Making Prison a Place of Higher Learning

 Ending up in prison is nothing to be proud of, so I feel a bit conflicted right now. I never finished earning a college degree before coming to prison because I married into an instant family, had a demanding job running my own business, and was (too) involved in my church and community. In short, I didn't have time for college. So, when I had an opportunity to earn a college degree while incarcerated, I jumped at the chance. 

After five years of reading hundreds of books and writing hundreds of pages of papers, this week I finally completed my degree requirements through the Calvin Prison Initiative. I feel very proud of my accomplishment, mainly because I was able to do something worthwhile with my time in prison. Not too many prisoners can say that (often at no particular fault of their own). 

Because of Covid restrictions in prison, I will not have a graduation ceremony until (hopefully) this fall, but my cohort of 16 other students and I completed a bachelor's degree in Faith and Community Leadership with a minor in social work. Calvin University honored us graduates during their formal graduation ceremony at LMCU ballpark on May 22, showing each of our pictures on the jumbotron in lieu of our actual presence. 

Our formal education may be complete, but many of us will continue to dedicate ourselves to lifelong learning. We will also use our education while in prison to mentor other prisoners, and outside of prison to contribute in healthy ways to our communities. Most of us view our incredible opportunity to earn a college degree as a trust--it comes with greater responsibility towards our communities, in prison and out. 

I'm incredibly grateful to Calvin University (Calvin University--www.calvin.edu/prison-initiative), the many wonderful professors we've had, and the CPI staff for their commitment to "remembering the prisoners as if chained with them" (Hebrews 13:3). While it's true that leaving prison with a college degree will make me more employable, I didn't pursue this degree for that reason. I dedicated myself to this education for the mental and spiritual transformation that I anticipated I would experience (which I have). But I also dedicated my education to my children who deserved better from me. I'm proud to graduate with distinction, not because it says anything about my abilities but because it demonstrates my commitment to do my best. Yet, I'll always regret not having applied that same commitment to what really mattered in my life prior to prison. 

The day I officially completed my requirements for a college degree, I encountered another prisoner who had just earned his G.E.D. His excitment and pride in himself was palpable. Even though I had never met him before, I embraced him and congratulated him, reveling in his joy. Maybe some might shrug off earning a G.E.D., but for many who are chronic failures it's a huge accomplishment. 

Whether it's earning a G.E.D. or a college degree, prison doesn't have to be a complete waste of one's life. It can be a time to refocus priorities and develop disciplines that will bear fruit. At least it has been for me.