Please take a look and let me know what you think
Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 7:57 pm
I am really looking for help with the last couple sentences so any thoughts on that would be greatly appreciated.
Personal Statement
I unfurled my toes, touched my tongue to the roof of my mouth, and flipped my pockets inside-out while receiving a more-than-thorough pat down. Once the correctional officer was satisfied that each and every crevice of my body was void of prohibited items, I was escorted through four heavily-guarded doors en route to the prison yard. Subsequently, another officer met up with my group to guide us to the dilapidated schoolhouse across the enclosure. We were then given a brief orientation with one overarching theme: do not, under any circumstance, trust an inmate.
Finally, we were given authorization to enter the classroom. To be certain that we never averted our gaze from the inmates, my colleagues and I performed an awkward shuffle while making our way to the front of the room. Our apparent unease led to an awkward first meeting with our pupils. Without any training, I was expected to lead a debate class for 30 inmates. The topic, structure and content of the class was solely at our discretion. Stemming from my experience of eighteen first-days of class, the clear choice for our first activity was an ice-breaker. For some reason, the usual ice-breaking activities seemed inappropriate. Asking these hardened criminals to tell us their favorite color, or to come up with an alliteration to help me remember their name seemed juvenile. Instead, each man just stated their name and any fascinating fact about themselves. Secretly though, I was hoping that they would reveal the actions that put them in my class in the first place. While some of the men discussed their families and hometowns, others did hint at the reasons that they were in prison. Of the prisoners who described their illegal acts, each man finished his story with at least one way in which he was mistreated by the justice system.
Our class consisted of an array of criminals: drug dealers, child molesters, rapists and murderers. During our first meeting, I had to exercise tremendous self-control to keep my jaw from hitting the floor after hearing the stories. But, one man's story was simply too much for me to handle. A mountain-of-a-man named Darius explained how his crime spree began as a child. His first choice of illegal activity was animal cruelty. Before I realized that my lower jaw was lying comfortably on the ground, I knew that something was wrong from the laughter coming from the class. Prior to this moment I had never met a murderer, a rapist or any other type of violent criminal for that matter.
Following my first visit, my initial fear was amplified. Prior to these class periods actually taking place, I had no idea what to expect. I had seen it as a way to meet people that I may never have met elsewhere and to get some immersion into a side of the legal system many would rather close their eyes to. But, following my first day in the program, my feelings were best summed up in in one word; regret. What benefits for myself or society could possibly come from driving for two hours a week just to meet with these inmates?
Nevertheless, the next excursion to the correctional facility rolled around and before I knew it, again I was getting thoroughly frisked by the correctional officers of Gus Harrison Correctional Facility.
Per the purpose of my class, my fellow volunteers and I were tasked with choosing a topic of discussion. We were walking a delicate line between evoking a good dialogue and not inciting violence among inmates. So, in my naiveté, I chose a topic that I thought would lead to discussion, but not disagreement--gun control. I assumed that all of the men would agree that there should be no gun control and that we could engage in a jovial bashing of the dominate paradigm.
Our class was preceded by only a few weeks by the infamous murders at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Further more, this discussion had occurred ad nauseam in all of my political science and philosophy classes. By the time my group and I filed into the classroom for the second time, I could spout off a dozen facts supporting increased gun control and an equal amount against it. What ended up being most pervasive down the road, was the set of beliefs that I assumed all of these men held. After all, they were criminals.
The prisoners stunned me when nearly half of them took the stance that there ought to be more gun control. Many of these men came to the debate equipped with first-hand personal anecdotes in support of stricter gun control.
As the meetings carried on, I gradually came to understand that being incarcerated does not necessarily entail being a bad, or immoral person. I had fallen victim to a common error in judgment--the fundamental attribution error. I took the piece of knowledge that I had regarding these men, their imprisonment, and assigned an entire set of beliefs to them that I had built up from years of movie and TV dramas.
Unfortunately, I feel that this error commonly seeps into the cracks and crevices of our criminal justice system. Whether in the guise of a judge, a lawyer or a jury member, faulty assumptions easily lead to unfair trials and sentencing. For months I commuted to Gus-Harrison Correctional Facility. Each week, I gained a deeper insight into the history and lives of these prisoners. One thing has become clear to me: in America, we insist on employing a system of blind justice, yet justice we prejudice and preconceived beliefs cannot truly by blind. Becoming a lawyer would give me the chance to help those who need a blind justice system. While the privileged deserve fair treatment under the law, the real problem comes when the underprivileged are neglected. During the actual volunteer experience, I did not realize at the time how much my time with the prisoners was affecting me. Now, I feel that it is partially my responsibility to help those who might otherwise be treated unfairly or worse, wrongly incarcerated. It is human nature to create a profile of somebody from whatever information is available. But, because we know that errors like this occur, checks must be put in place to prevent them whenever possible. Whether I end up working for a non-profit organization, law firm, the government, or a corporation finding ways to minimize the probability of this error will be my most important goal.
Personal Statement
I unfurled my toes, touched my tongue to the roof of my mouth, and flipped my pockets inside-out while receiving a more-than-thorough pat down. Once the correctional officer was satisfied that each and every crevice of my body was void of prohibited items, I was escorted through four heavily-guarded doors en route to the prison yard. Subsequently, another officer met up with my group to guide us to the dilapidated schoolhouse across the enclosure. We were then given a brief orientation with one overarching theme: do not, under any circumstance, trust an inmate.
Finally, we were given authorization to enter the classroom. To be certain that we never averted our gaze from the inmates, my colleagues and I performed an awkward shuffle while making our way to the front of the room. Our apparent unease led to an awkward first meeting with our pupils. Without any training, I was expected to lead a debate class for 30 inmates. The topic, structure and content of the class was solely at our discretion. Stemming from my experience of eighteen first-days of class, the clear choice for our first activity was an ice-breaker. For some reason, the usual ice-breaking activities seemed inappropriate. Asking these hardened criminals to tell us their favorite color, or to come up with an alliteration to help me remember their name seemed juvenile. Instead, each man just stated their name and any fascinating fact about themselves. Secretly though, I was hoping that they would reveal the actions that put them in my class in the first place. While some of the men discussed their families and hometowns, others did hint at the reasons that they were in prison. Of the prisoners who described their illegal acts, each man finished his story with at least one way in which he was mistreated by the justice system.
Our class consisted of an array of criminals: drug dealers, child molesters, rapists and murderers. During our first meeting, I had to exercise tremendous self-control to keep my jaw from hitting the floor after hearing the stories. But, one man's story was simply too much for me to handle. A mountain-of-a-man named Darius explained how his crime spree began as a child. His first choice of illegal activity was animal cruelty. Before I realized that my lower jaw was lying comfortably on the ground, I knew that something was wrong from the laughter coming from the class. Prior to this moment I had never met a murderer, a rapist or any other type of violent criminal for that matter.
Following my first visit, my initial fear was amplified. Prior to these class periods actually taking place, I had no idea what to expect. I had seen it as a way to meet people that I may never have met elsewhere and to get some immersion into a side of the legal system many would rather close their eyes to. But, following my first day in the program, my feelings were best summed up in in one word; regret. What benefits for myself or society could possibly come from driving for two hours a week just to meet with these inmates?
Nevertheless, the next excursion to the correctional facility rolled around and before I knew it, again I was getting thoroughly frisked by the correctional officers of Gus Harrison Correctional Facility.
Per the purpose of my class, my fellow volunteers and I were tasked with choosing a topic of discussion. We were walking a delicate line between evoking a good dialogue and not inciting violence among inmates. So, in my naiveté, I chose a topic that I thought would lead to discussion, but not disagreement--gun control. I assumed that all of the men would agree that there should be no gun control and that we could engage in a jovial bashing of the dominate paradigm.
Our class was preceded by only a few weeks by the infamous murders at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Further more, this discussion had occurred ad nauseam in all of my political science and philosophy classes. By the time my group and I filed into the classroom for the second time, I could spout off a dozen facts supporting increased gun control and an equal amount against it. What ended up being most pervasive down the road, was the set of beliefs that I assumed all of these men held. After all, they were criminals.
The prisoners stunned me when nearly half of them took the stance that there ought to be more gun control. Many of these men came to the debate equipped with first-hand personal anecdotes in support of stricter gun control.
As the meetings carried on, I gradually came to understand that being incarcerated does not necessarily entail being a bad, or immoral person. I had fallen victim to a common error in judgment--the fundamental attribution error. I took the piece of knowledge that I had regarding these men, their imprisonment, and assigned an entire set of beliefs to them that I had built up from years of movie and TV dramas.
Unfortunately, I feel that this error commonly seeps into the cracks and crevices of our criminal justice system. Whether in the guise of a judge, a lawyer or a jury member, faulty assumptions easily lead to unfair trials and sentencing. For months I commuted to Gus-Harrison Correctional Facility. Each week, I gained a deeper insight into the history and lives of these prisoners. One thing has become clear to me: in America, we insist on employing a system of blind justice, yet justice we prejudice and preconceived beliefs cannot truly by blind. Becoming a lawyer would give me the chance to help those who need a blind justice system. While the privileged deserve fair treatment under the law, the real problem comes when the underprivileged are neglected. During the actual volunteer experience, I did not realize at the time how much my time with the prisoners was affecting me. Now, I feel that it is partially my responsibility to help those who might otherwise be treated unfairly or worse, wrongly incarcerated. It is human nature to create a profile of somebody from whatever information is available. But, because we know that errors like this occur, checks must be put in place to prevent them whenever possible. Whether I end up working for a non-profit organization, law firm, the government, or a corporation finding ways to minimize the probability of this error will be my most important goal.
