A STAINLESS STEEL TABLE STORY

Tupac Shakur expressed that a rose growing from concrete was a beautiful impossibility. That was why three incarcerated men in a congested dayroom working to attain their associate degree appeared as an anomaly to the outside world. Education changed the lost to the found by offering them a path of success.

An average man entered a prison environment with aspirations for survival, nothing more. This was attributed to the notion of what was constantly shared in society:

Criminals are violent.

They do drugs.

Nothing good goes on in there (prison).

It's a place that makes them worse.

They're dangerous; watch them closely.

The preconceived notion again has altered mainstream society; that is why you never hear about college success rates, let alone men like Chris Wilson, and Larry Miller, who departed from prison with numerous college degrees. These stories are what inspired a new generation of men in confinement.

Since deciding I wanted a college degree, I enrolled in Southside Virginia Community College in 2024. That year I walked my way towards an education, and the reason why was fear. To sit in a college setting had been foreign to me since I was a child, and now incarcerated, decades later, I'm learning how to navigate higher education, meaning how to study.

My first time sitting at a stainless steel table in the dayroom, my world shifted. Books were astern on that flat surface as those around me avoided my station. The noises were always loud from disgruntled men who chose to accept prison as a melting pot for the foolish and lost. Me, I'm reading how to write a thesis. Rudimentary for those outside these walls, but me, I was lost. So I called my baby sister and asked her for her insight on what to do, and she shared what I'm supposed to do, since she just graduated from college...but what if I couldn't reach her by phone? That scared me because I didn't want to fail. We did have a college aid, but he was housed downstairs in another unit, and I couldn't just exit my housing for his, so I looked around me.

The one thing I discovered earlier in my incarceration was that the men around me were commodities: useful for all kinds of unforeseen purposes. Since I knew this, I sought out two classmates. I spoke with them and wondered if they wanted to study with me. Nope. They said they had a schedule. One where they waited until the day of class to do their assignments. My process was unlike theirs, so I retreated to my table and just worked on my assignment.

When I disappeared into my assignments, I channeled men like Jimmy Santiago Baca, Stanley Adrisse, and my personal hero, Wilbert Rideau. These men gave a damn about themselves in an environment that destroyed us daily. But instead of quitting on ourselves, Yahweh, Allah, Buddha--whatever your belief--came down and blessed us to sit at a table in a chaotic environment and chose to educate ourselves. Me, I finally found my place at a stainless steel table in my 49th year of existence.

Dice clattered on the tiled floor. Gang members bragged about being tough. Men cried on the phones about yesteryear. Guys drowned out the world with songs from their tablets. This is my reality, but a stainless steel table was and is my saving grace.

I had to read 50 pages for Ancient Civilization in seven days. I did it in one, then went over those pages every day. Every chance I could, even when someone wanted to get me to head outside and enjoy a sunny day. I refused. I wanted an education. I wanted to prove to myself that I AM NOT A CRIMINAL. What you're thinking is what you're living.

I once met a 60-year-old man who spent decades in prison. He approached me one day and told me f$%k you. This was out of nowhere. I never offended him, stole from him, let alone crossed his path. So when he did this to me, I asked why? He pressed Man's Search For Meaning into my chest. This man said, "I wasted my life, and this book proved it." He realized that he could've done more with his time, but instead wasted it by being violent. Now he wanted to educate himself, and a book someone I leant too asked him to return it to me, and as I saw him holding it, I suggested he check it out--and he cursed me for opening his eyes. That man is now in a GED class working to attain his diploma.

Prison syphons away aspects of your mentality by walking amongst the worst of men. I know this firsthand, but books reinvigorated my mind into one who desired an education. Now, even as I sat at those tables, reading up on assignments, those less educated called me the whitest black man they knew. I'm being disrespected by people of color because they couldn't see themselves doing what I'm doing. After all, it's foreign to educate yourself, so to help them understand what I'm doing, they called me white. I'm white in prison simply for choosing to educate myself. A stainless steel table with books and a black man developing into something more. The world of prison is combative, and to attack it alone, I needed to recognize my value. I did then and do now, that is why those who sit with me want the same. We don't hesitate to tell others to f$%k off when we're working to become legends like Larry Miller, who became the General Manager of the Portland Trailblazers and CEO of Jordan Brand. A former convict who took his life from a cell to a college degree. This was my headspace as I completed my third semester in college in Nottoway Correctional Center.

My fingers are inked stained as I scribbled my ideas of what Cyrus the Great did during his reign. I, the white black man in a violent environment, am being ridiculed for wanting more than a state identification number. I peered around my table and smiled as three men took turns questioning me on Persia.

Prison education is everything and no matter the odds, I'll show the world and those around me why an education matters...even at a stainless-steel table.