One testimony from the Training Academy that touched a chord came from a petite blond one person described as rodeo queen material. Originally educated as a school teacher, someone suggested she try corrections instead. (I don’t know if that person meant to be kind or cruel.) She said, “You might be wondering about your decision to be here today. No one wakes up one morning and thinks, ‘I want to work in a prison!'” You could almost feel the room relax. We had all come here for our own reasons at our unique beckonings, and even though it’s not the job we dreamed about when we were five, it was OK.

None of us were willing to admit, I think, our reservations, doubts, even fears, at working in a prison. Were were the rare class that graduated everyone who stayed past the drug test we had to take in the first three hours. Usually, the trainees dropped like flies, and then only a few remained employed after the first year. I am grateful for those who stay. This is truly a job that someone’s gotta do or we’d all be barricaded in our homes right now.

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About hey miss

A teacher. A prison guard. I used to think that was like oil and water. Like lightening and metal. Some days it is. Some days it's magic.
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