Rummage through the dump

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

It Works! Shhhh! Don't Tell Anyone!

During our recent snow, my boss asked me to submit an essay in lieu of my attendance at school.  For those who dont recall, Ive been teaching basic computer stuff to a bunch of prison malcontents (the incarcerated type) for the last few months and I was asked to define correctional education.  Unable to follow even the most basic instructions, I soon drifted onto a long-winded tangent about the public perception of correctional education.  I was happy to work the word kneecapped into the text.

Not wanting all of that writing to go to waste, Im reposting the essay here:

      I am afraid that I do not have any particularly insightful thoughts to lend toward a definition or description of correctional education.  Sadly for me (but thankfully for the rest of society), the reasons for undertaking the task of correctional education have been clearly described and defended, at length, by those with much more insight than me.  I do, however, have a few thoughts about the subject. 

      When I have discussions about prison education with friends and family, the conversation almost always turns to politics.  I think that it is pretty much a given (among the informed) that there is a significant benefit to educating our inmate population, although we haggle over the reasons for attempting it.  Some suggest we do it to make up for the societal failure to educate prior to incarceration.  Others cite the lower risk of recidivism and still others claim that the primary benefit of education is to prepare an inmate for a more productive life upon release.  Of course, all of these factors (and others) contribute to the overall justification for pursuit of an educated populace of convicted felons.

      Despite this, though, the notion of educating prisoners is distasteful to many.  In the US, higher education, like health care, is more frequently seen as a privilege and not a right (or expectation).  The prevailing attitude is that prisoners do not deserve the educational opportunities that we endeavor to provide—despite the benefits, long established by research and experience.  The cries of unfairness (“Why should a murderer get to go to college when my daughter can’t afford it?”) grow louder, especially in an economy that forces more prioritization on individuals and the governments that act on their behalf.  Oddly, perhaps, we are not hesitant to lament the availability of educational opportunities for offenders but we seem unable to, instead, demand greater access for the public at large. 

      Consequently, the current public education model dictates that offender education is acceptable and worthy of public support only as long as it is been sufficiently kneecapped, providing a level of service sufficiently short of what’s available for the unincarcerated—even if the societal effect of this model is a net negative. 

      Words color perceptions and perceptions, today, are given far too much weight.  Those advocating for access to correctional education are arguing the issue academically; accurately, objectively, and rationally describing the need and our ability to meet it.  Unfortunately, however, accuracy, objectivity, and rationale do not secure funding in today’s political climate.  Legislation, these days, is funded by emotion, fear, and, too frequently, ignorance.  Prison-related legislation is especially popular if it features some ill-defined revenge/repayment element.  The words used to describe the need for correctional education are only effective, now, if they prompt and then tap into those lesser responses.  To put it bluntly, educators will be most able to secure public support and funding when they are finally able to untether themselves from the research and successfully argue that “education is a great way to screw offenders.” 

      The disconnect between what is effective and what gains public support is hardly a new phenomenon.  Since the early 1980’s, at least, the attitudes described above have prevailed and objective debate about the subject (among non-experts) has been largely silenced.  Certainly, there are some who are willing to stand up and proclaim the benefits of offender education, but they are usually shouted down by their noisier opponents.  It might be time to acknowledge that the debate, as currently framed, has been lost. 

      That acknowledgment, however, does not mean that apologists must retreat from their principles, nor does it mean that they must ignore all of the good associated with an educated offender population.  What it does mean, though, is that supporters of correctional education should consider holding their noses and reframing the descriptions of their goals to pass the sniff tests of the opposed populace.