The Horrors I Witnessed While Working for a Child Prison
<p>In my early twenties, I found myself with a teaching degree and no job. As Providence would have it, I found a “camp” looking for certified teachers. This “camp” was actually for teenage boys to serve their time for “criminal” behavior.</p>
<p>My job, as described to me, would be to teach in the classroom. I was excited. I became a teacher to help students in need. These students would probably need me more than any other.</p>
<p>I was young and ignorant but even my interview foreshadowed things to come. I walked into the director’s office. He looked at me, nodded, offered me an amount, and told me I had the job.</p>
<p>No questions.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long to understand why. Finding a certified teacher with a Master’s degree to agree to work at this “camp” was nearly impossible. Furthermore, I was a big Black guy, a benefit in the world I was entering.</p>
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