Co-taught as an upper-division college seminar in Urban Sociology, the first Prison Studies course was at MCI Norfolk and included five Boston University graduates who audited the class from inside the state prison, ten BU college students who were incarcerated at MCI Norfolk, and five Harvard juniors in sociology, who traveled to the prison from Harvard’s campus in Cambridge. Each student involved in the program received full academic credit toward his or her bachelor’s degree, from either Harvard or BU. The Prison Studies partnership marks the first time that the DOC in Massachusetts has permitted traditional college students to learn alongside incarcerated students as part of a curriculum for college credit. Beginning in 2008, Harvard University sociology students and incarcerated men and women enrolled in Boston University’s Prison Education Program shared a classroom inside the walls of MCI Norfolk (a men’s medium security prison) and MCI Framingham (a women’s maximum security prison). Both Harvard and Boston University students received course credit in a semester-long seminar that explored topics such as ethics, race, poverty and community justice. We are working to revive this partnership.
In 2009, Harvard students who were part of the first Prison Studies class at Norfolk prison wrote a letter to the Dean of Sociology. “Reading about prison and the rise in mass incarceration cannot compare to the actual experience of entering a prison […] The class was without a doubt the most transformative, eye-opening course any of us has ever taken at Harvard. You can learn a lot from reading informative articles and books, but you will never truly understand the materials you are studying unless you engage with them firsthand.”
One of their classmates, who was incarcerated at Norfolk, George, also wrote a letter about his experience after the course was finished. When our class met, he had been incarcerated for nearly 40 years. In his words: “Education in isolation does not have the same impact as in an integrated environment. After all, isn’t that what much of the college experience is built around? Bringing people of varying ethnicities, and social classes together, so that individuals may become more aware of the commonalities that make us ultimately the family of [hu]man!. His greatest learning experiences have taken place in an integrated environment. He writes, these experiences have never failed to leave me with a greater sense of self-worth, along with strengthening my sense of connection to the community at large… “Thank you for your efforts in bringing this course into being,” he writes. “I hope this experience marks a return to greater community involvement in education, and rehabilitation, within the incarcerated community.”
Catherine Sirois, a Stanford PhD student in Sociology, who continues to draw on the lessons that she learned nearly 10 years ago at Norfolk prison, writes, “My experience with prison education sparked a desire to more fully understand incarceration in America and to work for change. More than that, the experience underscored the importance of doing this work in collaboration with those who have been most harmed by the injustice of the American punishment system. As a scholar and an educator, I hope to provide transformative educational opportunities beyond the gates of the institutions to which we are so privileged to belong. In my experience, extending the resources of our institutions lifts up those who have for so long been denied those resources and makes all of us better students, teachers, and citizens.”
A handwritten letter from a student at MCI Framingham.
“When I am in school, I forget that I am in prison. When I walk into the classroom, the rest of this place just fades away. For those few hours, I am not a prisoner with a con number. I am simply a student. But, then class ends and I have to leave the school and return to a world that now feels foreign to me. When I leave school, I am slapped in the face by prison. I become fully aware of what I am missing outside and what I tossed away coming here. There is a tough side to education. It holds a mirror up to your life that you can’t ignore. This is the hardest time I have ever done, because now I care – because now I’m away to the world. Yeah, it’s tough, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. For the first time in my life I feel like I have a chance when I get out. For the first time, I really don’t want to come back to prison. School did that to me and school did that for me.” -Incarcerated Student
“YOU ARE STUPID.” That is what I heard growing up. I’m not really sure anyone ever said those exact words to me, but that is what I always heard. When I was in school, the teachers didn’t know what to do with me. I was a handful. There were a lot of days when the teacher would just give me some puzzles and ask me to sit quietly in the back of the classroom so the other kids could learn. That’s what school was to me – a place I had to go until I was old enough to stop going. When I was sent to [a maximum security] prison, I signed up for school. The only reason I did it was because a friend of mine who lived in the other housing unit was in school, and it was the only time we could see each other. One day, the teacher was talking about fractions, and something clicked inside my head. I understood this stuff. I had been doing fractions my entire life, admittedly not always for legal purposes. Then, I got mad. Real mad. Because for the first time, I realized I wasn’t stupid. I realized I could learn. I was mad at my schools for not trying harder to reach me, and I was mad at myself for not understanding the opportunity education provides. Today, I try to look out for young guys like me – the kids who did the puzzles in the back of the class and get them back in school.” -Incarcerated Student
“It was the craziest thing I have ever seen in prison. And that is saying a lot. You could just tell that these two guys in the classroom had an issues with each other. The two started chirping at each other, and then someone said, ‘Not in here guys.’ It was another student. He said, ‘This is a sacred space. This is our space. Leave that prison business at the door.’ And here’s the craziest part, the two guys calmed down and walked away. That was it. Case closed. The two might not have become friends, but they didn’t fight. They didn’t fight in class, and as far as I know, they never fought after class. Whatever was between the two of them passed. That doesn’t happen in the gym, and that doesn’t happen in the yard. But, it happens in school. Because, it is a sacred place. It is our place.” -Incarcerated Student
“Graduation Day was one of the best days of my life. The day after graduation was one of the worst days of my life. When I graduated from Boston University, I couldn’t believe it. I never thought I would be wearing a cap and gown, holding a college diploma. I will never forget the look on my family members’ faces when my name was read. But, the next morning I woke up and realized that it was over. There would be no more college classes for me to take in the fall, no more professors to talk to, and no more outlets for me to share my academic thoughts. There was a time when [this prison] had Masters programs and ongoing educational opportunities for graduates. But that was a long time ago. This year, I was lucky and was offered a seat in a post-grad class offered by MIT. The class doesn’t offer college credit but I couldn’t care less. To be back in the classroom, even for just one class a week, is the best. If i could share one thing with legislators and educators, it would be this: We need more educational opportunities inside prison. Those of us who live in here know the system pretty well, I would argue we know it better than anyone. Education works. It works better than anything I have ever seen or experienced in prison. Our prison should feel more like learning academies and less like concrete boxes.” -Incarcerated Student
“I never thought school was for me. When I was young, I looked for every excuse to ditch school. When my daughter was born, I knew I needed to work to take care of her and her mom. So, I left school for good. Or, so I thought. During a visit with my daughter here at [prison], she told me how much she loved school and everything she was learning. I thought to myself, what kind of father am i? I was shook. I want nothing more than to be there for my little girl. But, I knew it wouldn’t be long before my lack of education would prevent me from connecting with my daughter in a very important part of her life. So, I signed up to get my high school equivalency diploma. It wasn’t easy. Truth be told, it was one of the toughest things I have ever done. But, I did it. I did it for my baby girl. I did it for my family. And, I did it for me. Now I plan to take a College Prep course and hope to be fortunate enough to be selected for one of the very limited slots in the college program. I want nothing more than to get into college, so I can be the inspiration for my daughter that she has been to me.” -Incarcerated Student
“I learned that education is a means of liberation. I had believed this, intellectually, but Professor Stern’s class gave life to this idea, and cemented this knowing in my bones. I learned that those who are incarcerated and people who are not share far more in common than the average person might imagine — certainly more than I imagined prior to the course. I learned that prisons are dehumanizing spaces, an extension of slavery; and that the human spirit is resilient beyond what we’ve been taught to believe. Those who are able to flip the experience of incarceration are those who can turn it into a monastic experience. And I learned that education significantly reduces rates of recidivism, and allows those who are incarcerated freedom of mind. I learned that justice is restorative, not punitive.” –Harvard Student
“I think the main thing I learned, extremely heartbreaking to this day, is the untapped wealth of intelligence, compassion, and love in every single “correctional” institution across the country. It pains me that there’s so much human potential that is being restricted and restrained in the name of “justice.”-Harvard Student
“This course had a profound impact on my understanding of the criminal justice system. Over the course of the semester, my classmates challenged me to rethink how I wielded my power as a prosecutor. This experience left me with a much deeper appreciation for the impact of my work on the community.”-Harvard Student
“The fact that the students from Harvard and the students [in prison] all studied and learned together was the single most important part of the class. Whenever I tell people that I took a class in a prison, they instantly assume that I and my fellow students went in as teachers/mentors/tutors for the women who were incarcerated. Quite the opposite, I feel like I benefited much more from their instruction and perspectives than I ever could have impacted them. I do have to be honest that was very odd and jarring to finish a class and have to pass through security, get back on a bus and drive back to Cambridge while half of the class could not leave. I never got used to that and hope that I never do.”-Harvard Student
“It is one thing to learn in a removed, objective, academic context. It is quite another to learn in an immersive and experiential way. I believe that what we learn in the ivory tower of academia has no value if we are unable to implement it out in a complex world. Experiences and relationships motivate action and alter perspective. Professor Stern’s class was an invaluable blend of academic rigor and experiential, relational learning. This potent combination made it the most powerful and influential course I took at Harvard.”-Harvard Student
“It is, simply put, invaluable, especially in a society where incarceration impacts the lives of so many and where ignorance and indifference – to human suffering, to the inefficacy of our policies, to the collateral consequences of mass incarceration – allows us to turn a blind eye to a broken system, and therefore perpetuate it.”-Harvard Student
“I had been seeking lengthy prison sentences as a prosecutor for years before enrolling in this course, yet I had never visited a prison in person. By participating in an integrated course, I was able to speak to inmates about matters of criminal justice in arguably the most appropriate venue for such a discussion – their home inside a prison. This experience gave me context for my work, and provided insight into a world that had otherwise been an enigma to me.”-Harvard Student
“This class has served as a reminder over the years – when I thought about leaving law school during my second year and when I questioned whether becoming an attorney was the right career move – that a legal education will allow me to serve populations that have, for too long, been relegated to the edges of society. While I ultimately decided against pursuing criminal defense professionally, pro bono work has been an incredibly important and rewarding part of my legal career. I have had the opportunity to work on an amicus brief for a capital case through the Innocence Project, which led to the release of an innocent man who served many months on death row. I also have been inspired by this class to provide pro bono assistance to women immigrants in abusive relationships after seeing the effects that both abuse and immigration can have on women who may choose to commit a crime when it seems they have no other options available to them.”-Harvard Student
“I spent four years working at a public defender office as a civil legal advocate directly representing clients in eviction defense, employment denial hearings, and homeless shelter matters. I also provided advice and advocacy to people dealing with family court, civil forfeiture, criminal record error, and other collateral matters. I don’t think I would have been drawn to this work had it not been for my classroom experience in 2010. Without it, I think I could have easily continued my sociology studies in a vacuum and entered the world of policy, government, etc. after graduation with a glaring detachment from the lived realities of social injustice.”-Harvard Student
“I now donate monthly to SPLC, The Marshall Project, and support NEADS. I do my best to advocate and vote for political candidates who: support removal of mandatory minimums, support decriminalization of drug use, support banning for-profit prisons, support aggressive and effective re-entry programs to reduce recidivism, support clearing/releasing non-violent marijuana offenders in states where the drug has now been legalized, and oppose the death penalty in all cases, and oppose new for-profit tech that has replaced face-to-face visitation. My professional work has largely been unrelated, but prison/criminal justice reform is among my top causes for which I will volunteer, donate, and advocate.”-Harvard Student