By a California prisoner
Not too long ago the nation's colleges and universities gave a helping hand even to those of us serving hard-time in correctional facilities. This was a different era, just before the heavy-hand of justice came down on us like Inquisitors on suspected heretics.
"The debate over barring inmates from receiving federal Pell educational grants baffles me. How is it that both sides of the political spectrum, apparently fervently opposed to crime, are considering discontinuing funds for a program that lowers the rate of repeat offenses," I wrote in the San Francisco Chronicle on May 23, 1994.
In the name of public safety the population bought into the proposition draconian sentencing laws and a myriad of ruthless measures would buttress the prison-building-boom in order to sanitize society. It didn't work—Utopia couldn't be brutalized into being.
The Gulag
More than a decade later, with roughly 7 million people either iocked-up or under some form of court-ordered supervision, the citizenry has grown weary with the $200 billion a year crime control industry. Since this open-ended "war-on-people" contains no exit strategy, unrestrained support for the perpetual incarceration-machine is meeting resistance.
Here on the West Coast, the California Department of Corrections (CDC), the largest prison system in the country, exemplifies the American Gulag Archipelago with roughly half a million men, women and children in prison or jail, or on parole or probation. For their dogmatic belief in the principles of internment, Californians are rewarded with astronomical rates of recidivism and cancerous bureaucratic incompetence.
The Schwarzenegger administration promises to restore the public's confidence in a prison system plagued by weak management and a powerful guard's union who are blamed for transforming the department into a quagmire of dysfunction. The CDC is the epitome of the American prison experiment that has failed miserably on so many levels.
The Pendulum
While the overall consensus on corrections is discouraging, a recent development holds tremendous potential. Approximately 60 prisoners from California Correctional Center (CCC) and High Desert State Prison (HDSP) are the fortunate participants in a ground-breaking program offered by Lassen Community College (LCC). Funded by Extended Opportunity Program and Services at LCC, these fortunate felons have embarked on a two-year sojourn to earn an AA degree in Liberal Arts.
One such inmate is 34 year old Thomas Wallen from Kern County. He proudly displays vocational certificates, bible college diplomas, and documentation of completing a number of self-help seminars. Despite all this, the potential to earn a college degree in an institutional setting geared towards failure is an unexpected development.
"It's a wonderful thing to be given such an opportunity to further my education," Wallen said. "This program has given me a chance to truly seek rehabilitation."
In a volatile environment identified by the Supreme Court that promotes racial violence through an unconstitutional segregation policy, a diverse group of students have come together in CCC. A member of this academic-collective is 30 year old Michael McDonald from LA. With his own exhaustive resume of institutional accomplishments, he understands the importance of this program.
"We're excited about the opportunity. We realize this is a rare occurrence, and we're very grateful for it," McDonald said.
Federal Pell Grants
During the civil rights era, Congress passed the "Higher Education Act of 1965." Later named after the law's sponsor, Sen. Clairborne Pell, Pell Grants intended to offer financial aid to those who could display genuine need—this included prisoners.
One consequence of the federal Pell grants was an academic migration into the nation's prisons. By 1973, 182 colleges participated in a wide range of prison programs. By the last official count, in '82, roughly 350 took part.
While a number of studies marked the achievement of providing post-secondary education to prisoners, the statistics varied from source-to-source—all of them excellent. One 20 year study reported the national recidivism rate of about 70 percent, while only 20 percent of those who earned an AA degree reoffended. Even greater were the numbers when a prisoner received a BA degree or higher.
Despite a plethora of impressive data, PSCE was viciously targeted by tough-on-crime lawmakers. In the "Omnibus Crime Bill of 1994," a bi-partisan measure eventually signed into law by Pres. Clinton, the college programs became the object of intense scrutiny.
"Pell grants were sold (to Congress) to help low- and middle-income families send their kids to college," said Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchinson, R-Texas, who in '94, lead the fight against PSCE. "They were not sold for prison rehabilitation."
To justify slashing an immensely successful program, a false doctrine was advanced. The opponents of PSCE repeatedly claimed inmates took educational opportunities away from law-abiding students, even though Pell never turned anyone away who qualified. Furthermore, Pell awarded $6.3 billion in aid to 4.3 million students, and only $35 million went to 30,000 inmates—less than one percent of Pell's expenditures.
Even though providing higher education to inmates was one of the most promising programs to correct deviant behavior, warehousing and punishment—recidivist-friendy policies both—became the nation's correctional methodology.
The Post-Pell Era And The Palo Verde Model
Previously, the CDC used to offer an interesting array of college programs. Some consisted of a few classes, while others offered both Associates and Bachelors degrees. However, Congress's actions in '94 signaled the demise of PSCE. By the end of the '90s only about a dozen colleges found a way to survive.
In San Quentin, Patten University (PU), a Christian College in Oakland, offered a privately-funded volunteer program. Beginning in '96, and recently canceled, PU awarded more than 40 AA degrees and maintained an enrollment of 200 students. Whereas Boston University's Prison Education Program offers a Bachelor of Liberal Studies to Massachusetts state prisoners, funded entirely by the university.
Down from a previous high of 350 colleges, these examples come from a very short list. However, at least in California, trying to reduce crime by providing higher learning might be making a comeback.
With each passing week, the students in the pilot PSCE program in the CDC break new ground. However, this in-cell study concept, which uses few institutional resources, derives from what some correctional educators call the Palo Verde Model.
In 2001, Edward Alameida, then-Director of the CDC, who has since been fired for his role in a perjury cover up in Pelican Bay, allowed Palo Verde Community College to start instructing at Ironwood State Prison (ISP) in Blythe. Fifty-three inmates started in '01, and eventually 30 earned AA degrees in '03.
Since its inception, post-secondary education has spread like wildfire at ISP. The Palo Verde Model is a tremendous success. Hundreds are enrolled with an enormous waiting list. Since good behavior is one of the requirements, PSCE has become a powerful penological tool for prison administrators who have witnessed the CDC descend into absolute disarray.
Moreover, the prison guard's union, a Machiavellian political force who generally fight anything that decreases recidivism and threaten job security, unsuccessfully lobbied against the program. Ironwood Warden James E. Hall, who is the program's most vociferous advocate, insisted the most logical approach to public safety is educating prisoners.
"If someone who buys a house next to me happens to be an ex-felon, I'd rather have one who's college-educated and making something of himself," said Hall.
While the future of college programs remain experimental, Gov. Schwarzenegger's promise to reform corrections could be taking shape. Most of the governor's critics question how the CDC can be rectified when $95 million in education and drug programs are being cut from the agency's budget. Yet, if CCC and HDSP both manage to emulate TSP's achievements, the CDC might be able to build on this success and break its cycle of bureaucratic incompetence, staff corruption, and uncontrolled recidivism.
Elevated Vernacular
On CCC's mainline, just one of 32 state prisons, the college program has made an immediate impact. I hear inmates discussing thesis statements and college curriculum as casually as their free-world counterparts. Moreover, post-secondary education has provided hope for a demographic where none previously existed. This elevated vernacular is a welcome relief from the usual rhetoric of the oppressed.
Whether the pendulum is actually swinging, or the methodologies are coming full circle, there's a metamorphosis taking place. With mid-terms approaching, these would-be scholars are growing comfortable in their new skin. Education is power—and the benefits are multifarious.