Redefining Discipline

It takes years of discipline—as in focus, hard work, and self-control—to master different talents, skills, or specialized areas of knowledge.

However, when I was growing up, discipline was a word that meant punishment, and that seemed consistent throughout American culture, as far as I knew. In school, discipline often meant punishment, and that’s certainly true within the U.S. justice system, even though inflicting additional pain on people who are already in pain is counterintuitive and counterproductive.

If you trace the etymology of the term discipline, you’ll find that it comes from the Latin word discipulus, meaning pupil—someone who works to master a discipline, or one of the arts, crafts, sciences, or trades. Pupils engaged in years of dedication and determination to master the skills of their discipline, and in doing so, they became disciplined.

I have been incarcerated for 22 years and currently reside at Minnesota Correctional Facility, Stillwater, where I have spent 15 years of my time here taking college-level classes. The discipline I’ve put into my education led to an associate’s degree and then a bachelor’s degree. On top of those achievements, I’ve learned an important lesson in my years of studying: Colleges can help shift carceral culture by reclaiming discipline as hard work and determination, not punishment, and in doing so can better prepare students for academic and career success after release.

Daunting Challenge, Huge Accomplishment

In 2023, I earned a bachelor’s degree from Metropolitan State University as one of the first students in the Transformation and Re-Entry Through Education and Community (TREC) program, a postsecondary education initiative launched here at Stillwater and two other state correctional facilities as a partnership between several state colleges and universities, the governor’s office, and the Minnesota Department of Corrections in 2021.

Prior to 2021, I’d spent 12 years taking just one or two classes a year, and that was contingent on my ability to stay “discipline-free.” Any one of a series of rule infractions—real or perceived—would have led to me being expelled and ineligible for further enrollment in the college classes.

Fortunately, I never lost my privilege to take those classes, and after years of discipline—as in focus, dedication, and determination—I earned an associate’s degree from Minnesota’s Inver Hills Community College in October 2019. The COVID-19 pandemic brought a sudden halt to programming in the facility, but as restrictions began to lift, I suddenly had access to several once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. Soon, I was taking six classes a semester as I worked toward my bachelor’s degree through Metropolitan State. I was simultaneously completing the Legal Revolution’s paralegal coursework and earning an American Bar Association-registered paralegal degree. I knew how fortunate I was to have these doors open to me, especially when they were shut to so many others in similar circumstances. I was therefore deeply committed to being a success story, someone who could demonstrate the value of these programs and help ensure that they would persist, so that these opportunities would be available to many others who would follow behind me.

Earning a degree while incarcerated is a huge accomplishment—one that requires a great deal of discipline, especially considering the extreme stress and limitations that come with life inside a closed-custody maximum security facility.

It’s a daunting effort for anyone to maintain the discipline (focus and self-control) necessary to avoid discipline (punishment) in prison. And it’s an especially formidable challenge for people who have been sentenced to decades in prison.

The odds of success in college programs are low to begin with and knowing that one mistake could supersede all of your hard work can be enough to discourage folks with longer sentences from even making the attempt.

A Recipe for Disaster

Many people who are sentenced to serve time in prison experienced terrible circumstances in their lives that inevitably played a role in the decisions that resulted in their arrest and conviction. Those experiences are only made worse when individuals are subjected to the expected—and accepted—horrors and traumas of the prison system. The pain, hopelessness, fear, confusion, and anxiety have their way with you every day, until at some point, you try to rationalize and normalize these traumatic experiences to stay sane.

If this sounds like a recipe for disaster, that’s because it is. Most of us were taught that you don’t kick someone when they’re down, but that’s what happens in prison. Anyone shackled, cuffed, and caged is down and hurting, and as the saying goes, “hurt people hurt people.”

Over the years, several educational, personal growth, and development programs have been offered in this facility to aid with healing, redemption, and transformation and help people overcome a sense of hopelessness. Since 2009, I have been a graduate of and a mentor, facilitator, and advocate for many of them, including classes that promote restorative justice and encourage critical thinking and character-building and programs like Thinking for a Change, Silent Cry, and now TREC.

TREC stands out. It offers a powerful alignment of support and resources that made it possible for me to study full time and earn a bachelor’s degree in just two years. TREC is also unique from other programs in that the college classes are held in person, which allows students to build rapport with their peers through the collective shared experience of the classroom lectures and discussions, as opposed to sitting in a cell and receiving assignments by mail or by tablet. Students enrolled in those more typical digital or correspondence based programs have expressed envy for the experiences of TREC students.

TREC instructors also demonstrate their investment in students when they come into the facility and provide rich, engaging, and often hands-on learning that some of incarcerated students have never experienced before (particularly if we earned our GED in prison). For many here at Stillwater, education has been a carceral experience. Allowing colleges and universities to come into the facility sets a different tone in the education building and allows students an opportunity to see what it can be like to learn and engage in a more empowering and humanizing environment.

Yet perhaps the most powerful thing TREC does is continue to prioritize and engage students even through adversity, and when students are unable to avoid discipline (punishment) in the facility. For example, the program ensures that students can stay connected to their studies even if they’re required to go into segregation. That’s a game-changer, because most people in places like this are used to being treated like a problem to get rid of and as someone who should be disqualified from enjoying any privileges—like a chance to pursue a college education. Many of the students enrolled in TREC are used to being written off and discarded. They’ve had negative experiences with institutions starting as early as elementary school and continuing through group homes, the juvenile legal system, and now prison.

Developing a Sense of Pride

Men in TREC can’t believe they’re able to do the things they’re doing. They’re developing a sense of pride that’s foreign to them. For some, these opportunities are some of the first valuable and meaningful experiences in their lives, and they’re proud to be able to share these experiences with the people close to them. Each time they call home and tell their wives, children, parents, or siblings that they just finished a semester of college and earned 12 credits toward a degree, the craving for more positive interactions grows stronger. They become more disciplined and, in turn, they’re less likely to face discipline.

This kind of positive reinforcement builds up self-esteem, self-worth, and belief in their own potential, which is priceless. Confidence, belief, and the ability to imagine and see oneself in a different light increases with each semester.

Ironically, many men who once sought validation and confidence through negative activities and toxic relationships begin to find greater fulfillment in attending class, studying, and building meaningful connections with their peers—ultimately valuing these positive experiences more than the attention they once craved from destructive behaviors.

Emphasizing the Right Kind of Discipline

The significance of the TREC program comes down to the way it emphasizes a positive type of discipline in an environment where discipline typically means punishment.

If corrections departments truly aim to support rehabilitation, they must shift their focus away from discipline-as-punishment and toward discipline-as-mastery—as in mastery of the knowledge and skills that can empower individuals to build better futures for themselves, their families, and their communities.

To get there, we’ll need more programs like TREC. We need more programs that keep students engaged even when they fall from grace and make mistakes. We need more programs that maintain that commitment to students after their release. We need more programs that put students on a pathway to the kinds of academic and economic advancement that can lift up their families and communities.

Programs like TREC show that students, even those who have faced traumatic childhoods and histories of criminal activity, addiction, violence, or gang involvement, are capable of transformation—pursuing new beginnings, building meaningful careers, and becoming leaders in their communities.

By investing in programs like these, we can not only support individual transformation but also shift carceral culture from one centered on punishment to one that fosters growth, opportunity, and rehabilitation—creating pathways to stronger communities and a more just society.