By Anthony Payton, Columnist, Granite State News Collaborative

Listen to writer Anthony Payton tell his story of education behind bars in this episode of The Common Ground Podcast

Imagine walking into a secured prison yard. One so secured with the walls so high that when you look up, all you see is the sky. You go back to your cell. It’s so loud and the potential for violence so ripe, you’re always on high alert. It’s easy to succumb to that culture. How do you cope? How do you pass the time in a place like that?  

Many years ago, I was faced with that question. In regards to doing my time, I had a choice to make: I could continue being angry and feeling helpless, or, I could find a path to improve my situation. To do the latter, I knew it meant removing myself from the negative influences that surrounded me. I’d have to separate myself from the violence that manages to permeate through those prison walls. After all, prison is just a microcosm of the outside world.  

I sought refuge in furthering my education.

I come from a family that stressed education, so it shouldn’t have taken going to prison for me to seek higher learning.  In one particular place that I was in, the institution had a consortium college program that allowed the inmate population to earn college credits toward their associate degree.  My hope was that these college courses would put me on an upward trajectory, surround me with more positive peers, and  generally help the internal navigational system that had clearly taken me off course. 

That was my first experience calling someone a professor. It wouldn’t be the last. The credits that I earned there were transferable, and I was able to continue my education upon my release.   The course work was real, and the professors who entered the prison to teach us didn’t take it easy on us. They weren’t afraid to challenge and push us to greater heights. It also put me in the mix of a different caliber of inmates. Men who were looking to empower themselves through education, and use the college program as that vehicle. It gave us a sense of pride and morale.  The classes were held in the education department. It was such an uplifting feeling to head there every day, books in tow, amidst the chaos on the cell blocks and housing units. This was the part of incarceration that mattered...the rehabilitation.  

Right before my mother passed away, she was worried about my well-being. But when I talked to her about that program and what I intended to do with the earned credits, it gave her and my father a sense of relief. They could see that I was working on a better me.

In my former lifestyle, I’d always expressed my entrepreneurial spirit. I told my parents how in my new life, I wanted to focus on business management and possibly getting into real estate. It was one of the last conversations that I can remember having with my mother before she died.  And to be honest, burying my head in those books helped to ease the pain of not being able to attend her funeral.  

There’s a saying about, doing the time, and not letting the time do you. All too often, there are men and women being released back into society who haven't made the right adjustments. We wonder why they went back to old habits. We question why they haven't grown.

First, to be fair, let's condemn the actions that put the person in prison. We can talk about the havoc and chaos that was inflicted upon families and communities as a result of what they did. Those are all valid points. We want them to take accountability for their actions, and pay their debt to society. 

But what happens after that? What happens when they return to their neighborhoods?

Re-Entry isn’t easy for most people. The odds are stacked against you. Plenty of employment and housing opportunities will be out of reach because of your past.  You have to adjust to a society that seems light years ahead of the one that you left. You may have to build bridges and trust with family and friends. It can be overwhelming.  A person’s chances of success rise exponentially with a shot at earning college credits and possibly a degree. A person’s life can change when he’s being prepared for release with job training and higher academics. These skills make these men and women employable and ready for society. They have the power to change the criminal mindset.

I watched one of my brothers, Chris Payton, walk out of Sing-Sing Correctional Facility in New York with his master’s degree in social work. That led him to get another master’s degree at Columbia University after he was released. He recently graduated from Baruch College with his master’s degree in public administration. Today, he’s an upstanding citizen living the best of his life thanks to that recalibration and adjustment that he made while inside. He will tell you that the college programs in prison were monumental in his transition. He’s a poster child for what higher education in prison can ultimately produce. He’s constantly nudging me to consider finishing up my associate degree and eventually move on to a bachelor's degree.  

But don’t take my word for it, the statistics bear this out. A 2013 report by The Rand Corporation stated that educational programs cost about $1,400 to $1,744 per inmate each year. But it can save between $8,700 and $9,700 per inmate in costs associated with incarcerating them again.  A 2018 report by The Rand Corporation  rand.org states that the 3-year return on investment for taxpayers is nearly 400%. Or nearly $5 saved for every $1 spent. 

It would benefit this state to send its incarcerated populations back to society job-ready, more educated, and confident. 

This, in turn, keeps the recidivism rate low, which ultimately benefits families, communities, and society as a whole. In 2018, a study by researchers at the RAND Corporation, American University and the University of California-Irvine found that individuals who participate in an educational program while in prison are roughly 30 percent less likely to return to prison. A 2016 report listed New Hampshire’s recidivism rate at 42.9%. In Hillsborough County, the recidivism rate is 47.5%, one of the highest in the state.

Despite these statistics, we keep missing the mark when it comes to the growth of a person during their incarceration. This is where the recalibration begins.  People in the system will tell you that a person’s change needs to happen on the day that they were sentenced. On the day they were sentenced, they should be working on their post-release plans. 

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out my upcoming schedule, to see where I could possibly squeeze in some college courses. I’m inspired by programs like Project A.I.M [See Related Story] which helps incarcerated learners earn college credits that can lead to an undergraduate degree; I’m inspired by my brother Chris, and my alliances with the faculty and students at Franklin Pierce University and the Marlin Fitzwater Center for Communication.

This work is important. It shouldn’t take a person to become imprisoned to want to seek higher education, but while they’re there, I would hope that we’d want them to become better. This is how we continue to uplift our economy and our communities. 

Anthony Payton is a freelance writer and father living in Manchester. He can be reached at anthony.payton@collaborativenh.org. This story is part of his project, The Common Ground Initiative which aims to highlight the diversity of our communities with stories of people the average Granite Stater might not get to see or meet. The goal is to clarify misconceptions and find the threads that bind us all together as one New Hampshire community.

These articles are being shared by partners in The Granite State News Collaborative as part of our race and equity project. For more information visit collaborativenh.org.