Juvie

I just got out of juvenile hall. Wow -- intense.

A classmate has been volunteering there every week or so. She'd been pestering me for a while to come with her, and this week, since I only have four exams to study for, I finally went. I can feel good about blowing my own life off provided I'm helping someone else, especially if someone else is actually needy.

Institutional America is really something. After entering the building, if I hadn't known better I'd have thought I was in an old folks home, because of the scent of urine and ammonia wafting through the air. That was confusing.

The visiting area is on the third floor. Girls who have been on good behavior are allowed to participate in social activities. Tonight there were 20 good girls. The organizers brought snacks and materials with which the kids could make mother's day cards. We volunteers sat with them and chatted while they used markers, crayons, stickers and stick on jewels to decorate blank cards. I was boggled by the artistic talent several girls exhibited. While creating their cards I heard heartbreaking tales of child abuse, laments of girls missing their babies, how one girl's mother is in the hospital with cancer, stories of mothers with criminal procedings of their own. More than a few cards contained apologies, "Mommy, I'm sorry I got locked up." One girl wants to write a book about her life. She's upset about being in J-hall because she is used to writing every day, while she's in there she can't.