Honoring Correctional Officers and Workers by Raising Your Hand!

Beginning in 1984, due to a proclamation made by President Ronald Reagan, National Correction Officers Week was created to honor the countless hours and selfless sacrifices put in day end and day out by correctional staff all around America. Ronald Reagan said it best when he stated: “The professionalism, dedication, and courage exhibited by these officers throughout the performance of these demanding and often conflicting roles deserve our utmost respect. The important work of correctional officers often does not receive the recognition from the public it deserves. It is appropriate that we honor the many contributions and accomplishments of these men and women who are a vital component of the field of corrections.”

You as the reader are in either one or two categories as you read the above statement on honoring correctional officers and staff. You either read each sentence and appreciate the kind words and sentiments and truly believe the words are genuine and sincere. Or, as you read each sentence you still believe the words are genuine and sincere, but you also delve deeper into the words themselves, much deeper, and know there are stories that no one will ever hear about. The world of corrections is as unseen and unheard of as the Lost City of Atlantis. Early in my career in corrections, an “’ol salty dog,” as we used to call correctional officers who had been there and been through it for many a year, stated to me: “If I can give you one piece of advice on working in corrections it would be to write down almost everything you encounter. Write it down so you can remember it and tell stories that no one will ever believe, but you will know that it happened, and you know it did because you were there and that’s how you remembered it.” I took that ‘ol salty dog’s advice and wrote down almost all major incidents I could think of regarding work and the happenings of work-related incidents concerning stories of corrections and inside-the-fence occurrences.

To give you some insight on what a correctional worker might be pondering when he or she reads the statement above by “The Great Communicator”, Ronald Reagan, it might go somewhat like the following:

1. The professionalism (“No matter what, especially around admin do not cuss today!”)
2. The dedication (“I need to continue to build my leave and not bang-in as much.”)
3. The courage (“I don’t even see it as courage anymore when I walk these concrete floors and swing open these steel doors, I just do it.”)
4. The performance (“I wonder if my supervisor is going to give me a good eval this quarter?”)
5. The demanding and often conflicting roles (“I got mandoed again tonight, guess I’ll have to miss my kids’ game again, I hope they’ll understand I love them and truly wish I could be there.”)
6. The important work (“I need to make another unscheduled round and maybe go up the back stairwell this time to make sure they are not making hooch or giving tattoos or worse.”)
7. The recognition from the public it deserves (“The public has no idea, other than what they see in the movies, what I do daily, but I appreciate someone saying we deserve recognition, though.”)
8. The many contributions (“The way I contribute is by ensuring staff and everyone stays safe and ultimately protect the public from people that I am certain they would not enjoy having as a neighbor.”)
9. The accomplishments (“Doing rounds, packing up property even though it wasn’t from my shift, and teaching new staff the ropes. A good eval now and then, that helps. These are the only accomplishments I strive for.”)
10. The vital component (“Sadly, it’s a thankless job and I know the day I walk out these gates for good they will replace me with someone new and life will go on but maybe not as good as when I ran that block or housing unit or compound yard, not even close. But yes, overall, I am a very vital component and I believe that every day I don the uniform and shine my boots and hear the thick metal door shut behind me as I enter the unseen world, once again.”)

If while reading this you confer with the words in quotations above, you are in the second category mentioned earlier, and obviously, the category that has experienced an array of situations that could only be explained by being there, seeing it, hearing it, and remembering it. The unseen happenings of what goes on in the inside can only be detailed by one who has experienced chaos. Most of America’s workforce sit around the dinner table at night and explain their day as haphazardly as stating they dealt with a rude customer or had to attempt to compare wits with their supervisor or a co-worker again; however, if correctional staff are lucky to even make it to the dinner table in the evening, they do not dare begin to speak of their dealings at work. Who wants to hear about how they crashed through a cell door behind a shield not knowing if they were about to feel a make-shift blade enter their body or slip on the floor from soap being placed all over the cell in attempts to thwart the extraction, or been blinded by pepper spray and continued to push forward, or encouraged an addict to stay clean, or told a man his mother, father, or kid just died, or watched an individual overdose, or talked someone through a mental breakdown or convinced them not to take their life, or covered a shift for a co-worker so they could attend their kid’s recital or so they can open Christmas presents with their kids.

The oxymoron of the condition of correctional staff not being able to or not having the urge to be able to confer with their family or friends or anyone who will listen is the main reason why it should be discussed. Not being able to do so is detrimental to self, our family, our agency, and the safety of the public.

Raise Your Hand

The particular focus of correctional officers' and staff’s well-being is predominantly on the forefront these days more now than ever; however, much more must be done and awareness of what truly honors these unseen heroes’ envelopes. Often, correctional agencies all around the world are beginning to understand staff need help and do not know how to reach out and ask for it.

I once participated in a leadership course in which we were to be blindfolded and led to a rope. There were roughly ten or so participants and it was explained to us that we were to not peek. When the lesson began we were to find the end of the rope. The first participant to do so would be claimed as the winner. Easy enough, I thought, I would rush through and find the end and get this blindfold off my head! It appeared not to be as easy as I thought as I quickly began to hold on to the rope and rushed as fast as I could, bumping into other participants and awkwardly explaining how sorry I was that my knee just hit theirs or for stepping on someone’s loafers. You could hear the others laughing and eventually beginning to become frustrated as it appeared no one had found the end, no matter how hard we tried.

After a few minutes I stopped and raised my hand, at that point the instructor came to me and grabbed my hands for me to release the rope. She gently asked me to come with her and stated, “Trust me, I got you.” I let go of the rope and walked with her as she guided me, it seemed, away from the event. She whispered to me to remove my blindfold, and asked me to keep quiet and observe what the other participants were doing. I could see everyone who had not yet had the courage to ask for help, struggling, agitated, and not giving up. I felt as if I had given up way too soon and almost wished I hadn’t raised my hand; however, after a few minutes more, she asked everyone to stop where they were and remove their blindfolds. She then declared to the rest of the group that we had a winner and pointed to me. All participants were extremely confused at this point as we were attempting to figure out how I was the winner and what was the overall lesson we were to learn.

The rules were simple, at first, we were to put a blindfold on and be guided to something that we were to find the end of. It was a rope and surely there was an end, we thought, as we grabbed the rope in our hands. Little did we know the rope was fashioned in a spiderweb design and there was no end. The winner was declared as being the first individual to be able to raise their hand and ask for help and that it was ok to do so. Even further, we were asked to trust, “Trust me, I got you”, she whispered, and there we were one by one led away from the spiderweb of life, not giving up on the task, and not being afraid to ask for help.

Conclusion

We must once and for all be able to recognize the job does come home with us and home comes to work, there is no denying it, as much as we disagree with this notion. Realizing we are now a bitter, frustrated, numb, broken, negative, distant, lonely shell of our old selves is the first step. Do not shy away from being the one to raise your hand or recognizing those that should. We must be able to ask for help or at least begin to talk about our day and how it went, what we saw, and what was experienced so that it has an outlet. Find someone who will take the time to listen and if you do not have anyone or do not feel comfortable doing so, start to keep a journal just like my good “ol salty dog” once recommended I do.

Bringing awareness to our mental wellness and wellbeing is the first step, now we must be able to help others who seem to be in the “spiderweb” and be able to walk up to them and let them know you are there to help. “Trust me, I got you.”

Being there for yourself, helping someone else in trouble or seems to need help or even just an ear now and then, will ultimately declare you and other correctional workers are honored, truly honored.

Honor /on’er/, noun, High respect, recognition, great privilege, good name, a person of superior standing.

Let’s always remember to defend our honor by truly being there for ourselves and others, do not keep this knowledge to ourselves. Let’s honor our profession by cultivating an environment where we feel comfortable being able to raise our hands and speak about our daily activities and experiences.

Be safe and keep each other safe! Be well my family working on the inside!

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Robert A. Esparza is a lifelong learner, currently working for the DOJ/BOP organization as a Correctional Treatment Specialist. His volunteering and academic experience nurtured his passion for sustainable social change and the nexus of people empowerment to overcome self and outwardly struggles. You can normally find him spending time with his family, accumulating more books than he can read, or listening to podcasts about how one can achieve their dreams and sustain success in life. For more information, he can be contacted at resparza@bop.gov.