In the 1980s, then-Chief Justice Warren E. Burger was vocal about the need for prison reform. In one instance, he was quoted as saying: “To put people behind walls and bars and do little or nothing to change them is to win a battle but lose a war. It is wrong! It is expensive! It is stupid!”
I came across that quote recently, sitting in a chair at the Idaho State Correctional Institution. The chair was assembled by people locked up in the state prison with me — employees of Idaho Correctional Industries, which hires people in state prisons to perform such services as metal fabrication and to make various products, including office furniture and street signs. These items are then sold to government agencies, nonprofits, schools and some approved retailers and wholesalers.
Burger’s quote was printed on a sign promoting ICI in my prison’s training department. According to ICI’s website, the prison training program “teaches marketable work and life skills” to aid job hunts after release, while compensating workers so they can pay back victim restitution and save money for life after prison.
The quote has stuck with me. Burger’s wise words embody everything that can be right about prison: rehabilitation through a real-world work environment that promotes change, while doing something productive for the communities we’ve wronged.
Thanks to my apprenticeship, for the first time in nearly 16 years behind bars I feel like I am giving something back to my community rather than just being a burden.
Since I started the program nearly a year ago, I’ve been working 40 hours a week as an apprentice cabinet maker in the woodshop. My workspace is a 40-by-20-foot concrete slab with two large tables and an area for a desk. Extension cords and air hoses are coiled in strategic locations for easy access. The tool cabinet I use to make chairs, bookcases and office desks contains everything from hand tools to drills, sanders, nail guns and routers.
I am trusted to use potentially dangerous tools like that in prison. That trust helps my rehabilitation because I must honor it and show that I can use the tools responsibly while completing complicated construction projects.
ICI also offers federal Department of Labor-certified apprenticeships in metal fabrication, graphics, painting, drafting, upholstery, transportation and the clerical side of manufacturing.
These apprenticeships consist of 85% technical and 15% classroom training hours, with a capstone project due at the end. According to the Department of Labor packet I received, the cabinet maker apprenticeship requires 8,000 hours of work and a capstone project in which we construct a hardwood-trimmed office desk.
ICI production manager Rob Coletti owned a sign company in Southern California for 10 years. Then he spent 13 years as a juvenile probation officer, also in California.
Coletti has an infectious enthusiasm. Every time I’ve heard him address the incarcerated employees at ICI, he promotes the program as a method for positive change, a way to get out of prison and stay out through hard work, discipline and good values.
Paul Yekel, a maintenance supervisor, told me he works in the program because he likes to help us and serve his community. Prior to working at ICI, he had his own struggles with substance abuse, but he was able to find sobriety before he ended up in the same place he now works.
Ray Melton, who spent a year working in the woodshop before becoming an AutoCAD drafter, said “ICI gives people an opportunity to learn stuff to keep them out of prison.”
In all, I interviewed six of my coworkers about the program. They all said they loved it.
One real issue in prisons is low and exploitative pay. But, between our pay and workforce training, I think ICI offers us a fair deal.
ICI’s pay scale starts at 50 cents an hour for the first 420 hours, but once the probationary period is over, we get a 10-cent raise and additional raises biannually up to $1.25 an hour. Beyond that, for every apprenticeship you complete, you get a 10-cent raise.
As a station holder — which is essentially the foreman and trainer for one of the stations — I make $1.25 an hour with a ceiling of $1.75 an hour. Compare this to the standard pay for state prison jobs, which is 20 cents to 40 cents an hour, according to the state prison system’s standard operating procedure guidelines.
Beyond our pay, we learn skills and trades that can be valuable once we leave prison. And the culture of the program — like trust with tools — can add to our rehabilitation.
Malik, who has about 800 hours left of his 2,000-hour janitorial apprenticeship, said ICI is “nothing like being in prison.”
“You come in and work a real job,” Malik said. “You don’t see any chains or razor wire, and because you’re so busy doing the task before you, you forget you’re in prison until you leave.”
Malik expects to finish his apprenticeship in April. If he is granted parole next year, he could leave prison as soon as March 2026. Once he leaves prison, Malik wants to get a commercial cleaning job and possibly start his own cleaning company.
Still, the ICI program has untapped potential. Our labor could be further utilized to grow and raise food to feed schools, food banks and soup kitchens. We could also build modules for prefabricated homes that could help housing supply at a time when states are facing a housing affordability crisis. And we could help build and furnish innovative prison housing facilities, ones geared toward accommodating these types of programs.
This could help relieve overcrowding in state prisons that has caused Idaho to spend millions of dollars a year sending people to private prisons in other states.
Beyond that, this program has reminded me of what I miss most about being free — that I am a skilled and responsible person who has worth and can succeed without committing crimes or hurting other people. I have learned that I can be trusted.
Get more of us behind bars to feel this way and maybe we can win Burger’s war.