Miriam and Mark Blackman run a small machine shop in the Texarkana region of southwest Arkansas. The site is rural, but the work is increasingly high-tech – particularly since the couple’s recent purchase of a computer-controlled metalworking machine. However, by applying what she’s learned in a competency-based education program in nearby Marshall, Texas, Miriam is staying ahead of the technology.
Even as a busy young mother and a partner in her husband’s business, Amy Archuleta always harbored twin dreams: to earn a college degree and start a business of her own. Today, the Salt Lake City woman is realizing both of those dreams, thanks to an innovative degree program that gives students the chance to take what they learn in the classroom and apply those lessons in the real world.
Linda Thayer lives – and essentially works three jobs – in the lake country of far-northern Wisconsin, in tiny town 22 miles from the nearest McDonald’s. To advance her career in health care, she knew she needed to upgrade her credentials by earning a Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree. But lack of time and her remote location complicated that quest – that is, until she discovered a program with the right kind of “Flex.”
Not long ago, Evan Snelling was one of the top high school basketball prospects in Georgia – a likely Division 1 recruit with dreams of NBA glory. In his senior year, a devastating injury ended those dreams. But it didn’t derail his future. Now, as a mentor to dozens of young black men at Georgia Highlands College, Snelling revels in assisting others.
Kevin Lee has spent most of his 22 years overcoming long odds. Raised by a single mother, homeless since age 16, moving from state to state and sometimes sleeping in shelters and living out of trash bags, Lee still managed to graduate from high school as class valedictorian. Now in Dallas, he’s a high-achieving student and campus leader at Paul Quinn College, whose nationally renowned president says Lee “has a shot to be extraordinary.”
“I drifted a lot in high school,” admits Terrance Range, recalling his “wildin’ out” teen years as a football star in Florida. Never letting his studies get in the way of a good time. Range flirted with failure his senior year and barely graduated. Today, at 29, Range is a vastly different person – a second-year doctoral student at Michigan State University who plans to become a college president.
Temple University Professor Lori Pompa first brought classes into Philadelphia’s prisons in the early 1990s, seeking to deepen her students’ understanding of the criminal justice system. Pompa saw quickly that learning and teaching work both ways in prison – and that everyone benefits when inmates become classmates. And so, the Inside-Out Prison Exchange Program was born.
The Bard Prison Initiative started small – just a handful students at a small New York college who fought back against cuts in federal funding for prisoners taking college courses. Today, BPI is a widely recognized success. The program is offered in six medium- and maximum-security institutions across New York state, enrolling more than 300 students in a high-quality liberal arts program and helping hundreds of ex-offenders adjust to life on the outside.
Educators have long advocated individualized learning programs – those designed to capitalize on students’ specific interests and adapt to their learning styles. College Unbound’s Prison Bridge Program is rooted in that idea, but it takes it a step further. It’s the “bridge” portions of the program – the features designed to smooth students’ transition from prison to the outside world – that set it apart. And the architect of that “bridge” is James Monteiro, an ex-offender who had to make that tough transition.
In December, the University of Arizona’s veterans center moved into a new space of 3,800 square feet. Nicholls, the assistant dean, shows a visitor the computer lab, a lounge and a quiet area where students unwind. He talks about the “vets-tutoring-vets” program and a résumé-writing course. He points toward a display of military patches and nameplates. “In the military, your job defines who you are,” he explains.