She was pretty upfront about it: she didn’t want me there.

“It’s not you personally,” Marge explained. “It’s the book.”

Marge was the moderator, researcher, engine, really, of a local reading group. She was good at what she did, I was told, and I believed it. She was pretty thorough at listing all the reasons why she didn’t want to read or recommend to the group my book, I Don’t Wish Nobody to Have a Life Like Mine: Tales of Kids in Adult Lockup, about my ten years teaching teenagers in adult detention.

“The title, for one. It’s all wrong. Even the third graders I used to teach would know that it wasn’t correct,” she started off. “It’s just poor grammar. And what about that cover? It put me off.”

I happened to think Beacon Press did a terrific job with the cover — the title, in hip-hop script on a blue background and, in profile, the photograph of a young African American male, sixteen at most, looking out at the reader with a somewhat challenging look yet with the inevitable vulnerability of any teenager.

But I knew where Marge was headed.

“Besides, I don’t like the topic, sounds too depressing,” she said. And then she got blunt. “What’s it got to do with me?”

I’d heard the objections before, although not quite so frankly stated. I did some mild reassuring, but I didn’t work at it. I knew that Marge had called to invite me to speak to the group despite her opposition. Two friends who were a part of the book club had read the book, liked it, and lobbied for it.

When I arrived at the community center the night of my talk, I thought things might have changed.

“We don’t usually do refreshments, but I thought this time it might be nice,” Marge said, greeting me warmly at the door, then leading me to a table covered with plates of home-baked cookies and pastries, a coffee urn, and two pitchers of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

And indeed things had changed. At first when Marge introduced me, she was true to form. I winced as she laid out all her objections and doubts about the book in excruciating detail. “Oh boy, what kind of night is this going to be?” I thought.

But then, with equal clarity, Marge told the group of about thirty how the book had changed her thinking and answered all her doubts. How she understood now that the title reflected the fractured yet still human lives of many of the kids I wrote about, especially Ray, the young man who was damaged by years of abandonment and drugs, and from whom I took the quote for the title. She said how the cover itself mirrored these kids’ lives — on the one hand it showed the fragile world of childhood with the book jacket’s blue background and playful lettering, and on the other, the gritty world of the streets with that scowling, discontented-looking young man. How, yes, the stories that she expected to depress and alienate her did make her sad at times, as she learned about these children’s lives in and out of jail. Yet at the same time they made her smile and laugh and admire those same children for their resilience and generosity and willingness to forgive society for what it had done to them, although society didn’t forgive the children for their mistakes.

“It was pretty obvious to me by the end of the book that I had a lot more in common with those kids than I could ever have imagined,” Marge concluded.

Listening to Marge, I smiled to myself and began to wonder why I’d made the trip there (well, there were those delicious-looking brownies), since she was telling the group all the things I would have said.

And I wondered if Marge realized that what had happened to her is what I always hoped would happen whenever I handed one of my locked-up students a book: their perceptions of the world would shift; that places they’d never been to, were excluded from, would open up to them; that people they’d never gotten the chance to meet, or who they refused to meet because of all the protective barriers they put up, would suddenly became more like them than they could have ever realized.

I didn’t think Marge, now, after reading the book, would mind being in the company of Warren, who, finally, at the age of fifteen and reading on a fourth-grade level, had completed his “first-ever book,” as he put it, or Frankie, who made it through a long stint in solitary confinement devouring the novels (all good ones, I might add) I brought him; or Larry, who began to see that even a life like his wasn’t foreign to the pages of literature after he finished reading Richard Wright’s Black Boy.

Readers like Marge and Warren and Frankie and Larry and all the others out there are the reasons why writers like me write their books and why teachers like me stay in the classroom despite the struggles. We want to do nothing less than change the world (and a few hearts while we’re at it) book by book.

Now that all the high school graduations are over and the backyard barbecues celebrated, I’m finally coming down from the contact high of all that youthful exuberance and optimism.

It’s easy to get swept up into those good feelings. But now as I move into summer’s quieter months, I can’t help thinking about the high school students I taught in a county penitentiary and what “commencement” meant for them.

Success never came easily to my students. Why should it? They came from lives wrecked by poverty and discrimination. It tried to wreck their spirit, but it never could, not completely. In that way my students weren’t any different from the kids at our local high schools — like their peers, they believed that life was there for the shaping. That faith in success, though, didn’t always translate onto the streets. So they got caught up in crime, got arrested, did their time.

When that time was served, their “commencement” was being released from jail. The “graduation ceremony” wasn’t much: Down to booking to sign papers, their clothes stuffed into black garbage bags. Then the booking officer handed the “graduate” bus money and delivered the keynote address, “Stay out of jail.”

And that’s exactly what they intended to do. My jailhouse students talked a lot about “starting over again,” and I believed each of them. Because while they were locked up, most worked to change things for the better. They studied for their diploma or GED. They worked at staying clean and sober. They grappled with the rage of disappointment that tore at their guts through anger management programs. If there was a thread of family life left, they reconnected with it.

When they hit the streets, they were determined to shake the dust — and smell — of prison off them forever. But the only thing that had changed while they were locked up was them, not the streets. There was nothing out there for them — no services, no resources, no one. The only things waiting were the same predator-prey food chain, the same joblessness, and the same lure of the streets with easy money.

I knew the litany these young people heard from corrections and probation officers: Get a job. Go to school. Stay away from your buddies (the only people who even remembered your name). Stay away from your girlfriend (the only one glad to see you). Stay in the house. Start over. Stay out of trouble. And I’ve watched more than one kid’s face fall when he was told that he had to find someplace else to live. He couldn’t live with his mother because his probation didn’t allow him to associate with anyone with a record, and since his brother, or uncle, or cousin was already there he needed to find another home.

It’s not hard to guess what all those demands sound like to a 16 year old fresh out of prison: Stop being the only person you recognize. Stop living your life.

I often tell people that the changes we demand of young ex-offenders are things most of us, even with all our assets, would find daunting. The isolation. The loneliness. The helpless rage of unreasonable expectations. Yet these kids are told to make those changes with no one to help or guide them.

It happens, though, if rarely — some kid takes the plunge into all that fear and dynamites his life apart.

Alex was one of those kids. The judge made it clear. This time no probation. Instead a full county bid. Next arrest, a long stretch in state prison. Even at 17 Alex knew that going back to the same neighborhood, the same friends and enemies, would seal his fate. “I might as well stay here and wait for the next bus to state prison.” He tried to laugh it off but couldn’t.

I can’t tell you what happened, but something did. Everybody had given up on him, with good reason or not, but somehow he hadn’t. Alex had a cousin in California that he never met but who said he could come live with him. So at his “graduation” he hopped a cross country bus. However, there was nothing quixotic about his move. Alex had never been out of his own town except to go to various jails and detention centers. He knew he had to do it. It was a terrible struggle at first. The dirt jobs. The loneliness. The disorientation. The fears of failure. Eventually, though, the jobs got better and he signed up for college. Last I heard Alex was close to a real commencement.

Watching that final moment of triumph when our local high school graduates flung their caps into the air I imagined all the hands — of family, teachers, coaches, clergy, counselors–that over the years had made that moment possible. Young ex-offenders at their “commencement” haven’t had, and don’t have that same net of hands. And yet, there are plenty of hands in each of their communities to help, if they only would. That way kids like Alex wouldn’t have to go 3,000 miles for a chance at a new beginning.

The number of children who become victims of sexual exploitation in the country is truly shocking. The Children’s Defense Fund estimates that about 100,000 American children between the ages of 11 and 14 enter into prostitution each year. Sadly, the average age of these girls has been declining, the number of girls involved is increasing, and the problem is spreading to more towns and cities annually.

Society’s response has traditionally been to prosecute both these girls and the men who take advantage of them. But in the last decade, new attention has been drawn to the issue and multiple states have begun to consider teen prostitution as a child welfare issue: Why are these girls living on the street rather than with a loving family in a safe home?  Furthermore, will criminal prosecution help or will it simply traumatize them further and hamper their reintegration into society? Just recently, Connecticut, Washington, Illinois, New York, California, and Texas have passed legislation to decriminalize teen prostitution.

While prostitution by children under 18 is still criminal in Massachusetts, legislation is pending to decriminalize it. The bill would divert these children into the child welfare system with medical and counseling service programs rather than delinquency court if they are arrested. Attorney General Martha Coakley asserts that the bill “represents a shift in how police and prosecutors approach prostitution…All too often in the past the focus has been on arresting the young people pressured into prostitution and not the individuals profiting from the sex trade.”

Previously, the decision as to whether or not to arrest and prosecute a girl for prostitution was among law enforcement officials. Discretion was exercised on a case-by-case basis. The move to raise the debate to the legislative level reflects the growing appreciation that teenage prostitution is an important issue that needs to be handled in a consistent and fair manner across the Commonwealth. CfJJ’s current campaign to raise the age of juvenile jurisdiction to 18 has caused me to recognize that even older teenagers do not have the same capacity or resources as adults to make decisions in their own best interest. While the circumstances under which teenage girls become prostitutes may vary, the research is clear that adolescents lack the capacity for sound decision making that they will achieve as adults. Since prostitution inherently puts girls at risk, the law should err on the side of assuming that the girl was exploited by being forced into prostitution, or that the decision was made under aversive life circumstances, lacking full adult capacity. Regardless, these girls must be afforded an opportunity to create a different path for themselves with support and services.

Although I understand the importance of taking responsibility for one’s actions and being willing to suffer the repercussions, it is difficult for me to label any child who lands in the juvenile justice system for prostitution as a criminal. Growing up with my own struggles as an extremely fortunate teenager, I appreciate that it is not always easy to make the right decisions even when one has a stable, supportive home life. For those who are disadvantaged, without a stable support system, the options are narrowed and decisions may well not be sound. Prostitution, in particular, is a path that is taken when no good options exist, and when desperate girls are exploited and abused. This bill represents society’s capacity to insist that laws be enforced, while understanding that, up until a certain age, breaking the law reflects vulnerability and a need for help, not criminal intent.

After more than three decades of prohibitionist and militaristic rhetoric surrounding efforts to combat illegal drug availability and consumption, it appears that world leaders and drug experts have acknowledged the need to reframe the debate.  Yesterday, NPR’s Tom Ashbrook convened a discussion about the Global Commission on Drug Policy’s claim that the war on drugs has failed.  The participating experts called for a dramatic shift in the way Americans think about drug use, urging the government and the public to shift from an emphasis on incarceration to a focus on prevention, education, treatment, and rehabilitation, addressing nonviolent drug use as a public health problem.  As noted by Bruce Bagley from the University of Miami, this new harm reduction paradigm has promising implications for efforts to more effectively employ the juvenile justice system to fight illicit drug use in the United States. Bagley argued that youth heavily contribute to the drug problem and that alternatives to incarceration for these largely nonviolent offenders will best promote positive youth development and ultimately help drug-using adolescents become stable and productive adults.

Bagley’s call for exploring greater use of avenues like the juvenile justice system resonated with me. From my own observations and from what I have learned since beginning my internship with CfJJ, I believe that adolescent drug use is similar to other forms of delinquency:  the majority of youths who commit delinquent acts are likely to mature out of criminal activity, especially with appropriate support from the juvenile justice system.

The juvenile justice system thus seems well equipped to help tackle the drug problem in the United States, as it is explicitly designed to rehabilitate youths by providing drug-using young people with the services and support necessary for recovery and sobriety. While relapse for drug addicts is common, the juvenile system has experience dealing with similar types of recidivism for other delinquent acts, and it offers alternatives to incarceration that help youths through these difficult times. Additionally, while connecting drug-using youths with the services they need is costly, these upfront costs have the potential to yield long term social and economic benefits, as rehabilitation efforts help adolescents gain the education and skills that lead to future employment while also lessening the likelihood of future drug-related criminal activity.

Allocating resources towards preventative measures and substance abuse treatment programs offers a promising avenue for combating drug use and addiction. It is common knowledge that youth are naturally both malleable and resilient.  Until we start taking advantage of these unique characteristics and the approaches of the existing juvenile justice system that best understand these traits in our effort to reduce the demand for illicit drugs, we will continue to ineffectively fight the global drug trade and the persisting national drug problem.

***Day number 809 without a nominee from the Obama Administration to serve as administrator of the Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention. When the administration decides on an appointee, according to David Baumann of Main Justice, it could result in a quick movement from nominee to administrator.

According to Baumann’s March 30 article, Senate leadership from both parties made a gentlemen’s agreement at the beginning of the 112th Congress that, among other things, would mean certain presidential nominees would “no longer have to be confirmed.”

Legislation offered last week by Sens. Joe Lieberman (I-Conn.), Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.), Lamar Alexander (R-Tenn.) and Susan Collins (R-Maine) would permanently exempt about 200 nominees from Senate confirmation. A breakdown of the exempted nominees is listed in this article from Canada Views (not sure why Canada cares about this, but we’re glad they do).

Among the slots to which this would apply: OJJDP administrator.

Among some of the old guard of juvenile advocates – many of whom fought for OJJDP to exist, survive and matter – there is a sense that removing the confirmation requirement from the OJJDP will downgrade the entire federal role in juvenile justice. There are two sides to this coin:

Confirmed: Requiring Senate confirmation elevates the level of the OJJDP as a whole. It is an agency that Republican administrations have targeted for elimination in the past. All of the confirmed people at divisions of the Office of Justice Programs answer to the confirmed person that heads OJP (right now, it’s Laurie Robinson), and she, of course, answers to Attorney General Eric Holder. But because OJJDP is Senate-confirmed, there is some expectation that the person will have authority over what statements the agency makes and how it spends its discretionary money.

The primary downside is the confirmation process itself, and how brutal it has become. It took the Bush administration two years to get an OJJDP administrator confirmed and, as mentioned, we are now past the 800-day mark with the Obama administration without so much as a nominee.

Not confirmed: It would be much easier to get somebody into the slot early in an administration without requiring  Senate confirmation. The downside is that less prominent candidates would be attracted to a political slot with a lower profile, where they would almost certainly be a worker bee for the Senate-confirmed OJP appointee. On the other hand, if the White House wanted someone dynamic in the slot, it could put them in without the political theater that sometimes accompanies these appointments.

For example: let’s say folks at the administration and Justice wanted Vincent Schiraldi to lead OJJDP. He is a person who had a lot of support from the field, but more than one Beltway veteran told us that Schiraldi would have had a tough go of it during the confirmation process because he had a Washington Post columnist crusading against reforms of the system during his last two years heady the agency in Washington, D.C.

Did Schiraldi do a great job reforming D.C.? It would be fair to debate his legacy. But his experience there, and his time leading the Justice Policy Institute, certainly renders him a qualified candidate to lead OJJDP. In that hypothetical case, the nominee could have been put to work sooner without Senate confirmation.

Thoughts on changing this process?  Does the Senate confirmation of the OJJDP Administrator help or harm juvenile justice nationally?

UPDATED Weekly Notes: White House stands down on juvenile justice overhaul; new trainings; and more

April 01, 2011 by John Kelly

[Note: The first entry in this column was updated after additional information was announced by the Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevetion].

***The big news: Veteran juvenile justice reporter Ted Gest broke the story on The Crime Report today that the Obama administration has backed off its proposal to change the way the Justice Department would offer funds to states for juvenile justice purposes.

Traditionally, a sizable amount of the juvenile justice funds from the Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention goes directly to states, partially in a formula grant and partially in a block grant. The formula funds are to a large extent contingent upon compliance with the four core requirements of the Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention Act; the block grant is given out each year to every state, regardless of how good or lousy they are on juvenile justice.

Obama’s initial proposal was to take all of that money ($120 million for 2012), make it a competitive grant process, and make compliance with JJDPA the criteria just to compete for some of it.

Gest reported this morning: “Assistant Attorney General Laurie Robinson told the House subcommittee that funds the Justice Department on Wednesday that the White House would come up with a new plan that allocates 90 percent of federal aid to improve juvenile justice by formula to the states.”

OJJDP clarified the revisions in a statement on its website this afternoon:

“The Administration has developed an alternative to its original Race to the Top-style incentive grants program and is now proposing that the $120 million in the budget could be allocated in the following fashion:

• $110 million as formula funding
  • $80 million under Title II, Part B of the JJDP Act–Formula Grants program
  • $30 million under the Juvenile Accountability Block Grants (JABG) program
• $10 million in a demonstration program to encourage innovation and juvenile justice system improvements.

Amazing turn of events. About a month ago, there was panic that attention to JJDPA compliance would wither. Now, compliance might become more important than it was before the proposal.

Make Juvenile Justice a Priority: Appoint an OJJDP Administrator

Shut Those Doors