At Kinross Correctional Facility, Jordan Johnson spends most days in his cell waiting. Waiting for the critical parole-mandated classes that he can't even begin until he is close to his earliest release date.
“So that's 2048,” Johnson explained.
Johnson was sentenced in Kalamazoo County to a minimum of 25 years for second-degree murder in 2021.
While Michigan has more than 32,000 people behind bars, only a fraction have full access to education or vocational training. Most programs are reserved for those nearing release, leaving those with long sentences waiting years to take classes.
“Roughly around 2036, 2037, I will be able to take my classes that I need,” Johnson said. “But until then, I have to sign up for classes that don't include what I need to take for parole.”
The number of available classes isn't a lot, Johnson tells me.
Offerings currently include a dog training program and some mental responsibility courses that teach life skills, to name a few. The classes that could actually help him gain knowledge for a possible job outside, however, aren't offered until the end of his sentence.
"I'm trying to get my CDL (Commercial Driver's License) but you're only able to do that two years before your release," he explained.
While Johnson tried to accept that reality, his mother, Nicole Stewart, was not willing to let the years go to waste.
“I wanted to make sure he, when he does come out, he does come out with more than what he went in, you know, education wise,” Stewart said.
Because state-run programs cannot serve everyone, thousands of incarcerated people rely on outside groups for education, often through correspondence courses paid for by families. Stewart began looking for alternatives "just so he can continue to grow while he's incarcerated, not to just sit there."
She came across Level, a non-profit that mails education packets into prisons.
“We create and distribute educational and job training content for people in prison so that they can thrive after release and break the destructive cycle of incarceration.” said Alex Wright, the co-founder of Level.
A full Level course costs a one-time fee of $25, which covers printing, mailing, and a certificate of completion.
“I think a lot of what Level offers is the ability to see the opportunity for a brighter future,” Wright added. “And the future isn't limited by the worst mistakes of the past.”
“Finessing the system”
Johnson is not alone in seeking alternatives. Bryan Harr has been incarcerated for more than 30 years. As a lifer, he faced a different set of barriers in accessing programs.
“Education is one of the many things that gives you hope,” Harr said from a prison in Ionia County.
Early in his sentence, Harr found out that officially completing a trade program meant he would be barred from taking other courses down the line. So, he found a workaround.
“I made it a practice of actually enrolling in these programs and completing them all the way up until the final, and then actually dropping out of the program,” he admitted. “So I had all the information, I had the skill set, but I didn't have the completion that would deny me access (for other trade programs) in the future.”
Harr said he understands the Michigan Department of Corrections has limited resources, but waiting until the very end of a sentence leaves thousands without meaningful options.
“I'm not sure that programming is very effective when you're offering it only at the end. So I get it, but it is a frustration. The only reason I was able to get into any of the programs that I was able to get into is if I found a way to kind of finesse the system,” he said.
MDOC acknowledges that the system prioritizes people closest to their release date. Director Heidi Washington said it is a matter of scale and effective resource deployment.
“The Department of Corrections operates 26 prisons. We have about 32,500 individuals incarcerated at various custody levels who have various release dates,” Washington said. “And so we prioritize our resources towards the people who are getting out the soonest.”
Research consistently shows that prison education dramatically reduces recidivism.
“We do allow individuals to participate in correspondence courses, if they choose to do that as something that they want to do to enrich themselves while they're waiting for a place in our classroom,” Washington said.
Building a Life Beyond Bars
For Jordan Johnson, the mailed packets opened a door he did not think he would reach for years, helping him imagine a life beyond prison.
“I’m thinking about doing a school truck which provides candy, snacks, beverages, pencils, pens, notebooks, etc. for, like, middle school and high school students outside of their high school or middle school,” Johnson mused.
His mother said seeing her son complete courses has changed everything for him.
“(I'm) just happy that he did complete it and that he wanted to continue to further his education by doing the other courses,” Stewart shared.
Jordan still has more than 20 years left on his sentence. But with a few worksheets, mailed across miles of concrete and razor wire, he is already building the life he hopes to return to.
