In the last three days I have attended three Open University degree ceremonies. Two of these took place in the grandeur of Ely Cathedral and were, as always, joyful occasions in which we were able to share in our students’ successes. The third took place at a top security prison at a remote location in East Anglia. This ceremony might have been less ‘official’ than the others, but sense of celebration was exactly the same.
I was there because a student I tutored in 1998 and 1999 was getting his degree. What no-one had told him until today was that he has a special place in Science Faculty history too. He studied S103 in its first year and, since Home Office regulations had precluded the study of S102 in prisons, certainly in high security places like this one, we were breaking new ground. It was a challenge for all of us right from the beginning: for a Category A prisoner it is no easy matter to set up a rain gauge outside – he had to be handcuffed to a prison officer every day to check the water level. They did this religiously every day for a fortnight, despite the fact that this was the February when there was not a millimetre of precipitation! Then we got to the Holly Leaf Miner Experiment; I sat outside the prison cutting the spikes off my carefully collected holly leaves, only to discover (for some reason that I never understood) that holly leaves were not allowed even without the spikes. And finally, the Block 7 Diffraction Grating Experiment. It had been agreed that it would be O.K. for him to do this experiment, under close supervision of course, and only if someone (me) could bring the light bulb in. It took me 2 hours to get through security that day! Earth scientists will be pleased to know that my rock collection presented absolutely no difficulty.
Just as there is no such thing as a typical OU student, there is no such thing as a typical prison. Tens of OU students have studied S103 in prison since 1998 and many more have studied other Science Faculty courses. I’m sure that their experiences and those of their tutors have all been different. For example, in the high security prison I am describing, parts of the S271 (Discovering Physics) experiment kit were removed before it was allowed in, but yet at an open prison, the ST291 (Images and Information) kit was allowed – complete with its laser. I wouldn’t want to describe prison students as particularly disadvantaged but neither is it the easy ride that you might imagine. In addition to the subject specific difficulties I have described, there are more general problems with studying, such as a dog-fight in the middle of an exam. More routinely, tutorials are rather a hit and miss affair (neither the tutor not the student can be entirely sure when and even whether a tutor will get access to the prison) and they only happen very occasionally. Telephone calls may or may not be allowed. And things aren’t about to get any easier; internet access is completely disallowed in many prisons.
So OU students in prison have some experiences that are particular to their situation. But in other ways they are just like any of our students, whether they be studying at home or at work, on an oil-rig or a ship, in the UK or anywhere else in the world. They all study the course material we have written, complete the same assignments and, from an experienced tutor’s perspective, a one-to-one session with a student is much the same wherever it takes place. Tutoring in prison is one of the most challenging things that I have done in my varied OU career, but it is also amongst the most rewarding.
Sally Jordan