A Strange Journey: The Path to Disability Access in Prison Education

 

One of my favorite sayings is that life is a strange journey. We take so many different roads and paths—some bumpy, some smooth. There are construction sites blocking our way, and sometimes fascinating landmarks, like the World’s Largest Basket Building. But no matter what road you take, it keeps going—as long as you let it.

Why This Blog?

Hi all,

I wanted to start a blog for a few reasons—
One, to keep myself in the habit of writing.
Two, to keep you all updated on my work and the progress (and fallbacks!) we experience.
And three, just to be nerdy sometimes.

Maybe I’ll post a short story I wrote, or a poem that inspired me, or an update on my PhD journey. I feel like blogging is a lost art form—we’re too used to TikTok or short little snippets on Twitter. And sure, keeping things brief can be good, but reading about someone’s journey? That can be powerful, too.

So... Who Am I?

Whenever someone asks me to describe myself, I never quite know what to say. Which journey do I talk about? Which path do I present? So, let’s just have at it.

My name is Ben, and I was born and raised in Columbus, Ohio. My parents are obsessed with Ohio State, and as much as I tried to resist following in their footsteps, I ended up graduating from OSU as well. I got my BA in English Literature from Ohio State, then went on to earn my Master’s in Education, specializing in Special and Deaf Education. I like to say I was ABT—“all but thesis”—if that’s even a thing…

I earned my teaching license and taught for roughly ten years. Some of the things I’m most proud of during those years: I volunteered for Relay for Life of Second Life and ended up coordinating The Castle, Home and Garden Contest and co-coordinating the Christmas Expo for many years. We raised well over twenty thousand dollars each time we held those events. I was knee-deep in that passion.

I also adopted a teen named Cameron—and while he’s on his own strange journey now, one of our proudest moments together was him getting his high school diploma. Oh, and I was a dog dad, too—my dog Nemo was the pride and joy of my life!

Back at OSU—With a Secret

Yesterday, I was back at Ohio State, providing training to faculty who work with individuals in prison. When I started doing my intros and whatnot, I didn’t disclose something that’s pretty important to the work I do. Sometimes I feel like my credentials and identity are enough—I have the degrees, the experience, and the knowledge to present to a crowd like this.

But as the training went on, I started to realize that some of the instructors might have hesitation about working with those on the inside. So, I told my anxiety it could take a break for a few moments.

I was scared. Scared that Ohio State—my second home for so many years—would never welcome me back. I wanted to be seen as a scholar, as an equal. But I also knew that if I wanted them to understand why their work mattered, I had to share my story—my strange journey.

The Hardest Part of the Journey

In 2018, I was falsely accused of a crime. The wheels of justice (and the strangeness of life) led me into incarceration—for three years.

I’ll probably write about it more here and there, but when I was first incarcerated, I honestly didn’t know what to do with myself. What was my purpose now? I couldn’t go back to what I was doing before. What was my next?

It’s a very strange feeling—to wake up and think, “There’s nothing for me to accomplish today.” Go back to sleep.

Eventually, I told myself I had to keep going. I had strengths. I found out there was an ABE program, and a lot of the students had disabilities. I told them I’d been a special education teacher and offered to help.

What I found? Most of the students were just coloring. Not learning anything practical. That experience—and so many others—is what sparked the path I’m on now.

Imposter Syndrome and a Tiny Violin

I was not thrown out of Ohio State. My brain said I would be, but I wasn’t. Still, I felt like an imposter.

As we were leaving campus, I was walking with my co-presenter, Dr. Montag. I got my tiny violin out and told her how sad it made me to be back at OSU. I used to dream of teaching there—but now, with a felony on my record, I figured that dream was gone.

She looked at me and said, “Do you realize you were just teaching, in that building, just now, here at Ohio State?”

Perspective. I can always count on her to hand it to me straight.

The Grant and the Work Ahead

I recently received a large grant to support this work. The Community—the organization I work for—is hosting the grant. It’s doing two major things:

One: Researching the real number of incarcerated individuals with disabilities.
As of 2017 (published in 2021), the Bureau of Justice Statistics reported that about 38% of the incarcerated population in the U.S. had a disability. I know that number is low.

If you haven’t been in prison, it’s hard to understand—but people don’t want to be perceived as weak in there. So how many undisclosed disabilities are we missing? How many undiagnosed? What about hidden disabilities? And the population is aging, too—what about them?

Two: Creating a national training manual for instructors on how to support students with disabilities in prison classrooms. This applies to ABE, GED, vocational, and college programs.

From Ohio, With Grit

I’ve been working hard on this—trying to build as many connections as possible. Thanks to the grant, I’ve been able to travel, meet new people, and collaborate on what this manual should look like. I even got an email from the UK expressing interest!

This whole journey started right here in Ohio. It’s fitting, isn’t it?

With connection, with collaboration, and with grit—we can go far. It’ll take time. But we can get there.

Thank you for reading. I’ll try to post regularly—I mean it! This isn’t the most high-tech blog, but I wanted to keep it simple, real, and mine.

Two quotes of the day, my two favorites to start us out--