Starting Over
Apr. 28th, 2017 12:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dedalus_1947We can break the cycle –
We can break the chain.
We can start all over;
With a new beginning.
We can learn, we can teach,
We can share the myths,
The dream, and the prayer.
The notion that we can do better;
Change our lives and paths,
And create a new world.
And start all over,
Start all over,
Start all over,
Start all over.
(New Beginnings: Tracy Chapman – 1995)
Despite the sparkling blue skies, the bright noontime sun, and the cool spring breezes wafting through the canyons of Saugus, I felt nervous and uneasy. Everything looked different in the sharp, crystal clear daylight. The long picket fences that ran along the road looked artificially white, the hills seemed synthetically green, and the white gazebo at the summit stood out like a throbbing pearl on a felt carpet. Nothing looked real as I drove up the hill to the detention facility. The parking lot was packed with more cars than I had ever seen before, and the place was filled with visitors and employees moving about in all types of clothing: suits, sweats, and various forms of casual and formal attire. Some looked like nurses, teachers, cafeteria workers, lawyers, and of course more guards and deputies than I had ever seen before in one place. I was feeling very much like I did on my first visit to a county jail, more than 5 years ago. Finally, after finding a vacant space at the far edges of the parking lot, I admitted to myself that I was a little unsettled by all the new appearances of this facility at this time of the day. But I also had to confess that I was much more rattled at the prospect of working alone in this new situation. I had no one to share my new impressions, or vocalize any questions about new procedures, or how the jail operated during the day. It was like arriving at a new school on the first day of class, or starting a new job, in a new place, with strangers all around. I felt a rising tide of panic building up, until I checked it with a laugh. I had been in these situations before, I chuckled to myself, many, many times. As a child, as a student, as teacher, and as a principal, I somehow managed to put down my fears and push forward. I adapted, learned, and survived, and in some cases even excelled in these new situations. I wondered how it would go today…
I’ve been feeling very frustrated with my county jail visits for the last 5 months. A combination of factors had prevented my regular weekly attendance: the holidays; travel; organizing the packing and moving of all our household goods and furniture into storage for a comprehensive home renovation; moving and living in a one bedroom – one bath apartment with rented furniture for two months; moving back into the renovated house; and finally dealing with some medical issues that had me going back and forth for tests and procedures. Added to all of that, when I was able to drive to the jail, I was delayed with more and more traffic, increasing my travel time to over an hour. The final straw was a recurring sequence of lockdowns on Monday evenings, forcing the cancellation of our program and our services to the incarcerated men. Every week I was feeling more alienated from the job, and separated from the satisfaction of working with the men in jail. All my routines had been disrupted. Other volunteers, filling in during my absences, had assumed my former duties and associations with the men. New volunteers had replaced the men I had teamed with, and old friends had moved to new locations or different days of service. I was feeling more and more that my commitment to the jails had run it course and that it was time to move on.
Fortunately, Kathy was listening to my complaints and grousing about long drives and lockdown cancellations without supporting my threats to give up. Instead she kept suggesting that I pursue a change of schedule – shifting from the evening programs from 6:30 to 8:00 pm, to afternoon services from 1:00 to 2:30 pm. She believed that a change of times would resolve my complaints about driving times and lockdowns. I delayed taking any action until last week when services were again cancelled for a surprise training lockdown. That evening, feeling powerless and disillusioned, I asked the Catholic Chaplain to transfer me to the afternoon program that I began the following Monday.
“So, how did it go?” you may ask. Well, two things happened. One result is that I found myself writing again – and even about jail. It’s been years since I had anything to say about my experiences there. I suppose I was prompted by the newness, or freshness of Monday’s encounter. I’ve only worked at the jail during the evenings, so I was disoriented by the first day and had a relapse of “first day jitters”. They felt especially jagged because I was there without the solace of companionship. You see on my first day at jail I was paired with a partner, a more senior volunteer. Eventually I became that “more experienced facilitator”, but always worked with another partner. Sadly, for the last two years I’ve been working alone, with only an occasional first-time visitor assigned to observe our program and how it works. My two former partners have migrated to other days or to different facilities. Michael took over as the chaplain of a Santa Barbara jail, and Martín moved to a different day. Even then, working alone had not been a problem until my first day on this new schedule. Working in the same place, at the same time, and especially with the same faces around me had become safe and reassuring. Now I would be working with new people in different situations. My second takeaway was the realization that I still enjoyed the work. I enjoy facilitating an encounter with men of Faith who share a desire to change and improve themselves, their lives, and their relationship with God. I found that although my Monday encounter was new and different, it was still the same program, working with the same type of men. What will change is my relationship with them when I establish a consistent, more predictable routine with them. When they can trust me to show up on a regular basis, we will move from being facilitator-and-participants, to friends. That’s my goal and my hope.
We can break the chain.
We can start all over;
With a new beginning.
We can learn, we can teach,
We can share the myths,
The dream, and the prayer.
The notion that we can do better;
Change our lives and paths,
And create a new world.
And start all over,
Start all over,
Start all over,
Start all over.
(New Beginnings: Tracy Chapman – 1995)
Despite the sparkling blue skies, the bright noontime sun, and the cool spring breezes wafting through the canyons of Saugus, I felt nervous and uneasy. Everything looked different in the sharp, crystal clear daylight. The long picket fences that ran along the road looked artificially white, the hills seemed synthetically green, and the white gazebo at the summit stood out like a throbbing pearl on a felt carpet. Nothing looked real as I drove up the hill to the detention facility. The parking lot was packed with more cars than I had ever seen before, and the place was filled with visitors and employees moving about in all types of clothing: suits, sweats, and various forms of casual and formal attire. Some looked like nurses, teachers, cafeteria workers, lawyers, and of course more guards and deputies than I had ever seen before in one place. I was feeling very much like I did on my first visit to a county jail, more than 5 years ago. Finally, after finding a vacant space at the far edges of the parking lot, I admitted to myself that I was a little unsettled by all the new appearances of this facility at this time of the day. But I also had to confess that I was much more rattled at the prospect of working alone in this new situation. I had no one to share my new impressions, or vocalize any questions about new procedures, or how the jail operated during the day. It was like arriving at a new school on the first day of class, or starting a new job, in a new place, with strangers all around. I felt a rising tide of panic building up, until I checked it with a laugh. I had been in these situations before, I chuckled to myself, many, many times. As a child, as a student, as teacher, and as a principal, I somehow managed to put down my fears and push forward. I adapted, learned, and survived, and in some cases even excelled in these new situations. I wondered how it would go today…
I’ve been feeling very frustrated with my county jail visits for the last 5 months. A combination of factors had prevented my regular weekly attendance: the holidays; travel; organizing the packing and moving of all our household goods and furniture into storage for a comprehensive home renovation; moving and living in a one bedroom – one bath apartment with rented furniture for two months; moving back into the renovated house; and finally dealing with some medical issues that had me going back and forth for tests and procedures. Added to all of that, when I was able to drive to the jail, I was delayed with more and more traffic, increasing my travel time to over an hour. The final straw was a recurring sequence of lockdowns on Monday evenings, forcing the cancellation of our program and our services to the incarcerated men. Every week I was feeling more alienated from the job, and separated from the satisfaction of working with the men in jail. All my routines had been disrupted. Other volunteers, filling in during my absences, had assumed my former duties and associations with the men. New volunteers had replaced the men I had teamed with, and old friends had moved to new locations or different days of service. I was feeling more and more that my commitment to the jails had run it course and that it was time to move on.
Fortunately, Kathy was listening to my complaints and grousing about long drives and lockdown cancellations without supporting my threats to give up. Instead she kept suggesting that I pursue a change of schedule – shifting from the evening programs from 6:30 to 8:00 pm, to afternoon services from 1:00 to 2:30 pm. She believed that a change of times would resolve my complaints about driving times and lockdowns. I delayed taking any action until last week when services were again cancelled for a surprise training lockdown. That evening, feeling powerless and disillusioned, I asked the Catholic Chaplain to transfer me to the afternoon program that I began the following Monday.
“So, how did it go?” you may ask. Well, two things happened. One result is that I found myself writing again – and even about jail. It’s been years since I had anything to say about my experiences there. I suppose I was prompted by the newness, or freshness of Monday’s encounter. I’ve only worked at the jail during the evenings, so I was disoriented by the first day and had a relapse of “first day jitters”. They felt especially jagged because I was there without the solace of companionship. You see on my first day at jail I was paired with a partner, a more senior volunteer. Eventually I became that “more experienced facilitator”, but always worked with another partner. Sadly, for the last two years I’ve been working alone, with only an occasional first-time visitor assigned to observe our program and how it works. My two former partners have migrated to other days or to different facilities. Michael took over as the chaplain of a Santa Barbara jail, and Martín moved to a different day. Even then, working alone had not been a problem until my first day on this new schedule. Working in the same place, at the same time, and especially with the same faces around me had become safe and reassuring. Now I would be working with new people in different situations. My second takeaway was the realization that I still enjoyed the work. I enjoy facilitating an encounter with men of Faith who share a desire to change and improve themselves, their lives, and their relationship with God. I found that although my Monday encounter was new and different, it was still the same program, working with the same type of men. What will change is my relationship with them when I establish a consistent, more predictable routine with them. When they can trust me to show up on a regular basis, we will move from being facilitator-and-participants, to friends. That’s my goal and my hope.
