Adjusting to Prison: Two Decades Later

[Editor's note: This is part two of Michael Santos' post yesterday on his adjustment to prison life.]

During my first decade in prison, I needed to structure my days. A rigid schedule helped. As soon as guards unlocked the heavy steel door of my cell at six, I stood dressed and ready. My first stop was the gym.

Muscles would not slow the thrust of a knife, but regular exercise would keep my healthy. From the gym I reported to a clerical job that provided the quiet solitude I needed for study. I completed university coursework that would lead to degrees from Mercer University and Hofstra University. From the clerical job, I walked to the prison infirmary, where I volunteered as a suicide-watch companion.

My busy schedule kept me in the penitentiary, but not of the penitentiary. I avoided the bloodshed, the gangs, the corruption. By always having a place to go and a project to work toward, I created my own niche. It kept me safe. I passed through my twenties inside those walls without a single altercation. Administrators responded to my deliberate adjustment by transferring me to a medium-security prison.

With the precipitous drop in tension, I did not need as much structure in the medium-security prison. Instead of seeking as much solitude as possible, I accepted a more active role by taking a job tutoring other prisoners. Through that community involvement, I learned more about the struggles that prisoners and their families endure.

With regard to my formal education, once I advanced as far as the prison would allow, I made a change. Rather than pursuing more academic work, I began to contemplate ways that I could apply what I learned toward a career. I had my first decade behind me. With 16 years of scheduled imprisonment ahead, I thought about how I would transition into society.

Despite the academic credentials I had earned, I didn’t know how prospective employers would respond to me upon release. I would by nearly 50, well-educated, and in good health, but my resume would lack an employment history. To overcome that deficiency, I would spend the next several years working to improve my writing skills.

Through writing, I inferred, I could make the best use of the remaining years I expected to serve. I wrote to help others understand prisons, the people they held and strategies for growing through confinement. This commitment enabled me to develop skills while simultaneously helping those around me tell their stories. In time I began contributing to universities. The work led to publishing agreements and it has helped open relationships with scores of people, including Carole, the magnificent woman who became my wife.

Academia carried me through my first decade, and writing projects carried me through my second. Now, I’m well into my third decade. Final preparations for release consume me. The deliberate adjustment strategy and tri-part plan have been my compass, conditioning me for all the challenges I expect to encounter.

Whereas I once needed prison jobs to structure my day, now I find peace in having as little accountability to the system as possible. I work as an orderly, sweeping and mopping the floor of a quiet room where I write. I wake before three each morning. Except for my daily two-hour exercise routine, meal times, and my job duties, I use my Bic pen to write straight through each day, every day. I’m in my rack by 5:30 each afternoon, read for a while, thank God for my blessings, and drift into sleep by 6:30.

Truthfully, I don’t know how many more months or years will pass before release comes. What I do know is that my compass has guided me through the storms of confinement. I’ve educated myself, I’ve contributed to society, and I’ve built a strong network of support.

I feel as ready as I will ever be to return to society unscathed, as a law-abiding, contributing citizen.