CHANGE HAPPENS

PALMER — Goslin Price doesn’t want to be a statistic.

As an inmate at Palmer Correctional Center, Price is counting down the days in the final six months he has left to serve of a two-year sentence for selling heroin. By the numbers, within three years after his release, Price has a 66 percent chance to wind up behind bars again.

Those are the odds the Alaska Judicial Council says offenders have of turning their lives around — 1 in 3. While the council shares those statistics in its 2007 report “Criminal Recidivism in Alaska,” the latest numbers available for the state, Price and others at PCC are working to better those odds.

Of the 1,798 offenders the judicial council followed in its study, two-thirds were re-incarcerated within three years of their release by either committing a new crime or violating their probation or parole.

“That’s not for me,” Price said. “When I came in, I was just a young man off the streets. I had sold drugs my whole life. Now when I leave, I have a plan, and that’s to never come back here ever again.”

Price’s hopes are more than idle talk. Since entering the system at PCC, he’s one of dozens of inmates each fiscal year who earn their general equivalency degree (GED) while incarcerated. In fact, PCC places such a high standard on education that it graduates more inmates from its GED program — more than 60 this past fiscal year — than other state correctional institutions combined.

With a budget of less than $3,000 a year for all of PCC’s adult education programs, which includes GED, medium-security education coordinator Jim Kalak call on the inmates themselves to bolster the program. Some of those who earn GEDs go on to become peer tutors, which has proven invaluable because they can communicate with their peers on a different level.

“I spend a lot of time being ignored,” Kalak said. “What’s nice about having these guys is they actually beat the bushes to find people for the program By and large, they do a tremendous amount that could not be done by a professional tutor. If I hired a professional tutor for $20, $20 a hour, they wouldn’t be drawing the inmates in these guys do.”

One of Palmer Correction Center’s more active GED tutors is Jerry Brown, a 29-year-old Wasilla resident who has six months left on a two-year sentence for felony DUI. He earned his GED while incarcerated at the Point MacKenzie work farm and said he now plans to attend college when he’s released.

“I graduated form a correctional facility in 2003,” he said. “That feeling these guys get when they graduate or pass the (GED) test, I know. I had that same feeling. I felt really good. I always knew I was smart enough in the back of my head, I just needed some guidance.”

Revolving door

While statistics show a majority of inmates will re-offend within three years of their release, there’s also evidence that education programs at correctional facilities reduce the recidivism rate. In 2009, the University of Alaska Anchorage’s Institute of Social and Economic Research conducted a study on the cost of crime as it relates to education and treatment programs.

The research summary of the study reports that expanding education programs could reduce the projected number of inmates in state prisons by 10 percent by 2030. Those programs in the long run also save “two to four times what they cost,” the report states.

Overall, education-based programs have reduced recidivism by about 8 percent, the council reports. Just how effective earning a GED in prison is in reducing the rate of recidivism isn’t known. When contacted about its report on recidivism, the Alaska Judicial Council said it doesn’t track those numbers specifically, but would like to in the near future.

“We are working on getting information abut that and the Department of Corrections is working on improving the way data gets into its system so it can be assessed,” said Terri Carnes at the judicial council. “Substance abuse and vocational programs will be looked at in the next six months or so.”

While the state doesn’t have any specific numbers to show earning a GED helps keep offenders from returning to prison, Kalak is convinced.

“I believe I see a lot less of my students (coming back) than my non-students,” he said. “I’ve been at this for about 13 years and worked with juvenile offenders for about 20. There are a lot of things I’m good at, but fortune-telling isn’t one of them.”

An awakening

For many inmates, earning a GED is the first real, positive accomplishment of their lives, one that helps open doors they never thought possible. For Brown, it means he can think about furthering his education after his release. For Price, it means for the first time he’s setting a positive example for his three young children.

“I think this is very important,” a tearful Price said. “When I was a little kid, I was blessed with all the opportunities to go to school. I came from a good background. My mom had six kids and I was the only one who chose the streets. … I want my kids to go to college. Things I haven’t done in my life, I want for them.”

Price plans to attend a one-year welding certification program at the UAA when he’s released. The message of education is one that took him a long time to appreciate.

“School was, uh, I loved school,” he said. “That’s because I played football. School came to the people where my football coach would make sure I got my grades just so I could play, so it was where I wouldn’t even have to show up for school. I just had to show up to play football.”

Earning a GED or pursuing other education opportunities while incarcerated helps put the idea in offenders’ heads that they can pursue many other professions that aren’t illegal, Brown said.

“I know that people who get their GEDs are less likely to come back to jail,” he said. “It opens doors that were normally closed for them. A lot of them look into going to college or vocational education. This is just a beginning. You see that if this guy could do it, maybe I could, too. Believe it or not, there are some good things that come from jail.”

John Yoakum is hopeful the education he’s gleaned from his time served will give him the tools to lead a productive life outside the prison he’s called home for 17 years. At 35, he’s lived nearly as much time in prison as he has outside. He’ll be eligible for release in another five years, serving time on a murder charge. While in prison, he’s become a GED tutor, learned how to build custom cabinets and has earned a Microsoft computer certification. He also speaks at local high schools and to court-mandated minor consuming alcohol classes.

“I share what prison life is like,” he said. “I share about my life. I’ve been doing it awhile, 17 years. I came in right after high school. I’m in for murder. … I’m a little bit scared (about the prospect of release), because the life I know is right here. Have the skills I have learned here given me enough to where I can survive in the world? I don’t know what a real job in the world is going to be like.”

People can change

PCC in the state correctional system vernacular stands for “Palmer Correctional Center.” Superintendent Cindy Betts also likes it to stand for “people can change.” She’s a firm believer that prisons should be a place where inmates work hard — there’s no free ride at PCC — and be given every opportunity to make changes so they don’t re-offend.

“I tell them that all the time,” she said. “We have a lot of classes and we really promote them. I want to see them out in the streets, I want to see them in Walmart. I don’t want to see them here.”

For those who take advantage of these programs, the impact can be life-changing, she said. And for all the appearances of being hard and immune to outside influences, something many people take for granted — a high school education — is enough to make these prisoners emotional.

“I sent my kids pictures of my graduation,” Price said, pausing to wipe his eye, “and my little 7-year-old daughter is proud of me.”

Contact Greg Johnson at greg.johnson@frontiersman.com or 352-2269.