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Mark SalzmanA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
In Chapter 10, Mark begins to branch out with respect to his subject matter. The staff mentions that the holidays are a difficult time, and Sister Janet raises the possibility of an arts festival for the students. The writing program has been making strides: Sister Janet relates to Mark that two more writers have agreed to participate as teachers, and they are now seeking non-profit status. Her timing with this good news is significant. As Sister Janet explains, the holidays are a difficult—and dangerous—time at the facility. Because of the inmates' separation from their families, tempers and nerves are on edge. Even a holiday like Halloween, Sister Janet adds, tends to amplify frustration and anger. For the youths, this anger gets taken out on themselves, and each other. Luckily, however, even Halloween decorations are a popular outlet: "They had already covered the windows with construction paper, thrown bedsheets over the bookshelves and tables, and sprayed fake cobwebs everywhere—you had to duck to keep them from getting them in your hair" (106). In class, the boys take turns writing funny, scary, and disturbing stories, and the class ends on a somber note, with the students thinking of whether or not stories and essays should have morals. This somber mood comes by way of a point Patrick makes during a writing session: "Now it don't seem fun anymore, so of course we say we want to change. But it's too late! We fucked up. And anyway, we deserve what's coming. They oughta lock us up forever and through away the key" (111). The point is clear: stories with morals are only meaningful if the possibility for change exists. Mark doesn't have an answer to Patrick's question.
In Chapter 11, Mark and Duane talk to their students of embarking on a writing retreat, which is well-received. Meanwhile, in the classroom, the students are restless and distracted; their writing is darker, and more aggressive. An unexpected complication of this plan is seating. The juvenile hall staff are leery of sitting boys and girls together. The expectation is that doing so would introduce a volatile new complication: they believe that the mere presence of the girls would lead the boys to act out, raising the possibility of violence and damage. While Mark is skeptical, the concern is treated by the others seriously. Mark's reaction is a source of friction between him and the administrators, as another conversation about the writing classes reveals:
You may think that's a good thing, but it isn't. You pay a lot of attention to them and they get used to it. They come out of your classes feeling like something special, which makes it hard for them to leave your program and have to go back to our program (120).
Mark is taken aback by this comment at first, then totally shocked by the follow-up comment, which confirms his suspicions about how his own program is being shaped: "At the end of each class, you might have a little debriefing session. Remind them of where they are, and of who's in charge here" (120). By the end of Chapter 11, Mark has few illusions as to how his program is seen by those in charge.
Chapter 12 begins with a concert being held at Central Juvenile Hall. Prior to the concert, Mark toys with the idea of playing the cello for the boys. Mark was once a serious musician, but has not performed in years. Before playing, he offhandedly describes how one of the songs in his program, "The Swan," by Camille Saint-Saëns, reminds him of his mother. This small remark has profound effects:
The rustling grew in intensity, but something about it didn't seem right. It wasn't the sound of fidgeting and wasn't quite the sound of whispering either. I glanced at the audience and saw a roomful of boys with tears running down their faces. The rustling that had distracted me was the sound of sniffling and nose-wiping—music to a musician's ears (131).
At their request, he plays the song again, and finally a third time, to thunderous applause. While Mark is happy that his music is so well-received, it quickly dawns on him that Mother's Day—and his remark about the link between his own mother and the cello—is what enabled him to make such a profound connection.
These chapters describe both a deepening connection with the boys and also Mark's own growing personal investment and involvement in the program and life at Central Juvenile Hall. Whereas before Mark was somewhat hesitant in his involvement and selfish in his motivations—wanting to be able to find context for a character for a book—he begins to get involved in the stories and fates of his students. However, tension exists between his desire to allow the students to express themselves and his responsibility to provide order and structure. This is strained during the holiday season, which, as Sister Janet explains, represents an especially difficult emotional time for the inmates. The staff's remedies and planning around these events reflect the strange, new environment of correctional facilities; it is less so that the inmates are being cared for than that they are being managed. The extent to which otherwise simple circumstances, like boys and girls sitting together, is prohibited, reflects this non-conventional setting. At first, Mark's interest in performing appears unnecessary, yet the student-inmates' and staff's urging reflects their genuine interest in his participation. Mark is generally unsure of himself as an artist, yet his authentic inspiration and sincere expression—made all the more poignant by his association with his own mother—is immediately contagious, and effective. It shows, beyond the diminished expectations of this system, that these offenders can still feel.