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Words No Bars Can Hold: Literacy Learning in Prison
Words No Bars Can Hold provides a rare glimpse into literacy learning under the most dehumanizing conditions. Deborah Appleman chronicles her work teaching college- level classes at a high- security prison for men, most of whom are serving life sentences. Through narrative, poetry, memoir, and fiction, the students in Appleman’s classes attempt to write themselves back into a society that has erased their lived histories.
The students’ work, through which they probe and develop their identities as readers and writers, illuminates the transformative power of literacy. Appleman argues for the importance of educating the incarcerated, and explores ways to interrupt the increasingly common journey from urban schools to our nation’s prisons. From the sobering endpoint of what scholars have called the “school to prison pipeline,” she draws insight from the narratives and experiences of those who have traveled it.
The students’ work, through which they probe and develop their identities as readers and writers, illuminates the transformative power of literacy. Appleman argues for the importance of educating the incarcerated, and explores ways to interrupt the increasingly common journey from urban schools to our nation’s prisons. From the sobering endpoint of what scholars have called the “school to prison pipeline,” she draws insight from the narratives and experiences of those who have traveled it.
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Published June 18, 2019
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About the author
Deborah Appleman
36 books13 followersDeborah Appleman is the Hollis L. Caswell professor of educational studies and director of the Summer Writing Program at Carleton College. Professor Appleman’s recent research has focused on teaching college-level language and literature courses at the Minnesota Correctional Facility-Stillwater for inmates who are interested in pursuing post-secondary education.
Deborah recently edited an anthology of her students’ work titled From the Inside Out: Letters to Young Men and Other Writings Poetry and Prose from Prison.
Professor Appleman taught high school English for nine years before receiving her doctorate from the University of Minnesota. She was also a visiting professor at Syracuse University and at the University of California, Berkeley. She is the author of Reading for Themselves: How to Transform Adolescents into Lifelong Readers Through Out-of-Class Book Clubs, Teaching Literature to Adolescents, Critical Encounters in High School English: Teaching Literary Theory to Adolescents, Braided Lives: An Anthology of Multicultural American Writing, Adolescent Literacy and the Teaching of Reading, and most recently, co-authored with Michael Graves, Reading Better, Reading Smarter: Designing Literature lessons for Adolescents.
Deborah recently edited an anthology of her students’ work titled From the Inside Out: Letters to Young Men and Other Writings Poetry and Prose from Prison.
Professor Appleman taught high school English for nine years before receiving her doctorate from the University of Minnesota. She was also a visiting professor at Syracuse University and at the University of California, Berkeley. She is the author of Reading for Themselves: How to Transform Adolescents into Lifelong Readers Through Out-of-Class Book Clubs, Teaching Literature to Adolescents, Critical Encounters in High School English: Teaching Literary Theory to Adolescents, Braided Lives: An Anthology of Multicultural American Writing, Adolescent Literacy and the Teaching of Reading, and most recently, co-authored with Michael Graves, Reading Better, Reading Smarter: Designing Literature lessons for Adolescents.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
December 30, 2019
Appleman is doing the good work and trying to let it teach her as much as she teaches in it. This book makes an effort to cross the academic/public space, to make clear the urgency of prison and education reform, and to show herself as both agentive and receptive.
January 11, 2021
This book does a good job balancing the words of incarcerated students and analysis of the issues of literacy learning in prisons. I’m using two chapters of it for my Theories of Justice and Incarceration class.
July 6, 2019
I've seen Deborah Appleman present at conferences before and love her work. This book gives me greater appreciation of her, as well as other educators, who work within the prison system. Appleman is careful not to portray literacy as a panacea to violent crime, but it does play an important role. The last chapter discusses the role schools can play in creating systems of support for disengaged youth, but this requires a lot more support for schools than they presently get - counselors, etc. Interesting read.
September 14, 2019
Interesting book written by a friend of mine about her experiences teaching creative writing to "lifers" in the Minnesota prison system. Lots of examples of prisoners work and also a lot of arguments for teaching liberal arts to prison inmates. Tricky business. She makes good arguments for teaching in prisons. I think anyone working or volunteering in the prison system should read it.
October 7, 2019
What place should literacy claim in the lives of prisoners who have little if any chance of release? How can the teaching of critical reading and creative writing enhance the lived lives of those prisoners? What outcomes can be expected? How will we know that we are making a meaningful difference in their lives? Ten years ago Deborah Appleman went to a nearby high security prison for men in order to find answers to these questions, or rather, to fine tune the questions themselves. A Distinguished Professor of Educational Studies at Carleton College, Appleman had spent her entire professional career making the case for the power and importance of literacy studies and of the liberal arts in general. But even outside prison walls, even in large research universities and some small, prestigious liberal arts colleges, critical reading and creative writing are losing ground and funding to more ‘practical “ subjects like engineering, business management, or computer technology. The educational emphasis is moving swiftly to a utilitarian model that rewards those who knew where wealth can be found and are keen to go there.
But the long-term prisoners with whom Appleman worked were not going anywhere, let alone to a career where a great deal of money was to be earned. The question for them was not where they were going, but who they were, how they got there, and what to make of themselves within the walls that will hold them for the rest of their lives. Their questions are the same that the Greek philosophers asked, that Montaigne asked, that Jean-Paul Sartre asked: how should we live our lives? That is the question that is best addressed by the twin practices of critical reading and honest creative writing. And that is what Appleman taught her students.
The constraints were considerable, of course. If the major goal in studying the liberal arts is to freely explore a range of ideas, to think critically about accepted truth, and to challenge the authority and rationale of power, the last place we might expect it to thrive is in prison, where freedom, criticism, and challenging authority are not honored concepts. There, even the most basic practices of good teaching are diminished or forbidden outright. In Appleman’s words,
“There is no opportunity for student conferences, no office hours, no individual attention. We can’t bring in books we know our students would like, something that English teachers consider to be a central part of their teaching. All materials for the classroom need to be ordered well in advance, sent directly to the facility, and vetted by the correctional officers in the mail room…..This restriction also affects teachers’ ability to bring in the tools of the trade to students, to offer them books, pencils, pens, notebooks. These items are viewed as potential vessels of contraband rather than potential vessels of renewal. “ (p. 38)
But these restrictions are locked in place across the US Penal System. The Washington post recently reported on a PEN American study which found that , “A prison in Ohio blocked an inmate from receiving a biology textbook over concerns that it contained nudity. In Colorado, prison officials rejected Barak Obama’s memoirs because they were “potentially detrimental to national security.” And a prison in New York tried to ban a book of maps of the moon saying it could “present risks of escape.” In his brilliant expose’ of prison life, American Prison, Shane Bauer observes that in prisons in Texas Hitler’s Mein Kampf and David Duke’s My Awakening are allowed, but books by Sojourner Truth, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Langston Hughes, and Richard Wright are banned.
But restricting how and when teachers may talk to their students and restricting the books that they can talk about are just two of the many constraints that must be navigated. The most startling to me-so much so that I had to put the book down and process the fact—was that teachers were not allowed to address their students without including their status. So it couldn’t be Mr. Hall It had to be Offender Hall. . His very identity thus placed under erasure by his position as an incarcerated human being. As Appleman puts it,
“Dehumanization is one of the required tactics of “successful” incarnation. Individuals are reduced to virtually nameless prisoners known and directly addressed by their Offender Identification Number.”
But in spite of, or perhaps because of, everything that has been taken away from them, her students do learn to write and thus find themselves. One of the best features of this book, and the one that I think Appleman is most proud of, are the pieces of student writing she is able to share with her audience. Pieces like this:
Prison Is
By Ross
Prison is an ancient hairless cat
Hissing, angry
A disturbing, raw experience
It is a weeping wound
Gaping, unhealed
Bleeding out its poison
It is a cracked fun-house mirror
Confusing, twisted
Deluding its masters
It is an aged stepmother
Pretending, bitter
Smiling at her companion
It is a diseased heart
Gutted, ruined
Waiting to beat its last
And yet…
It is an unyielding anvil
Pitiless, cruel
A tool on which I’m remade
It is a bulky, steel hammer
Destructive, creative
Reshaping my moral essence
It is a fiery crucible
Scorching, consuming
Burning away all impurities
It is a paint-chipped house of worship
Holy, haunting
Inspiring me to greatness
It takes enormous courage, character, and grit to find inspiration, as Ross did, in the experience of prison. But in Deborah Appleman’s both large-hearted, and intellectually incisive book, we can see how she helped him find it. A liberal arts education, as Appleman practiced it, shouldn’t be an elective or a reward for good behavior. It should be a requirement for everyone who lives behind walls. She writes,
“If, as a society, we choose to keep alive those who commit serious crimes, then we need to keep them human. The humanities are well named. Through education, through reading and writing, the incarcerated can reclaim their humanity, learn empathy, and find creative and constructive ways of expressing and facing the pain that was a part of their journey to their crimes.”
This is a book for teachers, for prison officials, and for all of us who need to be reminded of the tools we always have at our convenient disposal. They weren’t convenient for Appleman’s students, but she put them in their hands anyway. And they learned well how to use them.
But the long-term prisoners with whom Appleman worked were not going anywhere, let alone to a career where a great deal of money was to be earned. The question for them was not where they were going, but who they were, how they got there, and what to make of themselves within the walls that will hold them for the rest of their lives. Their questions are the same that the Greek philosophers asked, that Montaigne asked, that Jean-Paul Sartre asked: how should we live our lives? That is the question that is best addressed by the twin practices of critical reading and honest creative writing. And that is what Appleman taught her students.
The constraints were considerable, of course. If the major goal in studying the liberal arts is to freely explore a range of ideas, to think critically about accepted truth, and to challenge the authority and rationale of power, the last place we might expect it to thrive is in prison, where freedom, criticism, and challenging authority are not honored concepts. There, even the most basic practices of good teaching are diminished or forbidden outright. In Appleman’s words,
“There is no opportunity for student conferences, no office hours, no individual attention. We can’t bring in books we know our students would like, something that English teachers consider to be a central part of their teaching. All materials for the classroom need to be ordered well in advance, sent directly to the facility, and vetted by the correctional officers in the mail room…..This restriction also affects teachers’ ability to bring in the tools of the trade to students, to offer them books, pencils, pens, notebooks. These items are viewed as potential vessels of contraband rather than potential vessels of renewal. “ (p. 38)
But these restrictions are locked in place across the US Penal System. The Washington post recently reported on a PEN American study which found that , “A prison in Ohio blocked an inmate from receiving a biology textbook over concerns that it contained nudity. In Colorado, prison officials rejected Barak Obama’s memoirs because they were “potentially detrimental to national security.” And a prison in New York tried to ban a book of maps of the moon saying it could “present risks of escape.” In his brilliant expose’ of prison life, American Prison, Shane Bauer observes that in prisons in Texas Hitler’s Mein Kampf and David Duke’s My Awakening are allowed, but books by Sojourner Truth, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Langston Hughes, and Richard Wright are banned.
But restricting how and when teachers may talk to their students and restricting the books that they can talk about are just two of the many constraints that must be navigated. The most startling to me-so much so that I had to put the book down and process the fact—was that teachers were not allowed to address their students without including their status. So it couldn’t be Mr. Hall It had to be Offender Hall. . His very identity thus placed under erasure by his position as an incarcerated human being. As Appleman puts it,
“Dehumanization is one of the required tactics of “successful” incarnation. Individuals are reduced to virtually nameless prisoners known and directly addressed by their Offender Identification Number.”
But in spite of, or perhaps because of, everything that has been taken away from them, her students do learn to write and thus find themselves. One of the best features of this book, and the one that I think Appleman is most proud of, are the pieces of student writing she is able to share with her audience. Pieces like this:
Prison Is
By Ross
Prison is an ancient hairless cat
Hissing, angry
A disturbing, raw experience
It is a weeping wound
Gaping, unhealed
Bleeding out its poison
It is a cracked fun-house mirror
Confusing, twisted
Deluding its masters
It is an aged stepmother
Pretending, bitter
Smiling at her companion
It is a diseased heart
Gutted, ruined
Waiting to beat its last
And yet…
It is an unyielding anvil
Pitiless, cruel
A tool on which I’m remade
It is a bulky, steel hammer
Destructive, creative
Reshaping my moral essence
It is a fiery crucible
Scorching, consuming
Burning away all impurities
It is a paint-chipped house of worship
Holy, haunting
Inspiring me to greatness
It takes enormous courage, character, and grit to find inspiration, as Ross did, in the experience of prison. But in Deborah Appleman’s both large-hearted, and intellectually incisive book, we can see how she helped him find it. A liberal arts education, as Appleman practiced it, shouldn’t be an elective or a reward for good behavior. It should be a requirement for everyone who lives behind walls. She writes,
“If, as a society, we choose to keep alive those who commit serious crimes, then we need to keep them human. The humanities are well named. Through education, through reading and writing, the incarcerated can reclaim their humanity, learn empathy, and find creative and constructive ways of expressing and facing the pain that was a part of their journey to their crimes.”
This is a book for teachers, for prison officials, and for all of us who need to be reminded of the tools we always have at our convenient disposal. They weren’t convenient for Appleman’s students, but she put them in their hands anyway. And they learned well how to use them.
April 2, 2020
Your next book club pick. This book should be read, discussed and kept on your shelf. Appleman, a highly accomplished college professor delivers a book that pulls us right into the world of our incarceration system and invokes us to reconsider how we view the criminals and their level of humanity. With consideration to the victims of horrific crimes, we are invited to ponder the general benefit to our society in bringing higher level creative writing instruction to those behind bars for life. It made me think differently about how we should encourage creative writing in our school systems and place more value on its effect on students, especially in classrooms teaching our fragile population.
December 9, 2019
As Deborah Appleman enters the maximum security prison where she teaches prisoners, she hands off her license, jewelry, shoes -- all the talismans of her identity – and walks through the metal detector; one that she says puts airport security scanners to shame. Her materials are in a clear plastic book bag and her right hand is stamped with invisible ink, which will be scanned with a fluorescent light on her way out to make sure that a cross-dressing imposter is not trying to escape. This is the opening scene in Deborah Appleman’s WORDS NO BARS CAN HOLD. It is a sobering scene. You can hear the door locking behind her as she enters her classroom – locked in with her students, without a guard. All these safeguards reinforce an important dynamic of working in a prison: they are in control; she is not. In order to continue teaching she must carefully follow all the rules.
Many of the men that Appleman teaches are lifers, but when she began teaching she made a decision not to learn anything about their offenses. Though it would be easy for her to look them up on the online database, she chooses not to; she doesn’t want her teaching to be muddied by this knowledge. She has made a commitment to know them as students, not as criminals. She firmly believes that education is a vehicle for rehumanization; that it allows students to rewrite their narratives. The goal of the prison classroom is not unlike the goal at the private university where she teaches – intellectual growth, self-efficacy, and intellectual freedom. Their bodies can be incarcerated, but their minds cannot.
Appleman looks at the school to prison pipeline. Of the four students she profiles in her book, each of them demonstrate a desire to learn, yet high school, she writes, failed to engage them. None of them were classified as special-needs learners, but school failed to capture their interests. School disciplinary systems in the United States, she writes, disproportionately marginalize youth of color and other underserved populations. “These policies have sent hundreds of thousands of children down life paths that lead to arrest, conviction, and incarceration resulting in the so-called pipeline that some have argued is a modern form of resegregation that echoes the Jim Crow laws of our recent past.”
Appleman shares, with permission, the writing of her students. She does not wish the focus to be on her, but on the importance of education in prison and her students’ writing. One of her students, Zeke, writes:
“Writing gave me a voice. It made me a writer, a student, a man, an individual outside statistics hidden somewhere. It made me a better son; able to replant seeds over the things I tore down a long time ago.”
Though many of Appleman’s students are serving life sentences, some are released after serving their time and education is a key factor in preventing recidivism. “If as a society, we choose to keep alive those who commit series crimes, then we need to keep them human. The humanities are well named. Through education, through reading, and through writing, the incarcerated can reclaim their humanity, learn empathy, and find creative and constructive ways of expressing and facing the pain that was a part of their journey to their crimes. They can also learn to acknowledge the pain their actions caused others and to articulate the redemption they seek. They do it through their words, words no bars can hold.”
Listen to my interview with Deborah Appleman on Superior Reads, December 26 at 7:00 pm and on the WTIP webpage. This is Lin Salisbury with Superior Reviews.
Many of the men that Appleman teaches are lifers, but when she began teaching she made a decision not to learn anything about their offenses. Though it would be easy for her to look them up on the online database, she chooses not to; she doesn’t want her teaching to be muddied by this knowledge. She has made a commitment to know them as students, not as criminals. She firmly believes that education is a vehicle for rehumanization; that it allows students to rewrite their narratives. The goal of the prison classroom is not unlike the goal at the private university where she teaches – intellectual growth, self-efficacy, and intellectual freedom. Their bodies can be incarcerated, but their minds cannot.
Appleman looks at the school to prison pipeline. Of the four students she profiles in her book, each of them demonstrate a desire to learn, yet high school, she writes, failed to engage them. None of them were classified as special-needs learners, but school failed to capture their interests. School disciplinary systems in the United States, she writes, disproportionately marginalize youth of color and other underserved populations. “These policies have sent hundreds of thousands of children down life paths that lead to arrest, conviction, and incarceration resulting in the so-called pipeline that some have argued is a modern form of resegregation that echoes the Jim Crow laws of our recent past.”
Appleman shares, with permission, the writing of her students. She does not wish the focus to be on her, but on the importance of education in prison and her students’ writing. One of her students, Zeke, writes:
“Writing gave me a voice. It made me a writer, a student, a man, an individual outside statistics hidden somewhere. It made me a better son; able to replant seeds over the things I tore down a long time ago.”
Though many of Appleman’s students are serving life sentences, some are released after serving their time and education is a key factor in preventing recidivism. “If as a society, we choose to keep alive those who commit series crimes, then we need to keep them human. The humanities are well named. Through education, through reading, and through writing, the incarcerated can reclaim their humanity, learn empathy, and find creative and constructive ways of expressing and facing the pain that was a part of their journey to their crimes. They can also learn to acknowledge the pain their actions caused others and to articulate the redemption they seek. They do it through their words, words no bars can hold.”
Listen to my interview with Deborah Appleman on Superior Reads, December 26 at 7:00 pm and on the WTIP webpage. This is Lin Salisbury with Superior Reviews.
September 8, 2019
Wow, wow, wow! I highly recommend this book to all. I've recently read THE NEW JIM CROW, AN AMERICAN MARRIAGE, and THE MEN WE REAP. This book finally gave me hope. Deb Appleman is a possibilist – and her work is an exploration of possibility in the most oppressive of circumstances: she works to build literacy in a maximum security prison. She explores the transformative possibilities of literacy – and its limits, of how we can teach for possibility and transformation . . .
Favorite quote: "A person is much more than the worst thing they’ve ever done" – something for every teacher and every citizen to remember.
The chapter on the school to prison pipeline is worth the price of the book on its own. The last two chapters were beautifully devastating.
This is a book about how to think about and teach people who society and even family may have given up on; how to develop and sustain a growth mindset and sense of agency as a teacher, and how to cultivate it in learners who have many reasons to think the worst of themselves. How to play the believing game vs. the doubting game. How to advocate for learners and for learning and transformation. How to not give up.
COMPULSORY READING!
Favorite quote: "A person is much more than the worst thing they’ve ever done" – something for every teacher and every citizen to remember.
The chapter on the school to prison pipeline is worth the price of the book on its own. The last two chapters were beautifully devastating.
This is a book about how to think about and teach people who society and even family may have given up on; how to develop and sustain a growth mindset and sense of agency as a teacher, and how to cultivate it in learners who have many reasons to think the worst of themselves. How to play the believing game vs. the doubting game. How to advocate for learners and for learning and transformation. How to not give up.
COMPULSORY READING!
September 15, 2019
This is a book that can startle and provoke thoughts and beliefs toward the incarcerated. Most of us believe that those convicted of crimes are justly being punished for their deeds. We don’t, for the most part, think of them beyond that. We don’t credit them with individual lives with families and human feelings like the rest of us.
Deborah Appleman presents us with a window into the personal world and experiences of her incarcerated students. Her students share their personal stories through their heartfelt writing. There is a relief heard so clearly in their words, that their circumstances can not hinder nor hold their minds. The ability to express their feelings and thoughts through writing, and the opportunity to share them with others, feels freeing. It colors them in, for the reader, to see them as complete and complicated humans, as we all are.
I encourage everyone to read this book. It was entirely engaging and thought provoking. It will open your mind and give much food for thought. You will want to share and talk about it with others. A great book for book clubs!
Deborah Appleman presents us with a window into the personal world and experiences of her incarcerated students. Her students share their personal stories through their heartfelt writing. There is a relief heard so clearly in their words, that their circumstances can not hinder nor hold their minds. The ability to express their feelings and thoughts through writing, and the opportunity to share them with others, feels freeing. It colors them in, for the reader, to see them as complete and complicated humans, as we all are.
I encourage everyone to read this book. It was entirely engaging and thought provoking. It will open your mind and give much food for thought. You will want to share and talk about it with others. A great book for book clubs!
April 6, 2020
I found this read fantastic. I loved how Deborah Appleman wove theory, story, and humanity (both her own and her students') together. I particularly loved reading the stories of her students and the moments of total humanness within her stories of teaching them.
“Perhaps, in the end, there can be no more worthwhile endeavor than helping to create the conditions under which an individual can reclaim his sense of self and therefore his humanity."
“Perhaps, in the end, there can be no more worthwhile endeavor than helping to create the conditions under which an individual can reclaim his sense of self and therefore his humanity."
August 24, 2019
This book offers a long-awaited commentary on education in prisons. I particularly appreciated the opportunity Appleman offered to her incarcerated students to express themselves. As one prisoner wrote, "I wish I had done this learning sooner. I've never had the opportunity to be introspective before, and that has been life-changing." I thank Ms. Appleman for bringing this important issue to our attention and giving her incarcerated students a voice. I hope many people read this book!
September 23, 2019
Debra Appleman presents a well-documented, balanced and comprehensive picture of educating one of society’s most challenging populations. Her insights have application across learning environments as well. She skillfully brings her text to life by her inclusion of student work and life stories. A captivating, provocative and enlightening read!
November 23, 2019
Not what I expected at all. I thought it would be more about the 70% of prisoners who struggle to read.
September 6, 2023
A great read that offered a basic understanding as well as deeply personal insights of literacy and liberal arts education in specifically Minnesota prisons. The education a person has when they are released is the best predictor of their odds of recidivism. In prison, education takes on a more pure form than I’ve known: learning for learnings sake. Not to gain employment or qualifications, but the desire of self-transformation.
“It takes a certain kind of benevolence to invest in the fallen — a complex compassion that can forgive without forgetting, that believes moving on doesn’t absolve accountability.”
“It takes a certain kind of benevolence to invest in the fallen — a complex compassion that can forgive without forgetting, that believes moving on doesn’t absolve accountability.”
February 23, 2021
Applebam intersperses research as well as personal experience to point to how a liberal arts education for those who are incarcerated is something that should be available to all of those who wish to partake.
April 26, 2022
I must admit that I felt a bit nervous when asked to review this compelling work of non-fiction by Deborah Appleman, Ph.D. Other than the technical healthcare texts in college, my reading had been limited to mostly [by choice] fiction. Yet, since becoming a writer, my choices have greatly expanded. Dr. Appleman opened my eyes to what lay beyond the written word of fictionalized characters and places. In this compelling work, the author brings to life the stark reality of what lies behind cement and barbed-wire walls.
Appleman’s Words No Bars Can Hold, tells the stark reality of her experiences teaching college-level literacy classes within a maximum-security prison to men, where many are serving life sentences. There is no candy-coating of her experiences. She explains the harsh reality between racial, cultural, social, and educational disparities within prison walls. This book induces the reader to open their mind and expand their knowledge of the dehumanizing life of the incarcerated. Please, do not misunderstand me, I am a firm believer that if someone commits a crime, they must be held accountable for their actions. I will admit though, that under these circumstances, it is so easy to make assumptions and fall into society’s expectation of dehumanizing the criminal. Yet, Dr. Appleman, through her work and the words of the inmates she teaches, will have you thinking otherwise. In her book, Appleman reflects on what [literacy] education and creative writing provide the inmates by [their] self-reflection, self-identification, the opportunity to voice themselves, and what led them to an incarcerated life.
My first [personal] exposure to an incarcerated person, Theresa, was over twenty-five years ago. Yet I can still remember her to this day. At the time, I worked in a large inner-city tertiary medical facility providing care to women with high-risk pregnancies. My job and that of my co-worker was to monitor uterine and fetal activity using state-of-the-art technology. The morning Theresa and I first met was like any other. Going to the waiting room, I called out her name. Two armed officers stood, then Theresa. I introduced myself and told her what I would be doing for her and her baby that morning. That day, she never made eye contact with me. In my naivete’ I couldn’t help but stare at her orange jumpsuit and shackles that accentuated her protruding abdomen. After many tri-weekly visits, at her last, Theresa thanked me. For what, I asked. “For treating me like a human being.”
Incarceration and education have opposing goals. Education is to liberate, whereas incarceration is to constrain. Still, Dr. Appleman has proven through her work that these two can successfully be combined in releasing the incarcerated mind. In this book, she gives insight into the interests, needs, and abilities of her students. Reading their poignant stories and poems captured within this book will have you believe that many of these are awarded authors, highly educated persons, and well-read men, not inmates behind bars.
The men she teaches use some form of writing to tell of their pain, sorrow, regrets, and hopes. The world needs to hear their stories, and Ms. Appleman tells it so expressively. Most importantly, she tells us what her carceral students want to portray to the world through their literary works, by avoiding their mistakes, helping others make different choices, and taking nontoxic paths. Their literary works create an identity worth reading and remembering.
Dr. Appleman brings up some very thought-provoking issues that won’t be easily resolved. For some, [prison] is a broken system with a revolving door. Writing is not for everyone, as Dr. Appleman aptly points out. Still, I can’t help but think that if there had been such a program for my patient, Theresa at the time of her incarceration, would the avenue of literary education have provided her some sense of self-worth and directed her on a different, societally approved path.
I believe that Words No Bars Can Hold should be required reading for every educator from administrators to counselors to teachers and, importantly, parents. Starting [sadly] in grade school with the hopes of getting to young minds early, giving them a reason to remain out of the prison system.
Prison literacy programs like those taught by Dr. Appleman open a world of expressive freedom for the incarcerated through the written word. Take the time to read, absorb, and pass on this thought-changing book by respected educator and author, Deborah Appleman.
Appleman’s Words No Bars Can Hold, tells the stark reality of her experiences teaching college-level literacy classes within a maximum-security prison to men, where many are serving life sentences. There is no candy-coating of her experiences. She explains the harsh reality between racial, cultural, social, and educational disparities within prison walls. This book induces the reader to open their mind and expand their knowledge of the dehumanizing life of the incarcerated. Please, do not misunderstand me, I am a firm believer that if someone commits a crime, they must be held accountable for their actions. I will admit though, that under these circumstances, it is so easy to make assumptions and fall into society’s expectation of dehumanizing the criminal. Yet, Dr. Appleman, through her work and the words of the inmates she teaches, will have you thinking otherwise. In her book, Appleman reflects on what [literacy] education and creative writing provide the inmates by [their] self-reflection, self-identification, the opportunity to voice themselves, and what led them to an incarcerated life.
My first [personal] exposure to an incarcerated person, Theresa, was over twenty-five years ago. Yet I can still remember her to this day. At the time, I worked in a large inner-city tertiary medical facility providing care to women with high-risk pregnancies. My job and that of my co-worker was to monitor uterine and fetal activity using state-of-the-art technology. The morning Theresa and I first met was like any other. Going to the waiting room, I called out her name. Two armed officers stood, then Theresa. I introduced myself and told her what I would be doing for her and her baby that morning. That day, she never made eye contact with me. In my naivete’ I couldn’t help but stare at her orange jumpsuit and shackles that accentuated her protruding abdomen. After many tri-weekly visits, at her last, Theresa thanked me. For what, I asked. “For treating me like a human being.”
Incarceration and education have opposing goals. Education is to liberate, whereas incarceration is to constrain. Still, Dr. Appleman has proven through her work that these two can successfully be combined in releasing the incarcerated mind. In this book, she gives insight into the interests, needs, and abilities of her students. Reading their poignant stories and poems captured within this book will have you believe that many of these are awarded authors, highly educated persons, and well-read men, not inmates behind bars.
The men she teaches use some form of writing to tell of their pain, sorrow, regrets, and hopes. The world needs to hear their stories, and Ms. Appleman tells it so expressively. Most importantly, she tells us what her carceral students want to portray to the world through their literary works, by avoiding their mistakes, helping others make different choices, and taking nontoxic paths. Their literary works create an identity worth reading and remembering.
Dr. Appleman brings up some very thought-provoking issues that won’t be easily resolved. For some, [prison] is a broken system with a revolving door. Writing is not for everyone, as Dr. Appleman aptly points out. Still, I can’t help but think that if there had been such a program for my patient, Theresa at the time of her incarceration, would the avenue of literary education have provided her some sense of self-worth and directed her on a different, societally approved path.
I believe that Words No Bars Can Hold should be required reading for every educator from administrators to counselors to teachers and, importantly, parents. Starting [sadly] in grade school with the hopes of getting to young minds early, giving them a reason to remain out of the prison system.
Prison literacy programs like those taught by Dr. Appleman open a world of expressive freedom for the incarcerated through the written word. Take the time to read, absorb, and pass on this thought-changing book by respected educator and author, Deborah Appleman.
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