Interviewing in my jammies

I’ve been home with strep throat for two days, but the Chief and I had scheduled interviews for Miss J’s replacement today. So at 8:15 this morning, he called to conference me in on the interviews.

We had 21 applicants to begin with and narrowed the pool down to three. After scheduling the interviews, one of them canceled. The first person we spoke with said, right off the bat, that she wouldn’t accept the job if we offered it to her. So we asked if she even wanted to proceed, and she said no.

The other candidate has been a librarian for about 15 years in academic and corporate libraries. She clearly had a lot of experience and was used to leading and being in charge. She also was very concerned about working with inmates and the starting wage. Basically, she wants to have all my responsibilities and the pay to which she is accustomed without being around offenders.

Naturally, she was a cataloger. Every cataloger we’ve interviewed has been freakish in some way or another.

We didn’t decide if we are going to offer the job to her or not; the Chief wanted to discuss it with me more. I highly doubt she would accept it if we offered it to her, but if she did take the job, it seems there is a high probability she’d be a huge pain in the ass.

Writing workshops

After spending the weekend at my state’s book festival, I’ve got visions of inmate writing workshops dancing in my head. It’s also got me thinking about returning to my alma mater in a few years for a master of fine arts in creative writing.

Parkinson’s

This afternoon, an inmate with advanced Parkinson’s disease came into the library. He was accompanied by his “pusher” (inmate infirmary aide whose main function is to push a disabled inmate’s wheelchair) who’d essentially carried him up the stairs.

He wanted to ask me something, but his speech is limited to the point of nonexistence. His pusher asked if they could use one of the library’s typewriters. After some clackety-clack from the Parkinson’s inmate and multiple repetitions of “You’re typing the same thing over and over, buddy” from the pusher, they left without formulating a question.

I don’t know what the man was convicted of or how long he’s been down, but it twists my heart that he’s still there. He’s clearly a danger to no one. But what would become of him if he has no family or money? He’d likely go to a homeless shelter that wouldn’t be able to care for him, or he’d become a different kind of ward of the state. In an odd way, prison might be the best place for him.

Sound booth

In the main library is a sound booth in which a team of three inmate workers make audio recordings of books. This is a part of the State Library’s program that provides audio books to people who are blind or handicapped.

Yesterday the program coordinator came up from Capitol City for a visit. We discussed upgrading our existing reel-to-reel booth to a fancy new digital booth during the upcoming renovation. It makes sense to do it all at once.

Now you’d think that because this is the State Library’s program, the State Library would foot the bill. Wrong! The State Library will provide two computers and the required software. The prison has to come up with money for the rest of the equipment and the sound booth itself.  Seems a little weird to me.

If we’re going to do this, the money will have to come from grants or trusts or endowments or something. Because I sure don’t have the money (I’m guessing around $35,000) in my budget.

In spite of the counter-intuitiveness of having to pay for almost everything, I’m pretty excited about the project. I’ve been wanting to learn how to write grants, and this will be a good opportunity. Plus, it’s a big project and something likely to draw media attention (it did when the original booth went in 25 years ago). A little spotlight now and then is a good thing.

Suuuuu-ey!

Miss L has been home for a week, apprently with swine flu. The schools in nearby Small Town are closed down all week because attendance is so poor due to swine flu. I’ve had a gallon of orange juice over the last three days and probably more Airborne than is really good for a person. And yet…I’m starting to get sick.

Replacing Red

I spent the first half of my day interviewing teachers to “replace” Red. Of course, no one could actually replace her or even come close to filling her shoes, but we needed to hire someone. So.

We had three mediocre-to-lame people, then finished up with Miss J, my newest librarian. You may recall that she is a teacher by trade. I was a bit irritated that she’d applied for the job and honestly didn’t think she’d have enough experience to get it. But she smoked her interview. As she talked, passion for teaching was almost visibly oozing from her pores. Her excitement was infectious, and I’m pleased that we offered the job to her today.

Of course, this means I have to find a librarian to replace her. And we all know how well that went last time. But I’m hopeful that we’ll find another freak like me this round, someone who is as excited about being a prison librarian as Miss J is about being a teacher.

No more dating

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly a woman becomes worthless to a man once he realizes that he can’t stick his dick in her.

Getting out

Twice now in the last few months, I’ve happened to be in the administration building when an inmate is being released. Mom or dad or someone waits in the reception area while the free man comes through the sally port and steps hesitantly into an area that was previously off limits to him. He pauses as he goes through the metal detector and again before he hugs his loved one, as though expecting to be told to stop.

But he’s smiling the whole time and once he’s cleared to go, he can’t get through the door fast enough. He doesn’t look back as he gets into the car and rides away.

It takes me a minute to recognize them in street clothes. Automatically I look for a visitor’s badge attached to his shirt. Only when I don’t find it do I realize that this is an ex-con, making his way back into the world. Both times it’s happened, I’ve even known the guy’s name.

This happened just a few days ago. I stepped into the sally port with the inmate, his escort and a few other staff members. One of them asked how much paper time (probation) he had to do, and he said six months. The door opened and one of the officers toward the back of the group said snidely, “Oh, six months paper? Okay, see you in three.” The inmate didn’t hear, fortunately.

Now it’s true that nationwide, about 66% of those released from prison will re-offend within three years and go back to prison. But what does it say about us, as corrections professionals, when we have no faith that our own programming will keep a con out of prison for a measly three months? What kind of message does that officer, and so many others like him, send when he’s walking the block?

It’s naive to think that once they get out, they will all be upstanding citizens for the rest of their lives. But it’s counterproductive to believe that they’ll all be back.

Poor poochy

Cutest Dog Ever had surgery today to remove some big masses that he kept scratching open. Poor baby. He looks like Frankenstein’s Monster Dog.