Being a Ronin part II

Time: Late Saturday night/Sunday morning
Music: Jeff Buckly... Halelujiah

Next in this pretty raw series, is a look at my work for the Department of Juvenile Justice.  At the time I was calling it the SC home for boys...  I have this odd tendency to protect privacy when I can.  A note on this though, a lot has changed since then for that organization, as I unbelievably went back to work for them in 2006, albeit at a different location.  If the first 'Being a Ronin' post didn't offend you, then this probably will do the trick:

Of course during my military service, I graduated from the university of South Carolina with a BS, and got a job working as an officer for a prison for wayward boys in South Carolina. In particularly, ones who where arrested for drug and alcohol problems. The program started out well, but new and incompetent leaders where installed by the new governor as a political favour. Rehabilitation was now our goal, and punishment and public protection went to the wayside. All of this was not kiddy land, as you may expect, but where young junkies (one in particular who needed a hit so bad, stole a syringe and injected himself with urine), rapists, sexual offenders, thieves, arsonists… Young thugs who worshipped idols in the form of false hip-hop gods, and who where in general, uneducated, not particularly bright, and disconnected from any sort of empathy. I was amazed at how music affected these kids. I had always been one to say that music is a reflection of life, and had no affect on people… But once again that would be a lie. They mainly listened to Hip Hop and when they where listening to it… They became more violent. I even experimented with it once… We had taken away their walkmans, and made them listen to a radio controlled by the officers. One day I listened to older music, but stuff that was more acceptable… The Temptations, Al Green, Marvin Gaye… The good stuff. The reaction the kids had was almost happy, and serene. The next day, I played some more modern stuff that I knew they would like… Busta Rhymes, Cypress Hill, that sort of thing. The kids enjoyed the music of course, but it spiraled out of control. They became violent, and irate. I had to cut that little experiment off early, because I had to break up too many fights, and try and correct outrageous behavior.
After a while, the program became moderately successful. That was more due to the contact between working staff and children. Communication between the Officers, counselors, and social workers was also superb. The anti drug and alcohol unit, in essence, cut itself off from the policy of the campus, and discipline was handled in unit. The architecture also favored security, allowing kids to have there own rooms. Kids also where there on contract, allowed extra incentives if they could conform, even early release… But if you screwed up, you where either kicked out of the program, or began at the bottom again, possibly extending their sentence. Contact between other kids in other dorms was strictly limited, so the kids could not be swayed by the other criminals. The program became successful enough eventually though, that it was expanded and given its own campus…

Big mistake.

All officers, counselors, and other staff, who transferred, had to go to special training courses, to help counsel the kids. The classes where in fact very insightful, but with one major flaw… One outside presenter, who thought this all was an outpatient service, clearly told us all, that this program could not work, was flawed, and would have disastrous results. That was water off a ducks back…

The success of the old unit depended on maximum exposure between kids and staff, limited contact with other kids, and above all, a voluntary program. All of this went in the toilet, and was quickly trumpeted as an innovative step, from the new, vainglorious administrators. The program quickly broke down and in essence, ceased to exist, it just went through the motions. The administrators noticed this, and quickly turned their attention to the officers, whom they launched an immediate pogrom against.
Imagine a place where sexual assault happened everyday to female officers, where kids actively smoked, got high, fought, gambled, attacked officers, and nothing was done about it. That was the place I worked in. Female officers really had it bad, as the boys, who already fucked up their mind on drugs and booze, and where mostly going through puberty to boot, loved to pull out their dicks and masturbate in front of women. All this shit was swept under the carpet by administration in an effort to look good in front of their superiors. It was all about the illusion of safety, where none in fact existed. At most, kids who committed only the worst of offenses in the institution where punished. Most of the aforementioned crimes where only punished by a slap on the wrist, a small stint in the maximum security unit (most of them liked it there because they got to sleep more, and sometimes tried to go there), and possibly making them do a chore. They still ate 3 times a day, and had their snack and juice before going to bed. When they did eventually go home, most came back, went to adult prisons, mental institutions, or where killed. There was almost never a happy ending, and the lucky ones lived a life of drug addicted poverty and sought after mediocrity. 

My route heading to work passed over the freeway… I26 west. Maybe I should just get off the road and drive to San Diego. I had enough money… I could do it. So why didn’t I? The answer is obvious of course… I would be fired, I wouldn’t be able to pay my bills, and my credibility with potential future employers would turn to shit.
What an exquisite cage we build for ourselves. We have become slaves and indentured servants. There is actually nothing to stop me from being free, except the limitations that I placed on myself… I would not even be breaking any laws if I got on old I26 and headed west as far as I could… No one could stop me… save my own master and worst enemy… Myself.