AntiWWASP

This my story. Many people I’ve come in contact with that have either been to, or was in the same program I was in can relate to this story. First of all, it’s very hard for me to tell this story without crying. It’s almost like being a P.O.W. and surviving it all. Tranquility Bay was told to me to be an awesome boarding school for teens. My father thought it was the best thing for me, and at the time he showed it to me, I was under the impression that it would help me out, though I was in for  a rude awakening. The plane ride over was nice, and the country seemed beautiful, but that was all about to change within only 2 hours. Upon reaching what looked like a sort of closed down hotel, I thought that it was only a stop to pick up another person. When the driver told me that this was it, I immediately said “ You got to be kidding.” I was inspected upon arrival, and to say the least it was horrible. They took everything from me, except for some swim shorts and a few t-shirts...


They had only 4 family groups when I started, and they placed me in the group called Progress. I felt like I was in a boot camp, but soon I realized what was going on. People were in fear, students in higher levels joked about how the place was like a Nazi camp, and terrified me to death. I started to cry, but that never helped. On my third day, I walked in to the cafeteria to get dinner, and I would not eat. The reason was due to the fact that they forced me upon arrival to eat everything on the plate, and in my condition, I couldn’t stomach that much. I started crying for my mom, and them before I knew it, I was taken up stairs to a tiny room with 3 or 4 others lying on towels in a straight position with their hands to their sides, and their head to one side. I would not stop crying, and at the instant, my feet were twisted into a pretzel position and pushed backwards to breaking point, and my arms were twisted behind my back and forced up behind my head so that I could feel my wrists on the back of my head. I was squealing like a small pig due to all of the pain I had just felt. This treatment would not end there. I spent a total of 4 months in this isolation room they called OP, short for Observation Placement, or sometimes referred to as Staff Watch. For sleeping conditions, we slept out in the hallway, and all night the lights were on and shinning down on us. My eyes were very swollen for many days due to all of the crying I had done. The living conditions were horrible. Our rooms consisted of fold away wooden bunks, a small restroom, and wooden cubby holes for our personal items and clothes. They made us clean them daily, which was a great surprise. It was like they were German Nazi’s trying to pull the wool over the parent’s eyes.  Every student there was depressed. Not one of us were happy.  Upon my second month, they formed a new family group. I think their idea for this special group was for reform and rebirth, due to the students they chose for it. This family was ironically named Renaissance. I felt only a small portion of relief to be in this newly formed family, but eventually that faded. Consequences were rules they had, that if broken you would accumulate demerits.  Each consequence was in categories, depending on the nature and severity. I seemed to get many cat three and cat two consequences, which held me in OP. Those consequences where very harsh. You would get one for the slightest thing. If you farted without asking, you would get one. Even sneezing was not tolerated. This was the horror of it all. When you refused to do something, you were taken to an empty room, restrained, and placed in OP on you face immediately. The restraining techniques they use are unbearable to say the least. They will twist you in all sorts of ways, without leaving a bruise, or so they say. I had many bruises. I had witnessed a friend of mine being restrained for no reason, and the staff broke his arm. I feared my life after this. I lived this hell for months on end without even knowing if I would ever come home. The staff told me I was never going to go home. This was the initial statement that made me start crying when I first arrived. I had to succumb to the torture. It truthfully was hell in paradise. My question still remains. Why do they create such places like this? Why don’t people seem to care? I lived a living hell, one that will never leave my soul. Sure I was rebellious when I was younger, but I was not as bad as the kids I was in the program with. After a few months, the staff did not even care to restrain me. They knew I was not a threat. At that point they had talked much with me, and most of them where my friends by then. Some of them, I knew, felt bad for me, but could nothing for me except to be a friend. I cry at times when I think of this. Some of them actually had a heart to care. I wanted to kill the ones who didn’t. I held myself together the whole time I was there. That was the hardest thing to do. I remember at one point, were a staff held me to the ground so hard, that I could feel fluid gushing from one organ to someplace else inside me. He was sitting on my side, pulling my arm behind my back. All I did was call for him a few times, and he came running in and did that. I am not sure what sort of teaching they were trying to do there, but the schooling was horrible. We had a director that had an attitude problem, and seemed to hate me for some reason. This is the main reason I could not complete my school work, amongst being in OP for all those months. She yelled at me for failing something. A teacher takes care of his or her students, and enriches and encourages them to do their best. She only criticized me, and ridiculed me for failing even one thing. She would not help me when I needed it, but in turn would help someone else. This is the one reason why I never finished 9th grade. I excelled in health class, and even geography, because I had teachers that cared to teach. Math was the subject that I never completed due to that other teacher being so horrible. When I finally did come home, I felt as though I was in time warp of some sort. When I was at the facility, as they always referred to it, we only had cold water to shower with. We had no air conditioning. Health care was horrible, and hard to get. Food was horrible most of the time as well. Our facility had many sewage and sanitation problems as well. I hate the fact that they had so many over paid, non trained staff there. I remember once, a staff actually flashed hundreds of dollars in front of me when I was in line to go down stairs, and then said to me “See this Pinder? You’ll never know about this or ever get know what its like to have.” Then he walked away laughing.  That pissed me off something good. To be honest, I was brain washed by the time I came home. I had lost a lot of weight too, which for the most part, felt great. But it was the emotional pain that never left me. There are now many web sites that urge parents not to send anyone to any of the programs due to negligence and error. I urge everyone who was children never to think about sending your child one of these programs. There are other programs out there that can safely assist you with you child. WWASP, this is the name for the organization that Tranquility Bay is run by, along with many others. These programs are dangerous, and deadly to both you and your children. Please, heed this advice, remember my story, and think twice before doing something you will forever regret. Thanks for your time.

~~B.Pinder
              
Former TB student Jan. 2000 ~ Dec. 2000