behind bars.

This confirmation was all I needed to know that I had accomplished what I set out to do.

My risk had not been without a reward.

I’m not expecting the last 10 weeks to change anyone’s life in a dramatic way. Many of these guys will find Jesus or themselves in one of many ways offered to them through therapy or self-improvement classes accessible in the prison. I’m not a therapist or pastor, and I’m not even a creative writing teacher. I am a person with some talent, but mostly passion, who understands that sharing it may be the only thing I have to give. I’m a writer and a realist, looking for forgiveness, understanding, and a way to help others find their voice in a world full of mindless chatter. If one person benefits from that, then I’m grateful for the risk I took in spending my Mondays in prison.

For those who are willing to make an effort, great miracles and wonderful treasures are in store.

-Isaac Bashevis Singer

***

Bessie is a wonderfully deranged woman. She lives inside the short story called “The Key” by author Isaac Bashevis Singer. But in my class on the inside, Bessie became one of us in the room. She is a character that my students brought to life through their imaginations, and in a way, she saved us.

If you read “The Key,” which first appeared in The New Yorker in 1970, Singer starts off by describing a delightfully crazy woman named Bessie Popkin. She is quirky and fat, and her hair is dyed yellow, black, gray, and red. She fears not only human tormentors, but the demons, imps, and Evil Powers that plague her regularly. She gave up her telephone due to racketeers and degenerates calling her day and night, and she claims the Puerto Rican milkman once tried to rape her. When she leaves the house, she hardly ever goes more than two blocks away, and her real or perceived fear of others teasing her and wishing to cause her harm creates a paranoia that only worsens as she steps outside.

After reading the first couple pages of Singer’s humorous character description, we collectively diagnosed poor Bessie with OCD, paranoid schizophrenia, and a host of other mental illnesses. That day in class, we also had one of the nurses who works inside the prison reading along with us. She confirmed that yes, Bessie is suffering from a long list of conditions tied to the fact that at a base level, she is schizophrenic.

Each week, I try to tie a different element of creative writing into each lesson plan — setting, character development, voice, dialogue, theme, point-of-view, etc… The guys in my class requested more examples of literary techniques that they can use to enhance their stories, so I started pulling out texts and pieces of literature I have studied in the past to help them identify creative ways to tell a story. Singer’s story is part of a compilation put together by John Updike and others called The Best American Short Stories of the Century. I studied many of the stories and author techniques in this book back when I lived in Washington, DC and was fortunate enough to have private writing lessons with author, Mary Tabor, whose novel, Who by Fire, is one of my most favorite modern literary pieces. I can’t thank Mary enough for her inspiration and contribution to my own teaching several years later.

Unsure if the guys would be open to exploring the learning method that I’ve always enjoyed, I brought in the story of Bessie to examine character development and create a dialogue prompt. Their assignment was to take the first two pages of Singer’s description of Bessie and write a continuing scene where Bessie has a conversation with someone outside of her home — employing the techniques of dialogue — and using the already existing character who is described so vividly by Singer.

To my surprise and delight, my students absolutely loved the prompt. About 10 Bessie stories were read out loud the following class. Frankly, most were hilarious. The creativity was certainly flowing, and it seemed that many of the guys were really enjoying the art of creating a scene with this silly old woman and her strange little quirks. The other characters and situations generated by my inmates were extremely well-thought-out, and each of the stories was even more entertaining than the original written by Singer.

We all had a laugh at this fictional woman’s expense, and for two hours on a Monday, 10 guys in baby blue were collectively distracted from their own misfortune by the comical calamities of a character named Bessie.