Clark College started a new program this spring quarter that offers pre-college math classes to inmates at the Clark County Jail.
Nearly 170 inmates have participated in classes at the jail as of mid-June, said Tyler Bieber, a student recruitment specialist in the Clark College Welcome Center. The program is so new that it does not have a name yet.
A key focus of the program is to help inmates enroll in classes on one of Clark’s campuses upon their release from the jail, college officials said. Clark staff like Bieber support the prospective students who are inmates and help walk them through the application process. They also offer guidance and counseling once they begin taking classes.
“You are overcoming some serious preconceived notions and stereotypes working with this population, but in my opinion, it seems to be one of the populations that needs the absolute most help on our end,” Bieber said. “It’s on us to help students regardless of where they’re from.”
Of the inmates who have participated in the program, Bieber said, 101 have already submitted applications to study at Clark. The students who complete the transfer from the jail to the college all come in with different levels of preparedness, Bieber said.
“There are some that need serious help in just about every area, and then there are some that come in and just take off on their own,” Bieber said. “That’s the point of one-on-one help, it’s to meet them where they’re at.”
The program was originally also going to feature English classes and a writing curriculum alongside the math, said Sara Gallow, the transitional studies division chair at Clark College. But the college decided that just sticking to math would be a better fit for the jail since it’s a more defined subject, she said.
Gallow said the program was conceived in December 2015. The months of planning between her and others at the school have resulted in a program that offers two classes at the jail, with up to 15 inmates in each.
One of the classes is made up entirely of men and the other of women, with both classes meeting two evenings a week. Kristin Amundson is the only Clark instructor who teaches at the jail, but Gallow said they are looking to hire another. Since working at a location like the jail requires both an intensive background check and an ability to work in a specialized environment, it’s been difficult to find a second teacher.
Amundson said she underwent a thorough vetting process. She had to fill out a 10-page interview packet, and then a questionnaire about her was sent to her children, her references, and even her ex-husband. Finally, someone from the jail interviewed her and asked additional questions.
“I think it’s because I have one-on-one, unsupervised contact [with the inmates],” Amundson said. “They have to make sure I don’t have anything in my background that would jeopardize the security.”
Amundson has always had an interest in teaching nontraditional students. She has worked with children who had emotional and behavioral disabilities, as well as deaf students. She also volunteered and taught women at the Inverness Jail in Portland.
“I’ve always kind of rooted for the underdog, people who need more support and more encouragement,” Amundson said. “I just try to support them in doing things they didn’t think they could do. That’s always kind of been my thing; it makes me feel good. I’ve always felt that my job was part job and part public service.”
Amundson’s classroom at the jail is furnished with one whiteboard, a handful of markers and whatever papers she chooses to bring with her. Although she’s making a push to get a computer and other technology added to the room, she’s had to adapt her teaching style to better suit her minimalist environment.
The curriculum has been designed to appeal to and interest inmates: it focuses on applicable, real-world math. Amundson said she tries to teach skills inmates can use upon release, including topics such as how to handle money, the basics of interest and how to balance a checkbook.
She also tries to work with inmates on their perspective and lifestyle. Some of her students have expressed feeling like a life of crime is unavoidable, and she works to help them change that mind set.
“Some of the job isn’t really about math,” Amundson said. “Some of the job is about helping people who have probably been raised in a mentality that they still carry through, and letting them know that they don’t have to do that, that they can do something else.”
Trey Wilkins-Luton is a journalism student at Clark College. This story was written as part of a collaboration with The Columbian called Voices From Clark College.
