Holiday music programs became pretty standard at JDC while I was there. After that first year, the audience grew to include many adults working with the students.  There were  probation officers, attorneys, social workers, detention volunteers, and even a judge along the way. The eventual move into a new building improved the ambiance—as much as any jail-like facility can claim such atmosphere. Cookies and punch after the programs seemed to help a lot, too.

Unlike most performances, at JDC we could never take for granted that ours would actually happen. It was pointless to make plans too far in advance. With the unpredictable turnover of the population, we never knew from one day to the next how many students we’d have in the building. Nor could we know how eager or cooperative they would be to take part in music activities.  

Unforeseen challenges typical of detention work could disrupt the best-laid plans. There might be a flurry of late-scheduled court hearings or staffing shortages.  And there was always a slight chance of an outbreak of contagious bad attitudes and misbehavior.

I tried to lay the framework for the programs and was always on the lookout for fresh ideas. In the new building we finally had access to the internet and the treasure trove of resources it offered—songs, poems, jokes, and skits galore.

It was there I came upon “Twas Da Night Befo’ Christmas” which begins “’Twas da night befo’ Christmas, and all in the hood, not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good. The tube socks was hung on the window sill and we all had smiles up on our grill.”

In addition to the materials I found, the students were sometimes eager to make their own contributions of original songs and poems. 

One year a young girl decided to convert “The Birdie Song” into a Christmas song. It started, “Away in the sky Santa flies by.”

Another year a boy rewrote “Let it Snow!” and it became “Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

Then there was the time a boy performed a rap he’d written. It included lots of repetition of “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! It’s a time for ____ and a time for ____.”  Although he didn’t appear to have had formal piano training, he decided to accompany himself on the keyboard.  The huge grin on his face revealed how thoroughly he was enjoying his precious minutes in the limelight. Meanwhile, as the rest of us began to fidget in our seats, serious concerns began to arise about whether the song would ever come to an end! 

Somewhere along the way, thanks to a talented detention officer, some of the songs began to include choreography.  For kids to go from minimal participation to singing and dancing alongside others was an incredible leap. Not only did they rise to the occasion, but they always seemed so pleased to have trusted and made the effort.

After a couple years of singing “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” the students decided to make their on “remix” of the song. They worked on it in the evenings with help from the detention officers. It turned into “The Twelve Days of Detention.” 

“On the first day of detention, the staff there gave to me a strip search and some thin sheets.”

When they performed it, they stood shoulder-to-shoulder facing the audience. As they finished singing that line of the song, they simultaneously squatted and coughed, emulating an actual strip search.

(I feel obliged, at this point, to paraphrase Gelett Burgess and simply say, “I never saw a strip search, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow, I’d rather see than be one!”)

At the actual performance, the audience responded with smiles and laughter, and the kids knew they’d met their mark!

So many wonderful memories related to those music programs over the years! One of the lessons I remember from those times is we always have choices.

Those kids could have participated or not. They were all away from their families and friends during the holidays. Detained in a secure facility, they were dealing with some scary uncertainties in their lives.  They could easily have chosen to wallow in their circumstances and blamed the world for their lot. But they chose, instead, to focus on making the most of what they had. They risked making themselves vulnerable in front of people they didn’t know. They worked together and supported one another.

And in the end, they came together in unity to share laughter and happiness.

I learned a lot from those young people. Next time I start complaining about stress or the problems I think I have, would someone please give me a gentle nudge to help me clear my vision? I need to remind myself to view my circumstances, whatever they may be, through the eyes of those kids!

And I need to remember I have my own choices.