By David Krough, TJJD Communications
Addressing the need to maintain mental health for those who work in corrections is an obvious necessity – but somewhere between employees on the front lines and the population in custody, it seems that the team leaders are often the ones getting left behind.
Dr. Rosemary Ricciardelli presented on the topic at the Impact of Mental Health on Leaders in a Correctional Setting at the Barbara Jordan Building, in Austin, on Monday, April 22. About 150 juvenile justice professionals from TJJD and probation departments across the state attended.
Ricciardelli is a highly credentialed professor and published author in the fields of corrections, prisons and wellness. She is the research chair in Safety, Security, and Wellness at the Fisheries and Marine Institute at Memorial University of Newfoundland.
Ricciardelli began her talk by explaining how corrections employees are often the last stop for society in dealing with the incarcerated – likely the most traumatized population in society.
“If you’re working in a prison you’re working with the most vulnerable people in society and you’re not celebrated,” Ricciardelli says.
Her research includes a large study of 900 corrections staffers done in Ontario, the results of which Ricciardelli said, have since been replicated across the provinces in Canada.
Ricciardelli says a staggering 59 percent of those corrections staff surveyed in her studies showed signs of some kind of mental health disorder. The top three being major depression, posttraumatic stress and anxiety. Despite the researchers’ findings, many participants reported never accessing formal mental health supports.
The categories for stress-related mental health conditions include: operational stress injuries – diagnosable mental disorders encountered on the job by first responders and public safety workers; post-traumatic stress injuries resulting from being exposed to such events and moral injury – which can come from having to compromise deeply held moral, ethical or spiritual beliefs while participating in on-the-job events or even from legal or bureaucratic consequences.
And aside from being on the front line of conflict in corrections’ populations, the top two most stressful situations reported on the job are dealing with colleagues and management. Combined, those two issues add up to 50% of stress level. That was followed by the stress of having to adapt to the constant changes in legislative policies and understaffing.
In the field of corrections, there are several unique issues in dealing with mental health that are not present in most other professions, Ricciardelli said.
Among those, is the necessity of staff and management to remain detached emotionally from people in their care, while at the same time, balancing sometimes highly-charged and traumatic situations, with the need to maintain extreme confidentiality.
“We tell everyone not to display their emotions (while on the job) then get upset when they don’t talk about what is bothering them,” she says. “We can all present how we react (but) we can’t (always) control how we feel inside.”
Managers Face Unique Set of Issues
Corrections managers have the delicate position of being tasked with the responsibility of those under them, as well as feeling the pressures from government agencies and the public to whom they serve – often in the position of leaving their own mental health needs for last, Ricciardelli says.
Respondents in one survey said often times after a potential psychologically traumatic event (PPTE) managers took care of their corrections officers, but often were just expected to go right back to work themselves.
In her surveys, about 60 percent of managerial level staff reported receiving formal training and education for addressing the mental health of others in their but only about 30 percent reported addressing their own mental health.
Those who work in correctional justice settings face many of the same situations as other first responders such as police, paramedics, firefighters and the military.
But one major difference in dealing with a traumatic scene, is that most have the ability to remove themselves from the physical location where a situation may have happened. In corrections, Ricciardelli said, the traumatic situations happen in their daily workplace – where afterwards, inmates “just have to go to their room.”
“That space is your (work) space and you will always relive that.”
This also extends to parole and probation situations to the point where corrections workers are nearly surrounded at all times with their subjects and the consequences of their decisions at work.
Vicarious trauma can also be experienced by others around them, but not necessarily every potential trauma encounter is “psychologically” traumatic, Ricciardelli explained.
“Trauma is not on a hierarchy because you don’t know what (specifically) is going to impact you.”
Solutions: Recognize Impacts and Corrections Workers as First Responders
One proposal to help address mental health issues involves reclassifying corrections officers as state-recognized first responders along with fire, police and medical services. This could help expand training and other incentives for mental health care.
A major issue in dealing with potential psychologically traumatic events is the post-event investigation, whether it be interdepartmental or from a higher-level agency, be it local, state or federal. 
“The process itself makes you feel like you did something wrong, even if your actions aren’t wrong, it’s a split-second decision,” Ricciardelli says. “We need to say ‘at some point you will be investigated’ (to) make it normalized That will help ensure transparency and hopefully elicit support from coworkers.
“We all have to own our behaviors – if you own, it you might get in trouble, if you cover it up - you’ll get in a lot of trouble.”
The point of all of this research of course, is not to broad-brush everyone as a potential victim of trauma or even a mental health case, but to recognize the signs before it’s too late, according to Ricciardelli.
“People not recognizing when their health may be compromised – (with) a gradual onset and (then it) keeps getting worse because we wait. It becomes harder to get the help we need. If we don’t recognize it, how do we act?”
Most importantly, what are corrections leaders in a position to do about all of it?
More training is an obvious first choice, along with the other ideas of team building exercises to promote more interconnectedness and reduce interpersonal conflicts.
Regular mental health appointments should also be encouraged – off-site to maintain confidentiality as well as being non-mandatory, to ensure more honesty.
Making broad cultural changes in an institutional setting, Ricciardelli says, is kind of like turning around a cruise ship – if done too quickly, there runs the risk of damaging the structure, but more effective changes come over time with gradual shifts in policies.
“If psychology were like gravity - it might work every time, but not every solution works for every person.”
The first place to start is with self-care, Ricciardelli emphasized, listing the “ABCs” of self-care – Assess where one is doing well and what to focus on; Build on existing activities, skills and interests; and commit to sustainable self-care.
“Don’t make it an unachievable goal.”
(At TJJD, employees needing assistance with mental wellness may contact the agency’s wellness counselors at .)
By David N. Krough, TJJD Communications Specialist
The Giddings State School Book Club 2.0 is off and reading this spring, poring through stories of challenge and determination – by characters whose lives may have once looked very similar to their own.
The Mentoring Book Club, recently revived, was founded in the fall of 2022 by a group of Giddings students who decided they wanted to do better in life when they got out of school, according to Assistant Principal Dr. Tracey Walker.
It all started when Walker had found a copy of the book “Mentor: The Kid and the CEO,” by Tom Pace, on the shelf of the assistant principal’s office when she took the job after four years teaching art at Giddings’ Lone Star High School Southeast.
“We reached out to Mr. Albert Yancey, who himself was incarcerated at the age of 16, tried as an adult at 17, and sentenced to life in prison,” Walker said. “He has an amazing story of triumph and is consulted regularly regarding ways to reach out to our students.” Yancey was released early from TDCJ and often speaks to youth about the importance of avoiding prison.
Yancey suggested that “Mentor” was a good book to start with. The book had also been used as a study tool by the school superintendent and principals, prior to Walker’s arrival.
“(I) had no idea how I would meet with my students after I took the new position,” Walker recalled. “I had no idea how I would get the money to get the books, nor the time to do it, nor the staff to help.”
A student at the time, T.A., was regularly pushing to start the club, Walker recalled.
“I got so tired of him asking, ‘When are we going to start book club?’ that one day as he entered the school and asked me again, I just said in frustration, ‘Fine! Let’s go to the office and make a flyer to invite kids to come.’”
T.A. picked the images for the original flyer and went from class to class, inviting youth to attend.
Just after COVID, Walker discovered 10 copies of “Mentor” sitting on the shelf in the chapel during one of their events
“So I knew we had to do this,” she said.
In September 2022 the book club began with three youths as the leaders (CEOs as they called themselves) and 27 students.
At first, Barbara Graves and Brittney Humphries from the Recreation Department provided a space and additional staffing for club meetings.
“We were uncertain if (students’) behavior would stay under control (but) we have been impressed from day one with their behavior, attention span, and answers that they give in the group setting,” Walker said.
Author and English teacher Susanna Luviek, who had just moved from Washington State to teach with TJJD, saw a flier on Walker’s desk and immediately asked if she could help.
Luviek had taught at a private, college prep high school where she found her niche.
“I found that the few at that school who were troubled, and those who the other teachers didn’t work well with - ended up being my favorites and the ones who worked well with me. That inspired me to look for a teaching job where the balance of troubled teens was shifted, and I could potentially have a bigger impact. (At) TJJD (I) feel so much more job satisfaction here than where I was before.”
In addition to teaching, Luviek is a published author, having written the psychological thriller “Daunted No More,” – which has been featured in the club’s reading list. Luviek’s exploration into literary characters and love of writing continues to influence her work in teaching.
After rounding up enough volunteers to help staff the events, book club was a go.
A collection that eventually became “The Success Library” was donated by TJJD through James Bateman’s office in Education Services. There, students can choose from titles such as “Prescription for Success”, “Built to Last”, “See You at The Top”, “The Dream Giver”, “Making a Habit of Success”, “The Other Wes Moore”, and “Developing the Leader Within You.”
Education Services also donated the medals that students can receive after reading their fifth, tenth and fifteenth books.
The Pace Foundation, started by author Tom Pace, donated classroom sets that included “Think and Grow Rich” and “Purpose Driven Life.”
In Luviek’s classroom, students read portions of a selected book each week, followed by discussions and posting statements on the wall of noteworthy comments shared about their weekly lessons.
They refer to themselves as the “Book Club Men.”
Students need at least one teacher and one staff member to recommend them on the application. Rules state that students must have spent at least 30 days on campus with no security referrals and must be passing all classes before they can apply for membership.
Luviek says her students by and large are a very eager bunch and look forward to meetings.
“Some of those who get their GED, and don’t normally want to do any work in class anymore, will continue to work so that they have passing grades and won’t miss out on book club,” she said.
Word-of-mouth about the club is also a great motivator for students to do all they can to meet the requirements.
“They are setting long-term goals to get into a later group, or short-term goals to make sure they don’t get skipped over for a meeting,” Luviek said. “We stop at key points in the stories we read and discuss the characters and their situations, decisions, perspective, alternative choices, and growth. It’s been amazing to hear their interactions as they observe and share with their peers. We ask questions because we want them to identify things themselves that will allow these lessons to stick and help them grow together.”
Currently, one of the subjects for the Book Club Men is how to identify Emotional Intelligence in the story characters to help increase their empathy and self-management.
There are about 20 members this spring, but Luviek says there are many more waiting to get in.
“Whatever it was that kept them out, many will turn that around in order to get accepted and/or to continue being picked up each time. With that, more students end up qualifying than we can fit in each meeting. We are very selective and they know it, so they work harder.”
“Helping them grow is the reason I teach. It’s not English I love teaching, it’s the teens.”
By Barbara Kessler, TJJD Communications
Dominique Prince, center, and Dieter Cantu, right, at the recent regionalization meeting.
Two new voices have joined the TJJD Regionalization Task Force, bringing a fresh perspective and expanded dimension to the task force’s efforts to strengthen diversion and keep youth as local and shallow in the system as possible.
These new members, Dieter Cantu and Dominique Prince, join several Juvenile Probation Chiefs, and others who are working with TJJD on the task force. They have a special interest in helping young people who are justice-involved because as teenagers they were committed to the care of the Texas Youth Commission (TYC) and each spent significant time at Giddings State School and other TYC facilities.
That was years ago, and both men now have successful careers and fulfilling personal lives. They share a passion, forged in experience, for helping young people avoid the harm that justice-involvement and incarceration can bring.
“We didn’t have diversion programs, well, there were, but we didn’t get access to that. We went straight to TYC,” said Prince, who spent four years at Giddings State School, from age 16-20, after being adjudicated for aggravated armed robbery in 2006.
“I felt like there were (some good) programs at TYC, but the environment was too much to allow you to focus,” he said.
Prince, of San Antonio, and Cantu, of Houston, talked about their pasts and their plans in an interview after the January regionalization meeting in Austin.
As a teenager, Prince had done well in public school, and he continued to progress in classes while at TYC. He even connected with certain staff members at Giddings State School who became life-changing mentors he remembers fondly. But his experiences at the secure facility were overshadowed by the constant nagging fears and worries that came with being confined with large groups of youthful offenders who were not, he recalls, always under control.
“It was survival of the fittest when I was there,” Prince said. “It was a difficult transition (from home to TYC), so I feel like personally, these diversion programs, taking steps before we send kids to TYC or TDCJ, that’s a better route.”
Today, Prince’s life looks nothing like some people might have predicted. He's worked his way up to a six-figure job with an oil company that provides what his family needs. He and his wife own a home, travel and enjoy a rich family life with their three young kids, who’re all involved in sports or dance.
Prince, 33, says he rose above difficult circumstances, the gangs and “rough” background of his own youth, through sheer grit and determination and not because of his incarceration.
“I was one of these kids people thought belonged in jail . . . but I did a complete 180. I’m a family man. I donate to charities, and I do ‘feed the homeless’ projects,” he said.
Having completed his parole without a hitch and climbed the job ladder rung-by-rung from his first post-release minimum-wage work chopping vegetables, Prince feels compelled to advocate for “the kids casted away, the ones people don’t have any hope for.”
He knows that so many of them, like himself at their age, have untapped potential.
Cantu has a similar story. He has been a successful advocate for youth rights and juvenile justice reforms for several years, before and since getting his BA in public administration, and has won many accolades and awards. He currently serves as executive director for JuvenileRights.com, which is dedicated to mentoring and supporting justice-involved youth. He is widely known for one of his earlier projects, a book donation program called Cantu's Books to Incarcerated Youth Project.
Cantu’s initial inspiration for putting books in the hands of incarcerated youth came while he was confined years ago at the Victory Field Correctional Academy, a TYC boot camp-style operation in Vernon. He had received and been moved by “Soul on Ice,” a memoir by Eldridge Cleaver written while he was in prison.
Not only did Cleaver’s writings resonate, reading in general had become Cantu’s lifeline during what he recalls as a nightmarish time at Victory Field, which closed in 2011. Committed to TYC in 2005, at age 16, to serve a 10-year sentence for his participation in an aggravated robbery, he was first assigned to Victory Field and later transferred to Giddings State School.
Victory Field, he says with clear disdain, was simply “one of the worst places I’ve ever been in.”
“There weren’t even chairs to sit on. You sat on the ground. You had military uniforms. There was no TV, no trades and you have to sit on the ground in knees-to-chest (position), and there’s 24 kids in a limited space. It was horrible. I had everything from strep throat to pink eye and they’d say, ‘just drink some water’,” Cantu recalled.
The problem with the harsh approach at Victory Field, he said, was that kids would come in with a four-month sentence that would turn into years as they got written up for multiple small violations, such as having an untucked shirt.
Cantu saw that this “pencil whipping” set kids up for failure and inflicted long term damage on children who might have succeeded in a less restrictive, more therapeutic situation.
When he got to Giddings State School, Cantu saw similar problems with staff being verbally abusive or overreactive toward youth, though it was not the scary place that Victory Field had been for him. Still, he saw many youths who needed more help than they were receiving.
“There were kids that I knew were supposed to go to Corsicana (for mental health care) and they weren’t, they were at Giddings and Gainesville, and I mean I could see it, and I was a kid!”
Today, Cantu, 34, hopes to have impact on the task force by finding ways to keep youth lower in the system and receiving appropriate care. He wants to contribute not just as a person with “lived experience,” but to bring his youth advocacy, grant-writing, and policy-making skills to bear.
The juvenile justice system needs to improve to provide a higher level of service and “mentorship and competency,” Cantu said. Importantly, the people working in direct care need “to see a child needs extra support in some ways, behaviorally and mentally.” Some staff do, but some others are “not up to it,” he said.
When a correctional staff member “makes a mistake” with a youth, it can have “huge ramifications,” Cantu said. The outcome is adults who’ve been formerly incarcerated with inner turmoil. They may “put a smile over it” but they’re walking around dealing with the history of microaggressions and humiliations they endured as a kid.
Added Prince, “I see a lot of kids (now adults) who are struggling now who we (he and Cantu) were incarcerated with.” He sees their struggle as evidence that juvenile authorities take on a delicate matter when they’re entrusted with the care of children and their developing minds.
Despite the darkness they see shadowing those who've been in the system, both Cantu and Prince say they are hopeful about helping bring improvements and look forward to having a voice on the regionalization task force.
“I do commend the changes I see with TYC and TJJD,” Cantu said. However, he added, he is looking for assurances from authorities that “when incarceration is on the table” there’s solid, clear “due diligence.”
Cantu stresses that he will continue to support justice-involved youth and those in state care currently, despite a fairly rigorous schedule of driving to Austin for meetings and Giddings State School for mentoring.
“I don’t mind driving and going to Giddings. And all the volunteerism because who else? These kids need that.”
About the Regionalization Task Force:
In 2015, a new Texas law required TJJD to develop and adopt a regionalization plan to assure that youth are kept closer to home in lieu of commitment when possible and to work with juvenile probation departments to track post-adjudication facility capacity and develop local resources for youth.
The agency was tasked with defining regions of Texas served by detention facilities operated by local probation departments, counties, and private contractors. TJJD was to assure that each region had defined research-based programs in place to serve youth and monitor program quality and accountability. Another goal within the law requires that certain numbers of juveniles get diverted from commitment to state facilities.
The TJJD Regionalization Division is also responsible for providing training on best practices, monitoring local programs and analyzing data to assist probation departments.
In addition to new members Prince and Cantu, the task force members are:
Juvenile Probation Chiefs Darryl Beatty, Marc Bittner, Karina Browning, William Carter, Ed Cockrell, Jeremy Burrell, Matthew Haynie, Gerardo Liendo, Jill Mata, and Linda Ricketson; Jasper County Judge Mark Allen; legacy member Diana Norris (TJJDP) and Lauren Rose with Texas Network of Youth Services.
TJJD’s Regionalization Manager is Deborah Harris-Wiggins.
By Barbara Kessler, TJJD Communications
Mart Superintendent Antonio Houston, Executive Director Shandra Carter
and Jason Tweedle.
Jason Tweedle found his calling when he signed up to work as a Juvenile Correctional Officer at the McLennan County State Juvenile Correctional Facility 24 years ago, just two months after the campus opened as a secure facility for youth.
He’s now the longest serving employee who's worked continuously at the facility at Mart, east of Waco, and two-plus decades in he continues to love his job, though his role has evolved recently.
Tweedle worked for the first 18 years of his career as a JCO, a job that requires mental toughness, patience and a heart for kids who present challenges and can reflexively provoke others or protectively reject outreach. Some kids could be especially prickly when they’d landed in the Regulation Safety Unit, where Tweedle worked helping redirect youth who were having behavioral issues. For some, this might have been a roller coaster. But Tweedle was clam happy there.
“A lot of our kids don’t have positive role models, much less positive male role models and I always felt like I could build connections with them in an appropriate way, exerting positive influence,” he said.
Others noticed Tweedle’s steady and compassionate touch with the youth, and he was promoted into new positions, but in some of those he missed working one-on-one with the kids.
Last year the stars aligned and Tweedle became the perfect pick for a position at TJJD that takes advantage of his experience and effectiveness in working with young people. He’s the agency’s Facility Texas Model 2.0 Implementation Leader.
In this new role, he will help staff members put into practice ways of working with youth using the skills and methods they are learning that use Dialectical Behavioral Therapy techniques.
This task keeps him in touch with the colleagues he enjoys and still close with the young people at Mart. It’s a natural fit for the preternaturally calm Tweedle, who can be playful or serious with the youths as the situation demands, and never comes across like an overbearing overseer.
"I've never seen someone connect with youth quite like Jason Tweedle does at Mart. His approach not only to Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT); but his approach to the wellbeing of all our youth is nothing short of amazing,” said Supt. Antonio Houston. “He has an innate ability to engage with young people, guiding them through the complexities of their emotions with empathy and understanding. Jason's dedication to helping these youth navigate their challenges using DBT techniques is truly inspiring.”
Therapists use Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) to help people learn to cope with strong emotions by teaching skills they can employ, such as mindfulness, to better tolerate distress, regulate their emotions and accept their circumstances. It was developed for women with suicidal and self-harm behaviors, in the late 1970s through the 1980s, and has been successfully used in juvenile correctional settings. It’s the new component of the “Texas Model” at TJJD, which is an umbrella of best practices that help staff and youth interact safely and productively. (Texas Model 2.0 incorporates DBT.)
Staff are learning DBT so they can be more effective in their jobs and help youth manage their day-to-day issues. JCO staff are not counselors, but they spend every workday with TJJD youths in their care, serving as mentors and guides and, when needed, disciplinary figures. The DBT skills program gives them scientifically tested tools to help them make the most of their daily interactions with the youths.
DBT can engineer a paradigm shift in corrections. It can raise the level of safety at a facility because staff members are better equipped to diffuse stressful or dangerous situations. This improves the overall culture of the correctional environment, enabling more effective rehabilitation.
Tweedle shares a laugh with a youth in a dorm at the Mart campus.
Youth who’ve learned to better regulate their emotions and have skills to handle moments that challenge them are freed to focus on their studies in the classroom and make progress in treatment programs.
Many staff members across TJJD are taking DBT classes conducted by Dr. Henry Schmidt, director of program accountability and a DBT expert. Tweedle’s role is to facilitate DBT practices where the classroom meets real life, at the Mart campus, which is the agency’s first facility undergoing a full DBT-led transformation.
The campus, which has initiated some other changes aimed at improving campus culture, is already seeing some success with a decline in some disciplinary events. The number of incidents requiring the use of restraints, for example, has declined by about one third over the last six months.
Installing DBT and changing the culture at the Mart campus is a big undertaking and a work in progress. But it’s already flowed over into Tweedle’s personal life. He and his wife are raising a 5-year-old great niece, and he’s applying what he’s learned in DBT trainings at home. He reports that his young charge has already absorbed the DBT concept of “acceptance,” translating it to “You get what you get, and you don’t pitch a fit.”
Tweedle smiles as he reflects on this, walking across the Mart campus. On this breezy February afternoon, he’s continually stopped by staff and youth who pass on the sidewalk. “How’re doing?” “I’ve got to talk to you later.” “OK, I’ll see you after this.”
That morning he’d attended the TJJD board meeting where Executive Director Shandra Carter recognized him for his dedication, his 24 years of service, and the important new role he’s assumed.
Stopping in his small office, he goes quiet as he thinks how to sum up what the recognition means to him.
“If you truly believe and have a passion for what you’re doing, you don’t need recognition for hard work,” he muses. “Whatever it is that you’ve been called to do, it has to be ingrained into the fibers of your being to the point you couldn’t do anything else.”
By David N. Krough, TJJD Communications
The American Welding Society declared April as National Welding Month - and students across TJJD campuses are honing their skills in what is an urgently needed trade amid a nationwide shortage.
Students in the Vo-Tech Education welding program are fortunate to benefit from the vast experience of the instructors at Giddings State School, Gainesville State School, Ron Jackson, and McLennan County (Mart)
“A lot of people tend to think of welding as strictly with regards to either construction or like oil, but there are so many other areas in the industry that people can work,” TJJD Vo-Tech Education Manager Connie Simon said, adding that welders are needed in offshore underwater operations, crafting, and landscaping, to name a few.
According to AWS, there are an estimated 82,500 welders that will be needed in the U.S. workforce from now until 2028.
That figure is reflected in the numbers showing the forecast growth in industry is only outpaced by the number of workers anticipated to either retire or change jobs going forward.
In 2024, 771,000 welders were considered in the workforce - with around 159,000 approaching retirement age. Welders under the age of 25 make up just under 10 percent of that workforce, according to AWS.
Certification from the AWS and National Center for Construction Education and Research (NCCER) from a typical technical school can take between sixto18 months. VoTech students with TJJD have a great opportunity to get a head start on that as all of the facilities are on par with industry standards to start the certification process. Students aren’t required to be certified once they start, but it is a huge advantage on their way, said Simon, whose full title is Manager of Workforce Development & Education Reentry.
There are two certifications to start out, one from the AWS and a basic construction certification from NCCER.
When a student passes those, results are sent along to an AWS representative who can then help make it all official. It also counts toward high school class credit.
Stoking student affinity for the welding shop
Gainesville instructor Denver Foster got his interest in the trade while at a young age working in his father’s backyard auto mechanic shop and later on, helping to soup up hot rods.
“(I) kind of got a knack for it … I wasn't sure if it was going to be wood shop or auto shop or, or metal shop, but I knew I wanted to be in the shop setting,” Foster said.
After graduating college in agricultural mechanics, Foster obtained his teaching degree and has been with TJJD since 2010. His students seem to reflect his own independent style of work ethic in the shop.
“They kind of turn into your right hand. You know, we don't trust anybody (at first) but you give them, I guess a little bit of freedom when it comes to building things, you can say, ‘OK, here's X, Y and Z - get this done,’ while I go deal with these other guys that are brand new or need help or whatever … You just kind of build that rapport with the kid where they understand what you're saying and you kind of understand what they're saying.”
In his courses, the students study and practice for the core NCCER certification, to prepare them for the dozens of other welding certifications one can go on to obtain.
“I believe very strongly in getting something before you get out (of TJJD). And so, they first rattle out of the box, they get their core (certificate) … it's a basic construction. And I always tell the kids ‘You might figure out you don't like welding, it's hot or it's dirty or you get burned … some people just don't like it. But this certification, you know, you can go work in building a house, you can work on concrete. You can do green energy, anything in the construction field. I had a kid leave out of here and went to work at Lowe's and with his certification and, and a little bit of tool knowledge, they wanted to make an assistant manager like right off the bat,” Foster said.
Foster explained that in addition to teaching the work and life skills, he injects a sense of community into learning.
He and his students have also been working with a Texas Veterans Day group since 2017.
“We do different cut outs and stuff and the boys always ask ‘Well, what do you get paid for this?’ I say, I don't get paid anything.’ They're like, ‘why are we doing this?’ I said because it helps the facility, half the money we raise goes back and it goes to a veterans’ and needs organization.”
“That's the thing in life, is you’ve got to give back. And so, when you explain it that way and they kind of see that you are doing what you say you're doing , then they buy in,” he explained.
This June, student B.P. will have been a student in the shop for one year. He said he plans on finishing his certifications and eventually wants to do underwater welding.
“I've always enjoyed doing physical labor. I've always enjoyed art and the way I look at welding is, I look at it as another form of art because if you don't do it right - it won't be right. So, you’ve got to have the right speeds, the right rhythm or you could mess it up,” he said.
Foster says he and his colleagues, Jeremy Williams at the Mart campus, Robbie Stork at Giddings and Terry Thomas at Brownwood keep in close contact about their students, along with attending vocational and education conferences.
“We've got a really good, tight-knit community with our vocational welding teachers,“ he added. “You know there are opportunities, so once they get their core, then they start welding. And we've partnered with what's called the North American Welding Group - it's a senior level AWS inspector who kind of has the same goals. We want to see these kids successful, and we want to see the welding (industry) be successful with these kids.”
Welding together more than a job
B.P. didn’t take long to answer when asked what he like best about his experiences in Mr. Foster’s class: “His sense of humor and his desire to help.”
Foster helps his students at Lone Star HS North by emphasizing that welding requires precision.
“I'm a stickler … those welds have got to be just right-on, perfect,” Foster said. “It's human nature. To have a really, really good (weld) and it'll just be a little bit off and I'm like, ‘Hmmm … do it again.
He tells his students: “This is why I'm so hard on you is because at the end of the day when you get out, you're already behind the eight ball. Like everybody's ahead of you. You're going to have to work that much harder. So when you go in and have to do a weld test … you'll know how to do it, you'll know how to do it right, where the kid that, that got by (just) because his teacher just let him get by (may not).”
A welding certification can also have advantages beyond the workplace.
“For a lot of our kids, what tends to happen and this is - both female and male - they have a lot of
artistic ability (and) just haven't found the right outlet,” said Simon. “When they come in, if they get into an art class, you know, some of them will just absolutely blossom and, and they do absolutely beautiful work. .”
“We focus a lot on the employment part of it, but they really have a skill that they can use for the rest of their life, helping themselves, helping a neighbor, helping family members,” Simon added.
”If you need something at your house, you can build it. Or you got a free Saturday, you can make something and you can set it by the side of the road and (maybe) make you a little extra money,” Foster said.
“Some days are better than others.,” B.P. said. “Some welds are better than others, but it's still a work in progress.”
#NationalWeldingDay
(Photos: Top, a student welding at Lone Star HS Southeast; left top, Denver Foster with a barbecue smoker his class built; right center, welding class at LSHSS at Giddings State School; left bottom, Welding teacher Jeremy Williams at Lone Star HS Central at McLennan County State Juvenile Correctional Facility; right bottom, a student at LSHSC examines a weld he's made. )