THE LAW OF AVERAGES

After seeing the teaching staff turn over twice at my first prison job, and after waking up morning after morning after morning and reporting to work, steadily increasing the average shelf life of a correctional educator, and after dealing with stable and unstable coworkers alike, I'd have to say Mr. Charles M. Grimmett will always have the honorable distinction of being the most free-spirited, happy-go-lucky, convict instructor I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Prior to his termination, which came at a time when I was his temporary boss and he served as my union representative (go figure), I had to deliver a message. "Grimmett," I said, noting his punctuality problem on a computer printout generated from our time clock, "administration wants to fire your ass. Try to get here on time." I felt perfectly comfortable telling him this because I knew he'd feel perfectly comfortable hearing it.

"JR, I've been fired from better shitholes than this. Do you think I care? Do you think I'll have trouble finding work? I'm a black teacher certified in math and science."

Grimmett and I had swapped students on a regular basis, tossing the race card onto the table every opportunity we could. "JR, I got a white boy for you. Says he can't learn from my kind," and "Grimmett, I got a Melanic for you, says he ain't workin' for the man."

At one point in our working relationship, after observing Mr. Grimmett regulary waiting for a cab, I offered him a ride home. Soon enough, I discovered that "home," depending on which day of the week it was, meant driving to various locations. One such place he teased me about regularly. "My lady friend keeps asking why a white man's bringing me to her house."

I never pried into his living arrangements, but I do remember him wanting me to cover for him while he checked on one of his so-called "lady friends" during lunch time. Apparently, he had spoken to her on the lobby payphone and she seemed incoherrent. So off he went. I could see the genuine concern in his face. He never returned that day, or the next.

She had been badly beaten and the Detroit police (whom he called) arrested his ass for domestic violence. When she regained her faculties and left the hospital, he was exonerated. Still, once I had warned him about losing his job, it was only a matter of time before Mr. Grimmett was escorted off the premise. At least I never steered him wrong, I kept it real. Unfortunately, some numbers are just meant to lower the average.