(African American. In his fifties. Mild South Carolina accent. With a walkie-talkie, which is on. ID on a lanyard. Conference room at the school, or hallway or cafeteria. Deep, resonant voice.)
These kids are very, very defiant. Very defiant. I am a student concerns specialist here at North Charleston High School in Charleston, South Carolina. I am the eyes and ears of the campus for the principal.
I used to work in a penitentiary, and I used to work a—in Florida. Maximum security penitentiary. (He chuckles.) I had the privilege of meeting Ted Bundy—Theodore Bundy—when he was down there.
I often tell some of my colleagues that it is similar. [The kids] just get to go home. But the control piece is: never let the kids [in the school] or the inmates [in a prison] get you out of your character. You have to be ready. You have to prepare yourself. When you come into these places. When you come into these places because (slight pause) the inmates or the students have their own agenda. This job can cause you to step out of [your] character. It means you can get unprofessional sometimes. You know, because the kids challenge you. Every day. So you gotta be ready.
I do what they—we call ISS here. And that’s in-school suspension. I do that in the mornings, uh, every other week. And, um, when I get a group of [kids] in there, I talk to them about— ’Cause I tell the kids, “You guys comin’ into ISS here…” And then we have we call Twilight also—that’s worse than ISS. That’s on the third floor. So I tell the kids, “This is just a rehearsal! When you—when you always comin’ into ISS, that means you can’t deal with the public, the society in school. So they always send you here!”
I say, “That’s a rehearsal! When you out in society, if—if you can’t deal with authority figures and people tellin’ you what to do, they gonna—to send you to jail.” This is—I call it school jail. (As one of the kids:) “I’m not in no school jail!” (As himself:) “Yes, you are. ’Cause you incarcerated here for this hour. You can’t leave. And then if you act up in here, then they send you to Twilight.” And I call that “penitentiary.” That’s worse than ISS ’cause you in there all day, every day. For months. So I say, “If you don’t learn how to deal with authority figures, when you finish high school or drop out or quit or whatever…it’s gonna—same thing’s gonna happen in the real world. This is just a rehearsal!”
I tell the kids this—when you get on that bus. You get sentenced. You get on that bus and you are heading to one of these institutions. You have to change. You can’t be the same person that you [were when you] walked into the courtroom. You have to be— You have to change. You can’t be the same person because they are not normal people back there. Everybody is trying to get after you, or get over on you or— (Abrupt stop, brief pause.) It’s different. It’s just different. You have to step out of your character. There’s animals back there. That’s a different world. People get raped, people get beat on, people get murdered people get stabbed, there’s nowhere to run nowhere to hide. This is real. And they buildin’ a lot of ’em. They buildin’ more of those than they buildin’ schools. So I tell ’em yeah, it’s real.
And I heard a police officer, one of my good friends, say that most people get incarcerated because of their mouth. They— What they say, when they approached by authority figures, you know. “Get out the car.” “Why do I have to get out the car for?” When they do get out the car, and questioning. This is some of the things that they say, so. “Why you stopping me?” “Wh—what’s up, man?” And the officer goes from that to, “Get out of the car.” Now, “Wh—what do you want me to get out of the car for?” Then they call for backup. And more coming.
[I been here] twenty-three years. Sometimes I ask God, “Why—why am I still here?” It’s a constant fight, every day, with the kids and disrespect, and just trying to get them to do the right thing; it’s just wearing on me so. I’ve stood between kids and the principal, Mr. Grimm, and I could see when it’s going a wrong way, and I gotta intercept.
And let me give you an example: Well, a—a kid got put outta his class for a cell phone. Kids? Cell phones? They would rather go to jail then give up their cell phones! And I’m standin’ outside with the kid, and Mr. Grimm walks up, ’cause he hears the call. “What’s the problem?” “Well, Mr. Grimm, he’s…refused to give the cell phone out, but I—I have it now.” And then the kid’ll say, “Yeah, you might have it now, but I’m gonna get my phone back!” Mr. Grimm says, “Excuse me?” (As the student:) “You heard what I s—” And I try to intercept. Cause I see: now you challenging the authority figure—the bigger top-authority figure. I know where it’s going! Because Mr. Grimm’s not gonna let him talk to him like that. So he’s gonna respond with something like, “Oh, well I’mma get your phone and I’mma keep your phone.” Then [the kid] may say something like, “No!” Probably reach for the phone, or step for the phone, “Gimme my phone!” And they try to get it.
And that went from: you just giving up your phone; you getting it back next period. Now you not getting you phone. And you bein’ arrested. Being suspended. Maybe up for expulsion. All because of your mouth.
[These kids] really don’t care. They don’t have respect for—for nobody. And then, society tells you, “You can’t touch ’em. You can’t grab them.” And the kids know that. So, I mean, they don’t stop! These kids just get…more power added to them.
[Then people don’t want police officers in the schools.] A police officer’s gonna take control of the situation! So why put them in school if you don’t want them take control of the situation? I need police officers in the school. I need for me, I need a police officer to take control. I need a kid to see that there is an authority in a school! He’s my—our last line of defense.