JaneDoe'nt at an unknown therapeutic boarding school

Don’t be fooled. NATSAP is not a regulatory agency, and they do NOT investigate any of these facilities.

When a program wants to operate with NATSAP endorsement all they have to do is pay a fee and sign a piece of paper stating that they intend to follow NATSAP “protocol” – they are NEVER inspected nor does NATSAP have any means of checking to see if they actually operate according to the “rules.” NATSAP is also DRASTICALLY underestimating its numbers – these look more like the number of students in WILDERNESS-BASED programs (only a fraction of the total), but there are more like 100,000 kids in these facilities across the US. For an accurate and flawlessly researched account of these programs please refer to Maia Szalavitz’s book “Help At Any Cost: How the Troubled Teen Industry Hurts Kids and Cons Parents.”

As for how these kids – KIDS, remember, NOT criminals – all need “tough love,” consider my story and see what you think. I was NEVER in trouble with the law, I NEVER tried drugs or drank alcohol, and I was never even made to repeat a grade in school, and yet I was enrolled in one of these programs after my parents became convinced by their admissions staff that my talking back and general “attitude” meant that I was going to die. Literally, die. That is the kind of language these places use. And believe me, my parents are well educated individuals who don’t usually take wooden nickels.

Yes, I was an enormous pain in the ass and I had some academic troubles - I admit that. That said, once enrolled, I was subjected to the following (and my program was less harsh than many I have heard about and seen since leaving):

• I was duct taped, from ankles to chin, into a wool blanket and left in an over-air-conditioned 5’x5’ closet for almost 72 hours with nothing to eat but “food sanction rations” (dry tuna on an English muffin half and 6 oz of water, 3x per day – approximately 550 calories) as punishment for nonviolent infractions – I was not taken out for bathroom breaks but rather made to sit in my own excrement for that whole time;
• I was pulled out of school (I was an A+ student) for months at a time and made to carry huge buckets of rocks up and down an extremely steep hill for 12 hours a day on food sanction rations;
• I was made to dig my own 5’x6’x3’ grave with a hand spade, in January, with a denim jacket and no gloves – it took me more than a day because I was weak with hunger and the ground was frozen;
• I was publicly humiliated on a daily basis, including being told (in front of no fewer than 30 people) that I was “a blowup doll to be used for sex by men and then thrown in the trash when they found something better;”
• I watched girls made to relive rapes in order to find the moment when they “asked for it to happen with their behavior;”
• I was physically attacked by a staff member and shaken so violently that several years later I was told by former housemates that they still felt fear when they remembered it;
• I was made to sit either in a stress position or in an isolation room for almost a week because I “rejected the word of Jesus Christ during morning chapel service” (my family is Jewish, which they were well aware of, and I was never told HOW exactly I had erred);
• I was punished for telling a staff member that I loved my gay sister; I was punished by staff for expressing a belief in human evolution; I was made to eat meals off the dirty floor because I was “acting like an animal;” I was strip searched every time I entered the facility after a visit to the doctor or with my family;
• I was made to shower and use the bathroom while being watched for nearly two years – every single time I used the bathroom someone was standing less than 3 feet from me and staring at me; I was kept from seeing or speaking with my family any time I was treated abusively, and my family was told it was because I was “misbehaving and had lost my phone privileges;”
• I was refused medical treatment on several occasions, one of which led to permanent hearing loss in my left ear because they thought I was making up my ear infection “to get attention;” a student killed himself by jumping off a balcony a few months after I left; once a month or so someone would be absent from breakfast because he or she had drank cleaning fluid or tried to slit their wrists in the middle of the night;
• I was tackled and then body slammed by a 300lb male staffer for mopping a floor incorrectly and on another occasion for talking back; and worst, I WAS MADE TO DO ALL OF THESE THINGS TO OTHERS IN ORDER TO “MAKE PROGRESS.”

I am in my 30’s and I am JUST pulling my life back together. It took me years just to adjust to the “real world” outside of that compound in the middle of nowhere. And I am the EXCEPTION, NOT THE RULE. The majority of people who were there with me are going nowhere with their lives, because they don’t know how to live in the world anymore. And NATSAP? It helps give these places a thin veneer of respectability and accountability. They are a business, not a regulatory agency, and they make millions doing what they do. Do your homework, and spread the word - I've waited over a decade for someone to care about what was done (and is still being done) to us.

Source:
Original testimony to be found as a comment to this NBC News article

Book: Janice's journey

In 2006 a Danish teenager went on a holiday at her mother’s place or at least so she believed. As it turned out differences in the Danish and American youth culture meant that she found herself categorized as an at-risk teen despite being regarded a normal school girl in Denmark.

She has told her story to the Ylä Maatila who helped her rewrite her diary and various notebook entries into a biography which are published for free at Movellas.

Her story deals with the issue of being dumped in an alien culture with values very unlike the values she had been raised with.

Can she use the skills learned to change her destiny outlined for her due the special Danish structure with social classes structuring the future of young Danes based on their social heritage or will she return to Denmark having remained true to the cultural standards of her birth culture?

Link:
Janice's journey (by Janice Jensen and Ylä Maatila)

Q/A about living in an ordinar religious boarding school

This Q & A statement was seen on the homepage NHYM alumni. All rights belongs to the original person answering the questions.

• What is your name?
  Deirdre Sugiuchi
• To which institutions were you sent?
  Escuela Caribe Jan 1990 - Jun 1991
  Canada 1991
  Marion fall 1991
• How old were you?
  15-17
• When were you enrolled in The Program?
  January 4th, 1990 - Dec 1991
• What was the highest level you attained?
  4th with weeks towards 5th
Please describe the circumstances that got you sent to The Program:
• In which house(s) did you live?
  DR: TKB
  Marion: Herrick
• Please describe instances of abuse you experienced while in the program, if any:
  I entered the program compliantly because I thought it was a Christian boarding school. That impression was reversed my second night when my housefather (HF) made me perform exercises for hours. According to him, I had "an authority problem" at home. He made me do bear crawls, pushups and duck walks. He had me hold my arms out balancing books until I cried from pain. Such interrogations are typically used to brainwash individuals.
  - When I entered the program I was very sick with an ear infection and strep throat. The staff ignored my illness. Later they said it was because they did not know if I was faking. I had to do the daily drills, and make it up the casita with my 6'4 (?) HF outrunning all of us girls. As a “low-ranker” I had to stay within an arms-length of him. On my first free day, I couldn't keep up with him (I am 5'4") when we hiked up a mountain, so he gave me push-up support- ten pushups for every five steps that we walked. Everyone else watched me. This continued until the house mother asked for a break. For the record, the supervising group leader did nothing to stop this mistreatment by the housefather.
  When I was depressed it was viewed as something I could control, and my points were routinely slashed because of it. I got low points for “moodiness” when I became withdrawn.
  - I was part of a group punishment session in which my entire house was forced to maintain a push-up position for hours. The house mom couldn't find a spatula. We were blamed for its disappearance. The session ended only when the house mom came in with the spatula, which she had misplaced. It hurt to laugh for days.
  Once I moved up the levels and became a high-ranker, I had more responsibility. Part of this responsibility entailed narc-ing on my peers. Another responsibility was that I had to inspect the low-rankers to make sure their privates were soaped during showers. One girl did not wash herself properly; the housefather said he could smell her. He required all low-rankers to have their soaped privates inspected during showers. This was an edict of a HF who later became assistant director. For the record, all students had a maximum of fifteen minutes to wash, dress, and leave their personal areas in perfect order. Low-rankers usually had much less than 15 minutes. Her hygiene problems most likely resulted from not having enough time to wash.
  The house fathers regulated how much food we ate at meals. My first HF enjoyed assigning a large amount of food to students. Many girls had a problem eating the large portions, not just me. His own wife, who was closer to our size, would eat about half of what he required us girls to eat. Eventually my stomach became accustomed to the portions, but I gained several pounds during my time in the program, despite spending the majority of my time working or completing forced exercises.
• Describe abuse of other students you witnessed, if any:
  During one of my first weeks in Escuela Caribe, my HF made a housemate do exercises for "becoming angry" during a counseling session. She “performed” exercises long past midnight; I could hear her outside the dormitory window. I learned from this incident never to express my true feelings about anything - not a healthy reaction in a supposedly “therapeutic” boarding school.
  - Two girls were molested by a housefather, K. When the school administration learned of K's inappropriate conduct he was fired, but he was never prosecuted. At the same time, a male teacher, R, confessed to looking at pornography with K. Not only did the administration not discipline R, they later promoted him to housefather in a GIRLS' house (see Tara's questionnaire for details about living with him). A few years later, he was convicted by an Indiana court of molesting one or more girls in his charge.
  These incidents should have never happened-the administration knew the staff member had predilections, but they ignored the danger signs, keeping R on staff. Furthermore, the administrator who failed to discipline R kept his position even after R. was convicted of sex crimes.
  - One fellow student asked K, the HF, for permission to use the bathroom for 8 hours straight, but he wouldn't let her because he claimed she was being “manipulative in the way she asked permission.” After dinner that night, she could no longer hold it and urinated on herself in front of the whole house.
  Another HF, JB, singled out a friend of mine. He played mind games with her, ignoring her requests to move from room to room. He abused her often in different sections of the house. We knew she was doing exercises; we could hear him yell. Once he ordered her to do pushups in front of the rest of the house, and when she was physically incapable of completing them (from exhaustion), he insisted that she continue. She kept falling and hitting the patio. The next day she had large purple bruises on her hipbones.
  - There were several students in the program who had obvious mental health issues. Instead of getting the psychiatric help they needed, they were treated as if they had authority problems and kept on low levels. Being on a low level for a long period of time was the kiss of death in the program because the staff would single out low-level students for punishment and humiliation.
  There are many more instances. I am in the process of writing a book detailing the abuse.
• Do you have any good memories of The Program? If so, what are they?
  I liked hiking in the pine forests. I enjoyed going to the aquarium. I liked going on privileges with Lisa, Liz and Doug, getting to know staff like Eric, Susie and Jay. I enjoyed participating in service projects. I made some friends. It was hard to form deep relationships because everything was monitored, and when you became close to someone, they would confront you for excluding others.
• What is your overall impression of The Program? Did it “help you”?
  No. I had several sets of house parents; the instability was difficult, especially since most were abusive and/or sadistic.
  I am a teacher and have completed courses on teaching students with special needs. Everything the program does—the strict schedule, the point sheets, focusing on negative behavior, not the positive, etc.—is how you are not supposed to treat children, at least according to the research.
  I would have been much better off had I gone to a normal, rather than punitive, boarding school, or if our family had gone to counseling.
• What do you think of the quality of education you received?
  Abysmal—we learned from workbooks.
  As a teacher, I realize that a lot of my classmates at Escuela Caribe struggled in school because the administration made no attempt to accommodate different learning styles. Any deviance—behavioral, emotional, academic—was viewed as rebellion.
  I learned to read at the age of four and have always been a self-learner. I attribute this skill to any academic success.
• How old are you today?
  38
• Did you go to college after attending The Program? If so, what degrees do you have?
  B.A. in English Literature, M.Ed. in Instructional Technology
• What is your profession?
  School Library Media Specialist, Writer
• Do you consider yourself a Christian today?
  I have spiritual beliefs but don't consider myself a Christian.
• What effect did “The Program” have on your faith?
  Before I entered the program I was a Christian. I was raised in a strong Christian family. Being in the program and being tortured in the name of God changed the way I felt about Christianity. I equate my experience there with religious abuse. I no longer participate in organized religion.
• Please feel free to add comments here:
  Despite their “certification,” staff members are not certified to treat students with special needs. Any program as isolated as the Escuela Caribe is almost guaranteed to be abusive, by virtue of its isolation.
  According to the National Institutes of Health, boot camp programs like EC do not work, and may exacerbate a student's problems. What does work is utilizing family counseling to address dysfunctional relationships, as opposed to placing the burden of responsibility on the child, who is simply acting out in response to the family's problems.
  Any program that restricts communication is suspect, especially at the level used by Escuela Caribe.
  Escuela Caribe uses excessive physical punishment, emotional and verbal abuse to keep children under control. It has a history of neglecting the health of students.
  Most of my classmates were sent to Escuela Caribe for minor offenses. However, isolating your child with other troubled children, makes deviance become that child's norm, practically guaranteeing they find it difficult to adjust to “normal” life after they are released or find “normal teens” as friends.

Sources:

• The original Statement on NHYM-ALUMNI
• Datasheet about the boarding school on Fornits Wiki

New film-project: Incident(s) At Paradise Bay

We have learned about a film-project related to the topics in this blog.

Where do the teenagers being transported end up and how are they treated?

In the film-project some of these questions will be answered.

You can support the film-project with your money. Today we see the result of the 90's tough reform schools and 3-strike politics. The tragedies have affected many families.

Any additional information which can inform the world about what took place will properly prevent similar tragedies in countries slowly adapting the methods used in the United States because they only see the marketing which was aired back. There is very little information offered about all those teenagers who lost their lives during their stay or took their lives because they found themselves too emotional damaged due to their experiences during their stay.

For more information you can consult the homepage of the film-project.

Link: Incident(s) At Paradise Bay

Dom-parents: quasi-parents?

When a young teenager enters a boarding school the most important persons in the life of such a young person are missing. The guidance and comfort provited by the parents are not there. Instead the teenager has to rely on the presence of residential advisers or dorm parents who are expected to quasi-parent all the teenagers in the boarding school.

But can they support every one of the teenagers at the boarding school with respect for their individual needs and maintaining their dignity?



It is an almost impossible question to answer. The employees at a boarding school should always take into consideration that there will be a day when the students return home to their family. While many teenagers struggle in the start of their stay most adapt to whatever environment the school can present. In fact the mecanism is not so much a question whether the school provide a good atmosphere to work in. The Stockholm-syndrome becomes the deciding factor. The students stop to ask questions because the norms at the school becomes their reality. They will be ready to accept orders which they would never have accepted outside the boarding school.

One fine example is the 2011 capsize in Denmark where students from a boarding school named Lundby Efterskole sailed out in a dragon boat in icy waters. A boat not suited to this hostile environment. 7 students ended up in critical condition and may use years to recover. A teacher died.

The students entered the boat willingly. They were broken by the isolation from normal social norms.

They were not troubled teenagers. The isolation was minimal and they could go home most weekends. Still they were caught by the dangerous macho culture at the boarding school and many of them could have very easily have paid for this with their young lives.

Parents: Please do some background checks on the employees. Break rules at the boarding school when it comes to restricting communication. It could save the life of your child.

References:
Boarding schools on Wikipedia
Danish Dragon boat capsized by wave (Politiken)
Stockholm syndrome

Book: New Bethany

Book cover

Testimonies collected by Mr Roger Kiser by The American Orphan Foundation

Picture perfect on the outside - let us take you inside

Confined to a remote Christian boarding school the students experienced a somewhat alternative version of the love and compassion Jesus told the world about.

Read their catching stories and understand that you don't know how it is to live at a boarding school.

A reader named "dulcikraut" wrote:

I can say before I even reading this book ALL the accounts are the ABOSOLUTE TRUTH of US who participated in comiling this book. Anyone who would doubt the reality of each and every account or question the truth about is simply showing thier own ignorance. There all too many witnesses to deny the horiific truth and we stand as one voice. This book is just the tip of the iceburg of how girls and boys were mentally, physically, emotionally, molested and raped at the hands of adult staff members of New Bethany. Some Abuser's are named some not. But they know who they are. I pray that the children hurt so severly by them will be able to grow strength to completly expose them all. May justice and truth be heard.

Thank you Roger and Rhonda, New Bethany Surivors for all your hard work to get this published, this is a vital turning point for us to finally come forward to help bring awareness as The Whitehouse Boys and SIA - Survivors of Insitutional Abuse. I am honored to be a part of this, Together We Are One Voice. These places must be stopped.

Source:
Product and webshop page on LULU

Movie: The Boys of St. Vincent

Movie poster

This movie is actually a docodrama based on real events which took place at Mount Cashel Orphanage in St. John's, Newfoundland.

The movie was directed by John N. Smith. It was produced by the National Film Board of Canada.

While the incidents which according to the movie took place at the boarding was nothing out of the ordinary, it is an interesting movie and provides fine basis for parents considering sending their children to a religious boarding school.

Every parents should rightfully ask themselves the question how staff are checked. The movie claims that this important task was not done properly at the Mount Cashel Orphanage.

References:
The Boys of St. Vincent (The Internet Movie Database)

My 2 years at Spring Creek (From Antiwwasp.us)

This story was originally written on a antiwwasp.us. All rights and credits goes to the author Twack, who published this story on antiwwasp.us:

I was 16 and going to an alternative art school and had been doing drugs for a year or 2, running away and what not. My parents tried inpatient and outpatient rehab and that didnt work. One day i had come home and was awaken at 3AM by 2 large escorts. They told me they were taking me to a new school and that if i tried running or anything i would be shakeled hand and foot, so i didnt feel like trying anything.

On the drive into Spring Creek i was blown away at how far it was from anything. I was told by my intake staff that it was impossible to run and no one had made it succesfully, so i never really saw that as an option. Lower levels was pretty much uneventful, I felt cut off from what i called home so i had a hard time finding any motivation to move on. But after a year i was pushed to move on, so i went up to jr staff. For me this is where the crap started to get bad.

Jr staff not to mention the whole program started to get over populated. they were stuffing kids where ever they could. they shut down offices and just put kids in there. Lower levels in the lower facility. I moved to the 18yo house off campus but that lasted only a couple weeks before it was changed to an upper level boys house that was no longer a privilage. They crammed a minumum of 30 kids in a double wide trailor! It was super cramped. One of the water heaters broke and they didnt care at all to fix it. The heaters that worked ran out after 1 shower, so we all had to shower in the nastiest water that was freezing. They had filters for the house but never changed them, i had to sneak around and do it myself in order to get the water better. Some nights we wouldnt even leave the facility till midnight then have to go home do night jobs, shower, get to sleep then wake up supper early to make the drive in.

My real problems were with 1 staff Mike Terri. He was Jr staff staff and was 1 of 2 staff for the off campus boys house. He was power hungry with zero compassion. For no reason on day he dropped us off miles from the house and made us all run arm in arm back to the house under the threat of loosing our levels. Then one kid had a medical issue from it and i had to run ahead back to the staff letting them know their little excersice made a kid collapse. We were told to not talk about the incident. That night i didnt care about my level and flipped out on mike and cussed him out about how he cant just treat people like that just because he feels like it and look what it caused. Somehow i kept my level but from then on me and mike were in a battle. Whenever mike had a moment to humiliate me he would, all the time acting like it was in my best interest laughing it up with the other staff. He at times would make me hold push up position for hours on end in front of the whole facility if i talked back to him, again not allowing me to talk to other staff about his bogus treatment.

One day i was on level 5 working as a runner and i saw staff running to the therapy office which was above the laundry so i went to the kid working the laundry room what happen, because if it was a runner i was going to get in on the chase. the kid working looked up with bloodshot eyes, i was like wake up dude you dont want to get dropped for sleeping on shift. he said he wasnt so i asked him if there was a runner and he was like just leave so i did confused. later that night mike calls me in and asks me about the situation i told him about the kid sleeping and asking if there was a runner. He said there was a girl trying to kill herself, I had no clue. He said he was dropping me for rumor spreading. I flipped out on him again. He told the other staff he was incharge of this drop and that i was not allowed to discuss it with other staff. I tried fighting it so hard but couldnt do it. The big deal was that i had a off grounds visit in 3 days and i was going to PC2 in 2 weeks and then starting my transtion to go home. I had done nothing wrong and they just wanted me to stay longer. In the end when my mom came they had a meeting for my drop. Because my parents had tickets bought for PC2 they asked my parents what to do about the situation and i told them i hadnt done anyting, but they had my parents programmed and they said "we trust the program and will support whatever the program decides". So i stayed dropped and missed PC2 and was set way back.

During my program I never pulled any crap. I just never cared to. I was just living my life trying to let the time pass. I got dropped twice, the one bogus time i just told you and again right after christmas and someone planted something stolen on me and rated me for it. The program didnt like my progress without messing up so they had to keep dropping me for no reason, it was bogus like there was no real way to get home.

I feel sorry for kids who ran. The rules that were told to the jr staff were " what happens in the woods stays in the woods" meaning anyway you can stop a runner you do it. And it happened. I feel sorry for the lower levels as a jr staff we were told to make their lives hell, and we did. It sucks but its what we had to do to go home.

Medical treatment was a sad joke there. I have sever sinus problems and never got any treatment while i was there the many times i was ill. I went to the school doctor and he gave deconsol and neproxen for EVERYTHING i mean EVERYTHING. Never did anything i was sick a lot. He wasnt even a real doctor he was a bone specialist or something. Then i stepped on a rusty nail and was told to soak it and that i wouldt get medical treatment because it was the week end. The next day my foot was massive and black and blue. After a huge fight they finally decided to do an emergency transport. They messed up my tetnus shot records and gave me a terible anti biotic that didnt do much. I was forced to go back to my familly and hobble around on it. Ive always had good teeth and never had a cavity but somehow when i was there i had to have 4 drilled and filled but never had one before or after and my dentist now say my teeth have always been perfect, no need for fillings. When i arrived there i was taken off a very strong perscription sleeping medication at the recomendation of the program, cold turkey. That was pretty rough.

I guess you can say i was lucky, i wasnt abused physicly, but the mental stuff was pretty bad. A lot of humiliation, and dropping for no reason. Making issues over nothing and terrible therapy, my therapist was a fish of an alcoholic and worthless. The program was vastly over populated and crammed kids in. Kids got dropped to keep tuition. Lies, false and real threats were told to us and parents, and the education we got was a joke. I worked the program in the end just because i didnt see anyother option, i didnt want to take a hike to missoula and i was told i wasnt welcome at home if i didnt graduate so i decided to work the program.

My relationship with my family is really good. It was that walking on eggshells but ok when i first got out. We did great together but we didnt go to deep. When i left for college and moved out for good it did miracles for us. Allowing myself to live by my rules and values taught me to grow up in areas and realize whats important and what is just B.S. I talk to them a lot now and trust them with most anything. When i first got out it took a little while to get the brainwashing out of my mind (prowassp) then i was mad about it for awhile and let them know that pretty good. Then we just had to agree to disagree on the topic and let it drop for a few years. Now im over being mad at them but i do feel it important that they know where i stand on the topic and i do tell them some of the antwassp happenings. Now days they are uncertain, at that time in their life they thought they had no choice, and trusted in all the hype they heard and saw. There was things they liked and things they didnt like but they had to have faith and believe what they were told. My dad hated focus and thought it was B.S.. Looking back at it all they dont know what the right thing to do was. I asked them, knowing all that you know now would you still trust in wassp and send me there, They told me no. To me that was all the closure i needed from them. But that took 5 or 6 years to get there.

The boarding school closed early 2009

References:
Link to the original story
Datasheet about the boarding school from the Fornits Wiki database

Book: Comeback - a mother and daughter's journey through hell and back

Book cover

This book deals with the story of Mia and her mother Claire and Mia is sent first to a boarding school in the Czech Republic and later - when the boarding school is closed down by the authorities due to suspicion of child abuse - to a boarding school managed by the same firm, which has operated boarding schools in six countries.

Despite the closure of the first boarding school the mother continues to have an almost scary faith in the system used by the boarding schools.

Today many of the so-called therapeutic boarding schools use parent seminars where parents are taught not to believe their children but the system used at the boarding schools with method mostly known from marketing of pyramid schemes. The mother seems to have fallen victim to these seminars.

It is rather interesting book to read.

References:
Come Back (Harper Collins)
About the book, the Fornits Wiki database

WWASP Experience (From antiwwasp.com)

This story was originally written on a webpage called antiwwasp.com, which sadly is not online anymore. All rights and credits goes to the author Erin, who posted the original story on antiwwasp.com.

Antiwwasp.com has been relaunced as antiwwasp.us. Unfortunately without the testimonial part and as a message board only.

My parents told me that I would be home in three months to the day, landing me 4 days before my 16 birthday. For someone like me, who has never done drugs, had sex, or put a drop of alcohol in their body, a place like Ivy Ridge was a little extreme. I spent most of my time there on level one. I had no points ever.

I sincerely believe that I would have died in that program; sometimes I wish that I had. When I came home after 25 months of only being allowed to talk for a maximum of 15 minutes a day, my social skills had atrophied.While I was there, I ran into the problem that has hurt me every day, and will for the rest of my life. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and no matter how much my therapist told them that I needed help since they hadn't found good medicine for me, I was still in trouble all the time. I didn't want to be in trouble, contrary to popular belief. The thing is I never even needed to be there.One day, I decided that I should die. This was about three weeks into my stay, so I attempted suicide. They caught me, and I was sent into observational placement.

I sat on a tile floor in an under heated building in February in so far upstate New York that I could see Canada, for about a month. The thing about being so far north is this: I got so cold that it couldn't snow. All the moisture froze out of the air. I was cold all the time anyway, and there I sat. This didn’t help me. When I got up, I wanted to die. I had said that I wanted to before, but never REALLY meant it, well, I meant it, but I had never experienced pain like this before.My grandfather died while I was there. When I found out, I screamed for about an hour. I begged to talk to my parents, and they said no.

When I asked them about it later, they HAD asked to talk to me, and to have me home for the funeral, and the school had said no. they sent me to O.P. again, and I sat on the tile and cried for a week. No one cared how I felt.By far the most scarring thing that happened to me there was when my brother got married. The weekend before I was to leave for the wedding, a staff member, my family representative, told me that I would do nothing in life, and that I would ruin the wedding. She said it to me about five times before I got mad enough that I yelled back.

I yelled about all the times that I had been put down. I yelled for all the times that I had needed someone and no one was there.They came and restrained me. I was put in "intervention" which is code for observational placement. (OP sounded bad so they changed it)The staff member, who said it to me, came to see me later. They laughed and said "See? I told you. You won't do anything with your life." I wasn't the only person she had said that to. She told my parents that I was a waste of time and money. That I was useless and that it was pointless to keep me there. She said that I would never amount to anything, and that I would only take up their valuable time.My mother came to the rescue. She had, for the first time in 20 months, stood up for me, and brought me home for the wedding. It was the best thing that happened to me there.One day, I woke up in bed, and was so depressed that I couldn’t move, because it made my body hurt. I asked them to help me, and let me stay in bed for the day, or do something about this, and they proceeded to restrain me. I have never screamed so loud in my ENTIRE life. I screamed and screamed. They then walked me out holding my arms behind my back in front of all the girls in the program. I cried, and they made comments about my inability to control myself while other girls were there.

They threw me off the bed, and broke my jaw. I found that out after I got home and my mouth hurt still.There was also a time where I could not sleep. I was scared because I had nightmares about the day. Things that should not have happened at all happened more than once a day.I hated life. But what was worse was that I hated God. I cursed him daily for making me the way I am. I would try so hard to do well, and all I could do was fail. And they never let it go. I was never able to be me. All I could be was this person who eventually became me. I was withdrawn and mad all the time.I still am that way a little. Every time I think of ivy ridge, I try to imagine what it would be like if I hadn’t been there, and the only things that come to mind are these:

1. I would have graduated in time to go to school with my friends
2. I would have a semi-normal life and personality
3. My sister and I would have a relationship that wasn't based on her anger that I left her.
4. I could have gone to the music conservatory and done nothing but play the flute. Unlike now, where I rarely play and every time I do, I cry because all my talent is gone.
5. I would have gotten to say goodbye to my grandfather.
6. I would have seen my sister and brother graduate.
7. Most importantly, I wouldn't be so socially retarded.

I have had more trouble since I left the program then I had when I went in. I have been in inpatient once and in therapy once a week for more than a year and a half.Some girls do well, and it always seems like they are the same.

There are addicts and alcoholics who everyone feels sorry for in the beginning and they get their start there. It is never the girl who comes in for small problems and makes good. All they care about are people with big problems. They didn't care about me and bipolar disorder. They didn't care that I was dying.I sincerely believe that my spirit died while I was there. All the things that were fun and good about me disappeared along with the bad. Now I am just a ghost. I walk through the days, and nothing is accomplished. All that I feel is terrible. I get depressed, and every time I do, it seems like I have been thinking of that place.I gained so much weight that when I got home I was at risk for diabetes. I was obese. And that isn't just a statement coming from me; it is on my doctor’s record.

I left at 110 pounds - 4'11", I came back at 189 and 4'11".

There are some things that happened to me there that I do not feel comfortable sharing. They are so terrible that I cannot even think about them. All I have is the time before the program and the time after. It is like there is a black hole in the middle of my life, and it hasn't only sucked time. It sucked my personality. I am gone.

Academy at Ivy Ridge closed in 2009. The Campus was sold twice. Some years earlier they were involved in a case where the state of New York fined them because they issued high school diplomas which were not of a standard the state demanded.

References:
Datasheet about the boarding school from Secret Prisons for Teens
The original story (Cached version of antiwwasp.com - may take a while to load)

Eric at SCL and Tranquility Bay (from tbfight.com)

This story was originally written on a webpage called tbfight.com, which sadly is not online anymore properly because the boarding school closed sometime in 2009. All rights and credits goes to the author Eric, who posted the original story on tbfights.com.

I'll start off by introducing my self. My name is Eric. I attended both Spring Creek Lodge and Tranquility Bay. My sister also attended Cross Creek Manor and thats how my journey actually starts for me. She was sent there for probably the most cliche reasons you all know of. Doing drugs, running away from home, not going to school, being sexually active etc. So when she was kidnapped in 1996 I had no idea that she was going to be and when i did find out i thought it was really cruel to decieve a person by having them kidnapped but, I knew that she needed help and it lessened the blow for me I guess. I had no idea what the program was about but at the same time I was 16 and i had my own problems so I never cared to find out.

So by about her 7th month in the program she was at the point where we were able to go visit her in Utah so we went. It was February of 1997. Behind my back my sister and my Uncle were having talks of sending me into the program. I had no idea. But, by the time the visit was on its last day I was sitting in the car outside of Brightway in Utah waiting for my Uncle to return and then we would leave, or so I thought. So out comes 2 men telling to get out of the car and go inside with them. At first I laughed and told them they would have to kill me if that was going to happen but, that just made them anngry and one said to me, "Hey kid, you can just walk in with us and not start anything or we can tie you up and make you look stupid in front of all the other kids that are in there." So I just walked in with them while being restrained by my arms by both men. I was there until March 4th and then was shipped off to Spring Creek.

Spring Creek wasn't great compared to life as i knew it at the time but it did beat the hell out of Tranquility bay as I'm concerned. So now I guess I will start with the differences between the two places as I saw it.

I saw and spoke with the director at Spring Creek on almost a daily basis. I can count on one hand the amount of times I saw or have even spoken to Jay Kay at Tranquility Bay. Anyone who spent time at both these places knows the difference between the living condtions. If I spoke of Spring Creek when I first arrived, and I did, I was always punished by the case manager cause someone would tell her that I said this or that and it would make them want to tell their parents in hope of getting transitioned to Spring Creek.

I'm always confused on how to explain my time at TB though. I think it is because i never spent time in OP and hardly ever got into trouble with anyone but, there were deffinetly things that i saw that were just plain and simply WRONG. I'd have to say that not all the staff there at the time I was there were all terrible. There were the ones that were and the ones that were not. I just kept to the ones that i knew were not. I look at the website now and I see the program run a little different than when I was there, or maybe thats just what they want me to think. I have too many opnions to just sit here and type them all right now or to even go on about my whole experince there but if anyone reads this and would like to know about what this place did to me I would be glad to tell. Any questions or comments just let me know. I will come by here from time to time to check up and see whats going on. Thanx for reading what I have had to say for now.

By the way, I DO NOT SUPPORT TRANQUILITY BAY.

References:
Datasheet about the boarding school in Jamaica from the Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
Datasheet about the boarding school in Montana from the Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
The original story (Cached version of tbfight.com - may take a while to load)

Facebook group: Imagine if everything you knew was gone...

I stumbled over a Facebook group called: Imagine if everything you knew was gone...

Here is the description of the group:

Imagine if...
You left your home...
If you didnt know if you would ever return...
If you waited a week to hear from your parents...
If you felt that your life was over...
If you lived like you were in Lord of the Flies...
If you could never see your friends again...
If you didnt even know where you were...
If you lived hundreds of miles away from home...
If you could not talk to your siblings...
If you were placed in an enviorment where everyone but you knew what was going on...

For those who have been to:
SUWS
2nd Nature
Four Winds
Sage Walk
Pacific Quest
Provo Canyon School
Carlbrook
Gateway
Salt Lake City
Utah in General

Post the story of your first day...

It seems that a number of boarding schools are represented on this list. Join and Enjoy. It is actually healthy to share your experiences instead of carrying them around untold.

Book: They Cage the Animals at Night

Book cover

This book written Jennings Michael Burch is based on his own life experiences. The author spent his childhood in the foster care system, which unfortunately has not improved since he was a part of it.

The punishments given to the children are not out of the ordinar.

The book gives a good insight to the dynamics of the foster care system and the motivation for the social workers to get rid of cases from their desk so the children become the problems of others.

References
They Cage the Animals at Night (Penguin Group)

Ashley at Spring Creek (From tbfight.com)

This story was originally written on a webpage called tbfight.com, which sadly is not online anymore properly because the boarding school closed sometime in 2009. All rights and credits goes to the author Ashley, who posted the original story on tbfights.com.

When the strangers in the car finally told me where we were headed, my whole world stopped. I knew exactly what thye meant when theyb said, Montana. I instantly thought of the worst, my parents friend’s son had already been there about a year, and I hadn’t heard a word from him since he left, he seemed to kind of just vanish off the face of the earth. I quickly rearranged my thoughts and realized this boy, Mason was also an alcoholic, hippie weed smoking violent run away. I never did anything like that. In fact why was I going there anyway?? My parents must be overreacting, do they know what they are doing, I hadn’t been an ideal daughter, but I didn’t do anything to warrant this. I noticed the bag in the trunk my mother must have packed while I was gone, it wasn’t very big just a small weekend duffel bag. I instinctively asked what the shortest amount of time I could be there if I was compliant was. Three weeks is the minimum, three weeks ok a little longer than I had hoped, buit not horrible ill just follow all the rules and get out of this ‘program’ as soon as I came in, ill just say what they want me to say and be back with my boyfriend Jason in no time, this wont be too bad I tried to tell myself. Between my sobs and gasps for breath I asked more questions, can I use their phone? When do I get to talk to my parents? Do I have to wear a uniform? How long will it take to get there? Every single question that came out of my mouth I later learned was answered with a flat out lie. The only thing I believe they did tell me that was true was the mace and handcuffs they had incase I ‘gave them any trouble’

They offered me some chips and normal snack food, during the 12 hour ride, but I was in such shock I couldn’t even consider eating and wanted to talk to them as little as possible, I decided to just try and sleep, maybe in a few hours I will wake up from this dream.

Never had I felt so dependant and untrusted. Child locks on the dorrs, escorts to the restroom, and the first time I could ever remember not having my cell phone with me, I didn’t know how to react. Finally at about 3 or 4 the next morning they announced we had arrived. I was so nervous not knowing at all what to expect, I tried to take it all in but my mind was occupied by my extreme need to urinate. We parked the car and I could hear one of the escorts talking to some woman outside. They were clearly talking about my and I was slightly relieved to hear him say “she was very compliant, no problems at all.” Id started out on the right foot, just play my cards right and ill be out in a matter of weeks.

I recalled my immediate urge to use the ladie’s room, so another lady walked me down the road to a colorful cabin, where I was informed a group of girl just got the privelage of painting it – there were handprints everywhere with names underneath. I didn’t know what to think until I went into the stall , as I was preparing relieve myself I examine this place….. it could hardly be called a restroom, thank good ness there was plumbing that worked most the time, and there was no pressure in the sinks, I didn’t think it appeared too bad until I noticed the feces stains on the floor and walls, and the used tampons in hidden nooks and crannies, I thought I was going to gag so I did my business as quickly as I could and left.

That night really was a blur, some things I remember as though it were yesterday others I couldn’t recall if was paid to. So ill tell you what I do remember. We went inside this trailer on the side of the road which appeared to be some sort of office, that is where we began the first part of my ‘intake’ the strangers and the car I arrived in suddenly disappeared and I was left alone, somewhere in Montana, in the middle of a forest.

I remember getting my picture taken, I refused to smile at the camera and I looked like death after being in the car for so long and so late at night, there were questions that never ended and a few I didn’t understand the purpose of. They stripped me of any money, identification, and jewelry. The staff members constantly talked to each other as though I wasn’t in the room, when in fact I heard every word they said. Despite the circumstances, my naturally optimistic outlook on life tried to bring in some comic relief, whenever I said anything they looked at me as though I had just shot the president, then ignored my comment and continued with their conversations.

It wasn’t much later I was being escorted with a laundry basket full of necessary items my mother had sent with me such as a toothbrush and undergarments. We walked at 3 in the morning to a cabin where I would join the ‘charity family’. There were approximately 6 girl and 6 boy familys in the lower levels (1-3). All with names that describe characteristics we were to be striving to aquire: destiny, innocence, courage, dignity, integrity etc.

Once we arrived at the cabin they showed me my bed, or more like a board with an 2 inch mattress. And went to wake up a another girl on the top bunk, named Randi., she became my ‘intake buddy’ they put me through odd procedures, I didn’t even have to go through when I was at a mental facility a year earlier. I was required to take off all my clothes, and jump up And down to make sure I had nothing hiding in any….cavaties I then took a shower and learned how to make my bed, and was given permission to go to bed…at 3 or 4 in the morning on march 3rd 2005.

It would take an eternity to go into detail of my every day while staying at SCL yet I feel as though it would be hard to fully express my feelings towards this ‘residential facilities’ without it. I’m in a bind and don’t know how to find a solution, ill just begin and say what I can.

I spent countless sleepless nights….due to many different factors. One night we had streakers, often girls acted as though they were at a 7th grade sleepover and ran around our cabin squealing and having pillow fights, we’ve been invaded by ‘support staff’ because they were determined to pull a young girl from off of her top bunk, because she ‘needed to go to intervention’, often I couldn’t sleep because my ‘bunk buddy’ above me was moving and moaning while pleasuring herself in the middle of the night.

These things don’t sound to be pleasant, but by no means are desired. That’s the point. Things that we did to each other weren’t all that bad, the problem is when the staff intervened, for often no particular reason “Tough love” that’s what they called it. Tough, ok I get that part but when does the love come in?

My parents as well as thousands of others have fallen into the trap of a helpless parent at the end of the road, they didn’t know what to do- and I cant blame them. I really was out of control, and they didn’t know how to handle me, yes I was disrespectful to them, myself, and my body. I was 17 and thought I knew everything. I wont try to deny any of it I know how I acted, and I did need help. They thought they were giving me the help I needed, after I finished being so angry I was actually glad to receive their help…the only problem was my parents weren’t giving me what I needed.

These schools, programs, facilities, camps, whatever they call themselves manipulate and lie. Not just to the students, but to our parents, the media, and to themselves. They use many if not all of the same brainwashing techniques as cults do which can take months to reverse the impractical thinking processes.

Maybe it wouldn’t even be so bad if we were forced to go and eventually sent home, but the reality of it is you never go home. Ever since that summer in 2004 I will never be the same. I as well as many others suffer from symptoms of Post traumatic stress disorder, both from the actual program I attended and the sudden ‘kidnapping’ of the strangers that charge my parents thousands of dollars to unexpectedly force me to get into their car with threats of handcuffs and pepper spray if I didn’t comply; then lie to me the whole way there and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the woods.

Its hard to recall the experiences I had while attending Spring Creek Lodge Academy, one of the WWASPS programs in north-west Montana, because I’ve spent so long trying to block out the painful memories of mental abuse. I must say, I did get out lucky. I never was physically hurt by staff, and was able to go home only 4 months after being there, nearly a record compared to my fellow prisoners.

Many people consider it a good thing I was never physically harmed, and I am grateful but I’m not always sure I’d prefer mental abuse, especially when I already had deep emotional problems. The theory was sort of a ‘break you down to build you back up’ idea. I never really understood why I had to be broken to be made whole again instead of just starting from where I was.. But I complied for awhile because I knew it was the only way to get home. I honestly believe some of the staff members there got more joy out of the ‘breaking down’ part than the ‘building up’.

Every day for months I was reminded that I make mistakes but wait…doesn’t everybody? no, just me. Just us the ‘program kids’ we ruined our families lives, we made them go bankrupt paying for our ‘rehabilitation’ we hurt them so badly with the ways we treated them. They used the term ‘accountability’ often….and often in places where it wasn’t appropriate, YOU must be accountable for the guy who raped you, it was your fault for ‘being in that position.’ There was a certain ‘lingo’ or type of jargon to the different camps, they used awkward words different from people in the normal world, I would often write my mom and she would respond asking what half my letter meant, I was beginning to sound like a zombie, a clone, a robot…..exactly what they wanted.

The industry distorts figures saying ”this many percent of all parents are satisfied with their child’s success” sure our parents our satisfied, at these prisons we didn’t get ‘fixed’ the only things we got better at was hiding our unwanted actions. By some sort of miracle I was able to find just about all the girls that were in my ‘family’ up at SCL. And I can only think of one of them who haven’t at least gone back to their old ways (including myself) and most have only gotten worse. I’ve now been out for 2 and a half years and being one of the older girls, I’ve been able to witness myself and my friends grow up. We do learn from our mistakes, it just takes some more time than others. At that point in my life, I wasn’t happy. I did the things I did for various reasons, and my parents knew I had clinical depression. They sent me away hoping they would help to solve my problems the way the mental hospital did years earlier with my problems of self-mutilation, and bulimia. What that hospital did for me in four days, could never compare to the months I spent in Montana.

Many girls were raped, and I understand the need for talking about it, and getting through that emotional problem, but what help will it do to hold her down while a man comes in pretending to rape her while people are screaming in your ear, “you whore! Slut! I cant believe you are just letting him do this to you! You skank!” This kind of ‘therapy’ does not help anyone and has been proven to be harmful. Meanwhile Karlye in the cabin over has just hung herself and you are forbidden with severe consequences to speak her name or anything about her or the incident. If we ignore it do they think her memory will just go away. Well I wont let Karlye or her life be ignored any longer, children are going through this type of abuse everyday and most of America doesn’t even know it exists, I’ve committed to do all I can to stop other youth from going through these traumatizing experiences

+If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem+

Spring Creek Lodge Academy closed sometime in 2009

References:
Datasheet about the boarding school at Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora

Sarah's WWASP Article (From antiwwasp.us)

This story was originally written on a webpage called antiwwasp.com, which is online again as antiwwasp.us. All rights and credits goes to the author Sarah, who posted the original story on antiwwasp.

Hi, my name is Sarah and I spent 2.5 years at the behavior modification facility that is called Casa by the Sea. My first day was Jan 3, 1999 and I didn't get to go home until the end of May 2001.

I was so upset when I first arrived that I was unable to eat for two weeks. Finally, they had one of the male staff force feed me by holding me down and shoving food down my throat, which continued even after I vomited. I started out in the "Courage Family," which consisted of a group of girls who where there for various reasons, including drugs, sex, violence, run away, etc. As far as I could tell, all I had done was smoke cigarettes, and get bad grades. I spent about the first two months of my time in the "worksheet room" because I spoke out of turn, or didn't fall to the ground and hide my face in time when the boys passed. Apparently it is considered wrong to look at a guy, which is something that it took me a year to get over when I got out.

All schooling was self study. Most of the books were ok, but the math books really sucked. It took me like 8 months to get through one chapter of Algebra because I didn't understand the teachers' attempts to tutor me.

Every family group has a "case manager" and my first one was Imelda, who stole things that my parents sent me. At least half of the books they sent were never given to me, THREE graphing calculators were stolen. Most of my items that were confiscated from me when I got there were missing when I left, the bin that my stuff was in was somehow gone and my stuff was in a laundry basket.

I remember one day when a new girl in our family ran away, and we were forced to stand in the seminar room all day facing the wall with our noses like an inch away. I never made it to level five or six, and found it almost impossible to get to levels 3 and 4. I had to stop brushing my hair because my red hair got everywhere and I was unable to get all of it out of my brush. When I had to live in a room with a girl who had scabies is when it got really bad because I got it too and was forced to be quarantined and wear an awful smelling cream that I still have nightmares about.

I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking that we have to go outside for a headcount, and I even dream in Spanish at times.

I was once sent out to the gynecologist and was told that I had Gonorrhea, which was impossible because I was a virgin, and had never come into contact with anyone who had that, but of course I had to pay a high price for that visit. I was forced to pay with my college money for all of the school's fees, which left me nothing to go to school on. I was forced to go through seminars every month, and found that if I was unwilling to comply with the program I would never get to go home.

I was once put on what they called a "challenge" where I was not allowed to speak at all, and was only allowed to non-verbally communicate with another student and was required to do everything that she told me to do. I was told that it was for my own good.

I have so many emotional scars from my time there that I will never be able to move passed. I was constantly used as an example by the administration when we had facility meetings as what not to do, and how not to act, and what was wrong with me. I still constantly think that I can't do anything right because when I was at Casa, I never could.

My parents were so convinced that they had to keep me away from my friends that when I got out, I had to go to a different school, and was not allowed to socialize until I turned 18.

I sometimes wake up hearing the tapes on the "World's 100 Greatest People" or the "World's 100 Greatest Books" that I had to listen to for hours every day until I was able to figure out how the rules worked. They finally had to send me to "PC-1" because I had been there for so long that they were sick of dealing with me. Then a month and 1/2 later I was woken by one of the "mamas" and told that I was going on a home pass, but that I could not tell anyone. Why not? Because I was a special case, and there was more to it, I just didn't know at the time.

When I was at the airport I was given paperwork and plane tickets, in it I found a letter from my parents to the administration thanking them for letting me go through the last seminar in May so that I could come home for good.

When I arrived back at Casa for the last two weeks of my stay, I was forced to write a 5000 word essay on the importance of being obedient, because I had told my friends that I was going home. I still don't understand why I should have hidden the fact that I was going home and that I was happy about it! I needed to say goodbye to my friends and prepare them for the fact that I was leaving. I still wish that I had been able to keep in contact with some of them. We all went through so much together that we should keep in touch.

If anyone was there during the times that I was, please e-mail me at (email address). I think that the only way that we will ever be able to get over the things that happened to us is for us to talk to each other about it.

Casa by the sea was closed by the authorities in Mexico due to suspicion of child abuse.

References:
Datasheet about the boarding school (Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora Wiki)
The original story (Cached version of antiwwasp.com - may take a while to load)

Solitude (from tbfight.com)

This story was originally written on a webpage called tbfight.com, which sadly is not online anymore properly because the boarding school closed sometime in 2009. All rights and credits goes to the author, who is known to the former webmaster of tbfights.com.

"Im awake" I say it again, but the Jamacain still slaps the corner of my bed with his hand. "get up up boy....im not going to tell you again" I murmer something under my breathe, He shoots me one last look then walks off to another room to hand out more cat 1s for not getting up in time. I look up and my 5 roomates have already begun thier morning assignments. They walk around the small room like zombies, barely awake, but somehow managing to look like thier busy for the ever attentative staff. Im not a working student so I have no responsibilities. (Nothings expected of me) I jump down from my wooden board and 4 inch futon like mattress. And I take my uniform off my shelf and unfold it and wait in line for the bathroom. The 2 infront of me yawn and strech thier muscles prepairing for the day ahaed. Its almsost my turn now, the 14 year old in the bathroom now is taking his time, as usual. I bang on the door and say "caleb, hurry the (ahem...) up" He opens the door, half dressed, and wadles out, I walk in, and step in urin on the floor. No big deal. I reach for the faucet and turn the knob, ....hmmm....no water, nothings changed since yesterday.

I change and grab my water bottle and my book. This week im reading 10,000 laegues under the sea. Although you wouldnt know it trying to read whats left of the cover (you learn quickly in TB that reading is the only escape from this miserable mind numbing repetative lifestyle we live in that 3rd world toilet.) I walk past my level 3 roomate whos busy sweeping the floor. I barely notice him, and I walk right through his pile of dust, dirt, and toe nail clippings, it doenst matter though, he see's me and doenst even give it a second look. The Hallways are busy as usual. The kids in O.P. are sleeping in the hall way, students are busy collecting brooms and mops for thier half ass future cleaning efforts, the night staff are still sitting in thier seats half way asleep infront of every room that contains "students". The day staff shift is up and already handing out categories to kids for meaningless rules such as faul language, horse playing, looking out the windows ,being slow, for not doing morning chores fast enough or good enough, etc etc etc. I walk to the door way of my room and asked the staff infront of the door permission to leave my room, the staff asks me if i finished my morning chores, and I tell him I have none, he tells me "get one" and walks away. I step out anyways and slowly walk over to an area my family has somewhat claimed in the hallways. recently Unity has been trying to "slowly push us out of our morning hallway spot", so today we agreed those who wouldnt do chores would go claim the spot for excellence before unity tries to pull that shit again.

I take 10 steps out of my room, hang a left through the staff infested hallways and Im already there. My friend Chris was already sitting down, He looked up to see who it was, He saw me and gave me a smerk, I kinda smiled back and backed myself up to a wall near him and slid down till i was sitting on the floor. I took a Sip of my warm water and opened my book. He asked me how did I like the book (he recommended it to me) I started talking about it with him as the excellence family crowded around us in "our area" and before I knew it we were already lining up. we Line up in the poorly lit hallway silently and I noticed Everyone has there baskets with them (its wednsday, washing day,..........damn) I run out of line and and into my room, (5 feet away from the line) I grab my basket full of dirty clothes and take a quick look to make sure im not forgeting anything. I walk out and my family fathers already waiting for me on the outside of the door with arms crossed. "I forgot my basket" I say in my defense. He hands me a cat sheet and tells me to fill out 3 cat 1's. (he did that just so I would have work sheets and miss P.E.) I snatched the Ridiculous pieces of paper out of his hand and walked back into line. I dont care, Im turning 18,......... soon TB will be nothhing more then a vague memory, and as I would soon find out, a constant platform for future nightmares. the staff did his head count and then waited for us all to stop swaying and stop mumbling in line before we could go anywhere. We walked downstairs and out the front door of the dorms. It was Hot, very hot. (the inside had no ac but atleast it was shaded.) We walked past the cafeteria in the blinding sun and after 2 min of stopping every 25 feet and doing head counts we reached the " shower area" every one sped walked (running is a category) to the back of the shower area to grab 2 buckets each. 1 for washing and scrubbing, the other for rinsing. Some kids have thier friends grab a bucket while the other holds an outdoor faucet for them (4 faucets 23 kids) So there is ALWAYS some sort of pushing and shoving over faucets, being next in line, and wether or not its okay to have someone save a faucet for someone else......you know...the important things in life.

After you fill your bucket up to the top you fill your second bucket half way, (but dont dare fill your rinsing bucket up to much, for wasting water in jamaica is like breaking one of the commandments.)

After waiting 10 min in line for some water everyone then sat in a circle in the middle of the hot ass sun and scrub our clothes with our bare hands as if it was 1850. Everyone silent .....quiet, taking in the incredible heat, fighting the bugs, and scrubbing (and of course i guess a (ahem...)in brush would be to much to ask for) After washing, you hang your clothes on the wires running across the area. Then you empty out your bucket full of filthy water, and you refill that bucket, take it in the outdoor shower stalls, empty out your water bottle, and proceed to wash yourself with a bucket of water at your feet (standing on a crate to keep you elevated from all the mold and grime building up on the never Ever cleaned shower stalls) and you dump water on your head with a bottle one cup at a time. If you take more then 10 min you get a category.

Today Shane got out of O.P. (shane is 14 years old. Hes very small and picks fights with everyone, And has lost every fights hes gotten into. After 1 years he is still in a program, He is constantly pushing the staffs temper and almost always get restrained for the staff have no fear of him and since hes always in trouble, staff have the right to restrain him for anything . Everyone picks on shane, hes very annoying and watching him get restrained is actually rather entertaining considering the place your in and having him leave the family is a relief, so even the upper levels purposlly push him over the edge. (yes upper levels) (a lot of good this place does huh))

Anyways, as i showered, someone decided to throw shanes shorts in one of the shower stalls. He saw his shorts and freaked out, he began screaming and walked over to every one asking them who did it. Some other kid trying to be difficult (even though he didnt do it) he started messing with him, saying things like "i know who did it" and "Im not telling you" Basically pushing him over the edge. Shane flipped, began throwing lefts and rights, pretty soon both male staff grabbed him and trying to impress the students around them, picked the undersized kid up and carried him out of the shower area and into O.P. for immediate restraining. (some staff love to show off infront of the kids, it happens more then any of you would believe) The Family clapped and laughed as the small kid was carried away crying, kicking, and screaming.

We then Lined up in the heat and waited for the staff to take his head count, we then walked back in single line (as always) to the families rooms and put our empty baskets and shower suplies back on the 2-3 shelves we were given when we first arrived. (you only need 2 or 3 shelves, you own so few possecions) after getting 45 sec to put our stuff away, were already linging up in the hallways silently waiting for the head count. My friend infront of me looked behind me and saw me reading in line. He kinda elbowed me to warn me that im gunna get in trouble. I whipser "i dont care" the staff walks over and asks him why are we talking. After 20 seconds of explaining that he was telling me to stop reading the staff decides to give him a category and me 2 categories. (I really dont care, but my friend is trying to reach level 3 so he can hear his little brothers again.) after waiting for the staff to stop flirting with the female staff we start our descend to the bottom floor to the class rooms.......I whisper an apology to chris, he turns around, gives me a smerk, then keeps walking. Its hard to smile here.

Outside of the rooms the girls are linging up from P.E. I turn my head out of line and stare at one of the pretty girls as if I were at a buffet table. Staff see's me and yells " You boy, fill out a romantic encouragement" I laugh it off and pretend like I really care what this underpaid over worked little black man has to say to me. (thats about 3 hours in work sheets, You'd think I would have learned by now......lol......(its still early, its only my 3rd week.)

After walking 100 yards we reach the school. Thank god. A/C! after the staff makes us stand outside till he can hear a pin drop, we we walk in, and you can actually hear each student sigh as the cold air covers thier sweaty skin. We all take our strategic assigned seats which are meant to keep the talkers away from one another and the silent type inbetween the talkers and fighters. This is our 1st trip of 5 trips to school today (just like every other (ahem...)in day) its still early, so the "teacher" hasnt arrived yet. we spend 1 hour in class, everyone who had to take a shit since early this morning or late last night now has an opportunity to use the bathroom without having to plunge it after finishing. (the classrooms have running water, unlike the dorms, shit holes, bedrooms, whatever you want to call them) For the next hour we are suppost to sit quitely and prepare for the teacher. which is ridiculous, for they might as well call it......."put your head down time" (i dont think an explanation is needed there) Its only 9, but im already starving, its been 16 hours since I last ate, and yesterdays dinner (as usual, jus didnt quiet cut it) I sat in class for an hour, stomach rumbling, begging me for food. I also put my head down, (I guess subconsiouslly trying to conserve energy or whatever little food is in my stomach.) (yesterday was sunday, we only got 2 meals!!!)

Its finally 10, we slowly walk towards the cafeteria, stopping frequentlly for he head counts. After what seemed like forever, we finally reach the cafeteria. The staff then keeps us outside till hes good and ready to let us in. The line leader stares at the staff waiting for him to command us to enter for our scheduled morning meal. we walk in (in line of course) and grab the meal that is already lined up for us. The new kid takes the plate that wanst next in line and the staff gives him a cat 3. His buddy pleads with the staff to drop the "charge" he does, and I giggle, (its tough getting used to these rules) we place our meals on the table and stand behind our chairs, we wait for the supervisor to finish her convo outside, when she walks in, she walks around, catches a few people not groomed properly (un'bottoned button or shirt sticking out. etc) after 45 sec of walking around she says "sit" and we all sit down and dig in. This lovely morning we are having a small handful of cooked cabage, even less ground up very uncooked meat, and 3 pieces of white bread.

I dont care, if u placed cooked cat infornt of me i would have finished it all by myself. (probably would have tasted better too...) Compared to the fish or the soup, or some of the other meats, the guwy cabage is actually a treat. Its been 4 min since we walked in, and the kitchen cook/chef/janitor/staff/gardner places the tape in the radio and as we eat silently we listen to the same exact tape we heard yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before that. (welcome to beautiful Tranquility Bay!)

I finish my meal and Im alreday looking at others plates who either cant eat the ground up meat or wont touch it, and then try and trade my nasty ass powdered milk for there food. (its against the rules to trade or give food, they would rather you throw out food before you give it to another hungry child) (thats the mentallity in TB)

Micah still wont eat, hes lost 50 lbs since he first got here, but hes also got a few std's from one of his mothers pimps, so they blame his wait loss on his desease. Micah starts picking up plates and brings me his and I quickly devour what he wouldnt or what he says "physically cant eat" Staff dont care, eaiting disorders is beyond thier basic knowledge of handing out categories and holdding thier crotch when they talk. (okay not all of them, but most......)

After BF we go to the dorms (single file line, I know I keeps saying it, but its all the time, they treat us like ignorant sheep in that place......the scary part is, u get used to it,........all of it)

We walk to the dorms and take off our sandals outside of the room in the hallway. We walk in and the staff hands the upper level some random book that hes suppost to choose words out of for fellow students to spell. But is actually more like an opportunity for the student tester to find words that insult or offend the perticular student and then have them spell it. Staff know it, they do....they dont care.......

So after 30 min of “Jonathan, spell fagot"......."Im not gunna spell that"....."Spell it or I tell father"....."F-a-g-o-t"......"thats right Johnathan, your a f-a-g-o-t"

We line up...(again) and wait (again) we walk downstairs and go back to school. The teachers thier now, so no more relaxing. Now youve actually got to put some effort into looking busy. The so called teacher doesnt teach, she hands out precopied test, then checks them with test answers she got form the states (I know she couldnt properly check 1 test without it) I dont do school work, Ive flat out refused (but I'll leave my own reasons and explanations for later) (in a few simple words though......I will not allow them to manipulate me or much none the less change me as a person, I like who I am.......and thats that.)

After half an hour of sitting quietly and writing letters to people who will never get them, nature calls. So I raise my hand and wait till the staff is "good and ready" I apporach the desk that all the staff sit around and eat shit at. (eat shit as in do nothing) I say " can I have toilet paper for the bathroom" the staff trying to be funny for his buddies says "what for?" and smiles.I wanted to say something back or do something, But in TB physical force accomplishes nothing. so I just walk away. Which really offended him. Which will and does come back to haunt me, but its hard to take shit from people who are purposlly trying to be disrespectful.

I then raise my hand and ask another staff, and he sends me back to the other staff, (just my luck) I come back to the same staff and ask the same question. He looks at me, unrolls the TP they keep locked up like a fire arm, as he hands it to me he tells me "no jacking off in the bathroom" but he says it loud enough for half the class to hear. what ever....you get used to it......(sadly)

Class is over and in single file line we go back to the shower area to collect our clothes and fold them up. after 15 min of folding in the heat chris comes up to me and tells me that travis stole my sun block. (im not pist though, Im not mad at him, even though hes a thief, Im not mad at the staff who disrespects me, im mad at this place, I hate this place, I hate what it does to people, I hate how it makes you feel about life, I hate how they manipulate you, I hate what they get away with, and even worse, I hate the fact that im scheduled to be here till im 1 (deep down I dont know how much longer I can take being held opressed, poorly treated, poorly fed, etc etc. Not even the kid who stole my sun block deserves this)

Now about my freaking sun block. I find travis puttin his clothes away on his shelf, and ask him for my sun block, He tells me he doesnt know what Im talking about. (i cant believe this kids lying to my face) I quickly reach in his basket, pull out my sun block and hold it infront of his face. He actually laughs, then asks me not to tell.......I didnt answer, I walk away.....I get inline and close my eyes. I picture my friends and what there probably doing right now, I think of my father and my pets, I think of the beatiful miami beaches, I think of the park near my house and the kids playing on the swings, I think of the times Ive hung out with my friends laughing and playing around..."Stop your day dreaming boy!....hurry up..."

I catch up with the line, thier walking towards P.E. the same disrespectful staff walks up to me and tells me I have worksheets to serve. I walk into the room with 5 other kids from my family who have all been caught for some ridiculous rule they broke. We sit in the hot room, wondows closed, doors closed. (they d that on purpose) The jamaican heat has no where to go. The staff tells us the rules of the of the TB handbook "no laughing, no tlkaing, no standing, no picking at your fingers, no calling out answers, feet together at all times, no looking around the room." He continues speaking, he puts the tape in. Each tape is 15 min long there are 30 questions hidden in each tape. Most of the kids in thier are work sheet regulars. Some of the kids even quietly say the tape word for word to themselves.... To my left is this kid with a feminen name (constantly gets made fun of) he sat there, didnt do one tape the entire time, but instead slowly pulled hairs out of his legs. 1 by 1 he found a hair on his leg and pulled it out. (i never understood why he was doing it, but when he saw me looking at him, he stopped)

After 3 tapes I was done, and I was sent back to my family which were at P.E. I was escorted to my family, I ran over to chris who was playing football on the concrete with a few others. I joined in, probably the highlight of my day, maybe my week.......all of my days in TB are jus one big miserable blur anyways.

After P.E. we lined up and were taken by the family fathers to the shower area, were we showered and got dressed. We went through the routine without flaw, 6 take a shower, when they finish 6 more, when they finish 6 more until we were all done. We lined up in the blazing sun, waited for staff and were soon on our way to Lunch. We left our water bottles outside and stepped into the dry smelly cafeteria. The tape was already playing, we walked in, single file, grabbed our lunch and waited for the supervisor, she looked around, bitched about a few things, and then gave the okay. We sat down quietly, (made sure we lifted our chairs as we pulled them out from beneath the tables.) Today we are having 2 peieces of white bread and ground up meat that if spread around, barely covered one full side of the bread, and 4 crackers. It didnt matter though, The meats disgusting, and in my opnion, uneatable, so I traded it last week for a dinner role to a level 3. I nibbled my crackers 1 by 1 trying not to let 1 of my taste buds go uncovered. And just as quickly as lunch came, it was over, and just as hungry as I was this morning,.....is just as hungry as I am now.

We walked upstairs, (single file....im telling you......the lines never end in TB) We stand infront of the dorm room we spend most of our "waiting time and family rep time" in. We wait for staffs approval, then we take off our sandlas (no shoes...easier to run away with in) we then walk into the room and sit down and wait for the family representative. (Now I dont exactly rmember what happened this day with the family rep. So let me Throw some information out about this whole family representative thing instead)

For those who dont know, Each family has 1 family Rep, you spend 1 hour a day with your family rep as a group. You sit inside your room, when she walks in, everyone stands up together and says "Good afternnon mrs blah blah blah" the family rep then sits down, opens her notebook and begins her "thrashing" You see, your family rep is your only commmunication between you and your family, your family rep speaks with the students mother and father once a week and updates them on your situation. Your family rep has ultimate power over you and your situation at TB. If your Family Rep doenst like you, you will spend much much more time in TB then you should have if she liked you. She decides when its time for you to go home, she decides if you go to pc1, pc2, or pc3. She decides if you move up a level, she decides. Your life is in the hands of this woman, and you are wrong if you dont think tyranny is not a problem with them. They are cocky, and rather ruthless, they call you out, and make you spill embarresing information, or its time in O.P. on your face. About 4 people every day get to speak with her in group, she makes you stand up, and then asks you extremely personal questions infront of everyone else. and then, after all that, she has these kids get up and tell you what they think about your situation and tell you what they think you should do. But its not like that, these "responses" from other students are mean vicous attacks on one another, where helpful info isnt given, but chances to throw your mistakes in your face and then give in a few cheap shots were insults are thrown at you and you cannot respond. And the worst thing about all of this, is that the family rep is okay with this, okay with this horrible things these kids say about your family and the person you are, and no...this is not constructive criticism, it is destructive and very hurtful when you bear your sole and deepest secrets to your friends and enemies then have it thrown back in your face. In other programs your family therapist gives you her opnions on your actions and then reports them back to your parents, But, it is controlled and mediated by a proffesional therapist. Not in TB, these woman (there are no male family reps as far as I know) are not qualified to be a family therapist much none the less take on the responsibility of both therapist and family Rep. They have not earned the right to control the lives of 30 kids.

When the embaressment is over you make your way with your family back to school. On our way to school, the girls were on thier way to the library, and since the boys cant SEE the girls they made us walk around the back of the facility. The next 2 hours were spent in class, nothing really unexcpected happened. Which really sucked, for at TB you live for the unexpected, everything is the exact same, everything, nothing changes, the poeple, the food, the treatment, the hunger, the staff stealing shoes and clothes, the little medical attention, the water shortage, the electrical outages, the disrespect, the constant misery that seems to shroud this place, everything is planned out and the exact same thing happens ever single day, which is why little things like kids getting restrained are highlights of peoples weeks. After The last School trip with a teacher in the class room (which means nothing more then the chance to take test, thats all teachers do, they dont tutor, parents must pay for that seperately) We make our way to the dorms. its about 5 pm now and were suppost to be in the dorms doing somehting called "kareoke" but we have no radio, no koreoke machine, and were not allowed to sing....so its just something they put in the schedule to make TB seem like its something that its not.

Anyways, this hour before lunch is spent doing 1 of 2 things, (depending on how lenient the staff is) either sitting quietly reading or holding a "family group" which consist of a person at a time telling "war stories" about there past, such as the different drugs they've tried, the different girls they've been with, the unlawful things thy've done etc. etc. In other facilities this is deeply frowned upon, and can even get you sent to O.P. but not in T.B. alote of staff dont care what your doing unless thiers another strict staff around or a supervisor on shift near by. So basically you walk into TB knowing how to smoke weed, and leave with a wide knowledge of heroin, shrooms, coke, and even peyote. (maybe once a week do you get a chance as a group to talk shit about your past)

When dinner time comes around we line up, and are escorted to the cafeteria and fed whatever small amount of food is on the list. If its meat, its full of fat bones and is never enough. If its bread, its hard and old. If its fish, its just outright nasty. And no matter what it is....it is always cold.

Today we had cold soup, which is basically a mix of the past 2 dinners. I never eat the soup, My stomach couldnt handle it. I always gagged after eating it....so I kinda learned my listen the second time.

Twice a month you get to see your therapist. I was escorted to my therpist who sits in a nice office, with a/c a tv and all of these american food and condaments that are like gold in TB trading. He sat me down and started to ask me about my family, I told him I was waiting till i was 18 and that I wasnt going to work no matter what. He somewhat agreed with me, (he certainly didnt argue with me) and asked me if i could help him with some of his paper work, I spent the next 30 min matching up names with groups and times, (basically scheduling his next 30 appointments) (It turns out my mother paid 75 dollars for those meetings.)

You gatta love this place.........

The next few hours are spent in school writing home, its a rather depressing couple of hours. (then again what isnt depressing at TB) everyones real quiet, there all huddled over thier desk writing home, some crying, others mad, some wont write home, some just dont care. Everyones caught up in thier own situation, Everyones....trying to go home.

Its now 9 pm, everyones tired from the day, the day staff leave, and the night staff get settled in thier respective chairs infront of everyones room. Some kids are getting ready for tomorrow, others dont wanna even wake up from thier sleep tonight, The kids in O.P. are getting restrained. shanes in O.P. so no one will get any sleep tonight, hes gunna be restrained until his little body cant take any more bruises. Todays over, and tommorows a new day, but tomrow you dont go home, tomorrow you dont drive your car to work, you dont go to the store or handle currency, you dont get to say goodnight to your family or friends. Tomorrows just 10 hours away, and in 10 hours, you do the exact same thing over again. Tommorow exactly the same, nothing changes, You stand in line al day, you take shit from your peers, you get disrespected by staff, you starve all day and go to sleep hungry, and then it starts all over again and the same thing after that, and the same thing the next day.

If your reading this, Youve just spent 1 hour in the life of a Tranquility Bay prisoner, 60 minutes........now imagine a whole day of this bullshit, now picture a week of this slow misery, now imagine a month of this or a even year! or for many kids, a few years........ everyone makes mistakes, but, no one deserves this treatment.
Everybody needs help at one time or another........this....... isnt help.........

References:
Datasheet about the boarding school from Secret Prisons for Teens
The original story (Cached version of tbfight.com - may take a while to load)