by Kenneth Wise
Chapter 2
The next Monday morning, Steven was taken to the administration building, where, after the required paperwork was completed, he was reunited with his personal property, and turned over to a middle-aged, unremarkable looking man who directed him to his car. He put Steven’s personal property into the trunk, and closed the lid. Steven was standing quietly, waiting to be handcuffed, so he wasn’t a threat to the driver. He was shocked when the driver opened the passenger side door and told him to get in and relax for a few moments until he signed even more paperwork. The driver came out of the office, got in the car, put the car in gear, said “Let’s get out of this place!” and drove away.
He asked the driver exactly where it was that he was being taken. He was worried because he had been given no information about the place he was going, not even the name of the place. As they drove and Steven listened to the driver, he noticed that the day was bright, almost cloudless, not like the dreary day when he was driven to “The Hill.” It had drizzled and was cold, the kind of cold that gets clear into one’s bones.
The driver told him that his home for the next few months was a new facility where the staff tried to figure out why young men and young women got in trouble. He told Steven that he thought he would actually enjoy the facility, as much as one can enjoy being forced to be away from home. He would be living in a small group in a very relaxed atmosphere. He said that all the girls and boys at this facility were required to attended school, have weekly meetings with a social worker, and a psychologist. He said that, to the best of his knowledge, of the few hundred children that had been sent to this diagnostic center, no more than two or three had ever returned to the correctional facility. He said there were co-ed get-togethers where the girls and boys had parties and dances and that there were plenty of activities that Steven could participate in, or not. That would be his choice.
“Damn,” Steven thought, “I don’t know whether to believe this guy or not, it all seems too good to be on the level.” As they drove, Mr. Philips explained to him that he was one of the Social Workers at the Diagnostic Center and that he hoped they, along with the other professionals awaiting his arrival, would have a very constructive relationship.
When they arrived at The Center, there was two papers Steven had to sign, one was the general rules for the kids at the center, the second was just an acknowledgement that he had arrived in good condition and gave the Doctors and Nurses at The Center permission to conduct and administer various tests and to treat him for any medical disorders discovered. That was it.
He was given five new blue sweat shirts with a white, three inch letter “D” near the neck line. “D” was the group that Steven had been assigned to.
Mr. Philips escorted Steven to his pod and explained about the pods, clusters and other details about the building and The Center. Along the way he pointed out the school, the infirmary, and dining hall. Steven could not believe this was an institution for Juvenile Delinquents; it was more like a college campus.
When they arrived at the door to his pod, there was just a regular door and a door bell, which Mr. Philips explained I would have to ring whenever I was returning to the pod from school or appointments with Doctors, Social Workers, work, and other activities.
He rang the bell and in about thirty seconds, instead of a guard, they were greeted by Aunt Bea. The first thing that crossed his mind was to wonder if Opie was here too.
Mrs. Ferguson was the spitting image of Aunt Bea from the Andy Griffith TV show. She was in her mid to late forties, about five foot, four inches tall, just slightly overweight and had her light brown hair pulled into a bun on top of her head. Steven imagined a pencil or two sticking in her bun.
She greeted him as if she was a mother greeting him when he stopped by a friend’s house.
Mr. Philips bade him goodbye and good luck getting moved in and left. Mrs. Ferguson showed Steven through the Pod and finally took him to the dorm room and gave him a choice of the two empty beds. She explained that one of the rules she enforced stringently was that after breakfast we could not go back to bed until seven in the evening. She told him that the rule did not apply to Saturday afternoons or Sundays. She also explained that because of state laws regulating institutions, only three boys were allowed in the shower room at a time, each in a private stall. Also one of the house parents would be in an entry area keeping track of who comes and goes. Only two boys were permitted in the restroom at once. Again a house parent was on duty in the outer room whenever someone was in the rest room.
Mrs. Ferguson explained to him that there were not a lot of rules. Mostly the rules that one would be expected to follow at home, at school or work.
He was surprised when one of the house parents brought his personal belongings to the room and Mrs. Ferguson told him to get unpacked and organized and then wander around the pod and get used to where everything was. She told him to try to think of The Center as “home” not as an institution. With that she left him and he found himself standing alone, for the first time in months.