2,500 copies of Wasted donated to prisons
April 28th, 2008 by Website admin
The Aldridge Foundation and The Prince’s Trust are donating 2,500 copies of Mark Johnson’s book Wasted to every prison in the UK.
The book tells the story of Mark’s struggle to turn his life around following his descent into drug addiction and criminality.
April 29th, 2008 at 10:53 am
Right hope this one makes it, it wasn’t till late until I got the message saying failed delivery, you will probably get this multiple times to yourself as well as from Eric as I’m going to send it to every email available.
Sorry it’s not much but I’m on a timed thing at the library.
Life in jail
The landing gives me a sense of belonging, it’s all I know. It dictates my mental attitude. It’s not a front as such but more of a conditioned behaviour. Jail is full of chancers who take kindness as a weakness, that’s because in prison it’s just that, a weakness. It’s hard to seriously change and not become someone who’s made a mockery of. On top of that you’ve got your ‘pals’ who don’t want you to leave the circle, they wanna drag you back to where they are, just like on the street.
You need that jail mask, that don’t fuck with me attitude and mindset. Good intentions are so easily undone in this frame of mind.
Prison officers don’t make it any easier, the way they talk to you if you let them, like I’m some two bit shit off the landing. No chance, tell them about it constructively you’re seen as an upstart, tell them like it is and your trouble. Rather that than allow someone to speak to me with such disrespect. You can’t be seen as someone who can be spoken to in that way. Once you have the label it’s hard to lose and with everything being about applications that can make life difficult cause they lose them all the time.
They help undo my good intentions, what’s the point they obviously don’t want me to change.
My article
It was not until my mid twenties, when sat on an intensive therapeutic unit, that I realised my life was a blueprint for the recidivist offender. At the time I was serving a seven-year sentence for drug offences. Some would have called me a career criminal, a label I would have found flattering, the truth was I was a screwed up drug addict with a distorted view of the world. My reasons for going to the unit were hardly honourable, the master plan was to sort out my drug habit so upon release I could sell drugs and make more money. There was no room for empathy, sentiment or compassion in my world and no career option to crime. I had no remorse and did not pretend otherwise.
I became intrigued as to how much knowledge there was about people like myself and read academic papers, some written before I was born. They told me you didn’t need to be a fortune-teller to know drugs and prison were on the cards for me when I grew up.
Although nothing was done maliciously, the system knew but did very little to stop the inevitable.
My dad, the breadwinner, had left when I was seven, but a lack of money was not our only problem. My mum was hundreds of miles from any family support.
She worked day and night in pubs and clubs but the money earned was spent on the wrong things. A professional boozer, she had her own problems.
At school I was the scruffy kid, uncut hair, dirty creased clothes and holes in my shoes. My lunchbox would be near enough empty and I looked at the free dinners with envy, to me they seemed like a feast.
A target for bullies I was frequently in fights and developed a reputation for being unruly. A better tag than victim.
Schools have a lot to say about bullying and know the reasons kids become targets, yet if you stand up for yourself you’re quickly labelled a troublemaker. They say go to a teacher but in reality that is not an option, it just gives bullies another excuse.
I was known to the police, smoked, drank and roamed the street to all hours, sometimes not bothering to go home at all.
Though it was obvious to the police and school I had problems at home there was no attempt of intervention.
Today there is more help available but people do not take it because of the stigma attached. If the advice was offered from people who have been through similar circumstances then the user would feel able to relate, rather than feeling like a failure.
At 12-years-old my mum could not cope with me anymore and on the advice of the police social services were called and I was placed in care. I was going to a home, something my mum had often threatened but the reality was something else. My pleas fell on deaf ears, it was rejection on a grand scale and it hurt. The hurt quickly turned to anger, I already knew never to show emotion except anger, anything else was a weakness.
A few days later a psychiatrist assessed me at the children’s home, some questions, a few pictures to look at and then he was off. This was to check whether I was schizophrenic. That was it, no further enquiries as to why I acted in the way I did.
The system should try, through psychology or therapy, to establish why difficult children act in such away. They would see through the mask’s we choose to wear and this way the child could receive the appropriate counselling. It would cost money but that would be a drop in the ocean in comparison to the £38,000 a year it cost to warehouse me in the penal estate.
Fifty percent of children who go through the care system end up in prison, despite less than ten percent going into care as a result of their own behaviour. Heads or tails. Just over a quarter of the prison population is made up of people that went through the care system and over half of young offenders.
Even with this early intervention some children would still go on to lead a dysfunctional life, but many could be saved.
Through going into care I missed the next two years of mainstream education. The facilities at the centre were sparse because it was supposed to be a short-term placement while it is decided what was going to happen with you.
I was fostered, thrown straight back into mainstream education and asked to pick my options. Most were picked for me on the basis I might be able to catch up in these subjects so it was not as if people were unaware of the difficulties I would face.
As a child from the care system I was also a target again so settled into the unruly roll that I knew would keep them at bay, better the naughty kid than the stupid kid. It was a simple decision, little more was expected of me. After a several months I was excluded.
After expulsion nothing was done to try and ensure I got some sort of education. Eventually I went to a home for the children other homes did not want and worked at a car spray-shop. I applied to go to college at 16 to get the required qualifications but because of my record and lack of education was rejected. It was all made so easy for me to think what is the point.
When it was apparent I would be falling well behind with my education I should have been enrolled in the local school or given private tuition in order to follow the national curriculum as much as possible.
In my first few years in care I was assigned different social workers. Some made me feel involved and I could build up a rapport, to others I was a file not a person. They asked where I would like to live. I wanted to go to a children’s home, the social worker decided on foster parents. I was asked which areas, they decided on a different area, miles from my ideal destinations. There was never any explanation as if my opinion did not count.
Sometimes a child and a social worker will have a clash of personalities, an already distrustful child needs somebody they feel comfortable with. By forcing them to interact you are cementing the belief, whether right or not, that they and their views does not matter. For me the answer was to close down and rebel.
I would runaway from the foster-parents because I did not like it there. When raising the issues with my social worker I was ignored. Children do not runaway for no reason, they do not want to spend the time wondering where they are going to sleep that night. Maybe some run for attention, to see if someone comes after them, when nobody does their fears are confirmed, no-one cares.
If runaways turn up it is often after being arrested, as I was, for some sort of theft committed in order to survive.
These are some of the most vulnerable children in society, yet when they run they are seen as a nuisance.
When going to court there would be no communication between the homes and the legal system. Magistrates would glare until they read the report containing details of my life, then they would soften, as if it was no wonder I had ended up that way. Instead of looking at what might be done to help me I would be dealt with more leniently, as if excusing me. While they meant well it was a dangerous way to treat me, it was as if nothing else was expected.
The youth justice system needs to start emphasising on rehabilitating and helping troublesome children rather than looking at punishment. What would help the child lead a law-abiding life? I already felt the world was against me and more than anything I needed to be shown otherwise. If people had shown they actually cared about my welfare it would have been harder for me to let them down. It is not about being soft but about doing something constructive.
Rather than doing something worthwhile with me I was shunted from homes to secure units while it was figured out what to do with me.
At 16 I was moved into a bedsit with a box of food and two weeks rent paid. I was unemployed, had no life skills and was not even told how to go about claiming benefits. Quickly I realised that with a lack of education and my growing list of convictions there was little chance of employment. Maybe I gave up too soon, but to me there was only one option, crime. It was easy for me to justify.
Children leaving the care system need to be prepared not just dumped off. They need key life skills like cooking and budgeting and to know what help is available to them. They should be given a stable home with all they need to start an independent life. People like me already feel outcast and it’s easy to further marginalize yourself from society. Why would I want to be a part of a society that so obviously didn’t want me to be a part of it?
A few months later I entered the penal estate for the first time. I took to prison like a fish to water. Of all the challenges life would throw at me the care system had equipped me for this better than any other. It was a course of life I would repeat until my time in therapy, when, despite the odds, and my own beliefs, I was lucky enough to see my life for what it was. Until that point I was blissfully unaware and saw nothing wrong with the way I behaved.
It was difficult to accept the sub-human I had become, a lot harder than the time spent behind bars beforehand when it was easier to ignore the consequences of my actions. This was achieved through therapy, education, mutual respect and people on my side who believed in me. It was something that could have been done long before for less expense and fewer victims.
Words 1,733
Statistics Bromley Briefings Dec 2007, Prison Reform Trust
April 29th, 2008 at 4:13 pm
It really is a great book — well done!!
June 14th, 2008 at 12:28 am
I have just read your book and the article submitted above. Both of which touched me with sadness - this is not fiction it’s real life and I know all too well as I live and breathe this every day in my working life.
I work in a Youth Offending Team with young people from the age of 10 up to the age of 18 and wish I could say that your lives and experiences are unique - sadly they are not.
I wholeheartedly agree - we need to STOP punishing CHILDREN and start looking at the issues which contribute to offending and focus on tackling these and rehabilitating - giving children and young people the opportunities in life which will make offending less likely.
Your experiences have touched me and reinforce for me the reason why I do the job I do - people do have the capacity to change, some just take longer to do it and others need more support.
I wish you well in all you do
August 21st, 2008 at 3:52 pm
hello people, im 26, back in 2002 i spent 6 months in portland yoi. i found all the officers were kind and caring. portland was simply the best prison i have been to. i did enjoy my time there. i found the place wasnt strict at all. if anyone was there when it was a borstal please get in contact with me, to let me know what the place was like back then. i was on grenville then hardy. lee from lee on the solent hampshire. 07826310933