I love being part of Vita…the work we do is so inspiring. But the class I taught in Eugene was something else altogether. This was my first chance to take the lead directly under the banner of Vita Arts and it was amazing. I know I’m a good teacher because I’ve taught two different groups of “at-risk” kids and they respond to me. I don’t try to talk down to them or convince them that I’m cool—I’m just a guy who encourages them, hopefully inspires them, assures them they have value, and listens.

It was reassuring, flattering, and humbling to see how clearly these kids enjoyed themselves. During our break, some of the guys invited me to stick around for lunch. I was kind of floored to be accepted; I didn’t feel the invitation was easily given and it meant a lot to me.

The Class Structure

We started with exercises in descriptive writing. One guy wrote a brief passage about a man threatening him with a gun that was based on his real-life experience. I asked the class how many others had been through something similar; THREE other guys responded and had thoughts on the subject. One of the three had, in fact, been shot—someone aimed for his head and got his neck instead. He was 15 years old.

I also talked about how descriptive writing helps you relate something to a reader who may not be familiar with what you’re talking about. How do you describe snow to someone who has never seen it? How do you tell someone what walking on the moon is like? The logical extension was “Most people haven’t been in here…how would you describe it to them?” That really seemed to resonate with the class and they agreed that knowing about being inside a prison is not the same thing as having experienced it.

One guy said it was claustrophobic and another said it was like being in the military, which got a round of nods because the true powerlessness of being “inside” is a very singular thing. “The first time they bring you in here, you don’t know what’s happening, what to expect. It’s like being kidnapped.” I told them that disorientation was something people could relate to, and that some people might even be able to realistically wrap their head around the powerlessness of being kidnapped before that of being inside an institution.

Despite the intense nature of our conversations and their writing, when I said I would like to share samples of their work on our website, just about everyone left some on my desk. These kids were proud of what they did and with good reason—they worked really hard and wanted to share that effort with you, which is, I think, phenomenal. Not one student declined to speak if called on. Many of them were willing to open up, and at least half of them were willing to read aloud from what they had written in class.

Conclusion

These kids are high-school age and yet some of them have gone through drug withdrawal while in the system, some have kids of their own or will have them soon. They are caught in a kind of limbo between adulthood and adolescence, some of them by choice and some because they weren’t given the option to stay young a little longer. But on a weekend in August they weren’t held captive inside walls of cement and they weren’t told what they had to do—while they were in my class they sent their imaginations far away, and while it isn’t the freedom they want most, for an hour or two it was a meaningful substitute.