Explaining Bill Clinton.

Last year at this time, I was living in the country, in a Western state. It was an awful winter, and I was dealing with various challenges: heating the house from a big woodpile, negotiating unpaved country roads with a 4-wheel drive, having my house ransacked and robbed by someone who really knew how to drive a 4WD. And then there was my full-time job as a Life Skills teacher in a privately owned and operated medium-security prison for men. It was all quite a ride for this middle-aged cowgirl, and President Bill Clinton's troubles pretty much threw me.

Mostly, I'm a Democrat. I voted for Clinton the second time. The first time I voted for Bush, who seemed competent. But when Clinton won, I turned my allegiance to someone I found easy to like. Sure, he had made mistakes, but I believed his assurances that he had learned his lesson. Many of us '60s people still carry around a commitment to the group, to other baby boomers who came of age in those turbulent times. I liked it when Clinton looked us in the eye and so intelligently told us the nonplatitudinal truth about his marriage. I wouldn't have believed just any public servant.

Clinton ran the country while I was only wrestling with a roomful of cons. In many ways, working with prisoners is a great privilege, and I mean that sincerely. But it's not easy. As a Life Skills teacher it was my duty to cover five topics: critical thinking skills, interpersonal skills, parenting, employability, and substance-abuse education. Most of the men had had these courses before. What they needed, I thought, was not more information, but rather the chance to grow in the underlying skill that turns knowledge into effective, legal, and rewarding behaviors. That underlying life skill is the ability to tell the truth.

My first epiphany as a teacher was that none of my students believed other people told the truth. In the experience of these men, telling the truth got you into a lot of trouble. They presumed I didn't tell the truth either. I assured them that I had their welfare at heart, but they told me they had every reason to believe that I was a plant for the prison authorities. They worried that if they told me something true it would get passed on to another prisoner. That could get them killed.

All of my students agreed that they knew the difference between truth and falsehood. They chose falsehood on practical grounds. Many of them sincerely felt they had no choice. We talked a lot about what people had to do to protect themselves. They kept testing me and I kept telling them the truth. Ultimately, I believe, the truth is all there is, and none of us can avoid its ramifications. Deep down I think they knew this, but they still argued vehemently for the absolute need to put off the reckoning.

When we talked about Clinton, we all pretty much agreed that he seemed to be lying. They respected him for that. And they admired him for being such a good liar. They strongly defended their faith in lies by pointing out that Clinton had respect, power, money, women, glamour - the things they wanted. They felt I was very naive in feeling so heartsick about Clinton. I should feel heartsick about them.

I eventually came to think that Clinton might have profited by being in the room with us. This conclusion was reinforced by a Hazelton Foundation video, "Criminality and Substance Abuse: Criminal Thinking Errors in Action," that I used in class. The video identities ten errors that cons make, and it is designed to help them realize that criminal thinking leads to criminality. This linking of values, actions, and consequences disturbed many of my students. They resented the implication that they could be labeled criminals. And I had serious offenders.

Here are the ten errors cited in the video:

Acting like a victim - nothing is your fault. Seeing yourself as the good guy - avoiding responsibilities. Extreme impatience when it comes to change can't seem to learn from the past. Closed thinking - failure to reveal what's been going on and holding back the truth. Acting like other people are our property - using people and grabbing power. Giving up when things get hard - avoiding boring tasks. Careless with responsibility - breaking promises. Acting like you're one of a kind - thinking rules don't apply to you (you won't get caught anyway). Not admitting fears - has to feel in control or feels worthless. Pity me - it's my luck that everyone is out to get me.

I do pity President Clinton. And I do see him as a con. And I hope his life plays out in such a way that he finally learns his lesson - a lesson he will ultimately be glad to learn, even though it will hurt. Hey, I'm on his side!

Marylee Mitcham, a licensed acupuncturist and author (An Accidental Monk), lives in State College, Pennsylvania.