At Pennypack House, reading, writing and pat-downs

The students at Pennypack House School wrestled one recent morning with the witches of Macbeth and the indignities of the Jim Crow era, prompting one teen to ask history teacher Steven DiGiovanni, "What was lynching again?"

Then it was time for lunch, so the student body - 46 boys, ages 14 through 17 - formed two lines as they waited to be led to the dining area one floor below.

Each boy, dressed in a dark green jumpsuit and an identification bracelet, was thoroughly patted down. A guard opened a heavy metal door with a giant brass key, and out they went, under the cold gazes of more men and women in uniform, down a long, sterile corridor. Block windows let in light, but afforded no view of the world outside.

Pennypack is a 55-year-old program run by the School District of Philadelphia. Spring fever, senioritis, truancy, fighting, cellphones, hoodies, large class sizes, and boy-girl issues are not problems here, behind the walls of the Philadelphia Industrial Correctional Center on State Road.

To enroll, students had to be accused of serious crimes, including rape, felony assault, and murder. Each teen has been charged as an adult. Some have trial dates. Others await sentencing.

In the meantime, Pennypack's pupils live and study toward earning high school diplomas in confinement. The young inmates are required by state law to attend school. For many that's been the best thing to happen to them lately.

"If someone was to get arrested, it would be unfortunate," said Xzavier, a 17-year-old, who, like the other students, was interviewed on the condition that only his first name was used. "But on the bright side, there's a nice school here. I mean, a lot of people weren't going to school out there."

In addition to learning traditional subjects, Xzavier said, he and his classmates have been introduced to nutrition, job-interview techniques, and anger management. They have written letters to their victims as an exercise to get them to think about what they have done. Xzavier is awaiting trial on murder charges in a January 2015 West Philadelphia slaying.

"You can't judge a book by its cover," said a 17-year-old boy named Lael, charged with murder in Easton, Pa., in 2014. "If you would come here - and God forbid you don't, because I don't want anyone to be in jail - but if you do, it's real good here."

The school's principal since 2012 is Barbara Wells, who has run Olney West and Strawberry Mansion High Schools. "We don't judge them for whatever may have gotten them here," she said. "My ultimate goal is: 'This is where you are in your academic track, and this is where you need to go. How can we help you?' "

Earlier in the day, Wells had yanked a boy from art class for swearing. He apologized and was allowed back.

"For the most part, behavior problems are minimal up here," she said. "They might get in trouble for talking too much. They might get mad at the teacher - normal children behavior. But we don't have any major fights. We don't tolerate that."

During his first budget address before City Council this month, Mayor Kenney spoke off the cuff about his visit to Pennypack and told of a boy who said it was the best school he'd ever attended.

"It is our responsibility. . . [to] every 4-year-old little boy and girl in the city to not let them go on the road to Pennypack but get them on the road to Penn," Kenney said, drawing a standing ovation.

Pennypack students interviewed last week agreed with their classmate who spoke to the mayor. But each was painfully aware that it took getting locked up for them to settle down academically.

School, most of them said, had mattered little. Many are from poor, fractured families. For them, Kenney's "road to Penn" is as fanciful as the yellow bricks that lead to Oz.

"Basically, I was forced to get my high school diploma," said Dwayne, 17, who was charged with attempted murder in August 2014 and will go on trial in April. "If I was home, I'd probably have so much other stuff going on."

Jalaal, like Dwayne, graduated in June. Next up for the baby-faced 17-year-old is a May trial on charges of attempted murder, after having been jailed since April 2014. Earning his diploma at his former North Philadelphia school was not in the cards, he said.

"I seen my brother get killed right in front of me when I was 9 or 10," he said. "He was 16. He got shot. I got kicked out in the fifth grade and went to an alternative school. It's not an excuse."

DiGiovanni, who has spent his entire 16-year teaching career at Pennypack, said the students "do what needs to be done" while in the classroom. "They realize that education is the key, and I try to give it to them."

The school occupies the corner of one floor in the prison. There are six classrooms, whose walls are papered with assignments, some marked "awesome," and artworks. There are inspirational words of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. In the science room, one small square window looks down on a basketball court, surrounded by high walls and barbed wire.

Before entering the jail each morning, Pennypack's teachers are treated like any other visitors: They walk through a metal detector, and correctional officers frisk them and search their bags.

The teachers said they have come to love their assignment. Jessica Friedman, an English teacher, arrived at Pennypack three years ago, transferred after massive School District layoffs.

"When I came here I didn't know specifically what Pennypack House was until I Googled it," said Friedman, a seven-year district vet. "Then I thought about it. This is an opportunity to really change the lives of kids who may have gotten into trouble, may have taken the wrong path. That's my whole goal here."

"It's like teaching in heaven," said Spanish teacher Janet Correa. "Have you been in one of the regular schools outside?" she asked, causing the teachers seated around her to break into laughter. "Fires and alarms and constantly being interrupted when you're teaching, and electronics are there, and they're always wearing the hoodies, and they're difficult to control, and they don't believe in going to school on a daily basis. We don't have any of those factors in here."

The 19-year teaching veteran arrived at Pennypack after Germantown High closed three years ago.

Math teacher Hassania Moody, whose 10 years gives her the most tenure, said she has come to realize that even when Pennypack students return to society, some won't overcome the forces that landed them behind bars.

"There have been multiple times where students leave us and they're shot and killed outside the first week or second week. That is the saddest thing," said the Morocco native.

"Most of the time, we still have their folder, showing how great they were, how well they were doing."

deanm@phillynews.com

215-854-4172@mensadean