Prison college programs are often viewed with harsh criticism. Supporters contend that they reduce recidivism and increase the quality of life for a group of people who may not have had the best opportunities in life. Critics argue that criminals should be paying their debt to society with separation and self-reflection.
For my first 10 years in prison I learned how to survive and not much else. I read books on philosophy and learned to write my feelings down on paper, but I could never find that intellectual stimulation that was lacking in my life. I didn’t even know there was such a thing.
For the past five years I’ve been enrolled as a student in the Patten University program. The course work, I found, came easy for me; the social interaction was where I felt stunted. Years of isolation had left me socially inadequate. Like a person learning to walk after a serious injury, I had to re-learn the art of conversation. I had to be reminded that I was human.
My interactions with teachers and students have taught me the difference between charitable narcissism and true service to your fellow human. I believe that higher education is a fundamental human right. If there is a thing called human nature, it has to be the desire to live both physically and spiritually free. Prison is a place filled with hope, laughter, depression and misery. The college program doesn’t remove the depravities of prison. But it does offer another way to think about the world, and equips you with the tools to articulate your situation.
An argument can be made that prisons are obsolete. At the same time their presence is as much a part of the landscape as the Pacific coast. Prisons can be institutions that inspire change; they can also be a place where oppression reaches its apex of excellence. Education has the power to transform, not only the human, but the world which we inhabit.
