Unlocking the meaning of Christmas

Day is restricted for teen offenders, but gifts still come

By Shelley Murphy, Globe Staff  |  December 25, 2009

WESTBOROUGH - They are locked up for such crimes as drug possession, kidnapping, rape, and attempted murder. Some say they don’t even care about Christmas, because when you’re incarcerated it’s just another day.

This Christmas morning, the 15 boys, ages 13 to 19, will stay in their bedrooms until their doors are unlocked at 9:30 a.m. No relatives or friends will come to visit them.

But at the Robert F. Kennedy School, a secure youth treatment facility operated by the Robert F. Kennedy Children’s Action Corps, a staff led by a 69-year-old grandmother will try to remind them today that they are still children and have not been forgotten.

There will be about a half-dozen colorfully wrapped presents and a stocking stuffed with decks of cards, candy, and toiletries piled outside each boy’s door. They will sit down to a turkey dinner, followed by chocolate, coconut, and banana cream pies.

“It’s easy for them to say it’s just another day, but I know deep down inside it’s not,’’ said Sally Bond, the school’s recreation director of 22 years who bakes the pies. “It’s a painful day for them. That’s the one day you really need staff that have a good relationship with the kids to make it as happy a day as you can for them because they are kids.’’

Presents, donated by parishioners from two local churches, are modest - no iPods, laptops, or gift cards are allowed. Cash gifts are also prohibited because youths are required to earn their own money by doing chores.

“It’s definitely stressful not being with my family,’’ said Juan, 18, of Lawrence, who is facing his third Christmas locked up for kidnapping. But, he said, the staff “try to make it the best for you.’’

A Globe reporter visited the school recently under the condition that the identities of the youths be protected because they are in state custody and many are minors.

“I would tell people not to take anything for granted,’’ a broad-shouldered teenager with glasses said during a group session last week led by Bond. He said he was angry while incarcerated last Christmas, but now realizes he’s to blame.

“You did the crime, you need to pay the time,’’ he said. “I just accept what happened, accept responsibility.’’

The Kennedy Children’s Action Corps, which is contracted by the Department of Youth Services to house and treat delinquent youths, operates the school on the fourth-floor of a red-brick building on Lyman Street.

Offenders spend six months to three years in the program. They attend daily school classes, therapy and treatment sessions, and participate in various activities, including yoga. An essential part of the program is talking about their crimes and acknowledging their victims, Bond said.

The youths, who earn a weekly allowance of up to $5, must write a $1 check every week in the name of someone they victimized.

“It’s to let them never forget they created a victim,’’ Bond said.

The checks are only symbolic and are not sent to victims. They are put into a restitution fund, then donated to a charity chosen by the boys.

Last week, the teenagers were preparing for the holidays. Many decorated their bedroom doors with wrapping paper and garland. The rooms are sparse, with a bed attached to the wall and no other furniture because desks or bureaus could be used as barricades. Security is tight, and the teenagers are escorted everywhere.

The teenagers’ families won’t see them today because it’s not a regularly scheduled visiting day.

Jose, 17, of Haverhill, said he has not celebrated Christmas since he was a child, “so it’s not like I’m missing it.’’

But, he said, it felt like Christmas on Dec. 15, when his two older sisters came to a holiday party hosted for the teenagers and their families in the school gym.

“That’s what keeps me positive and keeps me going, knowing I have people out there who care,’’ he said.

One 13-year-old boy looked dejected when none of his relatives showed up at the party.

“She’s not coming?’’ he asked a staffer who told him his sister called to say she was stuck in traffic and wouldn’t make it before the two-hour party ended. The families of two other boys didn’t make it either.

Relatives who did come were not allowed to bring more than three gifts, which could not cost more than $150 total. A local church donated gifts to teenagers who otherwise would not have received any at the party.

Juan, who was surrounded by his parents, brothers, sisters, niece, and nephew, said he was grateful that his mother brought his favorite, homemade pastellas, to supplement a buffet of chicken, rice, and salad prepared by the kitchen staff.

“I’m working hard for my high school diploma,’’ said Juan, who expects to go home in February. “I had a lot of struggles, but I picked myself up.’’

Shelley Murphy can be reached at shmurphy@globe.com.  

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