Managing Resistance in a Prison Class

As promised, here is the first “ending” to the first challenging scenario. All names have been changed. You can read the previous post to place yourself back at the scene.
Scene 1 Resolution: Because it is prison, our options our limited, but every challenging situation brings with it an opportunity to model what you teach, even in prison… especially in prison! In prison I have all forms of authoritarian protocol at my disposal if I need it (and I’d absolutely access it if there was imminent danger for myself or anyone else) but even prison advocates “Progressive Discipline” (starting out with requests and then moving up from there if necessary) and this opportunity is a gorgeous one, ripe for modeling the interpersonal skills I am here to teach.

We had just started introductions and now all eyes were riveted on the upset gentleman in the doorway, arms flailing, eyes wide, and hair on the fly with the energy of his unhappiness. I excused myself from the group and stepped to the doorway, introduced myself to the distraught man and asked his name. “Its Kevin, and I DON’T want to be in YOUR parenting class,” he announced vigorously.

“I understand Kevin, but you know if you are on the Call Out we don’t have a lot of options for the length of the class. I’m sure that’s frustrating for you. His energy calmed a bit but he still stood eyeball-to-eyeball with me, and didn’t offer to stay. I let several seconds pass and said gently, “Do you have children?” “Yes,” he said, “One, but I never see him. His mom won’t bring him, that’s why I don’t want to be in your parenting class.” “That makes sense," I said thoughtfully, pausing again, averting my eyes, buying some calm down time for him. Then I met his eyes and said, “I’m wondering, would you be willing to come in and join us, just for today, since being somewhere else could be problematic for you, and decide at the end of class if you’d still like to drop? There’s no sense in getting a DR (Discipline Report and potential loss of privilege) for being where you aren’t supposed to be. Anyway, if you pass the time here and stay for the class, you won’t risk a DR and I’ll sign an administrative drop and you’ll be off the Call Out by the next class meeting. You won’t have to come again. There will be no loss of privileges for you, it is a straight across administrative drop.” He squirmed a bit, but had softened considerably since the start of the conversation. “You’ll sign without trying to talk me in to anything?” “Absolutely, the decision is completely yours.” “Can’t you sign now?” “Well I could sign now, but you’d still have to stay…you know, the Call Out says this is where you are from 9:00-11:30 today.” The ensuing seconds brought some foot shuffling from him and no talking from me. I busied myself picking invisible lint off my sleeve. Looking back up and as casually as I could manage I added, “We are doing introductions and telling a little about ourselves and our kids. I need to get back. Would you join us, just for today?” I said turning slightly away, holding my breath for his response, with one eye watching the curious group staring our way. In a loud grudging sigh, he said loud enough for his colleagues to here “Ok, JUST for today” as he found a seat at the horseshoe table.

He was delightful and exuberant, listening raptly to the other Dads share about their kids. He choked back a quiver in his voice to share a little about his son. He settled in for the remaining of the class. At the end I approached him with the administrative drop. He said, “Ummmm, I’m not sure. I think I need to get more information. Can I come back Wednesday and let you know?” “No problem,” I said, stuffing the form into my class notebook, turning away to hide my pleasure, not wanting to take anything away from HIS decision. Fighting the smile that played at the corners of my mouth and that threatened to enter my voice, I cleared my throat and causally said, “You let me know Wednesday.” And off he went.
It became an affectionate class joke…has Kevin decided yet? At least once a week someone bellowed across the classroom, “Hey Kevin, have you decided yet?” Everyone would laugh, Kevin the loudest, adding, "I need more information." 12 weeks and 90 hours of class later he told the group, “This is the first thing I’ve ever finished. What will I do when this class ends? I hate the weekends and just wait for Monday and our parenting class to start again.”