The air was cold, the gates were locked. The brick building was confined by a stern metal fence. Menacing barbed wire separated us, nine University of Richmond students, from nine juveniles soon to be our storytelling partners. The intercom doorbell buzzed for what seemed like an eternity until the gate finally unlatched. Ready or not, this was it.

This past semester, I enrolled in a class called “Storytelling & Social Change.” As part of a community-based learning class, I was required to participate in a storytelling project at Bon Air Juvenile Correctional Center. The idea was that exchanging stories would propel meaningful reflection, which would enable us to bridge differences and understand our lives in a new light. With only three visits, our goals sounded a bit romantic, but I was hopeful nonetheless.

I still remember walking in the building for the first time. My classmates and I slid our IDs into a metal bin as a guard on the other side of the glass wall picked them up to study. We shuffled into a single-file line, patiently waiting our turn to go through security. I’m not sure if I felt excited or intimidated, but my palms were sweaty.

A white cinderblock hallway led us to our storytelling room. When I first met my partner, Shaun (name changed for privacy reasons), he didn’t seem incredibly reserved, but he certainly wasn’t an open book. I knew it was going to take some digging to unravel the ins and outs of his identity. Luckily, I had a list of story prompts tucked in my journal. We began with simple prompts such as “tell a story about a time you tried something new” and gradually moved on to heavier topics such as “tell a story about a time you felt helpless.”

It's peculiar. Though we were only able to exchange stories three times, I feel as though Shaun knows more about my life than some of the people in it. From bonding over our love of waffles to confiding in one another our hopes to help youth in our futures, I realize though we may be from completely different walks of life, we have incredibly similar qualities and goals.

As our project came to a close and it was time to part ways, I could barely look at Shaun because I knew if my watering eyes met his, it would be difficult to hold in my bittersweet emotions.

I’ve always had a passion for connecting with others, but leaving Juvie for the last time, I realized stories of distant lives intrigue me more than I ever knew. This experience has propelled me to confidently pursue studies in Journalism and Film so I can continue learning and sharing the stories of diverse and often silenced populations.

*In the state of Virginia, in 2013, 46.3 percent of juveniles were rearrested within one year of their release. After our Storytelling project, my UR classmates and I self-published a booklet called "Tell Me A Story" to shed light on this issue. It includes background information on our project, meaningful reflection, and most importantly, our stories. Download the PDF version to read about our experience.

*“Juvenile and Adult Recidivism.” Virginia Performs. 4 June 2015. Web. 28 Feb. 2016.