Jones College Preparatory High School. A place where classmates feel more like inmates. 

More changes have been made to the structure of the school than ever before. These changes have left students feeling like they attend a prison rather than a school. Stepping forward to take action against the dictatorial leadership, student Sally Johnson ‘25 works to get the word out about her school, allowing a reporter to follow her during school hours to experience firsthand what a typical sentence here looks like. 

Johnson begins the day by waiting and standing in line for hours on end to enter the building. 

The prison guards stand aloof with their power radiating off them as the juveniles put their bags into the detector.

“They make every single person go through the metal detectors,” Johnson says. “It used to be a random selection so people could enter in less than a minute and now it takes an hour. Oh, also, some kid last year used a metal fork to rebel against their patrol officer and now they’re dangerous. I’ve lost maybe three of my salad forks to the security guards, never to be seen again.” 

Making it through the first challenge of the day, Johnson, still half asleep, trudges up the 15 flights of stairs to her first class. An hour and a half later, she makes the same trip back down and over to the old building. 

“I’m always late to my second period by at least two hours. I get marked tardy even though it’s not my fault there’s a traffic jam between the buildings. I hike down stair after stair sweating buckets because they keep the temperature in the new building at 90 degrees,” Johnson said. 

Waddling like a penguin through the crowd, Johnson eventually makes it to her second period, roughly an hour and a half late, and another tardy added to her record. 

Second period ends and Johnson decides to get a headstart on the 10 hours of homework she has when she gets home.

Lining up to get into the library, inmate after inmate scans their ID to be able to enter. The prison officers look at your records, and if you’ve been on your best behavior, you may go in. A mark or two on your transcript and you’re turned away.  

After sitting down Johnson whispers, “Not only that, but they took away our eating and drinking privileges that they had just given us, and now no gaming during AcLab either. No fun or nutrition allowed.”

Leaving the library once her lunch period was over and going to her third-period class, Johnson took a shortcut through the courtyard to show new additions that were recently added. 

Pointing to the gate Johnson says, “Can you guess what they did there? Yep, they added new bars BETWEEN the already existing bars to prevent more delinquents from escaping. You gotta lose weight to fit through the gate, I guess.” 

Finishing her daily sentence, Johnson is then herded out of the lobby by the officers where she begins her trudge home. Except it doesn’t end there. 

“Immediately once I get home, I start on the colossal amount of homework from the day. It takes me about 10 hours to finish each night. I eat, sleep, repeat.” Johnson says in her final statement. 

A parole officer was asked to comment on what he thought regarding the situation of the school and the treatment of the students. 

“I really don’t see anything wrong with it. The students are accounted for and under control. That’s all that really matters in the long run. No other school has reached the level of order and hierarchy that we have. And we plan to keep it that way,” Mr. Devin says.