Through two cold metal doors, I was exposed to a whole new world. The Gouverneur Correctional Institution in New York contained the lives of more than 900 men who had committed crimes. Just looking at the path, the grass was green and the flowers surrounded the sidewalks beautifully. There were different brick buildings with their own walkways. From the outside, you couldn't tell that inside each of these different buildings lived 60 men. On each side, sharing four telephones, seven showers and seven toilets. It didn't stop there, as another locked metal door contained the lives of 200 more men. This life was not as beautiful or as big. Although Gouverneur Correctional Institution was a medium security prison, inside that second metal door was a tall chain link fence, it was a maximum security prison. In such a clean and beautifully maintained place, it contained people doing horrible and heartbreaking things. However, I did not speak to all of these men, only seven. These seven men were part of a program called Yap. They spoke to groups of children, usually those who had the potential to go down the wrong path, to try to steer them away from the lives they were leading. Although these seven men committed crimes, they were wiser and different than some of the other men we were not part of on this program. They talked about their crimes and allowed my group to ask any questions we wanted. This conversation continued for approximately three hours. I asked questions that concerned everyone; their names are Luis Fernandez (01B0434), Carlos Morciglio (14R1023), Leslie Manasee (15B3480), Marcellis Hudson (15R2390), Jason Clacks (13B3377), Latief Graham (13A4105) and Pedro Taveras (16R1012). Every person has a n...... middle of paper ......ple. Before this experience, I don't think I could ever say that I respected a convicted burglar or criminal. These are humans who have made incredibly bad decisions, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve a second chance if they are willing to change, some aren't, but I insisted on the prisoners who were. Prison largely represents their second chance. "I'm lucky to still be alive, if I wasn't here (in prison) I probably wouldn't be alive," exclaimed one prisoner. This experience allowed me to be grateful for the life I was given, the home I grew up in, and the way my parents raised me. I can't say I wouldn't go to prison again scared and with preconceived thoughts because I would be lying. Society has taught me to fear these people, but I'm grateful to say I've met some kind and remorseful prisoners, waiting for their second chance..