Through two cold metal doors, I was exposed to a whole new world. Inside New York's Gouverneur Correctional Facility held the lives of more than 900 men who had committed crimes. All you had to do was look down the path and the grass was green and the flowers surrounded the sidewalks beautifully. There were several brick buildings with their own walkways. From the outside you couldn't tell that 60 men lived inside each of these different buildings. On each side, they share four telephones, seven showers and seven toilets. It didn't end there, because another locked metal door contained the lives of another 200 men. This life wasn't that good or that big. Although the Gouverneur Correctional Facility was a medium security prison, inside this second metal door was a high metal fence, it was a maximum security prison. For such a clean and well-kept place, it contained people doing horrible, heartbreaking things. I, however, 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 kids, usually those who had the potential to go down the wrong path, to try to steer them away from the life they were living. Although these seven men committed crimes, they were better behaved and different than other men who were not part of this program. They talked about their crimes and allowed my group to ask as many questions as we wanted. This conversation lasted about three hours. I asked questions that pertained to 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). Each person has a n...... middle of paper......ple. Before this experience, I don't think I could ever say I respected a convicted thief or any criminal. They were human beings who made incredibly bad decisions, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve a second chance if they are willing to change, some are not, but I emphasized for the prisoners that they were. Prison represents many of their second chances. “I'm lucky to still be alive, if I wasn't here (in prison), I most likely 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 into a prison again scared and with preconceived thoughts because I would be lying. Society has taught me to be afraid of these people, but I'm grateful to say I've met kind, remorseful prisoners waiting for their second chance..