PRISON SCOUTING PROGRAM HELPS RESTORE MOTHER-DAUGHTER BONDS.

Byline: Angie Cannon Knight-Ridder Tribune News Wire

This Girl Scout meeting began like all others, with troop members reciting the Girl Scout credo to be honest, helpful and cheerful.

Scout Troop 2140 doesn't meet in a cozy den, but behind concertina wire at the sprawling Maryland Correctional Institution for Women. Brownies and Cadets walk past rows of shiny handcuffs before they hug their mothers, who are in prison for everything from murder to passing bad checks.

``This program has helped me get closer to my daughter,'' said Priscilla Rice, 35, a mother of three serving a year for transporting drugs. ``It lets her know no matter where I am, I'm always there for her. This lets our children know we love them.''

Her 10-year-old daughter, Tikura, has thoughts about her own future: ``I want to be like my mom, but I don't want to get into trouble.''

And that's the purpose of this program with the splashy name - Girl Scouts Beyond Bars, which has been so successful it has spread to 12 other states, with 10 more on a waiting list.

The program's organizers want to make sure the daughters don't follow in their mothers' footsteps, because children of incarcerated parents are six times more likely than other children to end up in prison.

``I've seen all three generations in the prison - I had the grandmother, the mother and the daughter in prison all at the same time,'' said Melanie C. Pereira, the former warden at the women's prison and now Maryland's deputy corrections commissioner. ``I've had mothers and daughters there. It was difficult.''

Children whose parents are in prison are more likely to experience anxiety, depression and aggression. They are more likely to go downhill in school. They are more likely to cut class. They are more likely to get pregnant. They are more likely to experience post-traumatic stress.

Over the past decade, crime by girls has increased 22 percent. Nationally, some 678,500 girls were arrested in 1994, making up one-quarter of all juvenile arrests, according to a recent study by the federal Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention and Girls Inc.

``You want to give these kids a fighting chance,'' said Pereira. ``You want to say, `There is a better way.' If you can reach just one kid, you have done something that is worth something.''

And so through Scouting, they learn that different choices can be made in life. Two Saturdays a month, the girls are bused to the prison for two-hour troop meetings with their moms. They've had Career Day with female lawyers, doctors and ministers as guest speakers. They've had sex education classes. They sell Girl Scout cookies to other inmates. They want to start quilting in the fall.

On the other Saturday mornings, the girls meet at a Baltimore church, and community volunteers take them to museums, the zoo, a petting farm, a pizza parlor, bowling. They've had a slumber party. They work on merit badges.

The girls can't afford traditional Girl Scout uniforms so they are planning a fashion show this summer to raise money.

The whole idea is to build self-esteem and self-confidence in girls 5 to 17, by offering positive influences and role models.

``I learned how to share and got to see my mommy,'' said pint-size, 6-year-old Jessica, whose mother is Wanda Cornish.

To protect their daughters' privacy, the mothers didn't want the girls' last names used. They also declined to talk about their crimes, saying they want to focus on the Girl Scout program.

``This program has been a highlight in the lives of everyone involved - the girls, the mothers and the Girl Scout volunteers,'' said Robin Gamble, director of membership and marketing for the Girl Scouts of Central Maryland. ``I've seen a great amount of development in terms of the mothers' parenting abilities and their desires for parenthood.''

Sgt. Sandy Johnson, a guard at the Maryland women's prison, said that when the prison Scouting program began four years ago, she didn't want to get involved because the mothers were ``bitter, nasty, evil and in pain.''

Indeed, many prison mothers come from troubled backgrounds. They've been abused. Many don't have high school diplomas. Many were teen-agers when they got pregnant. About 86 percent were single parents.

``I have seen a metamorphosis,'' Johnson said. ``They started out as worms. They turned into butterflies. They've got a new wisdom they didn't have before.''

Many, quite simply, didn't know how to be mothers. Once, the girls were swapping stories about how their mothers used to beat them. One girl listened quietly, finally piping up to say that her mom had never, ever hit her.

``All the other girls in unison said: `Well, your mother must not love you,' '' recalled Marilyn Moses, a manager at the federal National Institute of Justice.

But through the Scouting program, that attitude is changing. The mothers meet regularly with a social worker who helps them talk through parenting issues. Standing in a circle in the prison gym, they share their lessons.

``I've learned how to nurture,'' said Audrey Graham.

``I've learned I need to take responsibility for myself and not blame things on other people,'' said China Gwalteney.

``I've learned patience, how to be a better person and to trust people again,'' said Cynthia Levering.

Sarah Epling, 30, got into drugs when she was 15 and has tried PCP, marijuana, cocaine and heroin. And, while prison has been the worst thing in her life, it has also been the best thing, she confessed. She's grateful for a second chance.

Epling recently sent a card to her 11-year-old daughter, Heather, promising to be there for her.

``She has forgiven me for being here,'' Epling said. ``I would be so guilty and blame myself if she didn't.''

Perhaps before they were in prison, the very thought of Girl Scouts would have seemed sappy. Now, when the mothers see each other around the prison compound, they call out to each other with pride: ``Hey, Girl Scout!''

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Photo

Photo: Sarah embraces her daughter, Heather, during a GirlScout meeting at the Maryland Correctional Institution for Women in Jessup, Md.

Knight Ridder-Tribune Photo Service