The Minimum Security Facility

The Minimum Security Facility


It’s 7:30 in the morning. I am getting closer and closer to the minimum-security facility, which is located close to my home.

As I approach I see the people rushing, hurrying, all trying to go quickly with as much order to their steps as they possible can maintain. The look of stress is in their eyes. Trying not to run but yet you can see how they must hurry to get in line and walk in an orderly fashion. There is no talking amongst themselves, no laughter, no smiling – only the look of stress.

I see the man in the center of the walk way, he is motioning with hand signals for everyone to enter the building He is shouting “let’s go, move it, let’s move people.”

That is as much as I am allowed to see. The doors have now closed and lock automatically.

I wonder to myself – is this to keep people in or keep people out? I drive on and as I am driving I’m also wondering what the day is like for these people who must be inside these walls.

Day after day I see this same scene played out before me. Today, I will no longer wonder what it is like on the inside as I have taken on a volunteer position within the facility. I reach the main office and sigh in. I’m given a security badge and directed to my assigned work area.

At last, a glimpse into their world. There is no talking only the occasional sound of a chair being pushed in. I look around and see familiar faces I have seen in the fenced area just in front of the facility.

AS each individual approaches me with their bar code held out to me, I want to look in their eyes, I want to see into their souls. Looking into their eyes is almost an impossible task as they are all cowered down. Their hands shake as they pass their bar code under the laser.

Later, I move on to the cafeteria. You have exactly 20 minutes to receive the food tray, sit down, eat your food, dispose of the trash and food tray and get back in a straight line. As I sat down at a table amongst everyone I thought I might be able to have some sort of a conversation.

That was also a privilege denied. There is no talking, no laughter, no smiling. The person in charge of each table paces aback and forth with their hands clasped behind their backs. Should anyone not follow the rules – they are reproved in front of the entire group. The people are in command here are firm, with a constant scowl on their faces. Never a kind word.

I leave this place today with the feeling of “isn’t there some good in these are destined to be here everyday”, can’t the people who oversee them – show even the slightest bit of kindness towards them.

AS I walk into my living room at the end of the day I turn on the TV and there it is, another minimum security facility just like the one I volunteered in today – and the people there are shooting and there is talk of bombs inside the building – I see bodies lying around the people are just stepping over them - with no look of fear, or remorse on their faces.

I have once again volunteered and so I’m back today. I’m going to give this place one more chance to show me some sign of humanism. Some compassion. The assignment includes bussing the people from one place to another for the day. They are told to stand in line, no talking, no moving.

Once they are on the bus they are informed that they cannot talk to each other and are to race forward. They are herded like cattle through the facility that they are sent to today. The bus ride back is the same. No talking, no moving, which also means no smiling and no laughing. Again, I have to wonder – what could these people have done to have to endure such treatment.

We are back at the facility for only a short while when I hear an alarm go off. I am jolted by the un-familiar sound. I look around and see that I am the only one who was startled by this loud alarm. I’m not sure what to do and I’m a little afraid. A hand takes my hand and I am lead out of the room and into the hallway along with all the others. There is no talking, no pushing, and no shoving. Hands are at their sides.

I whisper – “does this happen often? The replay – “quite a bit.” My most extensive conversation for the day. Everyone seems to know what to do. They walk outside and have to stand with their noses to the chain link fence until they are given permission to re-enter the building.

Do you know that you pass by this same facility every day? Did you know you most likely have one in your very own neighborhood? Does it sound a little bit like a prison, or worse yet a concentration camp?

I’m talking about my child’s school. My child’s second grade class.

Have you “popped in” at your child’s school lately?

Maybe you should.