SEEING DANGER

I’ve always felt that you should have an idea of what, and not who, is coming through your classroom door. Murders, rapists, pedophiles, drug dealers, and thieves are the norm. Instead, I’m speaking about what is commonly referred to as OPMT’s (Out Patient Mental Treatment). “He’s OPMT,” an officer will say, as if that justifies any peculiar behaviors you’ve witnessed.

Some OPMT’s constantly battle demons. Some listen to the voices inside their head and cut their way back into reality. Some are comical (the offender who repeatedly fell in love with storefront mannequins and couldn’t resist kidnapping them); some are sick (the head banger, forced to wear a bike helmet, who inserted a ballpoint pen into the drinking fountain and mounted it until someone said, “Hey! People drink from that!”)

Last Thursday, returning from a peaceful lunch, I witnessed two officers escorting an OPMT to PC (Protective Custody). After completing his orientation earlier in the day, and because he hadn’t been screened for his medication yet, he started spewing racist venom at all the black inmates in his cellblock. “N-this, N-that! N…N…N…” As they marched his ass backward in handcuffs down the walkway, he looked up momentarily and we made eye contact. Young, fresh, white meat removed from GP (general population).

We didn’t speak to one another until yesterday. No one informed me of his current situation, and he certainly didn’t reveal anything to me. What I’ve told you I learned mostly on my own.

He seemed anxious to please me and dove right into his class assignment. The young black inmates took turns getting up from their desks and walking by him.

“How’s it going?” the first inmate said on his way to the pencil sharpener.

Then the next guy, “You doing okay?”

Then a third guy, “You need any help come holler at me.”

By then I had had enough. “Sit your asses down and cut the crap.”

After class, I asked the school principal to give me the scoop. Turns out, he’s some suburban kid who repeatedly stabbed his mother in the eyes more than one hundred times. However, that wasn’t the information I was seeking. I told her what transpired in my classroom and that we might have to adjust my class rosters to avoid a potential blowout. She agreed.