126: Earning Freedom (7.1), by Michael Santos Prison Professors

I’m continuing to read from my book Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term. This is the first installment of chapter 7, covering months 93 through 95 of my confinement, in 1995.
 
Hofstra awards my master’s degree in May of 1995 and I begin working my way toward a doctorate at the University of Connecticut. The textbooks on penology could cure insomnia, but the clear path to a Ph.D. motivates me, keeping me cocooned in my room except for my early morning exercise. I think about the authors sometimes, wondering what inspired them to study and write about prisons. For them, I know, a lengthy sentence didn’t provide the impetus. I don’t have any idea what compels someone to build a career around the walled concrete and steel compounds that now hold more than two million people in the U.S.
I have eighteen more years to serve and at times I feel disconnected, as if I’m living behind a glass wall, where I can see but not participate in the broader society. I’m isolated, though my projects bring meaning into my life and dissipate feelings of loneliness or despair.  I feel driven by goals every day, racing to finish one project so that I can begin another.  Despite the length of time I have to serve, I still feel as if I can’t afford to waste a single second.
When I hear news that Warden Luther plans to retire in June, I worry that his departure will lead to changes that could disrupt my progress.  I seek him out and inquire about who will replace him as warden.
“You’ll be fine,” the warden assures me.  “It doesn’t matter who comes.  Just keep working on your education and you’ll continue to live productively in here.”
Under Warden Luther’s leadership, McKean enjoys a reputation of having comparatively well-behaved prisoners. Despite the long sentences that many men serve, they appreciate the privileges of “open movement,” the absence of lockdowns, the ability to order food from the community, and the privilege of participating in Luther’s token economy. Men who transfer from other prisons leave their tension, hostility, and gang problems at the door. Throughout the institution, he hangs copies of a framed memorandum titled: Warden Luther’s Beliefs About the Treatment of Inmates.  The 28 beliefs begin like this:
Inmates are sent to prison as punishment and not for punishment. Correctional workers have a responsibility to ensure that inmates are returned to the community no more angry or hostile than when they were committed. Inmates are entitled to a safe and humane environment while in prison. You must believe in man's capacity to change his behavior. Normalize the environment to the extent possible by providing programs, amenities, and services. The denial of such must be related to maintaining order and security rather than punishment. Most inmates will respond favorably to a clean and aesthetically pleasing physical environment and will not vandalize or destroy it. Luther’s philosophy, albeit powerful and positive, exists at FCI McKean but nowhere else that I’m aware of within the Bureau of Prisons. It won’t last beyond his departure and I sense trouble.
Some staff members resent the privileges Warden Luther extends to me, and I can understand why they would. After all, he treats me kindly, and it isn’t unusual for me to receive a page over the loudspeaker to report to the warden’s office.  He openly supports my academic program, authorizing me free access to a computer lab, allowing me to use the word processors for my academic program as well as for correspondence with my growing support network. On one occasion, he introduced me to a tour group he was leading through the prison.
“This is inmate Santos. He knows more about prisons than many on my staff.”  He treats me more like a colleague than a prisoner, and some staff members resent it. I don’t miss the frozen expression on their face, the body language that implies definite disagreement o