121. Earning Freedom (4.2) with Michael Santos Prison Professors

I’m reading from chapter 4 of my book, Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term.
For more information, please visit PrisonProfessors.com
Chapter Four: 1990-1992 / Months 37-57 *******
A week later I’m sitting on the lower rack when a guard flicks an envelope beneath my door. I lean over to pick up the envelope and read “University of North Carolina” on the return address. For a moment I just hold it in my hand, tracing my fingers over the embossed lettering and the university logo. The wreath signifies academia, and a charge of excitement runs through me. I’m a 26-year old man, yet I open the envelope with the same giddy anticipation as a child anticipating birthday money from his grandparents.
Dr. McPherson’s letter expresses his enthusiasm to mentor me through my term, and he asks me to mail him the visiting authorization form. He also writes that I should soon receive a book he sent separately, from the university’s bookstore. Wanting to share my good fortune I pass the letter to Windward for him to read.
“What’s the big deal?”
“What do you mean?” Windward’s indifference puzzles me. “He’s a professor, and he wants to help me.”
“Big f****n’ deal! What can he do? He’s probably a fag.”
“How can you say that? He’s an educator, he has his own life out there, and he’s offering to help me. Why would you insult him?”
“Don’t cry, little guy,” he mocks when he notes my offense at his dismissive response. “I’m just sayin’, what the f**k can he possibly do for you? You’ve got to think about what people want, Dude. Why would he want to write someone he doesn’t know? It don’t make no sense.”
Windward fits right in to the penitentiary culture. He not only accepts defeat for himself, he expects those around him to do the same. Nothing good comes with the prison experience. Therefore, any indication that someone may succeed in overcoming pessimism and despair threatens his belief in failure as the inevitable. Failure is comfortable to him, a real concept. Working toward anything different, or better, upsets his equilibrium.
“Give me back my letter.” I’m learning that within this tenebrous environment my enthusiasm must be internal. Sharing victories, no matter how small, only breeds more sarcasm.
With the news of Bruce’s interest in my life I instantly ascend ten rungs up my virtual ladder to freedom. If nothing else, his friendship will help lift me out of the caverns of ignorance where I dwell.
*******
When my counselor, Mr. Skinner, receives Bruce’s completed visiting form he calls my office supervisor, Ms. Stephens, with a summons for me to report to his office.
“Do you know a Bruce McPherson?” The counselor sits at his metal desk in his cubbyhole office reading from the visiting form that he holds in his hand. With greasy gray hair and a stained white shirt, his appearance, like his office, is a disorganized mess. The office stinks of stale tobacco and his body odor.
“Yes. He’s a professor and he’s helping with my school work.”
“So you sent him this visiting form?” He flicks the form with his fingers.
“That’s right.”
“Well he’s not getting in. I’m not authorizing him to visit.”
The dehumanization continues. Prisoners have to ask permission for everything, and I’m accustomed to the apparent malevolent satisfaction some staff members get from denying requests.  Still, this denial is more of a slap to my dignity than most because I’m convinced that I can grow through Bruce’s mentoring.
“Can you tell me the reason?” I don’t understand why the counselor won’t authorize Bruce’s request to visit.
“You didn’t know him before you started serving your sentence. That’s all the reason I need to deny him.”
“But he’s a professor and he’s offering to help me, to teach me.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Pope. We’ve got rules in here!  We don’t know why he’s coming to