Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform > News Items
SAFPF torture will continue in Texas
wdtony:
Whitmire: Substance Abuse Program Is Doing Fine
BY PATRICIA J. RULAND
Sen. John Whitmire
Photo by Jana Birchum"Sadism is not a must in therapy." – Kerry Wolf, Hackberry Unit, 2001-2002
In September, Austin attorney Derek Howard received another batch of narratives written by female inmates alleging they were severely and shamelessly mistreated while incarcerated at one of several of the state's Substance Abuse Felony Punishment Facilities (aka "SAFPF"), which are charged with the statutory responsibility of rehabilitating drug and alcohol offenders. Writing from the Hackberry Unit in Gatesville, one inmate had posed a question: What would state senators do about SAFPF if they found out what it was really like?
During Nov. 13 interim charge hearings conducted by the Senate Criminal Justice Committee, chaired by Houston Sen. John Whitmire, the inmate's question was answered – but not as she might have hoped. Despite a growing pile of inmate reports accumulating over the last year – personal narratives that graphically recount "mind-crushing" torment, even torture, suffered by SAFPF inmates – the committee blithely looked the other way, praising SAFPF personnel and exchanging drunk jokes with them during the hearing. Whitmire declared of SAFPF, "We'd be in a hell of a mess without it."
That many inmates describe SAFPF as a state-funded hell on earth was of little consequence to the committee. As reported in the Chronicle ("Rehabilitation or Torture?" May 23), inmates claim that staff members force them to sit in chairs for long hours and days, for weeks and months on end, in a global punishment known as "tighthouse"; compel SAFPF "sisters" to verbally berate each other during "family" time; routinely call inmates "whores," "bitches," and bad mothers; and mockingly dispense "miracle water" rather than medicine for serious conditions. Numerous inmates contend that SAFPF is worse than prison and a far cry from healthy rehabilitation.
Earlier this year, following the initial reports of inmate charges, Whitmire's committee announced that this interim hearing would focus on SAFPF procedures. But by August, specific mention of SAFPF had dropped off the hearing agenda. Asked why, a committee aide said: "There's not enough evidence. ... We're not going to hold hearings based on your article" – or based on the growing pile of inmate testimonials, apparently.
At last month's Senate hearings to review, among other things, the state's privately run prisons and related programs, Whitmire was caught off guard by the testimony of Kerry Wolf, former inmate of the Hackberry "special needs" SAFPF unit in Gatesville. "Obviously, you've come to support SAFPF," the senator began. "Did it work?" Wolf answered, "I was appalled by the human rights abuses and torture that went on in the name of treatment." She'd sat through tighthouse herself. "I saw inmates who were already mentally fragile losing their minds, running around, tearing out their hair, falling out of chairs onto the floor, having seizures, fainting, or hallucinating," Wolf said. As for "peer-driven" therapy, she told the committee, it was "Lord of the Flies run amok."
But Wolf was the lone SAFPF critic that day. A dismissive Whitmire implied that she'd been out of SAFPF too long for her testimony to matter, sighing in relief, "Ohhhhh ... there's been a lot of changes since then" (Wolf was in SAFPF from 2001 to 2002). Whitmire quickly lost interest, and during most of her testimony, he fidgeted and whispered to an aide. Michael Giniger took the mic and promptly discredited Wolf. "I am vice president of Gateway Foundation, the organization that this woman claims tortures people in our SAFPF facilities, which we don't. I ... tell you as I told you before, the SAFPF programs that are offered here in Texas ... are by far the best offered in the country." He pointed to 2003 "outcome studies," conducted by the Texas Criminal Justice Policy Council, which showed "astonishingly good outcomes." Unsurprisingly, Whitmire didn't point out that those studies also covered the years when Wolf was at SAFPF. Wolf left the hearings in tears. "I can't stand to listen to this," she said.
Witness Shirley Otto, a counselor at Hackberry for three years, denied any abuses and defended tighthouse as "an adult time-out." She herself had actually gone through the program, as have other SAFPF counselors. Speaking of her stay, she said, "I needed some intensive 'behavior modification,'" a phrase other inmates describe as ominous. "We're supportive of SAFP and love to hear from people like you," Whitmire responded, probing no further. "Let's celebrate your sobriety."
Counselor Becky Green (who left SAFPF in 1997) defended SAFPF's methods, saying, "There are reasons we do what we do," and, "There's no other program better than this." Her comments echoed the Gateway official's disclaimer that some of the methods Gateway uses as "treatment" are "not comfortable." His talk might have been part sales pitch, too – the state again is seeking a contractor to provide 63 million dollars' worth of new SAFPF beds. Outside the hearing room, a woman (who asked that her name be withheld) spoke to the Chronicle on her own behalf and corroborated key inmate claims of abuse, based on her 2005 experience at Hackberry. She recalled being confined to "chairs" from about 4am to 8pm for a week. Inmates were given peanut-butter sandwiches three times a day, save for an occasional burrito. She heard inmates called "bitches" and "whores," and confirmed they were shamed for "sucking glass dick" (i.e., smoking crack). She said she complained about SAFPF "all the time" during her stay but explained, "My complaints weren't valid." Asked whether abuses aided her recovery, she said, "somewhat."
Following the hearing, Whitmire was asked whether being called "bitches" and "whores" should be part of the state's rehabilitative regimen. "None of us thinks it should," he told the Chronicle. "If they're doing that, they should stop." John Moriarty, state inspector general over the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, refused to answer that question. Moriarty did say that his office has completed a review of SAFPFs and that no civil rights laws or state policies have been violated.
Although Whitmire believes SAFPFs have changed for the better, inmates remain skeptical that cosmetic changes – such as renaming the still-enforced tighthouse "reflection house" – will have a beneficial effect. "When or if public officials come [for inspection], they will change [SAFPF] to look presentable, but as soon as they leave, we'll be treated like garbage," one inmate from the Halbert Unit wrote on Sept. 3.
Inmates still report being called "dope fiends" and being assigned childish tasks such as coloring and singing nursery rhymes. One inmate described watching pus drip from her untreated staph infection as she was forced to clean showers. Another said she witnessed the jovial Otto yelling at an inmate who had smiled at her, "Don't smile!"; this inmate also recounted urinating in her underwear after being denied a bathroom trip. Another inmate said that during tighthouse, a clinical supervisor taunted, "Y'all don't want to go out there and continue to be crack whores, do you?"
The stream of letters to attorney Howard abruptly stopped in September. Was it the systemwide lockdown resulting from a recent death row threat on Whitmire's life? Was it because inmates learned there would be no lawsuit, due to the expense? Another letter may provide another possible answer: Inmates were being threatened with solitary confinement if they tried to get the word out about alleged SAFPF abuses.
According to another narrative, in October inmates were supposed to "model" sitting "appropriately" in chairs for "observers" during a "media event." (The Chronicle was not invited.) If they were among the official observers, legislators might ask themselves: Just how can SAFPF be improved, if lawmakers remain indifferent to inmates' pleas for help?
Source: http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase ... d%3A714278
wdtony:
Letters From the Women of SAFPF
In early 2008, Jodi Stodder-Caldwell, an inmate at the Ellen Halbert SAFPF unit in Burnet County, contacted Austin attorney Derek Howard to explore the prospect of filing a civil rights lawsuit. For several months, she and other inmates, from Halbert and other units, sent graphic narratives chronicling alleged physical and psychological abuses occurring in state SAFPF units. Upon request by the Office of Inspector General, Howard provided 10 narratives for the benefit of a SAFPF investigation but was asked for none of the others. The OIG concluded its investigation and reported finding no violations of civil rights or policy, according to Inspector General John Moriarty. The OIG has submitted a request to withhold all or part of the report to the state Attorney General's Office. The request was pending at press time.
Below is just a small sample of the letters received by Howard; they have been transcribed and minimally edited. Protected by attorney-client privilege, the narratives could not be legally confiscated as could other mail. Nonetheless, inmates have reported that they've suffered retribution for writing to Howard and others about the abuses they've endured. – Patricia J. Ruland
Source: http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase ... d%3A714279
wdtony:
Kerry Wolf
Unit: Hackberry
Date of narrative: July 21, 2008
"Women were required to take drugs causing extreme sedation. ... If they became drowsy during group or closed their eyes, they were written up for 'refusal to comply with treatment.' If they did not take the meds in order to be able to stay awake, they were also written up for the same thing."
My name is Kerry Wolf (formerly Culwell), and I just read of your work on the SAFPF charges brought by Jodi Stodder-Caldwell in The Austin Chronicle. I was overjoyed to read about this. I, too, am a victim of this brutal, inhumane torture factory.
I was at SAFPF on the Hackberry Unit in Gatesville (female special needs) from April of 2001 through February 2002. I was sent to special needs SAFP originally because I was pregnant, although I lost my baby at the Williamson County jail prior to being transported to SAFP due to being denied necessary medication by the jail. I was placed on anti-depressants after the stillbirth, so they decided that I should still go to the special needs unit for this reason. However, when I arrived at SAFP, they discontinued my medication, saying that they did not have any SSRI [selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor] anti-depressants on the prison formulary and instead prescribed Trazodone, an older drug that causes pronounced sedation.
Many of the women at this SAFP had serious medical or psychiatric conditions, such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, severe depression, HIV, Hep C, epilepsy, and diabetes. Many were on medications that were very sedating, yet the "bedtime" pill call came at 4pm. Therefore, the women were required to take drugs causing extreme sedation at 4pm and continue with groups and sessions up until 8pm. If they became drowsy during group or closed their eyes, they were written up for "refusal to comply with treatment." If they did not take the meds in order to be able to stay awake, they were also written up for the same thing. I was able to get the doctor to D/C [discontinue] my meds soon after arriving there, as my depression was not severe – but many others struggled with this the whole time.
Everything Jodi Stodder-Caldwell alleges is true. I do not know her in any way, but her allegations ring true and clear to me. SAFP was the worst, most frightening and humiliating experience I have ever had, and I emerged from it deeply scarred.
We, too, experienced the "tighthouse" – although on our unit it was referred to as "shutdown." We were threatened with it for months. A horde of guards burst into our dorm screaming and yelling, cursing and telling us to throw all our precious few belongings into a net bag immediately. Anything we could not carry in one trip would be thrown away. Any food supplies purchased from commissary would be ruined as they were to be stored on the upper floor of the gym in the blazing heat and with rats everywhere for the next month. We were quickly marched to the gym and strip-searched by brutal guards who made fun of a young 18-year-old girl who had no front teeth, saying that she was "probably a whore like the rest of them" and asking her if her customers enjoyed her "services" without her front teeth, as she stood naked in front of them.
When we returned to the dorm, the hard plastic chairs had been set up in rows in the day room. We were told to sit "in props," meaning no crossing legs or ankles, feet flat, hands on legs, eyes straight ahead. The clock was removed so we could not see the time. We were told that we were horrible mothers, that our families were much happier without us there, that we were nothing but "con-VICTS," and deserved whatever we got. We were told that for the duration of the shutdown, we were not to speak to anyone unless questioned by a staff member. We could not even ask for help in an emergency. The 9/11 World Trade Center attacks had occurred just a couple of days prior, but we were allowed no newspapers, no accounts of what was going on, and had no idea if we were at war, if loved ones were in danger, if we were in danger of an attack, etc. We were told that we needed to "focus on treatment."
During the first week or so of the shutdown, we sat in the chairs from 4:30am until 8pm, with brief bathroom breaks and meals. Whenever we walked anywhere, we had to walk "in props" with our hands behind our backs, even to the restroom. Further, every time we left the dorm to eat or shower, we had to "walk the perimeter" – walking all around the unit (a 20-minute walk) back to the dorm, only then being able to walk to our destination. At one point, a yearly mattress exchange was announced, in which we were to pick up the extremely heavy sawdust-filled mattresses and take them to the gym to exchange for another one. Even then, we had to "walk the perimeter" with the very very heavy mattresses. Many of the women were heavily pregnant, elderly, crippled, etc., but no one was allowed to help anyone else.
While we were in the chairs, it was extremely hot. We were supposed to have AC on our unit, as it was a medical unit, but it did not work. The buildings were brick with tin roofs. Our fans had been confiscated for the shutdown. We were not allowed to use cool towels, wear shorts and T-shirts, etc. like the regular units but had to dress in full uniform and steel-toed boots every day, to sit in the chairs. Many women could not tolerate it either physically or mentally. Almost every day, someone would begin screaming and crying, begging for the torture to stop. They were usually hauled off to the Skyview psych unit for a few days (another horror story). Other women would faint or have seizures. However, even as they lay jerking and frothing on the floor beside us, we were admonished to ignore them – not to break their fall or help in any way, as that would be breaking the SAFP cardinal rule of no physical contact, ever. We were told that "group is up here" and to keep our eyes front at all times. Sometimes, they called medical, but it often took an hour or more for help to arrive as the nurses had to be brought over from another unit and then hike a good distance from the gate to the dorm. When they did arrive, they usually just laughed at the inmates, prodded them with a shoe, and did nothing to help them. One of the nurses, speaking to a counselor, said that the inmates would likely try and "play sick" during shutdown to get a lay-in but that she would not be giving any lay-ins "unless they are literally dying" (an example of the crossover between TDCJ [Texas Department of Criminal Justice] medical and the Gateway staff).
During the shutdown, the counselors would occasionally enter the silent dorms to scream at us, call us names, and encourage everyone to write each other up. What we could write each other up for was a mystery since we were not allowed to move or talk. However, they said that if the box remained empty we were "letting our sisters drown" by not reporting them and that we would never get off shutdown like this. So, the desperate women frantically wrote each other up for things like closing their eyes or whispering, etc. Then, the counselors screamed at and berated them for having too many write-ups, saying that this meant that they were not ready to come off shutdown. There was no way to win. Many of us realized this at the outset, but others were trying so pitifully hard to please the counselors, only to fail no matter what they did – which was the point. The idea was supposedly to see how they would react under severe stress and mixed messages, but it in no way resembled real life.
The constant pressure to "tell" on each other was brutal and led to a junior high type atmosphere of people writing up anyone they did not like and vice versa, and fear and terror were constantly with us. And the "Encounters" group, where inmates sat in a circle and ripped into each other with curses, wild accusations, insults, and character assassinations, was conducted daily, and all the inmates were encouraged to jump in and hurl their own invectives at the victim while they sat in silence. This often resulted in an eruption of violence, with mentally and emotionally fragile inmates exploding into rage, throwing chairs, and others breaking down into hysterics, having flashbacks of abuse, etc.
In the second week of "shutdown," we were often required to "circle up" the chairs and were given a tablet and pencil and told to write a 1,000-word essay on a topic like: "Why complaining will only keep me here longer," etc. We were not allowed to cross our legs to prop up the tablets, and there was no desk or table, so we had to crouch over the tablets on our laps as we wrote with feet flat on the floor. These essays were never read by the staff but simply tossed into our file. (As the counselor's clerk, I knew this.)
In the afternoons, we would have "cop outs," where we were pressured to not only admit publicly to everything we had done wrong at SAFP but also to call out everyone who had done wrong that we were aware of – the pressure to do this was incredible – we were told we would get an extension on our time if we did not. However, doing so might cause you to become someone's sworn enemy – someone who could pose a real threat to you both there and on the outside. The pressure was awful – to snitch and go home earlier but be the target of the rage of some mentally unstable gang member or to not snitch and spend two more long, torturous months away from your family and get an unfavorable report to your judge.
Two women were discovered to have written love notes to another woman in the program. One was punished by having the note pinned to the wall in the dining hall so that every passing inmate could read it as they stood in line. The other was called up in front of the whole unit in the gymnasium and had her note read to the unit by the lieutenant and a counselor, interspersed with their derisive comments and laughter.
Suicide attempts were common. Women cut themselves, slit wrists, attempted to choke themselves, etc. Many of the inmates were so mentally challenged that they were unable to complete the coursework (essays, etc.), and so they were assigned a "big sister" who had to do it for them, as well as her own. Many were not capable of comprehending why they were being treated the way they were.
During the shutdown, they brought the "hoe squad" over from the regular units. With them, they brought a cage – like a zoo animal cage, with bars on all sides and the floor itself was just iron bars (so you could not sit down in it). The cage had a silhouette on the side depicting a girl hoeing and a man on horseback with a gun pointed at her. This was supposedly to show us what the future held if we didn't shape up. We were made to stand toe-to-toe in a long line, given a heavy iron "aggie," and told to lift it to the sky and bring it down to the ground as someone chanted a four-step call. On each fourth call we were to step forward one step. It was dangerous in the extreme, all these untrained, pregnant, and ill and delusional women swinging heavy, sharp hoes above their heads over and over. This was done for the entire day, three days running. For water breaks, we had to "short leg it" (run) hand-in-hand to a tanker truck filled with hot water and drink from a spigot in the side and run back. Anyone who fell, fainted, or became too exhausted to continue was put into the cage. The cage was in direct sunlight with no water or bathroom breaks and no way to sit down. You also received a major case. During these three days, the counselors brought lawn chairs out to watch us. They sat in the shade, laughing and pointing at us while eating pizza and drinking lemonade, with their feet propped up.
Some of the counselors left during this time, sickened and appalled by what they had to do. Two of these were men named Mr. Daniels and Mr. Brock. Mr. Brock, a kindly man, left shortly after being forced to bellow at a young teen who had inadvertently forgotten to remove the braid from her hair on the second shutdown day, which was forbidden (no styling of hair, ponytails, etc), reducing her to helpless tears. One of the guards was reduced to tears watching us sit hour after hour after hour in the day room.
As the shutdown drew to a close, we were called into the gym for a "family meeting." We were told that they would be announcing who was getting off shutdown and who was not. Some, they said, would receive red badges and be forced to stay on shutdown even longer. Ironically, many of those who were given the red badges were those who had behaved in an exemplary fashion the entire time, striving as hard as possible to please the counselors and be a "good example." Again, this was to "test them" to see how they would react.
Everyone feared retribution from the staff and guards if they complained about anything in any way. I once filed a grievance, and that very evening the guard who had accepted the paper from me (and who was not a part of the grievance at all) came to my cubicle and tore it to shreds, stomping on my papers, ripping my photos, dumping out my food, etc., leaving it like a tornado had gone through it, saying, "That will teach you to file a grievance!"
Also, I wanted to mention the "family" groups they had each night. As Ms. Stodder-Caldwell stated, we were forced to sing children's nursery rhymes over and over. Songs had to be submitted to the counselors for approval – no love songs, etc. Pretty much the only things approved were kids songs and religious songs. We were forced to sing these songs even if it violated our religious beliefs (they were all Christian). Inmates patrolled the aisles during the singing, writing up anyone who was not clapping and singing as "refusing to comply with treatment." Often it took on the tone of a religious revival meeting, with songs about Jesus, crying, hands lifted into the air, etc. We often had religious groups (all Christian) come to the unit for "revivals." The counselors knew they could not force inmates to attend – however, we were told that if we refused, we would have to stay behind in the dorms scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush until it was over. In fact, scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush and water was a common "activity" during the later days of shutdown. After slaving for hours dusting and scrubbing, the counselors would come in, rub their fingers along something we knew was completely sparkling clean, and say, "This dorm is filthy! Do it again!" Some of the women would pretend to be cleaning under their bunks so they could shut their eyes for a few blessed seconds.
Well, sir, this has gotten way too long, and I apologize, but there is so much more than this that I could tell. So much brutality and evil and so much lying and covering up by TDCJ. I feared coming forward before now, as I was on probation until last April (2008). I was an RN who was addicted to Rx opiates, and my crime was calling in my own prescription for cough syrup. But now that I can speak up, I am so glad there is someone actually investigating this! Please let me know if I can help in any way, and feel free to use this information. Also, I give my consent to The Austin Chronicle reporter to contact me if she wishes, and please give my contact information to Ms. Stodder-Caldwell – I would love to talk to her if she would like.
Reporter's note: Wolf said that the lyrics inmates were forced to sing went like this:
Mama, Mama, look at me
I'm in a program called SAFP
I used to drive a little Ford
Now I'm cruisin' with the Lord
Another went like this:
I said recovery is cool
It'll blow your mind
If you work the 12 steps
You won't do no time
So, if it's not real for you
Like it is for me
And you want to stay out of the penitentiary
Go to SAFP!
Source: http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase ... d%3A714279
wdtony:
Regan Center
Unit: Ellen Halbert
Date of Narrative: May 27, 2008
"At the end of that 28 days, my scalp was raw and bleeding. Medical brushed me off."
My name is Regan Center. I am a 27-year-old female and have been in SAFP (Halbert Unit) now two times. The first time I was sentenced to SAFP was in 2005. I arrived at the Halbert Unit on Feb. 16, 2006. It was pretty much a nightmare from day one. Gateway's whole idea of the "therapeutic community" is, in my opinion, a joke. I believe it was in late June or early July the unit went on tighthouse. TDC came in our dorm yelling at us to get in our chairs and set them up "seminar style." That's where we set the chairs up in rows, straight rows of seven, all the way from one end of the day room to the other. I knew what was happening. It was the very thing we all had been dreading. We were threatened with "chairs" all of the time by staff. So, a TDC officer named Lt. Turner came in our dorm, made us set up our chairs, and told us not to move or talk for any reason. Just stare at the wall. ... The whole unit had been put in the chairs because we needed to refocus on recovery. That's what we were told. So we sat from 4am until 8pm every single day for 28 days. We could not have anything off commissary. They locked all our lockboxes with zip ties. All we could have was a comb, toothbrush, tooth powder, and blue lye soap. I have always had problems with my scalp. I have been seeing a dermatologist since I was 4 because of it, and I was having to wash my hair with blue state soap, and at the end of that 28 days, my scalp was raw and bleeding. Medical brushed me off – staff would come in every day saying ugly things about how our kids were better off – just a lot of low blows to a bunch of people who were very on edge, like they were really trying to push us to a breaking point so our punishment would be furthered.
The counselors would come in and insist on us participating in "gunsling," where one client stands up, points another client out, and starts telling every wrong thing that person has done since they have been at SAFP. Then the person that gets "told on" calls out a peer and does the same, and within 30 minutes, everyone is down each other's throats, and the tension is very thick. All the while, staff stands back and smiles. We were treated like 5-year-olds rather than human beings with legitimate problems seeking help to save our lives. I even remember one client having to stand in the corner for six hours with her nose to the wall for refusing to tell on someone else. There are countless stories about my experiences at SAFP that are very strange. I know some of the things sound "out there," but it is all the truth. And I think it's time people know the truth.
Source: http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase ... d%3A714279
wdtony:
Name withheld
Unit: Ellen Halbert
Date of narrative: June 28, 2008
"I look like I have leprosy."
I am incarcerated here at Ellen Halbert SAFP Unit. I am writing you because I have been unable to receive proper medical attention. I have skin irritations on my face. When I went to medical here, they told me that if I had not come to prison I would have access to proper hygiene products, and I would not have this problem.
My skin itches, burns, stings, pusses, and has open wounds that will not heal. This started one month after I got here. Approximately Feb. 15, 2008. They refuse to give me a simple antibiotic. This is emotional and physical abuse. When I do look in the mirror, I cry for hours, then can't sleep that night for the shock of seeing myself. I look like I have leprosy. My own family doesn't recognize me at visitation.
I am constantly trying not to itch my face. I wake up at night clawing. It is very hard to concentrate on my treatment when I am so worried about catching staph, having scars, or trying to hide my face so no one sees. This is degrading and humiliating, not to mention it is abusive that I have to live this way.
I realize that I am incarcerated and that I have done society (as a whole) an injustice by my incarceration. I do not want to seem ungrateful for this second chance at life. I want this treatment and my recovery for my alcoholism issues. Although, I feel I cannot get what I need out of this program because I am constantly in a state of turmoil physically and emotionally.
I was in a physically abusive marriage, and the feelings are exactly the same as the feelings I feel regarding my skin issues. I feel like this is my fault and I deserve this. That "this is the hand that I was dealt," so to speak.
My question to you is, as an offender, do I have a right to proper medical attention? Do I have to suffer here in this "safe environment" like I did in an abusive marriage? I want my life back, and I want my recovery. I am so distraught over this that I have a hard time concentrating. I need to know my rights. I appreciate your time and effort and hope to be able to hear from you soon. Your work is greatly appreciated. Thank you.
Second letter: August 1, 2008
I am writing you to give you an update about things here at Halbert Unit SAFP. ... We are still being required to sit with our feet on the floor, back against the chair, and hands in our lap. It is no longer called "sitting in props." It is now called "sitting appropriately." We do this in 50 minute intervals five times a day. From 12:30pm until 4:30pm, we sit this way. They say we get a 10-minute break every 50 minutes, but it doesn't always work out that way. Then, from 7:30pm-9:20pm, we are "sitting appropriately." On the weekends it is 8am-10am we sit this way, then 12:30-3:30pm we sit this way.
I really feel like this is punishment. Children don't have to sit this way in school. When you are coming down and detoxifying from drugs and alcohol, you become nervous, fidgety, and anxious. One last thing. When we sit with 136 women in one dorm day room, we sit blocking the fire exits. If a fire were to break out, we would be trampled. "I wish that you could see it." Thanks.
Source: http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase ... d%3A714279
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