ATTEMPTED ESCAPE

It’s true, I’m going through the motions, putting in my time—aren’t we all? And because of my complacency our facility almost had an inmate escape. Here’s what happened:

Every weekday at fifteen-hundred twenty hours I hear the following announcement: “Building 300 is closed. All prisoners return to your housing unit.”

My students file out, that’s the routine—lock-up and be counted.

“See you tomorrow Teach,” someone says.

I load up my cart: pencil box, stapler, three-hole punch, class binders, and dictionaries, and I roll the cart into a secured storage area. I give an A-O-K nod to the corrections officer making one final round. I power down my computer and lock my desk drawer and filing cabinets.

Nothing beats getting out of prison at the regular scheduled hour. No emergency situations. No sirens. No extra duty.

I put my coat on and just before I hit the light switches, I notice a young man sleeping in the back of the classroom.

“Hudson,” I yell. “Get the ##@$% out of my classroom!”

Hudson rises for a hot second, long enough to shake his dream world. His sleepy left leg doesn’t cooperate and he falls to the floor.

“You’re gonna miss count!”

He stands again, falls again—more encouragement from me. Soon he’s dragging his left leg down the hallway like Egor. He knows that if he doesn’t make it back to his cell on time he’ll be charged with an attempted escape. There are no excuses. He knows better.