A Title I resource reading and math teacher, right, works with her third grade students. Title I, which provides grants for low-income schools. (AP Photo/Seth Perlman)

The Patsy Takemoto Mink Education Foundation for Low Income Women and Children will offer 5 grants of up to $2,000 each to low income mothers who are enrolled in education and/or training programs.

Applications will be accepted from May 1, 2010 through July 15, 2010.For eligibility criteria and application materials, please see the foundation website:

http://www.patsyminkfoundation.org

Inmates at the state penitentiary, work with General Education Diploma (GED) test materials at the prison in Salem, Ore. (AP Photo/Greg Wahl-Stephens)

Mona has two incarcerated cousins and she’s searching for a way to get them an education while they are in prison. You can listen to phone message she left explaining her situation and her questions.

Any suggestions or guidance would be greatly appreciated. Please place them in the comments field below.

This issue of how someone who is incarcerated can get an education has touched a real nerve for people. Everyone wants to know what can be done to help someone improve themselves so that when they are released they are in a better position to be productive in our society.

We reported on this topic last year, but want to follow up with some practical tips.

If you have your own questions, you can:

1. Post them in the comments section below,
2. Send an email to questions@livesinfocus.org,
3. Call (646) 867-1891 to leave a message.

Iris Bowen and Cheryl Wilkins faced a tougher challenge than SAT tests and admission’s applications when they decided they wanted to attend college.  In 1996, Bowen and Wilkins, in their thirties at the time, were not your typical college students.  They were obtaining their college degrees while serving time in Bedford Hills Correctional Facility, a maximum-security prison in Westchester County, New York.

The steps Bowen and Wilkins took to pursue their college degrees as former inmates were unlike those traditional students take.  In fact, inmates like them were feeling the consequences of the Higher Education Act Congress passed in 1994.  Under the bill, prisoners were denied the use of federal aid, such as Pell grants, to obtain college degrees, even though they only made up less than one percent of college students who used the money.  As a result, nearly all college programs in jails and prisons throughout the country were terminated.  In spite of this setback, a small group of women inmates at the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility began the process of re-instating a college program like the one they had before it was cut in 1995.

Bowen and Wilkins say with the help of then-prison superintendent, Elaine Lord, the group reached out to organizations and colleges throughout the state to donate the resources needed to implement a college program.  Bowen and Wilkins say the group encountered a lot of resistance from people who didn’t feel they deserved to pursue higher education because of their crimes.

In 1996, Marymount Manhattan College partnered with the women’s prison to establish the Bedford Hills College Program, completely through private funding.  The prison also got help from a dozen other colleges, which donated teaching staff, books and computers to help the students fulfill their requirements for the sociology degree, the only option for students at Bedford Hills.

Looking back, Bowen and Wilkins remember that the thought of bringing a college program back to Bedford Hills sparked so much interest that pursuing a college degree became a cool thing to do.  Because Marymount Manhattan College, like any other college, requires a high school diploma or its equivalent to enroll students, Bowen and Wilkins, both high school graduates, were among a large group of women who helped prepare their fellow inmates to pass the GED test.  Obtaining a General Equivalence Diploma would then allow prospective college students to apply to the Bedford Hills College Program.

As college students, they had to balance their responsibilities at Bedford Hills with their class requirements.  Nonetheless, they demanded high standards from themselves and of their professors.

Bowen, who started working toward a degree through Mercy College prior to the program being cut in 1995, completed her Associate’s degree through the Bedford Hills College Program.  Wilkins completed her Bachelor’s degree through the program.  When Wilkins was released in 2005, she started a Master’s program in Urban Affairs at Hunter College and completed it two years later.  She says her undergraduate experience helped shape her work ethic as a graduate student.

The former inmates now work together at the Fortune Society in New York City where they help people who have had trouble with the law in the past get into college programs.  The women say their degrees help them serve as role models to their clients and their families.

Since 1996 when the Bedford Hills College Program began, Marymount Manhattan College has granted over 100 diplomas to inmates earning Associates and/or Bachelor degrees.  Marymount Manhattan College allows students who are released from Bedford Hills before they complete their degrees to finish their requirements at its Manhattan campus.

To date, prisoners are still ineligible to use Pell grants to finance their college degrees.  In August 2008, Congress passed a bill that prevents sex offenders who live in treatment centers from getting federal aid to pay for their college education.  In spite of these restrictions, there has been a great deal of research showing the benefits of such education programs.  A 2001 study by the Correctional Education Association found that recidivism rates for people who earned college degrees in Maryland prisons were reduced by 12%, in Minnesota by 28% and Ohio by 19%.  More recently, a 2004 study by researchers at the UCLA School of Public Policy and Social Research found that the average cost to provide a college education for inmates was $1,400 compared to the $25,000 it cost per year to incarcerate them.

While few college programs throughout the country have been re-established since they were cut as a result of the 1994 bill, Boston University, Bard College and Patten University also offer degrees to inmates in nearby jails and prisons.

SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS: Do you think state and/or federal money should be used to educate prisoners? Does it make a difference if a prisoner seeking higher education is serving a short sentence or will never be released from prison?

[Use the comments feature below or call (646) 867-1891 to leave an audio message.]

Djenny Passe-Rodriguez attends the CUNY Graduate School of Journalism. She is a television and radio broadcast student with a focus on health and medicine reporting. She graduates in December, 2008. Some of her work can be seen on her blog.

1. Post a question in the comments section below,
2. Send an email to questions@livesinfocus.org,
3. Call (646) 867-1891 to leave a message.

I also welcome questions from others who might simply be interested in knowing more about how the life of children is affected when a parent is incarcerated.

Click on the player above or download this video here. (iPhone version)

SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS: How has your parent’s incarceration affected your interest in staying in school?

[Use the comments feature below or call (646) 867-1891 to leave an audio message.]

click for slideshow

You wouldn’t think Felix Castro cries at all by looking at him. He bounces and struts when he walks. His chest is broad, his knuckles massive. His hair is shaved close and two tattooed tears mark his right cheekbone. But in a plaza outside of his work near Washington Square, his eyes welled up as he recounted the students’ stories he heard when he visited Lillian Rashkis High School in Brooklyn as a youth counselor.

Castro is the founder and facilitator of ChangeNThoughts, a violence and gang prevention program in its infancy stage. He looks far younger than his age of 37 would suggest. Castro gets intense and emotional when he discusses his work. “You want to try the judicial. Did you try the rebuilding?” Castro said, before adding, as he does frequently, “What the students really need is love.”

While the non-profit organization of Castro’s making is gaining steam, he works at the Institute for Communicative Disorders (ICD) with emotionally and psychologically challenged students. Castro began working at ICD as an intern during his drug rehabilitation at Samaritan Village and stayed on full time, in part because of how he engages those in his charge. His supervisor, Heather Burrat, said Castro is able to help the students get under the anger of troubled youth and identify the vulnerabilities and issues that lead to violence.

As recently as five years ago he was arrested for burglary. Earlier incarcerations were for distributing drugs on school grounds. The wake up call came in the form of a heroin overdose after the last time he was released from prison. It was at that time that he decided that he was “tired of this life.”

Castro spent 14 years of his life in prison, giving him the street version of an advanced doctorate in gangs and violence. Tucked inside his office at ICD, under a picture of himself in cap and gown receiving his GED, Castro removed his mobile phone from his hip and read an excerpt from the book he is writing, “A Dove With A Broken Wing.” The book is fictional, but it is based on his life and experiences. He hunched over the tiny screen to read: All their lives people have been throwing away the key. Thoughts are contained in a 4 by 6 cage.

At the beginning of his presentations, Castro traces his own history that has led him to where he is now. He recounts a large family, he is the second youngest of 12, that was riddled with drug problems and abuse. Castro grew up as a result in a series of different foster homes and state-run facilities. His father was an abusive alcoholic who would have to be stopped by the older kids from abusing the younger kids.

His mother died when he was 10 of emphysema. Castro recounts the whole family standing around his mom’s casket and the father asking if they were happy for the Hell they put their mom through. He found a foster family when he was 11 who willingly gave him the love and structure he so badly craved, but he ran away at 16 to find his two older brothers who were selling drugs. His brother Marcus, who is currently serving time in Upstate New York, told him to leave and go back to the foster family, but Castro remained.

Castro became addicted to heroin at age 16 and began dealing drugs to feed and clothe himself. At 18 he was arrested for the first time on a drug charge and spent 10 months in jail before he was arraigned. “I was once again lost in the system,” Castro said. He remained in a system that he describes as preying capitalistically on young men of color. It is his goal to educate those living in similar circumstances to spare them the trip to prison.

Pain is still a major portion of his story. He recounts how his sister was killed on his birthday in August a few years ago during the blackout. At that point he decided what his new life mission was going to be and has worked to achieve it. He recently received his vendor’s number from the Department of Education and was asked to participate in the Joe Torre Foundation’s conference.

In the corridors of a Harlem high school in the middle of November, Castro directed some of the students from ICD before they presented a role-play he had written. They were running short on time and Castro was getting increasingly frustrated. As the two females asked to not be part of the presentation, Castro re-visited another role he is very familiar with: Recruiter.

The character Castro portrayed was a gang member attempting to pull off a drug sale. At one point he threatened, in character, to kill the family of a kid if he did not kill someone as ordered. It was a very convincing and intimidating performance as Castro’s body language tensed with every word. As the director his encouragement was more subtle as he cajoled, flattered and pleaded for the young women to perform. From his years as a gang recruiter Castro knows better than most the insecurities and weaknesses of youth.

He has renewed a relationship with his own children, aged 10 and 11, who live with his former girlfriend. “I am trying to make their dreams a reality,” Castro said, as he does frequently. He said it on the stage in Harlem to the raucous group of students waiting for the boys’ step competition to start. Castro wasn’t flustered. He waited for them to quiet down. It’s taken him a long time to get to this place and it was clear Castro wanted them to hear every word.

Joshua Cinelli attends the CUNY Graduate School of Journalism with a focus on politics, economics and international affairs. He graduates in December, 2008.

SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS: How did your friends reacted when you told them you have a parent who is incarcerated? If your teachers know, how do you think they treat you differently?

[Use the comments feature below or call (646) 867-1891 to leave an audio message.]

Click on the player above or download this video here. (iPhone version)

Drew Geraets, the digital media manager for the project (and for CUNY Graduate School of Journalism), has created a multi-layered design that really captures the new philosophy having storytelling from various sources. The stories shared on this site will come from three sources:

1. Professional journalists will write profiles about people affected by incarceration and also provide news pieces about this subject.
2. People who have been affected by incarceration and who have attended media workshops will tell their own stories in their own words. We have a several new columnists who will join us, starting with Davian Reynolds who introduces himself in his first column.
3. The third group will be people who stumble across the site and want to share their own stories with this community. These folks can join the community to post their own photos, videos and audio.

I realize that not everyone has a broadband Internet connection to upload video, audio and photos, so I invite them to join the conversation by using their cell phones or home phones to call us and to leave a message. The number is 646-867-1891.

I also have several new columnists who will come online over the next month and some innovative Web programming that will begin to appear over the next month.

Come back often to visit, or subscribe to our RSS feed.

We are going to examine the impact of incarceration on families in a nuanced and intelligent way. With such a large number of Americans in prison, we need to have a better understanding of how this affects our communities and families.

Thank you to the Knight Foundation, J-Lab and the CUNY Graduate School of Journalism, among others, for helping to bring this important issue to light.

Sandeep Junnarkar
Editorial Director and Founder
Lives in Focus: Family Life Behind Bars