Several months ago, I shared about Ethan, a horticulture student who had recently tried to commit suicide – twice. I’d be remiss if I didn’t share an update. Genesis arrived at Burruss Correctional Training Center unlike many other juvenile inmates – he was upbeat and smiling. He actively participated in class and gleefully shouted out answers to the little puzzles we use to warm up at the start of each class. His answers were nearly always wrong – he is undoubtedly intelle

Put yourself in their shoes for a minute. You’ve committed a crime. A judge or jury of your peers has deemed you unfit to walk about freely. A prosecutor has decried you as a “menace to society” or worse, a “superpredator.” The gavel falls, your wrists and ankles are shackled, then your loaded onto a white re-purposed school bus and driven down to Forsyth, GA. There, you’re unloaded, given a set of starched white prison shirts and pants, and told, “Welcome to Burruss Correc

“Like an eastern redbud I have a heart.” Each week during our horticulture class, I introduce the students to a new plant. They then have to memorize how to visually identify the plant, as well as how to spell its Latin, common, and family names. They’ve learned to spell words like Chaenomeles speciosa and Hamamelidaceae. I’m replicating an exact assignment I had in my own undergraduate studies and teaching the same plants I learned and poured over for four years. The only

There’s a peace lily on my porch. It’s a sad little creature, confined to a wicker basket that’s starting to rot. I have a small collection of houseplants, all of which are in varying states of health and wellness. Yes, I was a horticulture major in college and hold a Master of Science from UGA, but never took the “Indoor Plants” class. I don’t know anything about our indoor plant friends, which is quite ironic because when people hear about my educational and career backgr