I was 20 years old when I went to jail for the first time.   It was nothing like I had imagined – not quite as harsh as what I had always seen portrayed on television, but certainly not the most inviting of environments.    I’m a psychology major and I work in a forensic research lab that examines juvenile justice for delinquent girls.  Going to jail is simply part of my job.  The juvenile justice facility is something that me several weeks of getting used to.  But perhaps what I’ve learned to enjoy the most is the at-risk youth population that I interact with.  I find their stories and experiences so fascinating because it reveals a new world to me – one where crime and the use of drugs are common behaviors, assault is an acceptable means of interacting with others, and acting tough is a preferable personality trait.

The first time I arrived at the facility and I remember feeling shocked by the shape and height of the barbed wire fence that surrounded the back of the facility where the girls must have had their recess period.  The fence was significantly taller than the facility and curved inward; I’d never seen anything like it before.  The outside of the facility looked surprisingly nice.  Had it not been for the fence or bars on all of the windows, anybody would have assumed the building was just a typical school.

As soon as I walked through this entrance, I was momentarily locked in a small room.  An officer came in and asked for identification, padded me down, inspected my handbag, inspected the bag filled with the testing materials, and took away my cell phone.  The high-level security measures were no worse than the security precautions taken at an airport, but did not make me feel any less nervous about being at the jail.  To my surprise, the officer had a kind demeanor.  I had expected a certain amount of intensity and strictness; an authority figure who was not to be messed with.  Instead this man treated me respectfully and joyously accepted my presence at the facility.

I was escorted to a small conference room where I had obtained permission to conduct the assessment, and waited patiently for the officer to return with the test subject.  I took out all the testing materials from the bag and kept arranging and then rearranging everything, and then would sit back and watch the door.  Waiting for the girl to arrive felt like an eternity.

I heard a voice coming from the hallway, cursing and yelling about having to be woken up so early to take “whatever stupid test this was.”  The screaming was almost animalistic; I’d never heard anything like it before. At that point, I was scared and didn’t want to do the assessment any more.  In came the young girl escorted by the officer.  We shared an exchange, a very brief one.  I didn’t want to stare.  She had such intense eyes and looked just as scared as me.  The officer told me he would come back periodically to check on us, and then he left the room.

Her temperament was tough.  She looked miserable, and I tried my best to be friendly and make some casual jokes to make the situation feel more at ease for her.  I wasn’t having any luck so I figured that the best thing to do was to jump right into the first assessment – the WASI (verbal IQ measurement).  This part consisted of words that I would ask the girl and she was supposed to tell me the meanings of those words.  Scoring was involved, my weakness.  I was slow to record answers and even slower to search the scoring manual.  To eliminate awkward silence between us as I was scoring the test, I talked to the girl and would ask her questions about what it was like to be in the facility.

She enlightened me about what being locked up was really like.  Trust doesn’t exist.  Gangs directly transfer from the streets into cellblocks within the facility.  Sometimes gangs either develop into new and smaller ones but they typically remain unchanged and incapable of being extinguished.  Inside the facility, violent outbursts towards other girls and even officers are sometimes the only effective way to communicate unhappiness.  Outside the facility, crime is not only used as a means of gaining something desired.  It is also a common way to get attention – something I have learned that these girls long for.  Relationships with caretakers prior to entering the facility are very minimal and underdeveloped for some girls.

She also told me about what life was like for her before she became locked up.  Involvement with drugs – selling them and experiencing them, were higher up on her priority list than school and family.  An addiction took over her life and she did what she could to fulfill her constant need, even if that meant breaking the law.  Her only regret after being placed in the facility was being caught.

My first experience with conducting an assessment was incredible.  Although I was nervous, the experience was eye-opening and taught me many things about the juvenile justice system and the girls who reside there.  I’ve learned to gain the trust of these girls, a rare and privileged acceptance to obtain, within hours of meeting them.  I’ve learned how to earn their respect as well as be viewed as an authority figure.  I’ve also learned to respect and understand that the world of these girls is a very different one from my own.  Things that are considered acceptable differ greatly, as do instinctive defensives and offensives.   Down the road, when it comes time for me to advance my education, one field I’ve put serious consideration towards pursuing is forensic psychology with specific focus in school violence. I would like to reduce the occurrence of violence, and I believe that schools are a good place to start implementing change, in order to prevent youth from making violent decisions with life-changing consequences.

Heather Schwartz is a junior psychology major at Drexel University.