Rethinking an Education — Writing My World

The visit to our alma mater was planned for months, but the decision to ride bikes to the campus from our hotel was unusually spontaneous. After gearing up at a local bike shop, my husband John and I took off down Greenville’s Swamp Rabbit Trail hoping to find some familiar sights as we pedaled towards the campus of Furman University. The trail took us to the back-door of campus rather than the stately tree lined entrance that lures prospective parents and students. As I stared across the lake at the still stunningly beautiful campus, a mixture of memories came into focus.

John and I were unlikely candidates to attend this Southern Baptist outpost in the late sixties. John was a transient Air Force kid who was raised Catholic. I grew up in the D.C. area and rarely set foot in the south. I think I was determined to go somewhere different and Furman seemed very different. Yet, after the first few weeks of freshman initiation, I felt certain Furman was not for me. I chaffed under the rules and requirements dictated by the Southern Baptist Convention. I missed the buzz of the city and found it hard to relate to the people I met. I stuck it out freshman year, but left that summer thinking I might transfer to the University of Maryland.

Perhaps because of karma, good luck, or just laziness, I did return for my sophomore year and stayed to graduate. I stayed because I met John and found a group of friends who all proved far more lasting than the memory of freshman year or the onus the Baptist rules. I, also, found an exciting new major in Early Childhood Education and a mentor who guided and challenged me. In short, I found the love my life, dear friends, and a career path that I followed most of my working days.

As we walked around the campus that day, we noted how much changed and yet stayed the same. Furman was clearly no longer in lock-step with the Southern Baptists. The student body also seemed much more diverse and clearly topics like “gender studies” were openly discussed on campus. I began to realize how lucky we were to launch our lives from Furman. Looking at all those young, shining faces on campus, I wondered if they knew how lucky they were or would they only appreciate their education in hindsight as I did?

A few weeks after our visit, I began to question my appreciation of Furman’s education. In fact, did I even grasp the power of any liberal arts education to transform not just my life but the lives of those deemed unredeemable by society?

The catalyst for this change was a documentary, “College Behind Bars”. The film, directed by Lynn Novick and co-produced by Ken Burns, is unlike other documentaries by Burns. There is no soothing narrator telling the story of the Bard Prison Initiative. It is the students who convey not only the rigors but the hope this college program offers them at the most challenging of campuses…prison.

As I watched the student’s stories unfold, I couldn’t help but compare my educational experience to theirs. Many had to overcome inadequate schooling or complete a GED before applying to the program. Once enrolled, studying itself was a challenge. There are no cozy study carrells or even a stately library in prison. These students studied and wrote in the din and glare of a cell block. Obligatory “counts” that require inmates to line up to be accounted for interrupt and squander their precious study time. Research is another challenge. Student inmates are not allowed access to the Internet so all research materials must be requested from Bard’s main campus library in the form of photo copies or books. Despite these difficulties, the student inmates persevere and delve into the world of ancient literature, advanced science, history, philosophy, and foreign languages. The rigor of BPI’s curriculum is daunting and seemingly more challenging than any class I took at Furman or even in graduate school.

Novick intentionally introduces each inmate as a student first. Meeting the inmates as bright, articulate students, gives the audience a chance to know them without the stain of judgement. Only oblique references are made to time served or time left on their sentences, but one imagines. Gradually heart wrenching interviews reveal how abuse, broken families, the dull grind of poverty, drugs, and violence coalesced to bring them to prison. As their crimes and regrets were painfully revealed, I was devastated but also in awe of their courage and commitment to learn and change. Their educational accomplishments seem all the more amazing knowing what they had to overcome.

In one of the last segments, the camera follows the BPI debate team as they prepare to debate the spit and polished West Point team and then the equally challenging Harvard team. To see these young men prepare, skillfully articulate their arguments, and even win one debate was proof to me that education meant so much more to these student inmates than it ever did to me.

As the closing credits rolled, I began to rethink my education at Furman. I know I did not squander my time there, but did I really appreciate it? Did I take advantage of all that was offered? Did I spend too much time grumbling against the status quo and Baptist norms? What I heard in my classes often seemed purposeless or simply boring. Only my education classes sparked my interest. Watching the inmates graduate, left me with a feeling of deep regret. What did I miss in those years at Furman?

However, dwelling in remorse is as useless as spinning my tires on an icy roadway. I would go no where. “College Behind Bars” reminded me that one’s education does not stop when the diploma is plunked into your hand. It is not a tidy ending but a beginning. No one illustrates that better than the student inmates of BPI. Seeing education through their hungry eyes, made me grateful for my education but even more grateful for theirs. It is their education that will make a difference in not only their lives, but all of ours. When we lift another, we lift families, communities, and even a nation. Education opens doors not only the doors of opportunity but cell doors that locked away hope and potential far too long. ~c.h.

Postscript: If you would be interested in watching the film, you can see it here, and better yet consider donating to BPI (Bard Prison Initiative) right here.