There will be three to four hundred guests present, mostly
family and friends of the graduates.
There will also be the usual collection of “dignitaries”, a fancy term
for politicians. Members of the
McDonnell administration including the Director of DOC, Harold Clarke, will
listen politely as families applaud the men receiving their degrees. And, members of the Virginia legislature will
be here. They will tell themselves and
their constituents that the Commonwealth’s “tough on crime” policies combined
with the Governor’s re-entry initiative made all this possible. But they know
that is a lie. These graduates received
not one dollar in state aid. And, the
results recognized by this program are more significant than any state mandated
re-entry program. This program has
succeeded in spite of the state.
It’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon and I just finished
working out. Yesterday, one of our
graduates was asked to deliver a brief speech at the ceremony. As I have for every graduation – GED and
college – the past three years, I agreed to write the speech. I did what I usually do when I’m asked
something like this. I prayed. And somewhere in that prayer it hit me. I started thinking about Victor Hugo’s novel,
Les Miserables. It’s the story of
a man sentenced to prison for stealing a loaf of bread. It is his battle with the evil of prison set
against the despair of early 19th century France. Ultimately, it is a story of redemption and
hope.
“Whether true or false, what is said about men often has as
much influence on their lives, and particularly on their destinies, as what
they do.” Victor Hugo understood prison
and the human condition.
Before my arrest I knew no one who had ever been convicted
of a crime. Sure there were the guys in
college picked up for public drunkenness who’d spend one night in the drunk
tank at jail. And, in my prior life as a
trial attorney in Tennessee, I handled cases for folks who had “a little too
much to drink” and crossed the center line hitting another car. But that was different. There was “us” and “them”.
And “them” included all sorts of people. Adulterers, no good. Depressed?
Shake it off. Criminals? Lock ‘em away. There’s a reason the adage goes “a liberal is
a conservative who’s been arrested.”
Until you walk in someone else’s shoes, you can’t fully appreciate their
journey.
I had labels for everybody.
A funny thing about labels is you forget how little you really
know. I’ve discovered how little my
labels mattered. Good people make
mistakes. And, those mistakes can most
often be redeemed. That it took me to
come to prison to understand that basic truth has taught me why God is so much
smarter than I will ever be.
“Change your thinking and you can change your life.” That was Dr. Norman Vincent Peale at his
simplest and most profound. No one’s
destiny is defined by their past. Unfortunately for too many of us, what is
said about us can influence our future.
That’s why graduation in here is so important. These men can look beyond the scarlet letter “F”
of felon. They can look at their diploma
and see something else, something that may be the difference to them returning
here or leading wonderful, productive lives.
Does it matter? I
have to believe it does. Until you come
in here and actually experience the hopelessness of prison you can’t appreciate
what a waste this “corrections” system is.
Broken, dysfunctional lives are not made whole by places such as
this. Prisons do not rehabilitate. They tear at your soul, they waste your time,
they destroy families. And for the vast
majority of inmates, from poor families with little education and even less
opportunity for a better life, they do nothing but serve as revolving door.
I reached a conclusion about my own life sometime back. I had gone off track for a lot of reasons –
and forgotten who I was and what I believed.
And when the worst happened and everything was being lost, when I needed
a break more than ever, I ended up in here.
I spent a long time trying to figure out why I deserved all this. It hit me.
Sometimes what appears to be the worst is actually God starting you on
the way to something better.
Graduation Day, thirty-seven men who have done something most
people wouldn’t believe they could accomplish – or deserved. Perhaps, just perhaps, this will redefine
their destinies. I pray it does.
And here is the speech the graduates and dignitaries and
guests will hear.
The Speech
Good morning ladies
and gentlemen, Dr. Cavan, members of the faculty of SVCC, distinguished guests,
family and friends. It is an honor to be
given a few moments to share some thoughts with you about this program in this
place. College graduation in a prison,
who would have thought it possible.
On Christmas Day a new
movie opened in theaters around the country.
Les Miserables, the musical adaptation of Victor Hugo’s great
novel has received rave reviews and huge box office numbers. The movie, however, cannot do justice to Hugo’s
book. Let’s not forget, his is a story
of a man sentenced to prison for the theft of a loaf of bread and his quest to
regain his life and his character. I
think if Victor Hugo were still alive he would applaud this program and the
students who have regained their lives academic class by academic class.
“Whether true or false,
what is said about men often has as much influence on their lives, and
particularly on their destinies, as what they do.” Mr. Hugo knew something about the stigma of
incarceration.
Yet, the men sitting
here in caps and gowns and our academic aides who live and work with us in our “Campus
Behind Walls” building, are proof positive that a conviction is not a
destiny. There can be something
more. Prison can be a defining moment in
a man’s life, but not the definition of the man.
Dr. John Cavan
believes that. We have no greater
friend, no greater advocate for giving us an opportunity at higher education
than Dr. Cavan. And Mrs. Cavan and her
staff go above and beyond to make the dream of earning a college diploma in
here a reality.
Then there are the
faculty members – Ms. Tuck, Dr. Yarbrough, Mr. Walker, Dr. Watson and Mr.
Lassahn, to name a few who came through metal detectors and pat downs to teach
here. And to a teacher they treat us
with respect and encourage us and make us believe we are no different than any
other students they have.
How do we say thank
you? By using this experience, this
success, to leave this place behind.
It costs the
Commonwealth of Virginia $25,000 per year to keep a man in prison. It costs $5000 to put that same man through
this college program. The economics
shouldn’t escape anyone’s attention.
Earning a college degree in prison does more to defeat recidivism than
any re-entry program yet devised. Put it
another way, college graduates usually don’t return.
College
graduation. I have spent a great number
of years behind bars. As my release date
approached, I wondered what was out there for me. Would I be alright? Could I find work? What job skills did I have that would offset
the stigma of my felony record? These
are the same questions every man in this room asks himself because no one wants
to return here.
More than anything,
this program helped me realize I can succeed on my release. I am not just a DOC number; I am a man with
an education and certification in a nationally recognized IT program. I am a man with a future. I have hope.
“Dum, spiro, spero.” “While I breathe, I hope.” That is a great Latin maxim. I would change that if I could. I would say, “Even in here, education gives
me hope.”
In conclusion, let me
thank Dr. and Mrs. Cavan and our wonderful faculty again. Let me make a final plea for funding. We need more money for higher education
behind bars. More money for college
means less money the Commonwealth has to spend on corrections in the
future. And that should be the ultimate
goal of corrections, to return as many as possible to society as productive,
law abiding citizens.
Thank you.
