The national push to graduate more students excludes no demographic group, and those with lagging completion rates become particular targets of attention. Now some community colleges are zeroing in on another underserved population: ex-offenders.
Roughly 1.6 million people are in state and federal prisons across the country, and each year, about 700,000 inmates are released. In fact, more black men get out of prison annually than receive a college degree: 260,000 compared with 150,000 in 2009, according to the College Board Advocacy and Policy Center. Ex-offenders often leave with little more than the personal belongings they brought—and the hope, if not the preparation, to become productive citizens.
Educating the formerly incarcerated has become more important as less federal and state money flows into postsecondary correctional education programs, leaving inmates with fewer academic opportunities while in prison. A lack of education and skills can compound stigmas and make it difficult for many ex-offenders to land jobs. Ex-offenders are offered 50 percent fewer jobs and earn less than people who have never been incarcerated, according to the Pew Charitable Trusts.
Without gainful employment, many return to a life of crime: About half of all released inmates return to jail or prison within three years, according to the College Board’s center. But two-year institutions are looking to change that. Chemeketa Community College, in Oregon, and Wayne County Community College District, in Michigan, are offering academic and personal-development programs on their campuses to help ex-offenders gain skills and start new lives.
Two-year colleges are poised to play a central role in reducing recidivism. Many already partner with correctional facilities to provide GED classes and vocational or associate-degree programs in prisons. But as resources for such programs dwindle, and the labor market increasingly demands higher levels of education and training from prospective employees, the colleges’ work with ex-offenders has taken on more urgency.
Budgets for and public interest in educating the formerly incarcerated may be low, but college leaders are committed to the cause—and recognize its role in the national completion agenda.
“President Obama says that every American needs some education. That no one can be tossed out,” says Cheryl Roberts, president of Chemeketa. “That is the community-college creed.”
Prison Pipeline
The United States leads the world in the number of people incarcerated. This country has less than 5 percent of the global population but more than 23 percent of its inmates.
Statistics like those propelled Ronald A. Williams, a vice president at the College Board, to start a research project on prison education. “If you are going to maximize the talent in the country, you can’t ignore seven million people,” he says, referring to the total number in prison and jail, as well as on probation and parole. “The question is how best to approach that population.”
Community colleges, Mr. Williams has concluded, are the best bet. The sector’s open-door mission, geographical reach, and varied academic programs, from short-term certificates to associate degrees, uniquely position it to educate prisoners and ex-offenders, he says.
Higher education improves ex-offenders’ employment prospects not only through training for a specific occupation, Mr. Williams says. “Soft skills” such as a strong work ethic, problem-solving abilities, and self-confidence, he says, are also important for ex-offenders to acquire.
Wayne County Community College is trying to build that path to employability. About three years ago, the college began a partnership with Detroiters Working for Environmental Justice to offer a 12-week certificate program for green jobs. Many ex-offenders enroll in the program, which has no tuition: Grants from the city and other sources cover costs. Students receive training in numerous specialties, including lead, asbestos, and mold abatement; energy auditing; and environmental assessments.
In addition, they get instruction in job readiness, math and computer literacy, and life skills. And the program includes hands-on training, on real job sites. To date, roughly 100 ex-offenders have completed certificates, and many have gone on to find work, according to the college.
Wayne County College’s leaders know there may be a small window of time before ex-offenders fall into old habits, says Mark Lang, executive director of the college’s Entrepreneurial Institute and Resource Center. “Former inmates don’t always have many places to go,” says Mr. Lang, “so finding employment is important.”
Douglas Brooks, 48, who served a sentence for cocaine possession, completed the college’s training program last year. He quickly got a job, on a short-term contract, with a deconstruction-services company, disassembling structures to harvest reusable lumber, doors, windows, and fixtures. As a paid intern with Detroiters Working for Environmental Justice, he is now gaining experience in how to run a nonprofit organization.
Mr. Brooks wants to start his own nonprofit, focused on alternative energy like wind and water power. “Being part of the training program and now getting the internship have been a great experience,” he says. “It’s really changed everything for me.”
The college encourages ex-offenders to become entrepreneurs, especially because of their sour employment prospects. But leaders are also hoping to turn those around.
“We really need to get rid of the stigma that is attached to being an ex-felon,” says Curtis L. Ivery, chancellor at Wayne County. “It doesn’t matter how well we educate them, if they still can’t get a job.”
Rebuilding a Life
Before looking for employment, some ex-offenders need to learn how to become law-abiding citizens again. That often requires changing behavior, improving self-esteem, learning to communicate better, and coping with any residual alcohol or substance abuse.
Those issues are familiar to Ms. Roberts, president of Chemeketa Community College. Salem, Ore., is home not only to the college, but also to four prisons and one jail. Approximately 700 inmates are released into the region each year, says Ms. Roberts, and the recidivism rate in surrounding Marion County is 40 percent.
So the college is leading the charge in “re-entry education,” with a program called Student Opportunity for Achieving Results. The 12-week program, which is located on campus, also involves the county’s sheriff’s office and health department, as well as the nonprofit group Mid Valley Mentors. The program, which started in 2010, is financed by a federal grant, part of the Second Chance Act.
Prospective participants are identified by probation officers, who choose inmates at a moderate to high risk of another criminal offense. The sheriff’s office makes the final decision on who gets into the program.
Locating the re-entry program on campus was important to Ms. Roberts. Services in one spot, with housing nearby, give participants easy access to the help they need, she says. Beyond that, the president wanted the former inmates to be able to call themselves college students.
“When you say the word ‘student,’ people move toward you. They want to help,” Ms. Roberts says. “When you say ‘formerly incarcerated,’ people take a step back.”
Approximately 30 men take part in each cycle of the program, with all expenses covered, including housing and transportation. They spend all day in classes designed to help them transition back into society. College staff members, mentors from the nonprofit group, probation officers, and addiction counselors tackle various topics, such as searching for a job and becoming better parents. The recidivism rate among men who complete the program is 8 percent, according to the college.
Patrick M. Clancy, 57, started the re-entry program in 2010, with a chip on his shoulder. “I didn’t see any use for it,” he says.
As a teenager, Mr. Clancy had scrapes with the law, then spent most of his adulthood out of trouble. But when an injury left him without a construction job, he fell back into bad habits, reconnecting with an old buddy and selling drugs to earn money. After a drug offense, Mr. Clancy spent almost four years in prison, missing his mother’s funeral. He came out angry at the world.
Although he was reluctant to participate in the re-entry program, he gradually changed his mind. Now Mr. Clancy is pursuing an associate degree in human services at Chemeketa.
The program, he says, gave him a purpose. “It made me realize that I could do better,” he says. “Even go to college. That was never in my sights.”