This article argues that if we wish to meet the needs of our children in a holistic manner, we will have to focus more on the school as a social system than on hypothetical brain diseases.

Abstract: The current reliance on the medical model for understanding and dealing with problems children typically present in the classroom is critiqued, and found to be inadequate. The use of central nervous system stimulants for the treatment of “hyperactivity” is found to be especially problematic. The concept of the school as an ethical community is offered as an alternative model for conceptualizing and intervening into school related problems. The dimensions of care, justice and critique, upon which the ethical school model is based, are explained. Finally, illustrations are given showing how this model might be used.

Introduction:

Testing on eleven year old Michael indicates that he should be one of the better students in the class, yet he is failing half of his subjects. He is oppositional with the teacher, and volatile and aggressive with his peers. He refuses to do his homework. It is known that his parents are undergoing a difficult divorce. He has been having difficulty from the first grade, but things are now going from poor to terrible. A Pupil Evaluation Team is called. His teacher says she can’t manage with him in the classroom and do justice to the other students as well. The psychologist who did the evaluation for the school thinks Michael has Attention Deficit Disorder and should be tried on a central nervous system stimulant. The boy’s individual counselor says that medication would only suppress symptoms that are clearly related to situation factors, and that Michael should receive counseling. As his parents have too much money to get Medicaid, and not enough to pay for counseling or adequate health insurance, the counselor insists that the school should pay for the services. The mother’s minister is suspicious of any kind of mental health services, and suggest the boy should be placed in a Christian school with very strict discipline and individual study booths. The boy’s father would like for his son to be in a resource room and receive tutoring. He thinks his son would “shapeup” if he were permitted to live with him, which is what Michael says he wants to do. Yet there have been rumors of unspecified abuse from the father, and most members of the PET are vaguely hostile to him. The Special Education Director has been instructed by the school board to try to contain special education expenses — especially the disproportionate amount of money a few troublesome students are “swallowing up. “The school board is trying to uphold the common sense principle that schools should “stick to education.” Everybody is talking about lawyers, and fearful of litigation.

There is little room for argument about the simple fact that when a child is preoccupied with overwhelming emotional, behavioral, social or family problems, learning can be adversely impacted. Given the complexity and difficulty of these problems, and the frustrations involved in trying to address them, it is easy to sympathize with educators who complain that they cannot be all things to all people and solve all of society’s problems. Nevertheless, when problems interfere with learning, educators cannot simply ignore them.

Currently the medical model is the dominant paradigm that guides society’s understanding of, and intervention into, problems in living. Therefore, in scenarios like the one given above, the probability is that the school psychologist will prevail. Michael will be diagnosed as having ADHD, and placed on Ritalin. The other issues in his life will remain largely un-addressed.

In this paper I will offer some observations that bring into question the adequacy of the medical model for intervening into most school problems, and I will suggest a more productive alternative.

I. The Inadequacy of the medical model:

Every day we see articles in newspapers implying that this or that state of consciousness or pattern of behavior is fully determined biologically. If we are happy it is because we are “wired to be happy.” If we are anxious it is in our genes to be anxious. If we are depressed it is because of our brain chemistry. When this perspective is brought to the classroom, we see diseases where formally we saw personal problems and interpersonal conflicts.

A number of factors support the supremacy of the medical model. The thinking in most educated circles in our society is generally reductionistic in nature. Spirit is understood in terms of sociology and psychology, sociology and psychology in terms of biology, and biology in terms of chemistry and physics. Medicine is based on the physical sciences, and has shown itself able to produce remarkable results in the area of physical diseases. These factors give it great prestige.

The very fact that the full array of affective, cognitive behavioral, and interpersonal problems in living that plague humanity have been labeled “mental health” problems has paved the way for the dominance of the medical perspective.

If we list the problems that most seriously impact the ability of children to learn in public schools, we repeatedly find such factors as poverty, unwanted pregnancies, low self esteem, oppositional and rebellious behavior, violence, racism, class differences, family problems, depression, mistrust of authority, and lack of hope for the future. These issues have much more to do with how we think about ourselves and others, and how we organize our lives together than with genes and microbes. They require interventions that are psychological, social and spiritual in nature. As I have argued elsewhere, (Hunter, 1981, 1991) if we are to cope adequately with our problems as persons, we must begin with a model that views us as persons — that is to say as goal-seeking, world defining, and decision making entities, who seek meaning and fulfillment in relationships with others.

Schools systems are looking for solutions that are quick, effective and inexpensive. Generally they would prefer to avoid scrutinizing their own procedures and structures. Medicine promises to meet all these requirements in the form of a pill. All that is necessary is to say “no” the bad drugs and “yes” to the good ones. Before endorsing this solution, however, several questions need to be addressed. Is there evidence that most of the problems that children are exhibiting in schools in fact have their origin in biological disorders? Does the pill improve learning? Are there significant adverse side effects that should lead us to show caution in using this intervention?

Peter Breggin (1991) in his seminal work Toxic Psychiatry points out that, despite the plethora of book, articles and news stories about the “broken brains” and “chemical imbalances” that are purportedly responsible for the suffering of those labeled with mental illness, there is in fact still no solid biological evidence that any of the major psychiatric disorders is biologically determined. Furthermore, he points out that even if “a subtle defect is found in the brains of some mental patients, it will not change the damaging impact of the current treatments in use” (p. 60). Breggin carefully substantiates his contention that “the only biochemical imbalances that we can identify with certainly in the brains of psychiatric patients are the ones produced by psychiatric treatment itself” (p. 12).

By far the most commonly used medications in the schools are central nervous system stimulants such as Ritalin and Cylert. In “Talking Back to Ritalin,” Breggin cites a report by the International Narcotics Control Board in which it is estimated that 10% to 12% of all boys between the ages of 6 and 14 in the United States were taking Ritalin as of 1995 (Breggin, 1998, Pg. 2). He goes on to document the fact that Ritalin does not, in fact, improve learning at all. A report prepared for NIMH (Richters, et al., 1995) concluded that the “long-term efficacy of stimulant medication has not been demonstrated for any domain of the child functioning.” (Breggin, 1998, p. 103). In an extensive review Deborah Jacoboviz and her team (Jacobovitz, Srouf, Stewart and Leffert, 1990) concluded that “to date, there is no evidence that stimulants enhance academic performance” (Breggin, pg. 104). Swanson and his colleagues (Swanson et. al., 1992) concluded that “there is very little objective evidence to support the notion that stimulant medication improves learning in ADHD children” (Breggin, 1998, pp 103, 104.) In a more recent review Whalen and Henker (1997) found that they could discern no “long term advantage” to taking Ritalin. (Breggin, 1998, pg. 103).

It is known that depression, tics, dulled affect, and perseveration are among the common psychological and behavioral side effects of taking Ritalin. Use of Ritalin is also associated with a number of physical problems, the most conspicuous one being the retardation of growth. But the most alarming effects of Ritalin are on the brain. Breggin summarizes: “Stimulants such as Ritalin and amphetamine also have grossly harmful impacts on the brain — reducing overall blood flow, disturbing glucose metabolism, and possibly causing permanent shrinkage or atrophy of the brain. They produce a loss of receptors for various neurotransmitters and, in some cases, this is know to become permanent.” (pg 55)

It does appear that the use of stimulant medications makes some children more manageable in the classroom. One of the ways it does this is by reducing their need for “novel stimuli.” In “Research on the Educational Implication of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder,” Sydney Zentall points out that “most students would not be considered deficient in attention in response to games. These children will seek out stimulation when their tasks are overly familiar or repetitive” (Zental, 1993, pg. 150). Here we seem to be talking about a boring situation in a classroom — not a chemical imbalance in the brain. What normal human being does not crave fresh stimuli when chained to tedious and repetitive tasks? Zentall goes on to point out that “an attentional bias to novelty appears to contribute to greater creativity in the stories told by students with ADHD than documented for their classmates (Pg. 150). This would suggest that what we are trying to medicate out of existence is the child’s natural desire for interesting activities and for creative expression.

The most cogent educational reason for rejecting the widespread imposition of central nervous system stimulants on school children is simply that these drugs fail to improve learning. In view of the many negative side effects, the current reliance of school systems on this form of behavioral control would seem to be ill-advised if not unethical.

II. The Concept of the Ethical School:

Adelman and Taylor (1996) suggest that for pedagogical purposes most “mental health problems” can best be conceptualized as “obstacles to learning.” Unlike the term “mental health problem,” the meaning of the term “obstacle to leaning” is fairly clear. An obstacle to learning is simply anything that inhibits the development of a child’s scholastic potential. It might be a condition that effects the child’s health, or it might be a relationship issue between the child and his or her peers or teacher. The obstacle might be in a poor fit between the child and the educational practices of the school, or in the negative impact of any number of social factors that impinge on the child and the classroom.

A child’s scholastic potential is probably determined largely by genetics. Generally speaking there is very little that can be done with regard to surgery or medicine to alter this potential. There are, however, a multitude of factors that have an enormous effect on which of the child’s potentials are realized, and to what degree. For the most part these factors that either facilitate or inhibit the unfolding of scholastic potential are social in nature. Therefore we need a social frame of reference for discerning and intervening into those conditions that are pedagogically relevant to child.

The concept of the “ethical school,” outlined by Wm. Starratt in Building Ethical Schools, (1994) provides us with a model that is well suited for clarifying those social factors that need to be addressed if we are to remove obstacles to learning in our classrooms. Starratt suggests we must operate out of a multidimensional framework of analysis. The three dimensions he specifies are care, justice, and critique. The principle of care focuses us on the question, “what do our relationships ask of us?” The question of justice is “how shall we govern ourselves?” In critique we ask “who controls, who legitimizes, and who defines.” He argues, plausibility I think, that we must give adequate consideration to all three dimensions if we are to develop truly ethical schools. Nel Noddings’ (1992) work on the idea of the place of care in the school merits special attention. Noddings builds on the work of Carol Gilligan (1982) who drew attention to some limitations in Kohlberg’s idea of “justice” as the central focus of ethical development. Gilligan suggests that the justice idea with its emphasis on individuality, the concept of “rights,” and the notion of a hierarchy of principles is a distinctively masculine one. This frame of reference does not give due weight to an alternative approach that grounds itself in care rather than in justice. The care frame of reference emphasizes relatedness, responding to the needs of those one cares about, and making decision within a network of social relationships. This, Gilligan feels, tends to be more characteristic of the way that women approach ethical dilemmas. From a justice perspective one would ask, “what principles should guide my action in this situation?” From a care perspective one would tend to ask “how can I respond in a balanced way to various needs of the people I feel responsible for in this situation, including myself?” As Gilligan makes clear, “the contrasting images of hierarchy and network in children’s thinking about moral conflict and choice illuminate two views of morality which are complementary rather than sequential or opposed” (p. 33). This is consistent with Starrett’s (1994) inclusion of both care and justice in his definition of the ethical community.

The idea of caring as an important aspect of schooling is currently receiving wide attention. In addition to Noddings seminal work, the May 1995 issue of Phi Delta Kappa, which was dedicated to the issue of care, (Chaskin, 1995) is especially noteworthy. The idea of schools as caring communities begins with an emphasis on caring for the student above all other priorities. It further suggest that the student should be taught to care. Noddings describes expanding circles of care, beginning with the self, then focusing on others in varying degrees of intimacy with ones self, and then to all organic life on the earth, humanly developed technology, and ultimately ideas. It is a useful model.

The concept of the school as a caring community has ramifications for every aspect of school life. One must care about the whole child — what skills he or she has for making friends or for resolving conflicts as well as what skills are in evidence in academic areas. With regard to curriculum, the idea of schools as places of care suggests that the theme of care should itself be part of the curriculum in various ways. It also suggests that curriculum should be related to the things a child naturally cares about. Finally, the concept of the expanding circles of care is offered as a guide for thinking about a variety of specific topics.

While my biases lead me to emphasize the importance of care in the schools, and while I am partial to the way in which Noddings articulates this concern, I would agree with Starratt’s position that a full definition of an ethical school requires the inclusion of the dimensions of justice and critique as well.

The idea of justice includes all those notions of fairness, evenhandedness, and equal access to opportunity that, in principle at least, almost everyone would support. It would also emphasize the rights of individuals and minorities. Equally it would affirm the rights of the majority in certain situations. Is it fair, for example, that the needs of one student should sometimes dominate an entire classroom?

Perhaps somewhat more controversially, many would feel that the concept of justice would affirm the right of all individuals to have a say in defining the fundamental mission and norms that guide all the organizations of which they are a part. In other words, the principle of justice would support the notion of implementing democratic practices in the decision making patterns of all our bureaucracies. It is odd that in the United States this would seem like a radical notion. Yet we are accustomed to bureaucracies that exercise control from the top down, and it is notoriously difficult to shift our mind set.

Probably most people would agree that social groups should embody the principles of care, justice and democracy. Conspicuously however, much of our individual and collective behavior does not flow logically from these principles. It is at the point of discrepancy between what we profess and what we do that critique has its task.

Human beings have a capacity to deceive themselves and others as to the real intent of their actions, and collectively we are often dishonest regarding the true purposes and consequences of the social forms that we create. This capacity for deviousness is a recurring theme in modern literature, psychology, sociology and philosophy. Although the prophet, or the person who provides the needed critique, is one of society’s most valuable citizens, he or she is seldom valued. The health of a community and the depth of its commitment to justice and democracy can probably best be measured by the degree to which it tolerates its gadflies. Even 5th century Athens, which was far advanced for its day, had difficulty in this matter, as their condemnation of Socrates made clear. We hardly do better today. Thinking about the nature of the ethical community from a slightly different angle, we might conceptualize it in terms of the individual/group reciprocities that it facilitates in the dimensions of care, justice and democracy. In the care dimension, reciprocity would be defined in terms of the balance between knowing oneself as a person who is cared for by the community, and caring for the community and its members. In the justice dimension we would be speaking about the reciprocity of being treated fairly and the growing capacity to treat others fairly, and to recognize their rights. In the dimension of democracy the right to participate in the decisions of the total group would be balanced by the need to respect the authority of the group. From the perspective of the group, the implementation of democracy would be concerned with the right of the group to protect the integrity of the social fabric balanced with the responsibility of the group to respect the rights of individuals and minorities. Critique would then be focused on assessing the degree to which these reciprocal relationships were maintained in a balanced manner.

III. Overview of Obstacles To Learning

It might be useful to organize some of the barriers to learning which are frequently cited in the literature in terms of the hierarchy of loci where strengths and weakness might be found. The list below is intended to be illustrative rather than exhaustive. Also, some issues such as drug or alcohol abuse, might appear on various levels. Furthermore, the impact of some factors, such as social privilege, are so ubiquitous as to pervade the entire hierarchy from top to bottom. In spite of these complexities, we need some way of organizing our thinking about the various barriers to learning. Categorizing them in terms of the loci where they are most apparent probably has some practical advantages because it suggests where we might most productively target our interventions.

I would suggest that we use a model that focuses on seven loci of strengths and vulnerabilities. These are the individual, the home, the class room, the school, the community, the society, and the culture. A list of possible vulnerabilities on each level might include some of the following:

Individual

Emotional distress, drug and alcohol addiction, low self-esteem, attachment problems, suspicion or hatred of authority, “difficult” temperament, high activity level, neurological or other physical health problems, poor peer-skills, dangerous patterns of sexual activity, boredom, and sense of isolation or alienation form others.

Home

Poverty, poor parenting skills, families headed by overwhelmed single parents, drug addiction, abuse and neglect, absent father, children triangulated into parents conflicts, parental immaturity.

Classroom

Low tolerance for deviance, pressure to cram in information in preparation for achievement tests, curriculum unrelated to what a child cares about, no child input into the curriculum, an uncaring atmosphere, moral indignation re: children’s problems, pressure on one teacher to handle both curriculum and behavior problems at the same time, peer conflicts.

School Autocratic administrative procedures, low morale, little or no teacher/child/parent input into the decisions of the school, inadequate peer support, poor linkage to the home and community.

Community

Violence, crime, ethnic conflict, poverty, lack of commitment to education, lack of common vision as to the mission of education, lack of services needed for special problems, poor coordination of services.

Society

Racism, class structure and privilege, homophobia, prejudice against minorities of all kinds (other nationalities, etc.), unwillingness to adequately fund schools.

Cultural

Society’s loss of its spiritual center, difficulty in accepting the reality of cultural pluralism, lack of a cultural consensus as to the purpose of education, glorification of violence.

IV. The Impact of Ethical Schools on Mental Health Problems

By addressing barriers to learning in the context of schools as ethical communities the pedagogical and administrative practices of schools can become relevant to the full range of conditions that inhibit learning. To show this an exhaustive way would be beyond both my ability and the scope of a single paper. A few illustrations, however, may show how ethical schools would be relevant to some identified issues.

Caring for the individual student:

If one had to select a single most reliable indicator of the emotional and mental well-being of an individual child, probably self-esteem would be the logical choice. Children, even more than adults, are dependent upon positive mirroring from others to sustain their self esteem. For most children the teacher is probably second in importance only to the parents as a source of feedback. Simply to convey to a child the message, “I like you, and I am glad you are here,” with a smile, a touch, a compliment, or a word of encouragement is an act of tremendous power.

Focusing the curriculum on things the student cares about:

When I went to school they did not have theories about attention deficit disorders. I’m sure that if they had, I would have been diagnosed as having one. I daydreamed incessantly, and paid attention to my surroundings only during lunch, recess and gym. Clearly there was an attention problem. The school system and I were, in fact, engaged in a terrible struggle to determine who would control my attention. I was not lacking in interests. There were many things I loved to do, and to learn about. But I found none of them in school. I distinctly remember an oasis in the midst of this futility. In the seventh grade a teacher — perhaps he had been reading Dewey — began our science class but engaging us in a discussion about what we would like to learn about. All at once the classroom was an exciting place, and I participated with enthusiasm. I also remember a biology class in high school when I was given the opportunity to see what was inside of animals. I was soon elbow deep in formaldehyde convinced that at any moment I would discover the secret of life. Later I recall my shock at reading Worthsworth’s Tintern Abbey poem as a senior in an English class. Here I found words that related to important feelings I had had. I didn’t expect to find anything at school that had that kind of relevance. It was an eye opener. Perhaps elsewhere in the literature of humanity, maybe even in people like Shakespeare, issues were explored that were of vital interest to me.

To be forced to learn by rote masses of facts that are not intrinsically interesting and which seem to have no connection with things a student cares about tends to create boredom, resentment, dissociation, and behavior problems. The easiest solution is simply to include the student in the selection of the curriculum.

Confronting Social Stereotypes:

The negative stereotypes of the larger society are invariably brought into the schools and they must be addressed. In a truly just system the principle of rule by the majority must be balanced by a firm commitment to the rights of the minorities. In my own work with children of a junior high school age I have been particularly impressed by the intense hatred and viciousness I have witnessed with regard to gays. Perhaps an illustration from my own experience will be instructive at this point. I was asked by staff at a junior high school to work with a 13 year old boy — call him David— who was behaving in an uncontrollable manner in school and was engaged in drug abuse with a group of rebellious teen-agers in the community. A specific event precipitated his most recent escalation of difficult behaviors. Another boy had usurped his place in the attentions and affections of his best friend. I was unable to make much progress with the boy individually, and with the assistance and blessings of the school counselor, I started a group of all the most unruly boys in school. With a couple of exceptions, the boys in the group were part of a natural peer group that included both David’s best friend and the boy who usurped his position.

The dynamics of social exclusion and inclusion seemed central in this situation on a number of levels, so I constructed a little experiment to explore this issue. I came with a list of all the attributes I could think of that might be perceived a reasons for excluding a boy from full membership in a peer group. I began with physical conditions that might be stigmatizing, such as blindness, having CP, simply being very unattractive, being from another racial group, etc. Then I listed all the standard psychological and social attributes that might be negatively perceived such as having been in a mental hospital, coming from a poor family, being a foster child, etc. Finally I listed sexual deviations. I created three circles on the table that we sat around, and as I brought each card out I asked the group to place it in one of the circles. Placement in circle one indicated that children who manifested the attribute would not be excluded from their peer group for that reason. Placement in group two indicated that they would exclude such a child from their peer group, still would still treat him decently unless he bothered them. Placement in group three indicated that the attribute was so distressing to group members that they would not only exclude any child manifesting that attribute from their group, but that they would actively persecute him as well. Only one attribute led to a boy being placed in group three. That was being gay. The boys told me that if they discovered someone was gay they would, if possible, force him out of the school, and out of the community as well. They mentioned a situation in the community (a small rural one) in which a family with a gay boy did have to leave the community because the persecution of the boy became intolerable. Whether the situation they told me about was accurately perceived by these boys, I have no idea. But the absolute horror at the idea of someone being gay was certainly unmistakable. The irony was, of course, that the homosexual dynamics between the boys in the group were unmistakable. The sense of horror the boys felt in relation to this attribute was a two edged sword that threatened to cut them as well. I would not claim that my group solved this problem in any very basic manner. But it did make it clear to me that both compassion and pedagogical concerns argued for addressing this issue in some positive manner in the schools.

Minorities tend to take the same attitudes toward themselves that they find in the larger culture. When these attitudes are overwhelmingly negative this leads to socially induced “mental health problems” which can interfere with learning. I recall a 9 year old black girl I was working with. During one session she took a red skirt out of some dress-up clothes I had in the play room and put it on her head to represent long red hair. She was playing the part of Ms. Universe. “I’m the most beautiful woman in the world,” she said as she strutted around the room.

I asked whether the most beautiful woman in the world couldn’t have her kind of hair. “I think your afro is beautiful,” I said. She told me how much she hated her hair. Long straight hair, preferably red or blond, was beautiful — not hair like she had.

Exploration of the Ultimate Issues:

When people have no sense of commitment to a life purpose larger than the immediate satisfaction of their own impulses they tend to suffer from a sense of emptiness. Victor Frankl (1992) termed this particular type of psychological difficulty “noogentic neurosis.” It is a plausible hypothesis that this sense of emptiness is the main culprit behind much of the aimlessness in living, the self-destructiveness (at times even suicide), and the excessive drug use that we see in students in our schools today. People can deal with a great deal of pain and hardship if they have hope and a sense of purpose. Without a strong sense of purpose even trifling concerns can be overwhelming. Nel Noddings (1992) suggests that a caring school must allow, even encourage, the ultimate or “spiritual” questions of life to be addressed. Who are we? What is our purpose? Is there any larger or higher consciousness, purpose or force behind (or within) creation? What is right and what is wrong? What is worth doing? Is death the end? Are all values transient? I agree with her. These are questions every thinking human being must address at some point in his or her life. In Being and Time Heidegger (1996) defines the essence of being human as “Care.” If we cannot discuss the things we most care about, then we are lonely indeed. While I think it goes without saying that public schools cannot advocate for any particular religious or non religious answer to these questions, our children are receiving a very partial education if all matters relating to the “spirit,” as defined in the broadest possible manner, are excluded from the curriculum and from discussion. Every spiritual orientation is to be respected whether it is Christianity, Buddhism, Humanism, or the Ethical commitments of an atheist. Through open discussion and exploration each student must be allowed to find his or her way to personally satisfying answers, perhaps in discussion with parents or other respected individuals. But without somewhere to think these things through, the dynamics of emptiness will continue to take its toll among our youth.

V. Referral

Schools must care for the whole child. Yet it is also true that schools cannot be all things to all people. While many of the problems that are commonly termed “mental health” concerns will be resolved, or at least mitigated, simply by the quality of human interactions that take place in an ethical school, there will always be a residue of problems that cannot appropriately be met at school. A commitment to care requires that something be done with regard to this residue. This requirement can be met in two ways. First, additional services must made easily available to students so that they can seek out resources which they will find personally helpful. Second, students and/or their parents can be referred to services that they may not know about or for any other reason that they might fail to seek out on their own.

The linkage of children and families with services that would have a positive impact on their mental and emotional well-being can best be met in the context of a full-services school model. As described by Bill Davis (1995), “the essential feature of full-service schools is to provide a system which effectively connects the multiple needs of consumers (students and their families) with appropriate service providers in the education, health, mental health, social services, and recreational fields” (p. 9). The full-service school concept emphasizes the broad, social systems perspective that I have been highlighting in this paper. Again to quote Bill Davis, the full service school concept “emphasizes a holistic, preventive approach for dealing with the “problems” frequently presented by children and youth — “problems” which almost always are connected of those of their families and their communities” (p. 9).

Conclusion:

Overwhelming evidence exists in both the social and the psychological sciences that we are able to exist and develop as persons only in the context of a network of bonded relationships. It follows from this that “mental illness” is best understood as the symptomatology of individuals who have lost the capacity to experience themselves as valued members of a community. The etiology of the difficulties that are termed “mental health problems,” may be quite varied. One may find the primary cause in a biological condition that makes it difficult for the child to respond to social relationships that are offered to him or her, in a harsh and exploitive environment (family or community), in a difficult “fit” between the child and parenting figures, in early disruptions of bonded relationships, or in any number of avoidable or unavoidable traumas. Probably more than one factor is generally involved. But it is always the social dislocation that is central. Given the radically social nature of personal well-being, the concept of the ethical community speaks to the very heart of the matter. To offer real belonging in a caring social group, and to help overcome the obstacles to successful membership is to treat “mental health problems.” Such an approach attacks barriers to learning at their roots. This is what ethical communities are all about.

Raymond Calabrese (1990) makes the point that “the school organization cannot teach the rhetoric of ethics and democracy without demonstrating actions consistent with words” (p. 15). I concur. Children learn to care through being cared for. They learn democracy by participating in democratic processes. They learn self-reflection and the capacity to constructively criticize their communities through participating in a group that encourages and teaches positive critique. To belong to an ethical community, and to participate in its processes, is the best possible training one can have for future citizenship in a democratic, free, self-reflective, and hopefully caring community. By providing such an environment to children we prepare them for the task of transforming society on a local, national and global level so that those problems in living that are currently termed “mental health” concerns are fewer, and when they do exist, they are responded to in a more effective and humane manner.

Works Cited

Adelman, H., and Taylor, L. (1996). Addressing barriers to learning. Newsletter of the School Mental Health Project/Center for Mental Health in Schools, 1 (2), UCLA, Los Angeles CA.

Breggin, P. (1998). Talking Back to Ritalin: What Doctors Aren’t Telling You About Stimulants for Children. Monroe, Maine: Common Courage Press.

Calabrese, R. (1990). The school as an ethical and democratic community.ASSP Bulletin, Oct., 10-15.

Chaskin, R. and Rauner, D. (Eds.). (1995). Youth and Caring [Special section]. Phi Delta Kappa, 79 (9).

Davis, W. (1995, August). Full service schools: emerging opportunities - emerging threats. Paper presented at the Annual Convention of The American Psychological Association, New York.

Frankl, V. (1970). Man’s search for meaning: an introduction to logotherapy. Boston: Beacon Press.

Gilligan, C. (1982). In a different voice. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Heidegger, M. (1996) Being and time. Albany: State University of New York.

Hunter, J. (1981). Natural science of the healing of persons.Journal of Religion and Health, 20, (2), 124-132.

Hunter, J. (1991). Persons and organisms.Journal of Religion and Health, 30, (1), 59-79

Jacobovitz, D., Sroufe, L.A., Stewart, M., and Leffert, N. (1990). Treatment of attentional and hyperactivity problems in children with sympathomimetic drugs: A comprehensive review.Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, 29, 677-688.

Noddings, N. (1992). The challenge to care in schools. New York: Teachers College Press.

Richters, J.E., Arnold, L.E., Jensen, P.S., Abikoff, H., Conners, C.K., Greenhill, L.L., Hechtman, L., Hinshaw, S.P., Pelham, W.E., and Swannson, J.M. (1995). NIMH collaborative multisite multimodal treatment study of children with ADHD: background and rational.Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, 34, 987-1000

Starratt, R. (1994). Building an ethical school. London: Falmer Press.

Swanson, J.M., Cantwell, D., Lerner, M., McBurnett, K., Pfiffner, L. and Kotkin, R.(1992, fall). Treatment of ADHD: Beyond medication.Beyond behavior 4(1), pp. 13-16 and 18-22.

Whalen, C. and Henker, B. (1997). Stimulant phamacotherapy for attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorders: An analysis of progress, problems , and prospects. In Fisher, S and Greenberg ,R, (Eds.) From Placebo to panacea: Putting psychotherapeutic drugs to the test, pp. 323-3576. New York: J Wiley & Sons.

Voltaire (1972). Philosophical dictionary. London: Penguin Books.

Zentall, Sydney S. (1993). Research on the educational implications of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Exceptional Children, 60(2), pp 143-153.

This article from the Online Dictionary of Social Sciences, provides a brief introduction to the idea of labeling theory. The above link will lead the reader to this article on the web, where links to related articles can be found.

A theory which arose from the study of deviance in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s and was a rejection of consensus theory or structural functionalism. These approaches to deviance assumed that deviance could be understood as consisting of behaviour that violates social norms. Deviance is therefore something objective: it is a particular form of behaviour. Labeling theory rejected this approach and claimed that deviance is not a way of behaving, but is a name put on something: a label. Law is culturally and historically variable: what is crime today is not necessarily crime yesterday or tomorrow. For example in 1890 it was legal to possess marijuana, but illegal to attempt suicide. Today, the law is reversed. This shows that deviance is not something inherent in the behaviour, but is an outcome of how individuals or their behaviour are labeled. If deviance is therefore just a label it makes sense to ask: where does the label come from? How does the label come to be applied to specific behaviours and to particular individuals? The first question leads to a study of the social origins of law. The second question leads to an examination of the actions of labelers such as, psychiatrists, police, coroners, probation officers, judges and juries.

Although the names and other identifying data have been altered, this in not a work of fiction, but an actual account of the circumstances that a convicted sex offender encountered during his first nine days in a prison in the United States.

March 23rd, 2000

Stripped, scrubbed, and with my new identity, I proceeded, as instructed, down the hall. I entered the pod through the double metal doors and was directed to my room - # 9 on the upper tier. My roommate, a young man in his early 20’s, I will call him George, was lounging on the bottom bunk. I introduced myself, and we talked a bit.

Almost right off, he asked me, point blank, what my charge was. This was the question I had dreaded from the beginning, but I had not made up “a story” ahead of time. One of the reasons for my neglecting to do this is that I was pretty sure that people would already know what the charges against me were because someone among them either saw me in the news on T.V. or ran into an article in the newspaper. My prosecution was a high profile media event in the area.

My plan, such as it was, was simply to be evasive until I could see whether I might slip by unnoticed. This was the second most anxious moment I experienced throughout the entire ordeal. The first was probably my anticipation of the consequences of my indictment and charges appearing in the newspaper and on TV. The media is a major player in the system of torture this society has established for the punishment of those who have violated it’s sexual laws. Punishment does not begin with a guilty finding in court, but with the report of the alleged crimes in the newspaper.

In my case, in response to my new roommate’s direct question, I answered, “Assault”, and when he questioned me further, I said I didn’t want to talk about it. Not smooth at all; but, as I was soon to discover, there really was no way I was going to slide by unnoticed.

I had a rather pleasant conversation with my roommate who, it turned out, was a drug dealer, and a general wheeler and dealer, but who was, nevertheless, a rather appealing person. I was a daddy for him at first sight, and it was clear that, except for the sexual abuse charges against me, I would have no problems coping with him.

March 23, 2000

After supper, two others came to make my acquaintance. They also asked me point blank questions, which I was ill-prepared to answer. They seemed genuinely friendly, which turned out to be the case in the longer term. However, under questioning, I admitted that the charges against me concerned sexual assault. They told me it would be better not to admit this. Again, they were being helpful. Still I left the encounter feeling I had made a mistake. I guess it was my fatalism about the nature of the charges against me being discovered no matter what I said that made me ineffectual.

During the afternoon session in the rec. room, I watched TV hoping it was not their policy to watch the news. They watched sports, and I was left in peace.

The first indication that I had been discovered as a so-called “skinner” came to me when I heard someone from the next cell (or the one below mine) saying my name. (Sounds seem to be transmitted through the ventilation and plumbing system, so it is hard to tell from where they come.)

Then I heard quotes from the Bangor Newspaper article about me. Even though I had neither seen nor heard the article, I knew this was what it was. I could have written the report myself.

The voice from below got my roommate George’s attention and told him he was rooming with a “skinner”. He asked me about it, and I did not deny it.

George is about 5” 10’ and fairly well built. He is a lot younger than I am. He certainly has more experience fighting than I do. However, he does not appear to be much stronger than I am. I now feel I would be close enough to being his match, so as to not make it worth his while to try to beat me up. He is afraid of crazies, and I could be a crazy if push came to shove. At first, I felt more intimidated by his swagger and bragging. I am reminded of the chimpanzee who discovered that by banging two garbage can lids together, he could terrify the other males in his group and vastly increase his prestige. There is a lot of garbage can banging in this place. Assessments of this sort went though my mind, as I sat on my bunk and watched him react to the news. But he was not to respond with violence.

“I’m not judgmental,” he said. He shook his head. “Still, I don’t know what to think.” He asked me more about it. I said I could not tell him what actually happened between myself and the boys. “But it was not the kind of thing one would assume from reading the newspaper.” That was a bit of an understatement. But he pointed out that his friends were “solid guys.” By this he meant the blustering, would-be-alpha males on the unit. They would not be happy with him. Still, though, he did not threaten me.

I suppose someone must have spread the news during the last recreation period (between 7 and 8). At any rate, on the first night of my stay in the orientation pod, I experienced the night calls on the dorm. I was, of course, unable to see anything or even guess who was shouting. They were just voices and screams in the night – loud, raucous, full of hate and venom – animal-like voices in their primitive intensity but with a malice and hatred that was distinctively human.

“Hey, Foster, you piece of shit.”

“You got to ‘check in’” (To “check in” means to check into protective custody – but also to die.)

“Why’d you do it?”

“Why don’t you kill yourself – I’ll do it for you.”

The chants started by one person and finished by another.

“Rip – per”

“Skin – ner”

It continued for, perhaps, a half hour and then died out. Not everybody had yet seen the newspaper article. They had not yet been incited to their full fury.

March 24, 2000

One of the features that pervasively colored my initial experience here on the orientation unit is the difficulty of accomplishing the simplest tasks in life. To make a telephone call, to write a letter, to secure an aspirin for a headache are all tasks that require planning and an inordinate investment of time.

If one had been outed as a “skinner”, taking a shower is a task requiring careful observation and planning. The showers here are fairly visible from the guard “tower”, so there is probably only minimal danger. There are three shower rooms – all on the lower level. For partial privacy, they have some curtains hanging down in front of them – but the person in the shower remains partially visible. The situation is complicated by the fact that there are two showerheads in each shower stall – partially separated by a partition. The shower room opposite the tower affords the greatest visibility, which is a plus for safety, even if a negative for modesty.

The first task was to figure out whether more than one person ever went into one of the shower units, even though they accommodated two. I noticed that a person wanting a shower would wait outside, even if only one other person were inside using the double unit. I would have been a huge faux pas to go into a double shower stall when another person was using it – a faux pas that would have provided the nighttime screamers endless material for homophobic innuendo and ridicule.

The mistakes that I made when I took my first shower were less serious. I picked a time when about 4/5th of the inmates were out in the yard and nabbed an empty shower. However, I had things like my watch, a pencil, and a little paper with me (as I had been lying in wait for the right shower while writing). There was no dry place to put these things. So I put them on the floor and undressed. When I hung my clothes on a hook, it pivoted down and let everything fall on the wet floor.

“Something wrong with the hook,” I thought, and transferred everything to another one. Just as I put the last item on this hook, it did the same thing. Finally I managed, by using two hooks, to hang my things up, take my shower, and return to my room, more or less clean, but with a lot of soggy things in my possession. In my room, I noticed that the hooks were of similar construction. I had just never put enough things on them before to cause them to collapse. The reason they are made this way, I am sure, is so that nobody with suicidal impulses would be able to use them to hang himself.

As I went to get into line for receiving laundry, I noticed that the man who had questioned me about my charges earlier and had cautioned me to make up a story, went out of his way to fall in line behind me. He had introduced himself earlier as Lance.

“Don’t pay any attention to that stuff they say at night,” he told me. “They won’t do anything to you – not here. Maybe on the hill.” (”The hill” is the more open and less supervised section of S. Windham outside the Orientation Cottage.) He went on to explain to me that things would get better once I got off the Orientation Unit – if I got the right placement. He gave his assessment of some of the placement options that might be available later.

I was deeply touched by the kindness Lance showed in reaching out to me. In order to full appreciate this kindness, it is important to understand that if a man is openly friendly to an identified “skinner”, he risks being harassed as a “skinner lover,” or even suspected of being a skinner himself. This was the first of a number of gestures of friendliness that I received or witnessed.

During the evening after the final recreation period George stood in front of the door and began talking about his life. Occasionally I would try to add comments about my own experiences that related in some way to what he was telling me. But he would interrupt without registering anything I said, and would continue talking. Soon it became evident that he required very little input from me in order to consider our interchange a conversation. So I limited myself to nods, grunts and an occasional question.

He told me about a time he was younger when some other kids he was with beat him up, tied his hands with a plastic bag, and left him to freeze to death in snowy woods. He made it back and found various ways to get revenge on these people over the years.

He talked about the fancy clothes (color coordinated right down to the socks), and the expensive cars he used to own. He was known as “Pretty Boy” because of his attention to style.

Gradually the focus of his talk shifted to what he really wanted in life. His first choice would be to be a physical education instructor. He also thought about how nice it would be to be a police officer or a teacher. He said he like kids and dreamed of opening a youth center to keep them out of trouble. He realized however, that most of these options were closed to him because of his felon status.

Then he talked about the important people in his life. His four-year-old daughter was the most important person. He would like to be able to pull his life together for her sake. He had a grandfather and a grandmother who had been good to him. Finally the grandparents of his daughter continue to be supportive and helpful to him. It struck me that what he most dreamed of having in life, and probably never would, were things that had been a part of my life up to this last year: meaningful work with children and adolescents, a stable family, and people I could depend on. It was curious how easily he poured his heart out to a contemptible skinner.

Later while he talked to me in front of my cell, the night screaming and chanting started up again. I sat on my bunk listening to him while he stood against the door, as if shielding me from those voices we both chose to ignore.

March 25, 2000

I was sitting at a table downstairs when a tall, gangly young man came up to me and said I needed to “check out.” This, I later learned, was Ron (not his real name). I didn’t understand at first. Thinking he was delivering a message that a guard had asked that I “check in” with him, I stood up and looked around. Then, I notice that Ron was presenting in a threatening mode – arms away from his side and shoulders pulled back, head cocked to one side, mouth open slightly and feet apart. He rocked back and forth and said, “You got to check out, man, now.”

I recalled now the meaning of “check out”.

“I don’t need to check out,” I said, and sat back down.

Later George told me that Ron has a charge of sexual assault against him and is trying to shift attention away from himself. Also, according to George, Ron’s mother pays a muscular, street-wise black, whom I will call Gordon, $30. a week to protect him. I noticed that Gordon hangs close to him, and I wondered whether this might be true. I am the one with the least prestige on the unit, and Ron is trying to bolster his image by making threatening gestures toward me. It never occurred to me to be afraid of this kid. I saw him as a malicious coward and a fool.

Later I was sitting at the end of a table when a group came by and filled the seats all around. They began to play cards. I figured I was not going to be welcome, and I begin to gather my things together. A big guy sitting next to me motions and says, “You’re all right.”

March 26, 2000

During the morning rec. period, I sat at my table (the unofficial “skinner” table) and tried to write a letter. Gordon and Ron wandered over and stood close enough, so that I could overhear their conversation. Gordon is a heavy set, obviously street-wise, black who has his head shaved except for a pigtail hanging down in back.

“People who hurt children should check out,” Gordon said, “before they get seriously hurt.”

He continued to talk in this vein for about 5 minutes with Ron nodding and agreeing. I pretend not to notice.

Throughout the day, wherever I went, I heard people taunting me with “skinner” and “ripper.” During lock-down times, they occasionally called out of their cells. “Foster, you will die,” “Why’d you do it, Foster?” And “Skinner,” occasionally accompanied with loud banging. I also heard someone call my cell-mate, George, a “skinner lover,” which concerns me because if too much pressure builds up on him, I might lose the relatively secure situation I have in my room.

While I was in line for lunch, I heard someone behind me say something about a counselor. I knew this is for my benefit. “Someone like that can’t afford to turn his back,” the person said.

Except for purposes of harassment, no one sat near me or engaged me in conversation for fear of diverting unwanted harassment from me to himself.

During the afternoon lock-down, I told George I don’t know whether I can take it anymore. I am thinking about asking to be placed in Protective Custody (P.C.). He tried to discourage this course of action. He told me that in P.C. “You’re in a room by yourself. You got nobody to talk to. It’s mostly skinners.” The more he talked, the better it sounded – like that might be just my brier patch. “There’s some rats there and a few punks,” he added.

“Why do the punks end up there?” I asked.

“Because they kept getting beat up because of their mouths.”

As he tried to talk me into staying, George told me his philosophy of survival. “You can’t trust anyone,” he said. “I got no friends here – just acquaintances.”

That evening in the supper line, I heard two people near me talk about a skinner who “took advantage” of some kids and “ruined their lives.” The person goes on to say, “I hope something like that happens to him.”

In the laundry line later, I heard one person saying to the guy beside him, “You hear about those kids who got their lives ruined?”

That night, so that I would not forget, I jotted down some of the things that various people screamed at me out of their cell doors,:

“We’re going to strap you to the toilet, Foster, and fuck you in the ass.”

“Push the fucking buzzer, you piece of shit.”

“Ripper.”

“Kill yourself you fucking piece of shit.”

“Die, ripper, die.”

“I’m going to stick it in your hairy ass.”

“Burn, skinner, burn.”

“Check in, Foster.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Little boy fucker!”

It went on for about 45 minutes. After it stopped I was able to settle down and try to sleep.

March 27th, 2000

Donald Moran, my attorney, called in the morning. Because he is a lawyer they called me out to call him back. One of the worst things about the first 5 days on the A Pod was that I had no way to contact my wife, Boo. I knew she would be worrying. I told Donald to let her know I was alive and surviving. He had called her already and said he would get this message to her. I was incredibly grateful to Donald for taking the trouble to make these calls.

When the call was done, I talked with Bud Spellman, the case manager for the orientation unit. (It was from the phone in his office that I made the call.) I told Bud how terrible things were for me on the unit and requested a transfer to another unit. He said it would be best to get through orientation on the A Pod. It would take about 2 months to get classified and another month after that to get transferred to Elk’s Bay. I asked about Amherst. He said that would be “out of the frying pan and into the fire.” (Amherst was the place they finaly sent me.)He suggested that getting transferred now would slow down the classification process. He pointed out that “P.C.” is a classification and explained that “Administrative Segregation” is a less restrictive classification than “Protective Custody.”

When I returned to the A Pod, it was during the morning rec. period. I sat down at my table to think about my conversations with Donald Moran and with Bud Spellman – Gordon came over and sat down at the table across from me and gave me menacing looks. I got up and went to the drinking fountain. When I returned I sat some distance from Gordon. He got up and moved over besides me. He pretended to be holding some sort of weapon in his shirt. I went to another table.

During the afternoon rec. period, a person I don’t know came up to me with the pretext of talking with me about a mystery he was reading. Then he said to me, “Just stand up and do your time. Don’t pay any attention to these guys. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

The pressure, however, continues to build. Everywhere I went, people made harassing comments. During lock up, I could hear people yelling out of their cell doors. Rather than leave me alone during rec. periods, guys would now sit near me or walk by making harassing comments.

By afternoon lockdown, I felt that I had reached a point of emotional exhaustion. I told George that I was going to ask to be transferred, and he called a guard who was going by. She came and talked with me. “I can’t take anymore of this,” I said. My voice broke.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“All the threats and stuff. I need to get out of here.” I could barely speak without crying.

“I need to check with someone else,” she said.

She left, and I began writing a note to the effect that I felt my life was in danger. Within five minutes, another guard came by. “We are going to have you talk with Sgt. Carter,” he said.

Sgt. Carter was a neatly dressed and laid back man of medium build. He invited me to sit down and asked me what was happening. I began to tell him, but completely broke down, and started crying. It was probably two or three minutes before I could get control of myself.

As soon as I was able to, I told him what had been happening. He commented that people with my charges are often treated that way. He told me that it was unlikely I would be killed. Finally, he said that he had no space that would be appropriate in another unit. If I insisted on being transferred, I would have to be placed in segregation with the troublemakers. While I would be safe from physical attack there, he thought I would be tormented worse in segregation with troublemakers than on the A Pod. “Try to stay on A Pod until tomorrow,” he said. “Then we’ll see.”

I agree to this and returned to the unit.

During lock-down after supper, I heard some people shouting and cursing at someone else – I couldn’t quite catch his name. I commented on this to George. “Yeah,” he said. “When a new one comes in, they start in on him.”

“Why’d you do it,” someone screamed.

“Die, you fucking skinner.”

“Kill yourself. Do it now.”

They were not screaming at me, at least for the moment. I felt relief that someone had come along to take the heat off of me. And I felt ashamed to feel relief for this reason.

March 28, 2000

I was up a good deal of the night meditating, thinking and asking God for help on how to deal with the increasing pressure under which many of the men were putting me. Obviously, I wasn’t going to hit anybody unless I was actually physically attacked. But what was I going to do” Finally I recalled a story I had read about Mother Theresa. Some men who did not want her working in India were harassing her on a regular basis. Finally, she confronted one of them. “Look,” she said, “if you are going to kill me, do it. Otherwise leave me alone. I’ve got work to do.” This seemed to be the right tack.

The next morning during the rec. period, I sat down in my usual place. Morgan soon came by and sat down beside me. He was again pretending that he carried a concealed weapon. I doubted that he had anything as formidable as a knife, but was also sure I was no match for him physically.

I looked at the hand that was presumably toying with a weapon hidden in his clothes. “Look,” I said. “If you are going to hit me or hurt me, go ahead and do it. Otherwise, leave me alone.” I made no motion either to protect myself or to leave.

He stared at me a few moments. Then he made a gesture of appeasement – showing me the open, weaponless palms of his hand. “I’m a peaceful man,” he said.

“That’s good.” I said.

He leaned toward me, again in a menacing way. I did not pull back. He stood up and walked around behind me. He hovered, close to my back. I didn’t even look around to acknowledge his presence. Finally, he left and began walking around the parameter of the A Pod, as though he had nothing more on his mind than getting some exercise.

This was a victory for me. I was elated.

At lunchtime, I forgot to take my drink when I got my food. My place was only a couple of steps from the end of the serving line. I stood up and asked the inmate serving the drinks for a glass of juice. He, it seemed, was one of those with the self-assigned task of tormenting me.

“Oh, it’s all out,” he said. He jiggled the big plastic juice container by way of proof. I knew, of course, that he was lying.

“I guess I’ll have to do with water,” I said. “I’ll need a cup.”

He shrugged.

I took a paper cup and went to the water fountain on the other side of the A Pod. When I returned with my water, I saw the drinks man serving juice to two guards.

“Oh, I see you found some,” I said with a smile. “Great.” I picked up an empty cup and handed it to him. The guards looked a little confused, and moved on. The juice man filled the cup almost to overflowing so as to cause me to spill it, and set it on the table. I picked it up carefully, took a sip, and returned with it to my place.

My second victory.

During the lock down period after supper, I lay on my bed and listened to the screamers torment the most recent pedophile they had uncovered.

“I’m gong to get you into a head lock and rip your head off.”

“Why’d you do it?” etc. – all this accompanied by growls, laughter and banging on doors. I still didn’t know the new guy’s name, but I caught a glimpse of him. He looked soft and gentle. He was obviously terrified. I heard from my roommate that he couldn’t read or write. He is probably a little retarded.

It is clear that the systematic terrorizing of people who have been involved in any kind of sexual behavior with minors is a planned and an institutionally supported aspect of the mistreatment of “pedophiles.” A few simple changes in where people are placed and some modifications of administration policy could change all this. It’s the “good cop, bad cop” strategy. This insane screaming and abuse is the artillery bombardment that precedes the arrival of the stern but sympathetic counselors with their demand for total surrender. A completely broken man can then publicly weep, confess his sins, and beg for forgiveness. At that point, he has been made ready to “begin the healing process,” and to, eventually, re-enter society.

“I’m going to fuck you in your hairy ass you piece of shit.” That is the voice of Christian Puritanism as much as the offer for forgiveness at the end of the “healing” process. It’s the warp and woof of a single fabric.

Mr. Lewis was a big man who had been a guard here for a long time. He had a reputation for being tough. He was strict in enforcing the rules.

The final rec. period ended at 9:00. Generally from about 9:00 to 11:00, there was some yelling out of the cell doors and banging around. But the serious abuse of the unacceptable kind generally did not begin until 10:45 or 11:00. At around 9:30, I heard someone yell out of his door: “Hey, Lewis, you fat fuck.”

Mr. Lewis was standing alone down on the floor of the A Pod rec. room. He yelled back at the owner of the anonymous voice: “No!” he corrected him, “That’s Mr. Lewis, you fat fuck.”

The screaming after bedtime was very loud and aggressive. It began in earnest after Lewis – that is to say, Mr. Lewis – left. Some of it was directed at a new person, and some of it at me. In addition to the now familiar chants and curses, there were a few new ones.

“We’re gong to get you in the morning, Foster, and fuck you in the ass.”

“Be careful in the showers. You sucked a little kid’s dick; we’re going to have you suck a real man’s dick.”

After the screaming and banging died down, I fell asleep and had two nightmares. I don’t remember the first one well – only that my wife, Boo was around and that I was going crazy. Then I dreamed I woke up. I am hiking with Boo along a trail. We encounter some dogs, but they are friendly. It is dusk. She goes ahead of me, and I lose track of her. I begin hunting for her. I grow increasingly frantic. It is dark. I am consumed with dread and horror.

Then I think I am lying in bed in the old house in Kansas City. I see my hand beside my face, and it startles me. It really is my hand, and I am awake, for real this time.

March 29, 2000

During the rec. period in the afternoon, several guys I don’t know come over and sat down across from me at my table. A thin man with a short beard seemed to be the spokesperson.

How many books did you write?” he asked.

“Just one.”

“I heard there were lots.”

“That’s rumors. How much can you trust rumors?”

“Would I tell him the name of the book?” I said, No. “What about the publisher?”

Again, No.

He asked “Why I wouldn’t tell.”

A couple of others came by and sat on either side of me.

“Any information that people get is used against me.” I explained. “So much stuff gets thrown in my face at night, how can I trust anybody?”

The spokesperson looked at me, his eyes wide with innocence.

“We aren’t those,” he said.

“How do I know that?”

A red pencil was on the table beside my regular one. I had brought it down to sharpen it for my roommate. The guy on my right said,

“Hey, I see you got two pencils. I need one.”

“Sorry. I need that.” I moved the red pencil over in front of me and folded up the letter I was working on so they couldn’t see it.

“How many here you think are against you?” asked the spokesperson.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe 99%.”

“Shit,” he said. “Half the people here are skinners.”

When I returned to my room at the end of the rec. period, George wanted to know what had happened. I told him.

He shook his head. “Don’t trust anybody,” he said. “This is prison.”

During the last shift, Morgan sat down next to me and tried to read what I was writing.

That night when the 11 pm screaming began again, I was asked “Why don’t want anybody to know the name of your book.”

March 30, 2000

In the morning, I was called out to see the Physician’s Assistant. We had no sooner exchanged greetings than he looked at me with his head cocked to one side and said, “If your don’t mind my saying this, you don’t look like a criminal.”

I shrugged and contemplated asking whether he had studied phrenology, but decided against it. “I don’t know what to say,” I said.

Can I ask you why you are here?”

“It was a sex offense.” Curious. What does a “Criminal” look like? Someone from the lower classes, I suppose – a person with bad teeth who used poor grammar.

A fight broke out at lunch. A man at a nearby table had a tray of food dumped on him. The guards were quick to respond and took the one who threw the tray out of the pod. I asked my roommate George whether he knew anything about this when we went back to our cells. He shrugged. “The guy who got food dumped on him was a skinner,” he said.

March 31, 2000

The frequency and intensity of comments against me increased from the moment I came out for breakfast. Some people had decided to agitate against me in a big way. Everywhere I went, I heard comments and threats both from people who happened to pass close to me and from the doorways of the inmates in the hall of the unit that was not out for recreation or meals when we were. As I started down the stairs on my way to the morning recreation session, one of the biggest guys on the unit – one I had believed to be neutral toward me sneered up at me. “I’m going to kill your fucking ass,” he said.

I had not been sitting long at the table I always used when Morgan came over and sat down across from me. I ignored his initial comments – which on the surface were not hostile.

“I’m not gong to hurt you, “ he said. “I want to talk for real.”

“If that’s for real, I’ll talk with you.” I said.

A guard came over to the table and sat down two seats away. Morgan explained to the guard that he was just going to talk with me – he wasn’t threatening me. I signaled to the guard that it was all right, and we moved a little further down the table and sat across from each other.

Morgan wanted me to know that he was an intelligent and serious person who actually was interested in Buddhism. I said I believed him, but he wanted to prove it, so he went back to his room and returned with four books that were, in fact, serious expositions on different aspects of Buddhist thought.

Morgan said that he thought I should ask to get into protective custody. He said that if I stayed on the unit, I might get hurt by somebody, or set up in some way. He said that’s what happened to Cheetah. Cheetah was the small man who appeared to be from Dravidian decent who was in the first fight I witnessed on the unit. Someone hit him, and he threw his coffee at them. Then, apparently, it was claimed Cheetah started it. Morgan said this led to Cheetah being sent to max, and that it hurt his classification. What the actual outcome of this situation was, I don’t know, but I don’t doubt that the intent was as Morgan portrayed it.

As I listened to Morgan, I weighed the factors that I needed to consider:

1. It would be better if I were able to finish my orientation, as that would facilitate my classification process – which would enable me to move on.

2. There appeared to be real danger to me – both of serious physical injury and of getting set up for difficulty with the system.

3. If people located the notes for my journal, they might interpret them in a negative way – inmates might see me as a “rat” collecting information on them – prison authorities might (plausibly) think that I was collecting information that could be used in an expose.

I told Morgan that I wanted to finish orientation and that, toward the end of the day, I would ask to be moved. Morgan asked me to tell the authorities when I talked with them that he had helped me out. I also decided that I would send my notes to Betsy for safekeeping until I felt I was in a more secure situation. I was determined to have as complete a record as possible of my stay in A Pod.

My cellmate George disclosed a new wrinkle that had developed in the situation.

“Some guy claimed that when he came by our window and looked in, he saw me on your ass,” he said. He shook his head. “I ain’t no fagot – not by a long shot. I can’t let that go by.”

“I understand.”

He looked at me with a peculiar apologetic smile. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I like you. You’re a nice guy.” He looked down and shrugged. “But I can’t live with you any more.”

I felt he was genuinely sorry, and that he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. “I’m getting out of here before the day is over,” I said.

“P.C.?”

“I’m talking to a guard this evening.”

“Can’t you do it sooner?”

“I want to finish orientation. They may have a session this afternoon.”

“Lewis is going to be on this evening. He may not let you go.”

He had a point there. Lewis could be very obstinate. I though about it and decided there was just too much pressure and risk in my staying, even for the rest of the afternoon. We agreed that when he went down for medication in about 15 minutes, he would ask a guard to come up to speak to me about placing me in preventive detention.

When the guard arrived, I said I had had it and was ready to go. He said he would talk to the officer in charge and left. About ten minutes later, a guard returned and told me to pack up.

About five minutes later, I left A Pod amidst hooting and jeering from the doors where people were locked up, and insulting comments from people on the floor.

I was escorted to a small office where Sgt. Carter asked me to take a seat. In response to his questioning, I told him what had been happening in the unit and said that I felt I was in danger of physical attack. He commented that some other “high profile” men, with charges similar to mine, were expected to arrive momentarily, and that they would probably take the heat off of me. He also said that I might still face problems on any new unit. Nevertheless, he conceded I had made an effort on the A Pd and agreed to move me.

The new unit (B Pod) to which I was taken was much smaller than the A Pod. B Pod, at full capacity, contains 24 inmates as opposed to 90 on the A Pod. It is in the same general pattern – small cells with two bunks a piece arranged around a larger rec. room with a small yard – but it was all on a smaller scale.

All the guys were out playing basketball when I arrived. I deposited my things in the specified cell and came out to the rec. room where I made a call to Boo. Then I sat down to work on a letter. Suddenly, a glass full of water flooded down on my head, drenching the letter and other sheets of paper in front of me. My first thought was that someone had thrown urine on my head. However, the lack of odor assured me that it was only water. My second thought was: “Oh Shit, it’s going to start over again here.”

Almost at the same moment that I was showered with the water, the guys began coming in from outside recreation. A tall muscular guy I later learned was Ritchie asked what had happened.

“Someone threw water on me,” I said.

“Did you see who it was?”

I shrugged. “I don’t have any idea.”

With a tone of genuine indignation, Ritchie said in a loud voice for the benefit of the whole unit, “It’s not fair – whatever he did – to do that to an old man who can’t defend himself.” I made note of the phrase “whatever he did”: that was loaded with significance. Also, I decided that I was not above taking advantage of the status of “old man.”

I went to another table and began to assess the damage and plan how to cope with it. People brought me paper to replace the paper that was damaged and offered me coffee. About 5 minutes later, a young man with two missing front teeth came up behind me and apologized for throwing water on me. This was Victor. He offered me his hand. Obviously someone had put pressure on him. I was astonished. I shook his head and said, “That’s all right.”

A little later Ritchie came up to me and spoke in a confidential tone. “Don’t worry. Whatever you are in for, they won’t hassle you. Some guys have even said I was a skinner.”

The sequence of events surrounding my entry into the B Pod was the first hopeful thing that happened to me since my going into the courtroom on the 22nd. But I wondered whether I could trust it. Would something else come along to cause the bottom to drop out? Could I really trust this peculiar turn of events?

Later in the afternoon, I mentioned that I was cold and needed a sweatshirt. The laundry people saw to it that I had one by the time clean clothes were passed out that evening.

Things were looking up. But one obstacle in the course still remained. My roommate was a hard-ass.

I have noticed that roommates who are new to each other here waste little time feeling each other out. When the afternoon rec. period was over and we returned to our cells for lock-up, I met Burt. Medium height, stocky and surly, he lay on the bottom bunk and barely returned my greeting when I introduced myself. Before the hour was over, he had asked me what my sentence was, which I told him and what I was in for. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. He got out of his bunk and stood by the door.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because it’s nobody else’s business!”

He frowned. “I guess that’s right,” he said. “But when a person doesn’t want to talk about it, it makes me think he’s probably a skinner.”

I shrugged. “You can think what you want,” I said. “But I just don’t want to talk about it.”

We discussed this at some length. Or to be more accurate, he told me at some length that if I wanted to survive here I needed to make up a story. This was not, of course, a new idea to me.

As supper approached, I said, “I don’t think you like me very much, but if we have to be roommates, we might as well try to get along.”

“That depends,” he said, “on why you are here.”