I'm still working as a counselor. I have a daily appt. with this one group just before 5:00 quitting time. I give them a list of math problems and I observe them as they try to solve these unsolvable puzzles and that's the real test, how they deal with frustration. I give my "father" a test because he's curious about it. I think, "This will be interesting to observe. I'll learn something about him." He bites his lip and paces, very unhappy he can't figure it out. I explain to them they are gibberish for a reason, because it would be awful. In this volatile prison environment if some got the problems and others didn't, then the one who didn't get it would really feel stupid! Their self-esteem is already at a low. Some women teachers interrupt because it's past 5:00 and they come to collect their papers and things. I see a paper with a finger nail polish bottle attached to it. It belongs to one of the women. Another day I come to see a guest speaker working with the group. He's got a whole theory built around the shape of breads (rolls and buns) and the process of eating them. I listen as he talks about being real and connected with your feelings. The woman counselor sits next to me, very distraught and puts her head on my shoulder, weeping. It's too much to bear. He's fake, just like he's telling clients not to be. She cries, "I can't bear it," and tries to nibble at my lower lip for security. I stop her because it's not appropriate.