I was anxious. Not because I was wearing my uncomfortable dress shoes. It was because I was standing in a line of people, usually one or two abreast, in a hallway of the Cleveland Correctional Center, near Houston. Like Dorothy before us, we had been instructed not to step outside of the yellow-striped lines on the floor. They led from the visitation room, where we were welcomed and told about the day’s activities, out the building and into the gymnasium.
The 10 of us who had driven down from Waco the morning of July 19 had already been briefed about the Prisoner Entrepreneurship Program by members of the organization’s staff. As volunteers, we were there to help affect change in a prisoner’s life. Starting in the fall semester, we will help them with personal statements and business plans. Today was the kickoff for Class 20 of the program. Of the 154,000 inmates in the Texas prison system, 1,000 applied for the PEP. The 105 who were selected awaited us in the unit’s gymnasium. All were within 3 years of being released.
Lining up, I noticed that every window in the hallway was a tall skinny opening, probably 5 or so inches wide at the most. We had already gone through the metal detector and a pat-down by security guards. Our driver’s licenses were filed away in the check-in desk. We’d been told that we would get time for one-on-one meetings with the program participants. Beyond that, I didn’t know what to expect.
Approaching the door to the gymnasium, I heard cheering erupt as the volunteers ahead of me entered. I approached the door and saw men in navy blue prison uniforms cheering for us, their hands in the air and forming a two sided tunnel made of hands, tattoos, and cheering, smiling faces. I walked through the door and was amazed / petrified at what I saw. All I saw were inmates. Like real, honest-to-God inmates. I did my best to high-five every hand on the way through. I kept seeing tattoos. And kept trying not to look at tattos. Which made me want to look at them some more.
After the receiving line, which kind of made me feel like I was on Soul Train a little bit, there were more inmates who were lined up to shake our hands.
It was a tremendous mix of emotions. On one hand, I was scared out of my mind. I had no idea there’d be so many prisoners around. And they looked like prisoners that had walked out of the movies or TV. But at the same time, I was overcome by the sheer joy and positive energy that was in that gymnasium. From the first minute until we would leave later that afternoon, the inmates, who I will refer to from now on as program participants, went out of their way to make us feel welcomed and appreciated.
Later, I turned to my classmate and fellow volunteer, Rich Lubbers, “So this is what it’s like to be Payton Manning.” I’d never felt so welcome before. The recurring theme throughout the next hours was one of gratitude. Program participants were truly grateful we were there.
One of the coolest parts was the one-on-one meetings we had. The 10 or so I spoke to, 10 minutes at a time, ranged in age from early 20s to early 40s. Many times I would look at the person in front of me and forget they were a prisoner. All were extremely polite and excited about the program. We largely talked about their initial business ideas. I thought about how we were in the same shoes, looking for a business education.
After the program activities, those of us who were volunteers switched roles and formed the two-sided high-five line as participants made their way out of the gym.