Janie Porter Barrett (1865-1948): exemplary African American correctional educator.
Muth, Bill ; Gehring, Thom ; Puffer, Margaret 等
Do precisely the opposite to what is usually done, and you will have
hit on the right plan. (Rousseau, in Quick, 1916, p. 241)
Surely, then, if the present system has totally failed, there must
be something radically wrong in it, and it ought to be changed.
(Carpenter, 1969/1864, vol. #2, p. 241)
Background
When correctional educators from the United States interact with
members of the same field from other nations, two or three criticisms
are often articulated at the beginning of the conversation, usually in
terms much like the following: "You Americans lock up too many
people, and the proportion of African Americans and other minorities in
your prisons is a problem," and "Your death penalty, and its
frequency, demonstrate the brutality of your nation." Often,
despite being engaged in the same field of education, useful dialogue
cannot be pursued until these criticisms are addressed or at least
acknowledged. The criticisms are accurate, especially when our
incarceration rates are compared to other industrialized nations.
Visitors to Virginia find too many African Americans in confinement and
other forms of supervision, in South Dakota too many Native Americans,
in California too many Mexican Americans.
However, the same nations that criticize the U.S. for these reasons
are generally guilty of parallel brutalities that sometimes go unnoticed
until one visits their countries and asks about the situation.
Minorities are confined in great numbers in other nations, as well as in
the U.S.--the Germans lock up too many Turks, the Scandinavians and
Bulgarians too many gypsies or Roma, the Canadians too many Inuit and
other Native Americans. This problem is so pervasive that it might be
associated with the human condition, at least at the current stage of
our maturation. Still, no one can successfully argue that minority
incarceration is not a problem in the United States.
This series of articles can be considered a response to large gaps
in the historical record vis-a-vis the education of African Americans in
prison and African American social reformers. The series presents a
criticism of past and current approaches to penology and correctional
education (CE). Further, through the retelling of the stories of
exemplary social reformers--who happen to be African American--the
series strives to establish a more balanced historical perspective by
delineating the contributions of these leaders to broader social reform
movements as well as to their immediate communities.
Moving toward a more balanced perspective. This article is part of
a series of three that is intended to begin to fill a gap in the
literature as it relates to the historic CE contributions of African
Americans and themes related to the education of African Americans. The
series will go backward in time. This first article introduces the need
for the three articles and focuses on the work of Janie Porter Barrett before and after the turn of the 20th century. The second will emphasize
the education of the freedmen during the occupation of the Confederacy and after the Civil War, and the role of Hampton Institute. The final
article in this series will focus on the denial of education during the
slavery time. The authors recognize that three articles will not fill
the gap, but they hope they begin the process, and that others will pick
up some of the work to fill the gap as well.
The current authors are pursuing this series of three articles not
merely because they are critical of past practice and hope to provide a
small redress, but also because there are remarkable, inspiring stories
and records of important contributors to the field of CE that have been
hidden for too long.
A short critique of the historical record. It will probably come as
no surprise that the literature on CE and prison reform does not
systematically treat professional contributions from minority members of
the field. Such treatment should be considered in light of the huge
proportion of minority students confined in our institutions. Minority
voices are needed because, in its efforts to support the education of
marginalized people and peoples, the field of CE is itself marginalized.
Part of the CE/ prison reform literature gap problem is related to
the disproportionate attention given to deficit approaches to
penology--the onus placed on individuals to transform their behavior,
attitudes and skills so they can lead law abiding lives after release.
This perspective ignores the context in which they are expected to
transform. But double standards and oppression are evident historically
and in current practice. Evidence suggests that double standards are
applied along the lines of gender, ethnicity or minority status, and
socioeconomic class (Mauer, 2003).
Correctional education is not exclusively about teaching basic
academic and marketable skills. This approach misses the point about
citizenship education, which is not only about educating students for
citizenship, but also about positioning teachers as role models for good
citizenship. Part of the struggle of citizens, and of CE, has always
been for equality, democracy, and freedom; against predatory
imperialism, racism, war, sexism, and genocide. The need for this may be
rooted in the settling of America by displaced persons who were at-risk,
persecuted, and convicted--"indentured servants" and others
(Ekirch, 1987). Georgia was actually founded as a penal colony, and
felons were exiled to all the colonies until the American Revolution.
The transportation of offenders was one example of this colonizing
displacement. Another was the orphan trains, which were pursued on a
huge, international scale to supply cheap labor (from orphans) to the
frontiers of empires.
The historical record is clear: prisons and other confinement
institutions have been part of the brutal underbelly of imperialism, and
they fit into worldwide patterns of exploitation. It would be difficult
to maintain that teachers who are not struggling against brutality are
good role models for citizenship. It would be impossible to maintain
that the schools in which correctional educators work are fostering
citizenship if these issues are neglected in the classroom. Citizenship
is a meaningless term if it does not attend to the struggle against
double standards and oppression. Thomas Mott Osborne asked central
questions about our work: "Are you looking for immediate or for
permanent results? Do you believe in [mental] discipline or in training?
Do you wish to produce good prisoners or to prepare good citizens?"
(1975/1912, p. 212; emphases in original). Those questions remain
timely--they provide a context for the gap that this article helps
address.
Despite these contexts, the historical record regarding education
of African Americans in prisons has been generally neglected, and when
the issue has been addressed in the record it has been approached
superficially. For example, the records of the Boston Prison Discipline
Society report that in 1828 Sing Sing Chaplain Gerrish Barrett wrote
"After prayers I heard a black man read." (BPDS, 1972, vol.
#1, p. 211). This was noteworthy because many states then had laws that
provided terrible penalties for slaves who tried to acquire literacy,
and even for Whites who had the courage to teach them.
Another example of this neglect is the 1922 report of the Board of
Directors of Virginia Penitentiary, which included the following:
"The median education of the 182 white inmates is that of a fifth
grade in our elementary schools, and the median education of the 402
negro inmates is that of a second grade in our elementary schools"
(Virginia, 1922, p. 30). That section of the report was submitted by
education advisor Hoke, who also served as assistant superintendent of
Richmond public schools, in charge of education programs for backward
children (p. 22). The Board emphasized the:
first school ... organized at the Penitentiary ... [It] had ... two
classes of approximately fifteen white men in each, under an
instructor who was a prison inmate. One class had men of 8 and 9
years and the other men of 10 and 11 years mentality. Attendance in
these classes was entirely optional; in fact, it was conditioned on
good conduct. These classes were soon followed by two other classes
for negro inmates, with optional attendance. The two groups of white
men, as originally organized, are still [1922] attending
instruction. The negro classes have been reclassified. (p. 4)
These two passages, separated in time by about 100 years and in
distance between Virginia and New York, are about all there is in the
classic literature on CE on the education of confined African Americans.
In many ways this gap in the literature corresponds to the gap between
our current practice and our aspirations. Stated alternatively,
correctional educators who are alert to these important themes of the
field are concerned that most information has been inaccessible, an
effect that supports and maintains historic patterns of oppression.
Thus the purpose for this series is twofold: to present stories
that serve as counter-scripts to deficit-models of CE prevalent in the
literature, and to help fill the gap in the CE/prison reform literature
related to the education of African Americans in prison and African
American social reformers. This first article highlights the
contributions of an exemplary African American educator and
reformer--Janie Porter Barrett. The following two sections present (a)
biographical information about Janie Porter Barrett and (b) thematic
glimpses of her philosophy of practice. Both sections borrow liberally
from Barrett's own words and reports to summarize her contributions
to the field of CE and prison reform.
Janie Porter Barrett: A Biographical Sketch
This section is based on Kneebone, et al. (1998), pp. 357-359.
BARRETT, Janie Porter (1865-1948), educator, was born in Athens,
Georgia, the daughter of Julia Porter, an African American domestic
servant and seamstress. The name of her father, who may have been
white, is unknown. She grew up in Macon, Georgia, where her mother
worked for a northern white woman named Skinner who treated the
child almost as a member of the family. After Julia Porter married
and moved to her own home, Janie Porter remained in the Skinner
household. Julia Porter evidently turned down an offer by Skinner
to send her daughter north to school, where she might have passed
into the white world and left her family forever. Instead, Janie
Porter's mother sent her to Hampton Normal and Agricultural
Institute, the first of the self help, vocational training schools
for freed people. Porter initially had difficulty adjusting to life
in a school whose students largely came from rural backgrounds. In
later years she attributed her desire to serve her fellow African
Americans to Sir Walter Besant's All Sorts and Conditions of Men: An
Impossible Story, a utopian novel published in 1882 in which an
heiress worked to help the poor of London. (p. 357)
Janie Porter graduated from Hampton Institute in 1884 and taught
for four years in rural Georgia. In 1888 she attended Lucy Laney's
Haines Normal and Industrial school in Augusta, Georgia. Laney, who had
herself graduated from Atlanta University, "sought to give a new
generation of African Americans a way to rise in the world by plain
living, high thinking, cleanliness, and godliness coupled with academic
and vocational training" (p. 357). By 1889 Porter returned to
Hampton and married Harris Barrett, who had also studied at Hampton and
worked as a bookkeeper and later became a businessman. "They lived
in Hampton and had one son and three daughters" (p. 357). Barrett
founded activities for community girls: one class or club met nearly
every evening or afternoon--sewing, rug weaving, athletics, general
gardening, raising poultry, cooking, parenting ("child
welfare"), quilting, and flower growing. On their own land, the
Barretts constructed a clubhouse, and soon the Locust Street Social
Settlement was established, along the same lines as Jane Addams'
Chicago Hull House.
Locust Street typified the growing number of institutions black
people were creating for themselves, paralleling similar
developments in white society. Another was the National Association
of Colored Women, formed in 1896, which encouraged local clubs to
organize state federations. In 1908 Barrett helped found the
Virginia State Federation of Colored Women's Clubs, and she served
as its president until 1932. (p. 357)
Barrett was concerned about the terrible conditions in which most
African American children were raised. "She often told of finding
an eight year old girl in jail and becoming convinced of the need for a
home for what were then called wayward girls" (p. 358). Under her
leadership, the Virginia State Federation of Colored Women's Clubs took up this cause, and Barrett toured the State gathering contributions
from its African American communities. In 1912 the National Association
of Colored Women held its conference in Hampton, helping to fuel
Barrett's fundraising initiatives. By 1913 she had gained the
support of a number of White Virginia women. "Barrett always gave
due credit to the white women and their clubs, though she recognized the
greater constancy of her black supporters" (p. 358). She received
technical assistance from the Russell Sage Foundation, which focused on
the influence of women in social improvements. Eventually more than
$5,000 had been devoted to the cause. That was when her Virginia State
Federation of Colored Women's Clubs purchased a farm in Hanover
County just north of Richmond, for the school for girls.
White residents near the proposed site of the school objected, but
Barrett promised to take charge of the school as its first
superintendent and to move it if it proved a nuisance to the
neighbors. The objections satisfied, the General Assembly
appropriated $3,000 for the Industrial Home School for Colored
Girls, later the Virginia Industrial School for Colored Girls, and
it opened its doors in January 1915. The Virginia State Federation
of Colored Women's Clubs owned and governed the school, which had a
large board of visitors composed of whites and blacks. During the
campaign to raise money, [her husband] Harris Barrett died of a
stroke on 26 March 1915. (p. 358)
Janie Porter Barrett intended for the new institution to help girls
develop Christian character. Student activities were regulated by the
honor system. Using rewards instead of punishments in its programs, she
emphasized the facility's role as a home rather than a prison. All
activities were aimed at building agricultural and household skills, and
cleanliness. Students were expected to work on farms or as domestics
until they were able to establish their own homes. The models that had
been prototyped at Hampton, and at Tuskegee Institute, were frequently
replicated during Barrett's tenure as institutional superintendent.
However, her personality was really the "glue" that held the
various program elements together.
In the communities, Barrett struggled to "prevent the
exploitation of former students by employers in search of cheap
labor" (p. 358). Her success in garnering support from private
sources and the Virginia legislature was facilitated by both African
American and White women.
The African American banker Maggie Lena Walker also gave generously
to the school and organized a Council of Colored Women in Richmond,
which took responsibility for such activities as an annual Christmas
dinner for the girls and staff. Little by little, the successful
school received recognition and praise. (p. 358)
In 1920 the State assumed control of the Industrial Home School for
Colored Girls, but Barrett's management continued until her 1940
retirement as superintendent. In the 1920s the Russell Sage Foundation
recognized it as one of the best such facilities in the nation.
During the 1920s Barrett was active in the Richmond Urban League
and the Virginia Commission on Interracial Cooperation. Regarding voter
preparation as important as institutional programming for girls, Barrett
wrote in 1938 that "voting is a duty as well as a fight" (p.
358). She chaired the National Association of Colored Women's
Executive Board. In 1929 Barrett received the William E. Harmon Award
for Distinguished Achievement among Negroes; in 1930 she was invited to
the White House Conference on Child Health and Protection. After
retiring she returned to Hampton. She died in 1948 and was buried in
Hampton's Elmerton Cemetery.
In 1950 the Industrial Home School for Colored Girls was renamed
Janie Porter Barrett School for Girls. Racial integration came in 1965,
and coeducational programming in 1972. In 1977 the institution became
Barrett Learning Center for Boys, and in the early 21st century it was
renovated and became a correctional training academy.
The next section introduces some CE highlights of Barrett's
leadership at the Industrial School for Colored Girls. The School's
Annual Reports, which Barrett personally wrote, provide a glimpse of her
unwavering voice and dedication to her charges.
Barrett's Approach to Correctional Education: A Compendium of
Her Writings
This section draws on Barrett's Annual Reports from 1916-1921,
1931, and 1939, unless otherwise noted. (References present relevant
report years and page[s].) The reports reveal Barrett's voice as
she struggled, schemed, cajoled and otherwise marshaled support and
resources for her school, despite, at times, overwhelming odds. These
steadfast efforts are organized under these six headings: Donations,
Hardships, School, Inmate Discipline, Release, and Barrett's
Comments about Her Own Dispositions. The material is intended merely to
introduce these topics--more comprehensive coverage is not possible in a
single article. The authors' commentary situates this material in a
broader social-historical context within and outside of the CE/prison
reform movement and delineates organic connections that both nourished,
and were nourished by, Barrett's work.
Donations. Barrett moved comfortably between two worlds. She
pursued local African American communities and northern White
philanthropists with equal intensity.
The pair of splendid young mules with new harness, the delicious
Christmas dinner, and a pair of new shoes for each girl, given by
the Council of Colored Women of Richmond, our strongest Federated
Club, brought joy enough to last for days. The Federated Clubs of
Covington had a sugar shower just before the sugar shortage was
announced [a home front activity to support the troops during WW I],
and supplied us with sugar at a time when we could not buy it at
any price. At the request of these women and under the leadership of
the public school teachers, the school children of Covington gave a
barrel of potatoes. By having each child bring two or three potatoes
this was accomplished without putting anyone to very great expense.
(1918, p.. 12)
Mrs. Falconer ... [gave] ten dollars toward a moving-picture outfit,
which she felt would give a pleasure that the girls of the school,
who are trying to improve, ought to have. In a few minutes the
audience gave in pledges and cash one hundred and ninety-five
dollars, almost enough money to pay for the machine.
(1920, pp. 10-11)
Our schoolroom was made very comfortable this winter by a splendid
large stove, a gift that came to us through Dr. Gregg. This is the
first year we have had adequate blackboards. We need maps, more
desks, and more school books.(1921, p. 20)
Barrett expressed thanks for "... the barrels of clothing
friends send from time to time" (1921, p. 27). Regarding
Thanksgiving dinner after a terrible influenza attack at the
institution, she wrote that "When it was all over and everyone had
pulled through, I could feel almost glad for our troubles because it
revealed so many friends that might not have been discovered"
(1919, p. 12). Barrett was even thankful for governmental services that
would normally be extended to White citizens without reservation. She
noted that
The white farm demonstrator for Hanover County, after being appealed
to by our president and others, has consented to come and look us
over occasionally and has given our farmer the privilege of writing
him for any information he desires, so we are sure that we are going
to make real progress now. (1919, p. 15)
Barrett's work was situated in impoverished conditions
difficult to imagine by contemporary American educators, even those that
work in marginalized settings and prisons. (However, they likely typify
prison schools in many developing countries--see, for example,
Imhabekhai, 2002). Yet, in its broadest form, the CE work of Janie
Porter Barrett in Virginia can be compared to that of John Henry
Pestalozzi in Switzerland or Anton Makarenko in the Soviet Union
(Gehring & Eggleston, 2006). Barrett emerged on the scene at a time
when her people had almost nothing, as a result of hundreds of years of
systematic brutality. Pestalozzi built a CE infrastructure when the
Swiss had nothing--after the terrible brutality of the French Revolution
and the Napoleonic Wars; Makarenko built a Soviet CE infrastructure
after the devastation of the Bolshevik Revolution, World War I, and the
Civil War. In other words, the condition of African Americans, after
nearly three centuries in North America, was as if they had just emerged
from an intense, protracted war.
Hardships. Barrett pursued State funding with unequivocal
directness and--perhaps by today's standards--modesty. At one point
Barrett wrote that the institution had "... all the modern
conveniences except the lighting" (1916, p. 7). This statement was
overly optimistic about the institution. For example, she later wrote
"Our water pipes were frozen for weeks and weeks" (1918, p.
10). She reiterated the material needs of the institution periodically
in her reports. For example, "The rapidly increasing number of
girls on parole makes the need for a parole officer imperative"
(1920, p. 15).
Everyone has been obliged to do double work and there has not been
one word of complaint. It is the kind of service that makes failure
impossible.... It would have been impossible to do what has been
done had they [the Board of Managers] not stood so completely behind
me. (1920, p. 23)
We still have a poor farm. I have come to the conclusion that it
requires not only rich land but brains to farm successfully and,
though I hate to confess it, brains are almost as scarce as hens'
teeth among some of our farmerettes and of course the land speaks
for itself. (1921, p. 21; emphasis in original)
My earnest plea to the Board is that if possible we get an
adequate appropriation ... We who are managing affairs in the
institution are at a loss to know what to do when it gets too cold
for the children to go barefooted and shoes must be bought--and the
children must have at least a sweater; and finally, when the time
comes to open school and no provision is made to pay a teacher ...
There has never been a time when our children have had all the
clothes they need for a change. They have always been obliged to
wash their clothes at night in order to have them clean for the next
day....
We need school the year round with two literary teachers and an
industrial teacher ... We need more library books. We need a sum set
aside to meet the expenses of visiting the girls and investigating
homes ... We need transportation for girls ... We need
domestic-science equipment and sewingroom equipment ... We need
dental services.
We need--and this is a crying need--mental tests for our girls. It
is very difficult to ascertain whether our girls' failures are their
own fault or that of those of us who have paroled them when they
have not the mentality to make their own pay.
I should like banjos, guitars, ukuleles, cornet, fife and drum; we
need an orchestra and a drum corps. (1921, pp. 31-33)
After 16 years of operation, Barrett still reported salient needs.
"We still have no cows.... I look forward to the time when we can
afford whole milk for every girl" (1931, p. 6).
Barrett's running catalogue of needs again reflects the
paucity of resources at her disposal, but, as well, her visionary stance
("... orchestra, drum corps ...") toward education. This
stance is grounded in the Social Settlement Movement that flourished in
the last quarter of the nineteenth century in London's East End,
and manifested in such social projects as Toynbee Hall and the
People's Palace. These university settlements, described in
near-utopian terms in Walter Besant's (1903) All Sorts of
Conditions of Men, epitomized broad liberal, social and civic curricula,
including beautiful libraries, great performance halls, gymnasiums and
winter gardens. In 1920 America, the settlement movement also stirred
Jane Addams' work at Hull House in Chicago, and social workers in
hundreds of other settlement houses throughout the U.S.
School. Barrett's passion for education is reflected in her
hands-on oversight of the school. Her exulted notions about the power of
clubs as an extension of the curriculum are based on Besant's
(1903) work and her own successful experiences with social clubs at
Locust Street Settlement House.
A thorough course in domestic science will be given which will
include the care of poultry, vegetable and flower gardens, lawns and
anything else that we find will be needed. Miss Hyde, the lady
principal of Hampton Institute ... promised to help us plan this
course. (1916, p. 10)
Special activities and clubs included ... were: Charm Club, Y-Teens,
Junior Red Cross, Girl Scouts, choir, 4-H Club, Dramatic Club, New
Homemakers, Student Council ... Religious Education. (1916, p. 10)
In the Social Settlement Movement, clubs were not merely designed
to relieve monotony and the hardness of life among the poorer classes;
they provided opportunities for what Wenger (1998) calls communities of
practice. On one level clubs provided a communal structure for informal
learning, on another, community where pro-social and pro-educational
identities were forged and nurtured. In Barrett's day this social
learning model was exemplified by the summer program at Shellbanks--the
farm at Hampton Institute--where rural African American youth were
recruited to live in the dorms for a few weeks, wear the
Institute's uniform, participate in 4H style projects, and imagine
themselves as college students (Brawley, 1939).
Within the largely agrarian program at the Industrial School,
Barrett lobbied, cajoled and advocated for high academic standards and
certifications commensurate with schools for white children. "We
are greatly handicapped because we have neither school house nor proper
equipment. Miss Peterson, Superintendent of Kilbourne Farm, the school
for delinquent white girls, sent us some of the books that her girls had
finished using" (1918, p. 18). "This year we were fortunate in
getting the State Board of Education to put our school on its list and
... supplied with a literary teacher and an industrial teacher"
(1919, p. 12).
She noted:
We still have two sessions a day.... If we could have a teacher the
year round, the timetaken out of school for planting and harvesting
crops and for many other things that have to be done on the
farm ... could be made up. (1920, pp. 15-16)
Our classes are not sufficiently organized and do not cover enough
ground to receive a certificate in cooking and sewing, but we are
still working to this end and we are nearer to it than we were a
year ago. In time I hope there will be a class each year to receive
these certificates when we have our annual exercises and exhibit
[at the County Fair]. It will be the nearest thing to a diploma that
the majority of them will ever receive. (1921, p. 18)
"Without such ... [an educational] preparation we must not be
disappointed if they return to a life of crime and shame" (1931, p.
7). "The industrial training.... equipment is woefully out of date.
This lack becomes increasingly serious as the use of modern conveniences
becomes more general." (1931, p. 9).
Four girls were recommended in May to complete ... seventh grade ...
certificates if they passed both in academic studies and conduct.
This they did with credit. Commencement activities were as elaborate
as we could afford.... The four girls ... [were] placed in homes
... earning wages and saving with the expectation of entering high
school.... Only a very small percentage ... have the ability to take
higher academic training. (1931, p. 8)
We continue to pattern our program of academic training after that
of the public schools of the State with the idea that, when our
charges are returned to society they will be none the worse for the
interruption in their attendance at the public school.... It is our
sincerest hope that funds will be forthcoming for the erection of a
school building which will meet minimum
standards at least. (1939, p. 7)
Barrett was a tireless civil rights advocate. Her quest to give her
girls an educational experience commensurate with White public
schools--including commencement ceremonies "as elaborate as we
could afford" presaged contemporary efforts to bring fully
commensurate graduation ceremonies to adult prisoners, even to those who
completed Adult Basic Education (McCollum, 1983).
Inmate discipline. The Industrial School program was steeped in the
mutual aid and self-help traditions that evolved from the late 19th
century Social Settlement Movement. The Industrial Home School for
Colored Girls employed progressive methods that typified these
traditions--such as honor systems--and banned the use of corporal
punishment. One proactive way to diminish bad behavior was to keep the
girls busy.
Sunday is such a hard day for the girls to get through without
getting into trouble. They have so much time on their hands, and if
I don't give them something to do, Satan will.
Virginia Cottage is used, as was planned, for the reception cottage,
each girl on entering being assigned there and closely observed and
studied from all angles. She is given ten days to learn the rules
and regulations, after which she is marked each day for work,
conduct, and personal appearance. She is then in line to work for
the white dress and promotion to the honor cottage, which is
Federation Cottage. Fighting, quarreling, abusive language,
stealing, running away, are all to be overcome before a
girl can receive a white dress, and after the much desired white
dress has been awarded, if she forgets in a fit of temper and goes
back to her old habits, she loses her dress and has to start at the
beginning and work for it again. Knowing this she develops
self-control more rapidly. (1920, p. 13)
If ... a girl's behavior is so disgraceful that she has to be locked
up in the 'Thinking Room' she has to wear a brown dress. The
activities of the 'brown-dress girl' must be confined to road ...
work, which consists of carrying from the gravel pit to the roads on
the grounds a ... number of bucketsful of gravel which varies
according to the nature of her misdemeanor. If her spirit is good
she may carry as many as three or four bucketsful at a time in a
wheel-barrow or push cart. If her spirit is ugly she has to bring up
the gravel a half-bucketful at a time. This gives her all the
fresh air she needs to revive her spirits and ... lengthens the time
she must wear the brown dress. When she is finally permitted to take
this off she wears faded and patched uniforms ... the dresses
allotted to the 'mistakes and failures.' From this she has to work
up again as if she had newly entered the school. (1921, pp. 13-14).
The weekly honor roll is a great help. The names of all girls making
A in conduct, effort, and work appear on the honor roll each Monday
morning. All girls who get their names on the honor roll are
considered the first citizens of our community, and each one of
these is permitted to wear a small American flag to the Assembly.
(1921, p. 14)
When a girl was promoted to the Student Officers' Corps,
designated by a bar on the right sleeve, she took the following pledge:
I pledge my loyalty to the Virginia Industrial School and to the
principles for which it stands. I promise to try to be worthy of
the special privileges granted me. I promise to respect and obey
authority; not to steal, or to allow anyone to steal, if I know
it, without reporting it. I promise not to run away and to report
any girl making plans to run away. I pledge to give my absolute
support to the officers of the institution in maintaining law and
order. (1921, p. 12)
Barrett cultivated strong civic values in her girls by helping them
learn to govern themselves. Note, again, the elevated use of clubs to
create social spaces where her charges could forge new identities.
So many things that used to have to come before the officers are
managed by the girls through their clubs. They serve two purposes:
they give an opportunity to the girls to practice the social virtues
taught through the moral instruction given; and they are most
effective in teaching the girls to obey each other, which simplifies
the discipline wonderfully. There are two clubs. The Friendly Girls'
Club is made up of honor girls only and its object is, first, to
obey the rules, and, second, to be helpful to the officers and to
each girl in the school, especially the new girls. If one of their
members violates a rule or does anything unbecoming she is handled
by the club, a thing they very much dread. I heard a girl crying one
day as if her heart would break. When I asked her what the trouble
was, she said that she had been turned out of the club for speaking
rudely to the girls when she passed the coats. I asked her if they
would not take her back when she got to be polite. She said yes, but
that it was a terrible disgrace to be turned out. The True Blue
Club, I think, takes its name from the blue uniforms. It is made up
of the uniform girls who devote their entire energies to
self-improvement so that they can become honor girls. Every uniform
girl has to be a member of the True Blue Club until she becomes an
honor girl, and then her highest ambition is to belong to the
Friendly Girls' Club. (1918, p. 23)
The girls elect the head student officer but their choice must meet
the approval of the entire Staff. (1931, p. 7)
The historian Sol Cohen (1964) characterized the Social Settlement
Movement as "between old school and new school" (p. 138).
Reformers like Janie Porter Barrett believed that poverty was still the
result of sin, sloth and vice and that a her girls required a large dose
of moral reformation. But she also recognized the social roots of
poverty and the need to reform social structures. Her views are
reflected in her discipline practices, which provide swift penalties for
misbehavior but also evoke a sense of trust in the child's capacity
to live a moral life when she is provided healthy social structures
within which to grow. Barrett's views are similar to the
self-governance ideas of William George (1910), and resonate in the
contemporary debates between Michael Dyson and Bill Cosby.
Release. Barrett understood the profound needs for continued
support after the girls were released from the caring structure of the
Industrial Home School for Colored Girls. Contemporary proponents of the
re-entry movement would do well to ponder the simple--yet radical by
today's standards--idea of continuity of support provided through
personal relationships with caring practitioners.
I keep in touch with the girl by writing as often as I can and the
lady to whom she is paroled sends a report once a month and oftener
if the girl gives any trouble. I encourage the girls to write very
fully about the things that seem hard to them. If they are hard I
write--the ladies about them; if they are not hard, I show the girl
that she is mistaken. In this way so much misunderstanding is
saved.... our girls ... their complete success depends upon placing
them in Christian homes where they can be helped after leaving the
institution until they are strong enough to stand alone. (1918,
pp. 14-15; emphases in original)
Our plan is not to allow any girl whom we send out to live an
immoral life. If she is not self-respecting she must come back until
she can learn to be. This fact braces our girls and makes them try
very hard to be respectable, and if they get help and protection in
the home to which they go they will not fail. I do not believe there
are any people in the world more anxious to be respectable than
colored girls; when they are given the right standards and are
helped they will make good. (1918, p. 16)
Barrett's vigilance was not limited to the behavior of her
students; it extended to their caretakers and the conditions of release
as well:
We must do something to have the people taking these girls
understand more fully that our Board of Managers insist that they
be kindly treated. Slapping a girl and striking her on the head are
out of the question. This kind of treatment, aside from being
absolutely wrong, can do no good, and will create a condition that
will be most difficult to handle. Anyone having a girl is given the
right to bring her back to the school whenever she ceases to give
satisfaction, so there is no need of doing anything rash.
(1920, p. 15)
All ... things [that] endear the school to the girls and form ties
which hold them in a wonderful way after they leave us [are
helpful]. I want each girl to feel in going out that at the school
there are always friends awaiting her when she finds herself in need
of help, and who are glad of any success she makes, no matter how
little it may be. (1921, p. 18)
In today's large, overcrowded prisons, we hardly know what to
make of Barrett's approach to release. What warden has time to
write regularly to her released charges? Yet precious truths are hidden
beneath the quaintness of Barrett's reports. Her words remind us of
the forgotten potential of institutions to foster relationship, trust
and community, and the moral power embedded in the imagined act of
answering to a respected other. Barrett's actions provide sharp
contrast to our dismally failing Re-Entry systems based on negative
expectations and mistrust, impersonal surveillance systems (Foucault,
1975) and bureaucratic Re-Entry structures.
Barrett's comments about her own dispositions. Barrett's
life story embodies a voice of determined optimism, commitment,
strength. Her "continuous plea" should not be misunderstood
today as a submissive stance. We end this brief study of Janie Porter
Barrett with some of her reflections about herself, the school, staff
and students, and their collective accomplishments:
... Negro women with human slavery less than seventy years behind
them ... white women, products of hundreds of years of education and
culture, joining hands and working together that the least among
them might have their chance. What sacrifice and struggle ... of ...
Negro women who had so little to share; what courage in ... white
women who laid aside custom and ... traditions to champion a cause
so unpopular! I wish ... their every encourag-ing word and helpful
act might be recorded as they burn in my memory ... as a guide to
future generations who ... contribute to human betterment. This ...
stands as a memorial to brave women, white and black, who forgot
their prejudices ... overcame ... distrust in order that the
underprivileged Negro girl might ... [have] an opportunity for
training and develop-ment. The school could not have been built by
colored women alone ... not ... by white women alone, but together
they have given to the Commonwealth an institution without which its
organization for social welfare would be incomplete. (1939, p. 6)
When we compare our present surroundings with the wilderness in
which our institution had its birth, our unbounded faith in the
things we are yet to accomplish is no source of wonder. The site ...
was a barren spot indeed: a battlefield during the war between the
States, and before that an exhausted tract rendered worthless by
unscientific farming. And nothing had been done to improve the soil
since the war. Now the land flourishes. Trees, flowers, fruits and
vegetables bear silent witness to our conquest of desolation. In the
beginning, even more than now, belief in the thing we wanted to do
for the underprivileged girls of our Commonwealth, and in the way
by which we proposed to accomplish this ... was the exception rather
than the rule and so money came slowly and in small amounts, and
we had to use every means of extracting the largest possible returns
from the resources at our command.... Gradually, as a result of
[our building up of the land] ... the soil regained much of its long
lost fertility. Our hunger for beauty led us to our woods, from
which we transplanted holly, dogwood, beechnut and sweet gum.
(1939, p. 5)
Whenever I leave [the facility] I ask the Lord to let no harm come
to ... [the girls]. I feel responsible for these irresponsible
children, soul and body ... don't want them maiming themselves.
(1920, p. 21)
My part in the work of this institution has always been to me a very
sacred trust--sacred because the State Federation of Colored Women's
Clubs let me persuade them to assume the responsibility of
establishing the institution; sacred because of the white friends
who worked with us when the cause was less popular than it now is;
when their co-operation ... did not meet the approval of their
friends and was therefore far from an easy task for them; sacred
because of the state aid voted by our legislature ... though small
at first ... increased yearly until the
State ... assumed the entire responsibility. So, beneath my
continual plea for adequate support is the earnest desire to keep
our institution abreast of the times ... [to] serve in a larger way
in improving the citizenry ... and to build an institution worthy of
the friends who have stood by us, and worthy of our great
Commonwealth. (1931, p. 12)
We are left with an aggregate picture of a compassionate, humble,
and determined pioneer. Barrett was a social reformer inspired by the
Social Settlement Movement; she possessed an uncompromising sense of
social justice and a deep commitment to her students and to her
community. She was well aware of the deep racism and segregation in the
Jim Crow South of her day, yet believed strongly in the need for
collaboration across color lines and moved with ease in both White and
Black society. She was, in short, an exemplary correctional educator.
Conclusion
Janie Porter Barrett's Annual Reports for the Industrial Home
School constituted a life's work in the service of delinquent
African American girls and in the fight against institutionalized racism
and injustice. The State legislature provided State funds to establish
similar institutions for White girls, and for White boys, but it did not
extend this service to African American girls and boys. So Barrett
mobilized funds from Virginia's African American communities and
from White citizens who found merit in her work. Then the State
legislature assumed control of the institution's physical plant and
all its programs. Barrett continued in her leadership role, despite this
change.
Her tenure at the Industrial Home School for Colored Girls was
marked by many hardships; yet her work advances our ideas about CE,
inmate discipline, moral education, Re-Entry, and even the expansion and
improvement of physical plants and fundraising. The authors hope that
this brief portrayal of a pioneering African American correctional
educator will help address the gap in the historical record noted at the
beginning of this essay.
There is much in her work that was exemplary, and a few elements
that are artifacts of a different time. It would be inappropriate for
modern readers to apply current standards to her work, because even best
practices from one period may not be useful in another period. The CE
work of Janie Porter Barrett defied the extreme racial and material
barriers of her time. Perhaps her most remarkable accomplishment was the
community she provided her vulnerable students--a community that
nurtured growth and was inspired by the highest educational ideals of
her age.
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Biographical Sketches
DR. BILL MUTH is an Assistant Professor of Adult and Adolescent
Literacy at Virginia Commonwealth University.
DR. THOM GEHRING, is a Professor in the Education, Psychology and
Counseling Department, California State University San Bernardino, and
Director of the Center for the Study of Correctional Education.
MARGARET PUFFER is a teacher in the Alternative and Correctional
Schools Unit of the Orange Co. California Department of Education.
DR. CAMILLE MAYERS, is a Professor in the Education, Psychology and
Counseling Department, California State University San Bernardino.
DR. SANDRA KAMUSIKIRI is the Dean of Graduate Studies and Associate
Provost for Assessment, California State University, San Bernardino.
GLENDA PRESSLEY directs the statewide education programs in the
California Division of Juvenile Justice.