Many jobs in Wisconsin’s Oshkosh Correctional Institution consist of routine manual labor that helps the prison run: cooking, cleaning, laundering — that kind of thing. Most tasks could be completed by anyone, but my job is an exception. 

I work in the prison’s Braille program as a Braille transcriber.

Braille transcription is a difficult but rewarding job. Braille transcribers are required to memorize and understand the rules and best practices for what is essentially a different language. 

At Oshkosh, we primarily work on textbooks for blind students. And while a program on our computers allows us to transcribe written works into the six-dot configuration of Braille symbols, we still need to be vigilant to avoid mistakes, or be prepared for rare cases where we might have to manually enter the transcription.

We also have the ability to transform visual images into tactile graphics that the visually impaired reader can feel, giving them a sense of what the image is.

After our initial transcription is complete, our manuscripts are sent to a Braille proofreader who sends  back corrections. Once corrections are finalized, our transcriptions are turned into books for Braille readers.

Braille jobs are some of the best gigs around in my facility. Not only do we learn a new skill, but the work is more enjoyable than most other jobs. I also work tucked away from the rest of the prison, with only a few people. This environment is a stark contrast to general crowding and chaos of prison.

My workplace is one of the few rooms in the prison with air conditioning. It’s there to keep the computers cool, but I feel the added benefit myself. I work on a computer with two monitors. I recline into a chair that is much more comfortable than the metal prison chairs. Then I fall into my work. When I get into a groove, it almost feels like I’m back in a college computer lab.

“It’s the solitude,” said Scott D., a fellow transcriber, of what he likes most about the job. “I like getting peace of mind. This is my zen. This is the closest I can get to normalcy.”

The Braille program is difficult to get into. It only has 19 available positions, with four of those reserved for new trainees. The other 15 are given to people who have received their Braille certification from the Library of Congress. To be considered for the program, a person must score at least a five on both their adult basic education math and English tests. In basic terms, you need to be ready for college-level courses to get in.

This barrier to entry can be a benefit. Many of my fellow transcribers have worked hard to learn and they see continued education in prison as a worthy pursuit. 

On the job, our conversations range from the nuance of a Braille rule to spirited arguments over the superiority of the imperial or metric unit of measurement (it’s clearly metric). Throughout most of the prison, my nickname is Tree because I’m 7 feet tall. But in the Braille room, my nickname is Ent, an allusion to the tree creatures in J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” book series, which many of us have read.

Fellow transcriber Jeffrey S. told me he has liked how smart the people in the Braille room are.

“It makes for better conversation,” he said.

Part of what drew me to the program are the job opportunities available to me once I leave prison. The Braille program is often touted by incarcerated people and educational staff as an almost guaranteed path to work upon release.

I am somewhat skeptical of the program’s employment claims, but my fellow Braille transcribers, Jeffrey S., Brian H. and Lawrence T., all expressed interest in continuing their work out in the free world. Brian H.,told me he knows two people from this program who worked in Braille after prison. It’s also true that the wider Braille world has come to accept and even encourage Braille material being made by incarcerated and formerly incarcerated people. This includes textbooks for K-12 students and higher education classes, tactile maps and even business cards. 

In 2003, the American Printing House for the Blind produced “Prison Braille Programs: The Inside Scoop.” In it, they say: “Prison braille programs in the U.S. today produce over 5,000,000 pages of braille per year.” Surely that number is higher 22 years later. There are now 45 prison braille programs operating in 30 states, up from 23 in 2022.

Some places even attempt to help incarcerated Braille transcribers upon their release. Pinned to a board next to my work station are four papers promoting the Braille Transcriber Apprentice Program. This program aims to help formerly incarcerated people set up their own Braille “cottage industry.”

This gives me hope that what I’m doing now will lead to something more in my future.