Post 283
947 words, 6 minutes to read
By Emily Stewart, Associate Editor and a Lead Researcher with the University of Alberta Prison Project
Summary: This post is part of our new series, Within the System. In this piece, we meet Marcus, a man who finds meaning and motivation through a daily checklist. His reflections offer a glimpse into how structure is created in custody, and the need for stability and support beyond prison walls.
As I sit across from Marcus, he tells me about his daily routine that at first, sounds quite ordinary.
“I wake up, have a coffee, go to the yard … have a cigarette,” he says, grinning. As we both laugh, he adds, “Just kidding, no cigarettes here. But no, then I just shoot the ball until I get real cold and then come back in. Uhm, I don’t know. Basically I … I check my to do list that I make at night.”
Curious, I ask Marcus about this check list – what it does for him inside?
“If I get caught wondering what to do next, I just check my checklist. It might say do twenty push-ups – so I’ll go do twenty push-ups. Take a shower – ok, time to take a shower. […] All the stuff I should do anyway. But you get distracted and caught off guard in here. I always put something motivational. That way, when I look at my checklist, it’s something positive – something that pushes me. […] Yesterday I made one – filled every single line on that sheet of paper. One was, complete a word search today, Marcus. Work on yourself today, Marcus. […] Uhm … shoot twenty ‘three-point shots. And its cold, but I’m out there – I’m at like 15 and its cold but I’m gonna finish it because if I don’t, I let myself down.”
What stands out isn’t necessarily the list itself, but the intention behind it. These small acts give meaning to his day. Even the way Marcus writes his name after each task feels like a small affirmation or act of accountability.
Finding Focus in a Place Meant to Break It
Continuing, Marcus says: “It keeps me busy. If I’ve got something to do, I’m not thinking about other things.” He pauses for a moment, then adds quietly, “Some guys think about suicide in here – and I get it. Sometimes I don’t see the finish line either. I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. […] There’s times where we are just locked up – like today. We only got out like an hour ago. We were locked up for four or five hours. Just stuck in that cell.”
Conditions in remand are deplorable: Lockdowns are frequent, programming is scarce, and days pass unpredictably and without purpose. The waiting – for court, for bail, for news – can stretch endlessly, deepening the sense of hopelessness that defines so much of life inside.
When Structure Only Exists Inside
I then ask Marcus if this checklist is something he uses outside as well?
“That is something I should do when I’m out,” he told me. “If I had that – but it is only here that I do it. When I get out, I kind of get distracted of just being out and what to do. Like, it’s a big world.”
This reminded me of an earlier conversation I had with Marcus in the community. Like many others, he described life as a kind of survival: living day-to-day, focused on finding food, a place to sleep, and managing substance use with little support. It’s not hard to see how this kind of instability makes it nearly impossible to have a structured life.
“A checklist, if I do that every night in a place where I’m more like – have more structure. […] No matter what, I need structure. Like when I go to treatment because there I’ll have to be inside at a certain time. Say if they give me probation with a curfew, I’ll make a checklist for tomorrow when I’m allowed out. […] I’d be able to go back at it like, ‘Oh, yeah, I got that to do,’ rather than get off track and do something stupid. I stay on track with the checklist.”
This emphasis on structure isn’t an argument for stricter release conditions. Such conditions (especially without tailored support) don’t create stability – they often undermine it. Marcus is describing something far more fundamental: the need for stability, consistency, and purpose.
Discipline and Structure
In listening to Marcus, I notice how he often comes back to the theme of discipline, the belief that if you just have enough willpower, you can hold everything together:
“If you can discipline yourself to do that and not listen to people – ‘Oh, you can do that tomorrow,’ or ‘No, you don’t have to steal, I got drugs already,’ or ‘Let’s go drink.’ No, it’s… Marcus, just go by your checklist. Never mind them. Are they going to be there for you when you’re in jail? Probably not.”
While I wasn’t surprised to hear him talk about the importance of self-discipline, he also points to something larger: that discipline alone isn’t enough. The two are intertwined. Discipline depends on structure, including having the space, the stability, and the support that make self-control possible. As I share this reflection with him, he nods:
“Yes, of course. Without the structure, you don’t have nothing building on that. You just tend to just go off. […] Like I said, you can tell that I’m disciplined – it’s just my structure and my stability. I need a place. I need my own place where I can discipline myself and allow only certain people into my life.”
What’s Left Unchecked
What began as a reflection on daily routines inside unfolded into a conversation about the need for real support and stability beyond prison walls.
People don’t need more punishment to stay on track. They need a foundation that doesn’t disappear the moment they’re released. And until that support exists, the most important boxes will remain unchecked – and not necessarily because individuals have failed, but because our support systems have.
This post is part of Within the System – a blog series that shares experiences from individuals navigating the criminal justice system. Posts are based on fieldwork from the University of Alberta Prison Project’s re-entry study – research that is supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada and approved by the University of Alberta Research Ethics Board (Pro00152091).
About this blog: The John Howard Canada blog is intended to support greater public understanding of criminal justice issues. Blog content does not necessarily represent the views of the John Howard Society of Canada. All blog material may be reproduced freely for any non-profit purpose as long as the source is acknowledged. We welcome comments (moderated). Contact: blogeditor@johnhoward.ca or estewart@johnhoward.ca.
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