When the head of a prison asked him casually at a mutual friend’s birthday party to consider teaching at his carceral institution, he replied, “What? You have a school at San Quentin?” That sparked the conversation between then-Acting Warden Oak Smith and B. King, who would become a new Adult Basic Education teacher at SQRC’s Robert E. Burton Adult School.
Until the day of his interview in November 2022, King had never entered a prison. He had never even known anyone incarcerated. The teacher, in his mid-fifties, had taught in a North Bay public high school for a quarter century, specializing in teaching first-generation college-bound youth.
The day of his job interview at San Quentin “was the first time I saw a man in blue,” King said, “and everyone was so respectful. They [the students] all said, ‘Welcome to San Quentin,’ and they said, ‘Drive safe now,’ when I left. That night, I told my wife, ‘You would not believe the respect the inmates there showed me. I gotta go and work there.”
Sitting relaxed outside his classroom in the Education Complex on the first day of spring, the 6’2” tall and athletic educator sported olive khakis and a black SQ Education hoodie. Facing the sun, he wore classic tortoiseshell RayBan Wayfarers and a sizable soul patch above his chin. He said that a few hours earlier, he had ridden his Suzuki motorcycle to work.
Unsurprisingly, Bertho Gauthier, one of King’s teaching assistants for the last six months, thought King cool. Asked to rate the degree of coolness, Gauthier enthusiastically replied, “Extraordinarily cool.” He said King taught more than academics, “he teaches us life lessons, like how to function in today’s society.”
King did not equivocate on egalitarianism. “Here at San Quentin, I do not forget that we are all human,” he said, revealing his guiding principle. “This place taught me the great lesson that I am no better than anyone else here,” he said, adding that he looked forward “to connect to guys once they walk out and support them in every way I can.”
About incarcerated persons dogged by their past, King said he found seeing the process of rehabilitation fascinating. “I see lots of battle scars here, and such scars bring wisdom. It raises conversation to a whole new level.”
King admitted to struggling with acculturating to the CDCR since his accession. Questions like, “How do I take attendance? How do I write a progress report? How do I navigate SOMS?” kept plaguing King for some time.
San Quentin presented some other challenges for King. He found strange the absence of umbrellas on rainy days and equally strange the prohibition of scissors in an education environment that still depends primarily on paper. Such small inconveniences do not bother him, though. “I love it here. I never look at the clock while I teach.”
A favorite story he liked to tell about San Quentin concerned an encounter with an older resident who intently stared at one of San Quentin’s ducks. “‘That’s a beautiful mallard,’ I said, and the old resident replied, ‘Yeah, I have not seen a duck in 39 years. I just got out of Death Row.’” King called the incident profound because of its jarring reality. “It still gives me chills,” he said.
King co-teaches ABE III with Ms. H. Lucas. Of his subjects, he said, “I teach social science and RLA — Reading and Language Arts — and Lucas teaches math and science, and that mix works great for both of us.” Co-teaching also means twice the students. This dynamic didactic duo has 108 of them.
King also reads the San Quentin News. He considers the paper “great, because it allows my family to see what I do,” King said. “The paper is San Quentin’s only portal to the world. It is a nice bridge, and I especially love seeing it feature my students.” He added that the podcast EarHustle taught him much about San Quentin’s culture
In his spare time, King enjoys restoring antique cars, a hobby that includes rebuilding engines. “Everything I do is ‘period-correct,’” he said of his most recent project, a 1932 Ford Roadster.
“Nothing in this car is newer than 1949, so it looks like a hot rod someone would have driven in the 1950s. I love old cars. When you drive one, you are in that period.”
King also has a 1922 Ford Model T that he had driven to a barbershop the previous weekend. Restoration runs in King’s family: his son just bought a Ford Model A.
To King, education in prison represents the crowning achievement of a “utopia.” “When you spend time with men who want to rehabilitate, that’s very powerful,” he said. “Today’s inmate could mean tomorrow’s neighbor.”
