Category: scholars

Evidence and compassion: what is needed in our post-truth era

Author: | 13 Oct 2025

Listening to Robert Jenrick giving his speech to the Conservative Party Conference as Shadow Justice Secretary and Lord Chancellor, our law scholar Chris Walters was alarmed by how many of our leaders are currently going down the road of preferring feelings to facts.

I clutched my book in one hand and my prison ID in the other as I was escorted to the HMP Wandsworth book club on an evening in 2018. The book was Post-Truth by Lee McIntyre. It’s about the increasing trend of people believing their feelings rather than the evidence. I was reminded of it while listening to Robert Jenrick’s recent address to his party’s annual conference. It’s that clear some people have continued on that downward slope, seemingly abandoning all reason.

Jenrick delivered a speech which was equal parts cringeworthy comedy routine and dystopian nightmare. No, it isn’t accurate to say (as he did) that an Albanian man avoided deportation from this country because his child doesn’t like Albanian chicken nuggets. The case in question is complex, and concerns the welfare of a child who may have additional needs. The child’s dietary preferences were just one aspect and the judge set aside the deportation so more information could be gathered. Moreover, the decision was subsequently overturned by the Upper Tribunal, which makes Jenrick’s point all the more baseless.

What really goes on in an asylum hearing

I’ve been to an asylum hearing. They are unfairly adversarial. Despite what the media would have us believe, succeeding in an asylum claim is a difficult process. Most people seeking asylum receive less than £50 a week and basic accommodation, while trying to recover from traumatic experiences, and build a strong legal case.

The representative of the Crown, the Home Office Presenting Officer (HOPO), is often not a qualified solicitor and, while they are subject to an internal code of conduct, they are not held to the same high professional standards as solicitors.  Anthropologist John Campbell writes: ‘Indeed HOPOs are not bound by a professional code of conduct which means that, regardless of what is stated in Home Office professional standards guidelines, they are not legally required to assist the court to achieve a fair decision.’

HOPOs have often been criticised for being unnecessarily adversarial. This inequality of arms, coupled with the hostile environment introduced by Theresa May, means the demonisation of asylum seekers is set above facts, evidence, and compassion.

The vital principle of an independent judiciary

Jenrick also enlisted the help of a prop wig and zero evidence to lambast ‘activist judges’. Patricia Thom, President of the Law Society of Scotland, called his words ‘dangerous and unacceptable’, going on to say: ‘It is notable that Mr Jenrick has provided no legal basis for questioning the validity of judicial decisions with which he does not agree.’

As a qualified solicitor himself, you would expect Robert Jenrick to have more respect for evidence and the independence of the judiciary. Given his words, I don’t imagine he would pass the class I study about ‘Professional Skills and Responsibility’.

His comments about ‘two-tier justice’ were more than misleading. They are unconstitutional. Although we don’t have a single written piece of paper that makes up our constitution, the UK does have one spread across statute, common law, conventions, and tradition. One of the cornerstone conventions of our constitution is that ministers must not criticise the individual decisions of judges. This is part of the wider separation of powers; it helps ensure no branch of government wields too much power.

If you want to see the result of too much executive power, take a glance across the pond to Donald Trump’s America: masked and unidentified law enforcement agents snatching people as they got about their business; ‘Alligator Alcatraz’, where hundreds of people have gone missing; and soldiers deployed to the streets against civilians. It’s a campaign driven by misinformation and denigration of the rule of law; the courts can’t even keep up. Is this the brand of authoritarianism that Jenrick, Farage, and their ilk would have here? We must reject it with every ounce of our being.

What ‘traditional values’ truly means

I wish that, in the midst of this, we could look to Labour for support but, if anything, they seem to be courting these abhorrent views. Last month they suspended refugee family-reunion applications. That means that people who have already had their asylum claim accepted cannot be reunited with their wives, husbands or children. Shabana Mahmood, the Home Secretary, has promised to ramp up deportations, which plays right into this false narrative of immigrants being the enemy.

Any flag-waving Christian patriots would do well to remember that Jesus was a refugee. If they open the Bible, they will find any number of passages teaching compassion for asylum seekers, refugees, and immigrants. My favourite is Matthew 25:36-40: ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. […] Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did to me.’

If we genuinely want a return to our traditional values, how about the values of compassion and kindness? We stand on the precipice of a cliff. Below is hate, authoritarianism, and lies which deserve our vigorous opposition.

It’s time to reject that path. Our country’s future should be driven by law and policy which is evidence-led and compassionate, and which respects the independence of the judiciary.

Chris is a Longford Scholar studying the Diploma in Professional Legal Practice at the University of Edinburgh. He is also the Longford Trust’s fundraising manager and a trustee at the Human Rights Consortium Scotland.

 

 

 

Empty cell with sunlight shining through the window

‘The prison cell is the silent classroom of the self’

Author: | 30 Sep 2025

Before embracing education, there must be first a self-education, argues our 2025 Scholar Fedor Bryant-Dantès, studying for a BA in creative writing. Reflecting on his time in a cell, he writes of this rehabilitation process as ‘the illumination of a newly-seen self’

My experience, and similarly, that of many around me, is that each prison cell is something of a classroom. It can be the most impactful of learning environments. The prison cell is the silent classroom of the self, and it is both gratis and boundless. The only tuition fee has been my willingness to become self-aware, reflective and above all else, vulnerably honest. In a cell, my education is not delivered by rushed and tired tutors, or on pages poorly photocopied from confusing tomes, but by my ceaseless and inescapable encounters with the self; my regrets, cruelties, insecurities and fragile hopes.

So, what does it mean to experience education of the self, when the only external stimulus is isolation? Oscar Wilde, writing from Reading Gaol, understood this interrogation with more clarity, wit and verve than I could ever wish to muster. In De Profundis he declared: ‘You know what my art was to me, the great primal note by which I had revealed, first myself to myself, and then myself to the world.’ He maintained that his art was a means of understanding himself and then, allowing the world to understand him. It’s a lesson, both poetic and prophetic.

You see, in a prison cell, art is not only in painting or poetry: it is in the arduous chiselling away of false identities, the sculpting and moulding of a sincere authenticity from the raw stone of solitude. Once, I stood before that flinty surface – my soul – and began to see the outline of who I truly am.

‘Learning about oneself can feel like a revolution’

Learning about oneself can feel like a revolution more radical than any taught in academia. It is almost certainly more effective. Here, I’m not rewarded with superficially pleasing and quickly forgotten grades. Here, there are no diplomas to mount on a wall. I am both pupil and master and the day arranges itself in perpetual questions. Why did I act in anger? Why do I need them to think I’m strong? Why am I fearful of compassion? What stories have I told myself so often that I now believe them as gospel?

Long and difficult nights have been my greatest mentors. In those silent oppressive hours, my memory has unspooled like an old film reel: childhood failures, betrayals, moments of both mercy and malice. I have become adept at tracing the patterns, of mapping a terrain of my own making.

But this has not been, for me, an exercise in self-flagellation, nor a mournful pursuit for pity. Rather, it has been the forging of my resilience. Each truth unearthed and accepted is a spark. Every confession whispered to those sweating walls is a kindling. And when the gift of morning light finally filters through the narrow window, it is not simply a metaphor for new beginnings, but the illumination of a newly-seen self.

‘Our self-education is a work without precedent’

What I’ve learned to appreciate here is the undeniable art in this metamorphosis. The prisoner reduced to a barest truth is both canvas and painter. Each new brushstroke of insight, each shade of remorse or resolve, layers and builds a portrait more vibrant than any hung in galleries. Our self-education is a work without precedent – as unique and recognisable as a Modigliani or Rembrandt.

Education is rehabilitation, but education of the self is necessary, first and without equivocation. Self-education is not so much the filling of an empty vessel, but the stripping away of all that would hinder a safe departure. Self-education is an apprenticeship in honesty, and it is necessarily harsh and exacting – but ultimately liberating. For the prisoner, eventually, what greater freedom can be described than to confront one’s soul and unflinchingly to say: ‘That is who I was. This is who I will be.’

And at the conclusion of this transformation, when the outside world considers me worthy of re-acceptance, I will experience not a release but a graduation. I, who once recoiled at the perpetual closing of gates, will smile at the sound this last time. I’ll step forward having learned in that silent classroom what no syllabus could teach: that the most beneficial education is simply of the self. It is the one that turns inward and challenges self-confrontation. Bravery and honesty can help me to emerge from my current deprivation not diminished, but transcendent.

Want to know more about Longford Scholarships, or know someone who might? Contact Clare.

Painting of a red kite bird

‘I felt something I hadn’t felt in so long: real hope’

Author: | 16 Sep 2025

As we welcome 38 new Longford Scholars this month, one of their number, Beatrice Auty, tells and illustrates her story of coming across the Longford Trust. It was the moment a door opened on finding purpose through education.

Noted in my small prison calendar, given to me by the chaplaincy and which became my makeshift diary, is an entry from August 15th, 2023: ‘The Longford Trust Scholarship Event – BRILLIANT.’ On that day, I was escorted off the house block at HMP Bronzefield and taken to the library. It felt like an exciting escape from the mundane daily cycle of cleaning the wing just to earn a few hours out of my cell before lockdown resumed.

I had been looking forward to this meeting, having heard about the work of the Longford Trust. I sat in the library with one other woman, listening to Clare and Sara from the Trust, and felt something I hadn’t felt in so long after living in fear and limbo since my arrest in 2021: hope, real hope. I walked back to my cell with a renewed sense of purpose, one I knew deep down, but had left behind many years ago. I remembered that I was able to be an academic, and I was going to become a student – no longer defined by A1603EZ. That shift in identity was already liberating.

‘I sat in my cell handwriting assignments’

I decided to use my sentence as a time to study. Anything to take my mind off the grim surroundings of my cell felt hugely welcome. A few months later, after resolving some initial funding issues, I enrolled in an Open University Access Course in Psychology and Social Science. I sat in my cell handwriting assignments, using the course as a countdown, not only to my release, but to something more meaningful. It gave me structure, escape, and pride. When I received 72% on my first assignment and 96% in December, I was overjoyed. I felt a deep sense of achievement and a renewed desire to keep learning.

That kind of affirmation meant a great deal to me. I had dropped out of college without completing my A-Levels. Later, I got into law school via an entry exam but had dropped out again due to an ongoing legal case with a former employer. Though I had the potential, I had lost confidence in my ability and didn’t believe I belonged in education. Prison gave me the time and an unexpected second chance that I decided to take.

‘That moment was transformative’

Fast forward to my release: I completed the Access course with distinction. That gave me the UCAS points to enrol in a Criminology degree at the University of Westminster. After my first year, I was awarded a Longford Trust Scholarship. That moment was transformative. To have support throughout my degree, a mentor, and help finding work all feels profound. In a world that stigmatises ex-offenders, the Longford Trust provides encouragement, belief, and hope.

Since then, I’ve spoken to many people still in prison or recently released who are thinking about studying. Some have little or no prior education. I tell them: Access modules and short courses are stepping stones, and you don’t need perfect grades. What matters is desire. If you’ve found that in a prison cell, you’re already on your way. You deserve support, and the support is out there.

‘Studying gave me a new sense of self-worth and confidence’

Choosing to study while in prison takes resilience and determination. It’s undeniably harder under those constraints with limited resources, restricted time, and a harsh environment, but it is so worth it. Studying gave me a new sense of self-worth and confidence I didn’t even know I had. It enabled me to focus on something outside of myself and find joy in learning again.

I still remember the moment I walked into the library at my Open prison, printed study materials in hand, and told the officers I needed time away from my work in the gardens because I had assignments due. That moment meant more to me than a grade ever could. It gave me something bigger – it gave me identity, dignity, purpose, and a passion to keep going.

I will always be grateful to the Longford Trust for their unwavering support and encouragement. To anyone thinking about studying again: just go for it, and know you are capable.

Image: Beatrice drew this red kite illustration. She said: These birds became a powerful symbol of freedom for me during my time in prison. They would often circle above the yard, a constant reminder of the beauty that still exists in the world – the birds, the sky, and so much more.’

If you would like to know more about Longford Scholarships or our Frank Awards for serving prisoners studying with the OU, or if you know someone who might, do contact Clare or Judith.

Man with a beard in a library being interviewed on TV news

Poet Will talks about his new book on ITV News

Author: | 5 Sep 2025

Longford Scholar Will Pendray has appeared on ITV Meridian News, being interviewed about the publication of his new poetry book, Overgrown.

Will graduated with an MA in Creative Writing with Distinction from the University of Brighton in 2024.

He told the ITV reporter how the poetry in Overgrown came from the many notes he kept while in prison.

Click here to watch the full interview.

The book is described as ‘a powerful poetry collection… written through years of incarceration and personal transformation. Blending spoken word, prison poetry, and reflections on trauma and mental health, this debut collection explores how we grow, even when the world tries to bury us.

‘These are poems of memory and blood, dirt and rain, love and survival. From the weight of a prison cell to the fragile joy of fatherhood, Overgrown is a raw and redemptive journey through the cracks and quiet triumphs of a life rebuilt.’

Read the blog Will wrote for us in February 2025 – They say education is freedom. I learned that while I was locked up

Overgrown is available to buy on Amazon.Book cover

Man wearing a graduation gown with a green hood and holding a scroll

‘Not how high we climb, but where we have climbed from’

Author: | 2 Sep 2025

Our Scholar Andrew put drugs and crime behind him and chose education. He doubted his ability to do it many times but this summer graduated with a degree in psychology. If he can do it, he writes, so can you.

After a great deal of hard work, unwavering determination, and resilience, I have finally earned a bachelor’s degree in social psychology. Following yet another release from prison, I realised I was done with committing crime and the drug-addicted lifestyle it entailed.

I was no good at it anyway, as I was always getting caught. Kicking up dust in HMP Brick City was no longer where I wanted to be.  I made the decision to re-educate myself but wasn’t sure how. So, I enrolled in night school, dedicating two years to acquiring the GCSEs needed to enrol in college.

After that, I spent a year completing an access course at Norwich City College, which led me into three years of studying psychology at the University of East Anglia. Having completed my degree with a 2:1, I am now confident that with hard work, commitment and perseverance, there is nothing I cannot achieve.

Plagued by self-doubt

Throughout my journey, I experienced many highs and lows in what I can only describe as an emotional rollercoaster. At times, it felt like I was holding on by the tips of my fingers, but I refused to give up. On so many occasions, I doubted myself, wondering if I really belonged in a university setting or if pursuing a degree was even the right path for me.

Yet something inside me always made me get out of bed and keep showing up. I once said in jest to the professor, ‘my motivation far exceeds my intelligence’, not realising then how true that statement really was. Although many assignments were difficult, I was able to find the information I needed or connect with the right person who could help me complete the tasks at hand.  I often reminded myself, ‘I have not come this far just to come this far’. It always seemed to spur me on in the right direction.

Sharing my experience

During my time at the UEA, I made some wonderful friendships that have shown me another side of life. Not only have I been supported through trials and tribulations, but I have also supported my friends with the wealth of experience that comes with being a mature student. There is nothing I enjoy more than sharing my experience in order to help others better their lives. My journey has also inspired my children, on many levels. My 19-year-old daughter, who left school at an early age, is now motivated to return and pursue her education with university her goal.

A living example

Now I have a degree, I plan to work within the criminal justice system, supporting people released from prison. I know the difficulties in re-entering the community, especially if you have no family or friends to support you. It is a vulnerable time, navigating a way through hostels, probation offices, and benefits agencies. The temptation is there to resort back to old behaviour patterns.

Instead I want now to be a living example that it is possible to change, and not only that, but to build a meaningful life worth staying out of prison for. I am not a fan of looking back with remorse and regret but rather looking forward and making positive changes in day-to-day life. I like the quote that says, ‘For we are not judged by the height to which we climb, but rather the depth from which we climbed.’

Charity and goodwill

A big thank you to the Longford Trust for believing in me. The kind words from Clare, Peter and the team, and the high level of support and encouragement I received, were unparalleled. I am forever grateful to you guys, and I hope that in the future, I will be able to mentor and support scholars with the same charity and goodwill shown to me.  I am a proud Longford scholar and I hold my head high as a Longford Trust graduate.

If you are inspired by Andrew’s story to give university education a go, or know someone who could be, contact Clare at the Longford Trust; clare@longfordtrust.org 

Two small brown dogs walking on leads in a park

Could do better – and I did!

Author: | 19 Aug 2025

School can be a difficult experience for many people. Our Ambassador Lisa reflects on her schooldays, poor career guidance and how she found a way to focus on what she loves. As she says, if you need a degree, ‘reach for the moon’.

Could do better… sound familiar? My school reports were always full of ‘could do better’ remarks. A useless comment, leaving me wondering just how the hell I was supposed to do better! If I could do better, I would have done better.

School for me was horrible and I really did not want to be there, at all. The only subject I enjoyed was English as you got to read books and I’ve always been quite the bookworm. The rest, though, seemed pointless. Remember trigonometry? If you are standing in a boat and looking up at a 250-metre cliff, what is the angle you are looking up at? If I was ever in a boat looking up at a cliff, I definitely wouldn’t be worrying about the angle. I’d more likely be frantically waving my arms around and screaming for help.

I thought education wasn’t for me

I remember asking the teacher, ‘why do I need to learn this?’ Her answer: ‘It’s in the curriculum’. So, I asked, ‘what job would I need trigonometry for?’ only to be told, ‘stop messing around and get on with your work’.

I despised hockey and gym. Loathed computer science. Couldn’t understand physics… I think you get the picture. I also had a tendency to mess around in class – setting the gas taps in the physics lab alight (without a Bunsen burner attached) or liberating the frogs from the biology lab, or hiding in the suspended ceiling – only to come crashing down in the middle of the lesson.

I left school after my GCSEs, only scraping passes. The careers advisor, back in those days, was useless. When asked what I enjoyed doing, I replied, ‘I love training and being with my dog’. She promptly stated that I ‘couldn’t play with dogs as a job’ and told me to be either a nurse (no way, I hate the sight of blood), a teacher (I hate school!) or work in a bank but I needed to go and do an OND in Business and Finance.

So, off to college I went, obtaining a Merit for my efforts. At the urging of my family, I continued on to do an HND in Business and Finance, this time a Distinction. College life suited me far better than school, with better learning support and continuous assessments through assignments, rather than focusing on exams.

What next after prison?

During my time in prison, I started thinking about what to do upon release, seeing as I couldn’t and didn’t want to return to the job I had. While working full-time as a single mum, I somehow found time to follow my childhood dream and became a qualified dog trainer. On reflecting, I realised how happy I was during moments of teaching at dog training classes. I decided to build on this.

It was, after all, what I should have done all those years after my GCSEs. As a dog trainer, I remembered how people would ask me questions that crossed from training into the realm of dog behaviour. I was also fascinated by the head trainer who ran courses for reactive dogs with real tangible results.

Now I have just passed the second year of my degree in Animal Behaviour and Welfare with the support of the Longford Trust. I am aiming to become a Clinical Animal Behaviourist, helping owners with naughty pets. I’m doing really well, too, with grades that are higher than anything I ever gained in school. The support I’ve received as a mature student going back into learning has been incredible, with tutors on hand to offer academic guidance on how to get to grips with new technologies to help you learn.

The Longford mentoring has been invaluable to me. My mentor Andrew has been able to give me advice and guidance on tackling everything from university study to setting up my business and scaling it to fit in with my studies. I feel that having a mentor means I am accountable to someone which has helped to keep me focused and reaching my goals.

The takeaway from my story is this… if you enjoy something, then the learning becomes easy and enjoyable. So have a think about what you enjoy, and then look what qualifications you need. If you need a degree, then reach for the moon and, even if you fall short, you’ll end up among the stars.

Want to study for a degree but need some financial and mentoring support after leaving prison? Take a look at our Scholarships and Awards page.

Tall buildings the City of London with a blue sky behind

Finding a career – hard work but not impossible

Author: | 5 Aug 2025

A degree is one step on the road to a career. Our scholar AJ writes about the confidence, sense of purpose, determination and sheer hard work required to land a dream job in finance.

I began my higher education journey with the Open University. It offered flexibility and a chance to rebuild, a foundation I deeply valued. With the unwavering support of the Longford Trust and my mentor, I became truly invested in learning. It wasn’t just about education anymore. It gave me direction and purpose. I explored further opportunities through projects like Open Book at Goldsmiths, University of London. That gave me the confidence to make the move to a ‘bricks-and-mortar’ university, a turning point that allowed me to fully immerse myself in student life.

When I was able to go from prison to a campus university on day release, I wasn’t just learning about my chosen subject anymore. I was gaining a broader understanding of business culture and how to navigate the world beyond university and prison walls.

Personal growth

That shift sparked something bigger: personal growth. I became more confident, more focused, and more driven. I threw myself into building my future – refining my CV, crafting a strong cover-letter, polishing my LinkedIn profile, and engaging in as many extra-curricular activities as possible. But I knew that wouldn’t be enough on its own.

Because of prison, I faced additional challenges when applying for internships. So, I tapped into every support network I could. I searched for employers and opportunities that understood the value of unconventional routes and those of us returning to education from different starting points. These were the spaces where I found the most success.

I didn’t stop there. I continually revised my CV and LinkedIn, asking for feedback from lecturers and careers advisors. I quickly realised that many sectors, especially finance, are incredibly competitive. Most applicants had no CV gaps, more relevant experience than me, more resource access and time to prepare. That pushed me to think creatively.

Every step of the way

I began reaching out within the prison service, asking the employment team to contact their networks to help me find or even negotiate relevant placements, even if they weren’t directly in my chosen industry. I focused on building transferable skills: business acumen; professional communication; and technical knowledge. I broadened my search to alternative industries with finance teams. I also secured a mentorship with Generation Success, who provided access to internships tailored for people like me. I explored programmes linked to the prison service, such as those run by DHL and Thames Water, and contacted organisations specifically designed to support individuals with similar backgrounds.

Every step of the way, I’ve had to be self-directed. Nothing was handed to me. I had to go out and find it – often in spaces that weren’t built to support this kind of journey. Let’s be honest: prison isn’t designed to help people find career-relevant internships. But I knew early on that being proactive was my only route forward.

You earn your success

Now, I’m in the second week of my first internship – in financial technology, at a firm in the City. Just recently, I had a conversation with the Head of Finance at another location to discuss the possibility of a placement year in corporate finance. These opportunities didn’t fall into my lap. If, like me, you are likely to face obstacles, then going out and creating opportunity is the way forward. They do exist – you just have to work hard and look harder.

Today, I’m proud to say I have three mentors: one from the Longford Trust, one from Generation Success, and one from my current internship. I’m learning the value of being self-driven, the power of mentorship, and the importance of building relationships.

To anyone else navigating an unconventional route: stay focused. Be patient. Don’t let rejection or setbacks knock you off course. The path might be different. It might be harder. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I’m confident I’ll achieve my goals, and I know I’ll learn so much along the way. And for me, that’s what really matters.

AJ has now secured a public sector corporate finance internship.

If you, or your employer, can offer internships or work experience, please do contact Roxanne, our Employability Manager, at employ@longfordtrust.org

Woman smiling at the camera, in a park

A scholar’s rocky road to a fulfilling career

Author: | 22 Jul 2025

Imogen Andrews made a big impact on the audience when she spoke from the stage at the Longford Lecture in 2013 about her love for geology, her degree subject. ‘It rocks’, she said. Later, though, she dropped out of her degree but the support she experienced as a Longford Scholar, she now writes, has contributed to where she has got to in her career, running her own successful fundraising consultancy.

Life doesn’t always follow a planned route. My university journey, made possible by a Longford Trust scholarship, was unexpectedly cut short by a family breakdown that led to homelessness. Suddenly, the academic path I was on vanished. The future I’d imagined felt distant.

However, even amidst this crisis, support arrived from unexpected corners. The immediate crisis of homelessness was addressed by a dedicated charity that stepped in decisively, providing the crucial first month’s rent that enabled me to secure a place to live. Another organisation then provided essential supplies. These were distinct acts of kindness, each playing a vital role in my ability to rebuild.

Working in a gold mine

Before the family breakdown disrupted my studies, the Longford Trust had provided me with extra help to deal with the complex maths that was part of the geology course, via Margaret, an advanced maths teacher who was one of their volunteers.  Then, through my mentor, Luke, I was offered an extraordinary opportunity: work experience with his company in Africa on a gold mine.

This experience was truly transformative. Beyond the fascinating geology, a real-world immersion in the earth’s composition, I learned invaluable lessons about different cultures and myself. It undoubtedly gave me a unique perspective and a real-world edge. My education took an unexpected turn when I discovered first-hand the impressive (and slightly alarming) defensive spray of certain local beetles – a practical lesson in organic chemistry that university hadn’t prepared me for.

But survival then took precedence when I had to leave university. I grabbed the first job available: door-to-door fundraising. It wasn’t what I expected, going house-to-house, talking to strangers. It was a challenging start. But something clicked.

Sharing the support I had received

Connecting with people about a cause, inspiring them to help, felt meaningful. It was a way to give back, channelling the support I had received into benefiting others. I found my stride, moving into other areas of fundraising. I began to excel, consistently surpassing targets and breaking fundraising records.

My connection with the Longford Trust remained a source of incredible moments, both during and after my formal studies, with the annual lectures being a consistent high point. One year, after I had spoken on stage about the scholarship’s impact, I had the truly surreal and awesome experience of Vivienne Westwood calling me magnificent. It was a lifetime highlight, a moment of pure validation from someone so iconic.

Eventually, the skills and experience I gained in fundraising led me to a new ambition. I enjoyed the energy, the challenge, the direct link between my work and positive change. The skills I was developing – communication, resilience, empathy – felt incredibly valuable.

Where life can take you

Five years on, I lead my own fundraising and consulting agency. It’s a reality I couldn’t have envisioned, underscoring how initial opportunities can shape unexpected successes. The Longford Trust’s belief in me, and the experience in Africa, remain invaluable, even though my path diverged from academia. Overcoming homelessness and family breakdown, thanks to crucial early support, revealed an unforeseen strength in fundraising, which has become both my career and a source of genuine purpose. My journey is a testament to how life’s detours can lead to surprisingly fulfilling destinations.

A good news story for prison education – and what it could be…

Author: | 9 Jun 2025

With prison education under strain, our Ambassador, journalist David Shipley, finds a new report ‘incredibly encouraging’ on the effectiveness of the in-cell education channel Way2Learn, part of WayOut TV that operates in half of all prisons

Prison education is a strange beast. Everyone seems to recognise how important it is, with research by the Ministry of Justice in 2018 having found that ‘people who had participated in education whilst in prisons were significantly less likely to reoffend within 12 months of release’. Part of this may be because people who leave prison with good literacy and numeracy are more likely to find, and keep a job after release. We know, of course, that being in work is one of the most significant factors reducing someone’s likelihood of reoffending. So the Ministry of Justice, and the Prison Service, want education in prisons to be widely-available and of good quality.

Unfortunately it often falls short. Ofsted, the education standards’ body responsible for inspecting education in prisons and young offenders institutions, ‘have long been concerned about the standards of education in our prisons’.

Partly, this is due to limited budgets and the resultant challenges around hiring good teachers to work in prisons. But the environment itself is a barrier to education. Our jails are becoming less safe, with assaults up 14 per cent in the last annual figures, and serious assaults up 13 per cent. Dangerous, crowded prisons make learning hard. If a prisoner is concerned about their physical safety, they may find it almost impossible to concentrate in a lesson. Those who are worried about their safety travelling from cell to classroom may decide to stay ‘banged-up’ and avoid the risk of education entirely.

Barrier of embarrassment and shame

Another barrier to education can be shame. Around two-thirds of prisoners having literacy skills below that expected of an 11-year-old, and many dropped-out or were excluded from the education system. As a result, and unsurprisingly, they find the thought of sitting in a classroom and having their lack of education made public embarrassing and shameful. This fear alone can deter many prisoners from participating in education.

In order to address these barriers, WayOutTV created Way2Learn a decade ago. This service offers 18 scheduled courses, covering everything from music and creative writing to food hygiene and construction. There are also courses on broader skills, like goal-setting and running a business. Prisoners participate by watching the course segments and then completing and submitting worksheets to Way2Learn, where they are marked. Results got towards qualifications awarded by UWE.

‘An avenue of learning’

Now academics from UWE have conducted an impact evaluation of Way2Learn. What they’ve found is incredibly encouraging. Prison staff, prison governors and former Way2Learn students all have very positive views on the service. Way2Learn gives prisoners a sense of purpose, improving their mental health, while also developing useful skills. It also provides ‘an avenue of learning for…men who struggle to engage with more mainstream or traditional learning’.

The report  is a fascinating and encouraging document. After reading it I reflected that Way2Learn shows what the future of much prison education could be. The Prison Service is determined to increase the use of technology in our jails. More and more prisons are rolling-out in-cell ‘laptops’, which inmates can use to contact staff, email friends and family and perform prison ‘life-admin’ tasks (but not go on the internet).

Way2Learn could and should be offered on these systems, allowing prisoners to study a wide range of subjects in their cells, and removing the need for paper forms. I do hope that Prisons’ Minister James Timpson reads this evaluation . It’s clear that the prison service could do much more by working constructively with Way2Learn.

Read our scholars’ stories

What funding is available for people with convictions or in prison to study for a degree? See our Scholarships page.

A green forces helmet and a black mortar board

Facing up to identity issues

Author: | 27 May 2025

Scholar Isaac Rasmussen is proud to have been a Royal Marine. But what happens when you’re not anymore? He reflects on belonging, loss and forging a new identity.

In my first blog for The Longford Trust, I touched on identity. I mentioned how identity was a major factor in how difficult I found transitioning from military to civilian life, which subsequently contributed to me falling foul of the law. I posted about that blog on social media and it sparked some interesting conversation between my friends and former Royal Marine colleagues.

I am proud to be able to call myself a Bootneck (Royal Marine) but I do not think of myself as the most ‘corps pissed’ as we would describe a person whose blood runs with the corps pattern colours, (blue, yellow, green and red, if you are interested). Nevertheless, once I had left the corps, the contrast of military and civilian worlds set in, and I suddenly find myself in a crisis of identity. With hindsight, I should have seen it coming but, as I was leaving the Royal Marines with a particularly bad taste in my mouth, why would I be bothered about an identity I no longer ‘cared’ for?

Identity crisis

Being in the military is a defining identity. The Royal Marines provided me with the opportunity to sink my teeth into something that would scratch an innate need to test myself, take risks. I would say lean into it, if you must. Walk it, talk it, breathe it, but keep something for yourself, something defining outside of the world you have become one with. Be proud but be prepared to move on. Find a replacement for the itch. It doesn’t have to be like for like: risk is risk, the stakes don’t have to always to be as high, or dangerous.

Veterans give a chunk of their lives to their country, sometimes most of their adult lives. When you leave, the wages stop but the brotherhood that you have become part of also fades. Not because it is not strong, more that it is just not practical to keep up that level of camaraderie after you leave. When the noise falls away and the basic responsibilities of life begin, you are left with less like-minded people to rely upon, and a level of pride that will not allow you to ask for help.

Taking on a new identity

I struggled, and I’m not the only one. Many veterans have been left, it seems, with PTSD, a high suicide rate, alcoholism and growing numbers within the prison system.  Yes, it’s about money, finding work but it’s also about identity. Becoming a career criminal could become your identity.

So who am I now? I’m a student, doing a degree, with ambition, a new story to tell. I often feel out of place in my new town, with new goals and new environments. However, academia and the world of journalism and media have welcomed me and my experiences with open arms – constantly pushing against all my doubts and reminding me that my differences, my experiences, in many ways, give me an upper hand.

Filling the void

The thrill now is in meeting deadlines at university, achieving a goal at work, making friends, public speaking, and exploring my country. This is what I intend to focus on, to fill the void after leaving life in the military, to help myself guard against making damaging decisions.

The challenges I have faced since leaving prison have been difficult – and why should they not be?  Success is born and bred in facing difficulties and finding the right direction on the compass of life. It is where those like me, with fire in their belly, find ourselves and our identity.

Read Isaac’s previous blog.