Educating Inmates : Program Brings Classroom to County Jail

On Graduation Day for 22-year-old Marcus Samuel, there was a cake, complete with a miniature plastic mortarboard that read “Congratulations Marcus,” and there were speeches. But the graduate wasn’t wearing a cap and gown, and his family wasn’t there to cheer him on. Instead, Samuel wore faded prison blues--the standard Ventura County Jail uniform--and was guarded during the brief ceremony.

Samuel is one of 60 inmates in the county who have earned high school diplomas through an independent study program that faces an uncertain future because of possible cutbacks in state funding.

Under the program, which is jointly run by the Ventura Unified School District and the Ventura County Sheriff’s Department, about 90 inmates meet individually once a week in jail with teachers from the district. Although less than a tenth of the 1,500 inmates eligible actually enroll in the voluntary program, officials and graduates say, it presents a rare opportunity to rehabilitate rather than to simply house criminals.

For instance, Samuel, who is serving time for battery of a police officer, said studying subjects such as world history, algebra and English has inspired him to apply to college to study business administration and engineering after he serves his term. “It’s hard work, but you ain’t got nothing but time here,” he said recently after receiving his diploma.

But the eight-year-old inmate education program could end if state budget cuts proposed by Gov. Deukmejian are implemented.

At the very least, the program’s annual budget of about $100,000 will be cut almost in half during the next three years because of reductions in state funding, said Robert Nolan, principal of Mar Vista High School and program supervisor.

The state now provides $2,800 annually per student. Next year, only $2,200 will be available, and the following year only $1,800. In three years, the state will provide only $1,600 per student.

The Sheriff’s Department will make up for the $600 shortfall per student next year by allocating $22,000 from its substance abuse education programs. The curriculum will be expanded to include drug-related issues to reflect the new source of funding, said Patricia Glidden, the educational coordinator for the Sheriff’s Department.

Some inmates and teachers are so upset about the pending cuts that they have written state Sen. Gary K. Hart (D-Santa Barbara). Bob Borrego, a spokesman for Hart, said Hart is concerned about the potential loss of the program and is investigating other sources of funding.

Meanwhile, the program continues at the main jail on Victoria Avenue, the honor farm in Ojai and Rose Valley Men’s Jail. Three mornings a week, Carol Jean Hammitt, Harish C. Jindal and Jerry Lehman don identification badges and push shopping carts filled with books and papers through a maze of security checkpoints to keep weekly appointments with their pupils.

Four hours later, they hand over the badges, walk back through several sets of clanging doors and return to Mar Vista High, where they spend their afternoons teaching.

During those mornings, each student receives 30 to 45 minutes of individual instruction during which the teachers grade their tests, give out assignments and answer questions.

Group classes are out, because bringing 25 inmates together would be a security risk, Nolan said. Prisoners are forbidden to use pens and pencils with metal tips because of their potential as weapons and are issued stubby golf pencils for all their work. Even teachers may only carry one pen, which must be accounted for upon departure.

“If it were to turn up missing,” Nolan said, “there would be a lock-down, and everyone would be searched.”

Inmates receive no time off or special benefits for taking classes and must complete at least 20 hours of academic work a week. They have to fight the nature of the environment, studying in the midst of noisy card games and blaring radios in dimly lit dayrooms crammed with cots, Nolan said.

Inmates must speak fluent English to participate. English language classes are available through a literacy program run by the county library system. The oldest graduate of the program was in his 50s. Many students, some of whom earn only a few of the 220 credits necessary for a high school diploma, are in their late 20s or early 30s, teachers said.

Nolan handpicks his teachers carefully for these jobs and there are always more volunteers than he can use, he said. The teachers are not paid extra to work with the inmates nor is special insurance necessary, because the district has a comprehensive liability policy, Nolan said.

The situation is a “breath of fresh air after 17 years in a traditional classroom,” Lehman said.

Hammitt, who taught junior high and high school for many years before joining the prison team three years ago, says she loves her job.

“I enjoy being a catalyst and a facilitator,” Hammitt said. “I like to teach holistically, which you can’t do in a classroom of 38-40 kids. I’ve learned a lot from them.”

Jindal, who was a professor in India, had never been in a jail before signing on. He said he decided to think of the situation simply as a school in a different setting.

Although the district does not keep statistics on how many inmates return to jail after taking classes, the instructors say many ex-prisoners visit them to report on their progress.

“It depends on how you measure success,” Glidden said. “For some, it is the first time they have successfully completed anything, and even if they don’t graduate, but just take a few classes, maybe they can fill out a job application or help their children with their homework because they can read better. As they improve their skills, their self-esteem goes up.”