They came bounding down the walkway.   “HORTICULTUREEEEEE, HORTICULTUREEEEEE,” they called out.   I hadn’t seen the boys in two weeks. They were eager to be back in class. The previous two classes had been cancelled due to a medical emergency and a statewide lockdown. We were all happy to be back in the classroom.   As the boys come running to class, I stand by the door and “dap” them up. It’s the highlight of my Tuesday, these small check-ins with them. That Tuesday, one stu

I’ve been with HeartBound for four years now.   Whenever someone new hears about my job, I know to immediately expect a million questions. One of them being – “What are the people you work with in prison for?”   My answer is nearly always the same: “I don’t know.” And that’s the truth.   A common misconception about prison is that everyone knows what everyone else is “in” for. The details of someone’s offense are rarely – if ever – discussed. A lot of prisoners don’t talk to

So often, it is not well with my soul. The world we inhabit is broken, marred by sin. Just this Tuesday, I walked into a prison and the first words I heard were: “You know that Ethan kid of yours? He tried to kill himself twice this weekend. Slashed his wrists and neck and then pulled out the stitches.”   I had to stand and absorb this grave news without flinching. I had no time to process. I was there to teach. I had to go on.   Ethan is by no means a good student. I couldn’