Man smiling on green grass overlooking the sea

“I never know what he gets out of it. I get plenty”

Author: | 7 Jul 2025

Mentoring is a crucial part of our work. Every Longford Scholar is accompanied through their years at university by one of our trained Longford Trust mentors. These volunteers, who are all ages and come from all walks of life, generously give their time, energy and goodwill to supporting our scholars through what can be difficult transitions. Former journalist and lecturer Rob Campbell reflects on what mentoring means to him.

‘What did he do? Is he a murderer?’. That’s the first question friends asked when I became a Longford mentor.

Naturally I didn’t tell them, but I don’t blame them for asking. Crime is so fascinating that it dominates our headlines and, when we can’t get enough, we devour dramatized versions on television or read yet another thriller.

The reality of mentoring someone who’s done time, however, starts with parking that fascination, easily done because most offending seems too miserable and depressing to make a good story anyway.

What’s been more fascinating for me, since first meeting my mentee nearly three years ago, is how to understand the challenges faced by someone choosing the path of rehabilitation.

I’ve had to learn that while my mentee has done his time, paid his debt to society, and is officially no longer defined by an offence, there’s a hidden part of his sentence that continues.

Mentees might struggle with any or more of the following: finding self-discipline after years of being subject to someone else’s; handling fear of new friends discovering their past; difficulties in finding housing and work; trouble with past relationships.

Supportive in a crisis

Learning how to listen to any of that, effectively, has kept me on my toes. I learnt a lot from the Longford Trust’s training, and I’ve found the team always available for guidance, and very supportive in a crisis, but I’m no expert in any of these issues. I’m a retired lecturer, and my main experience of the justice system is from the press benches as a former journalist.

What I’ve learned, and am still learning, is that listening well depends on understanding your relationship with your mentee. It’s an odd one because you’re not their friend, parent, sibling, colleague, probation officer, social worker, lecturer, doctor, or grant-giver. You have no authority or leverage, and little to offer beyond a listening ear.

Listening ear

So I just listen, actively, to his ideas, plans, and worries, and it sounds serious but we have some laughs. Like when he couldn’t focus on reading in his room, with all the distractions of housemates and screens, and I asked him when reading was easier. The answer was in a cell, so he booked himself a silent study pod in the library and I felt like I’d sent him back inside. We’ve had a lot of laughs, mostly on FaceTime but also walking on the beach near his university, watching the waves, stopping for a pizza.

I may never know what he gets out of our meetings but I get plenty. There’s potentially the pride of helping him stay out of prison (and saving us all the cost) but I’ll never know. So it’s the other things that count: meeting someone outside of my usual cosy circles, admiring someone winning against the odds, and learning and re-learning the importance of listening.’

We have more than 80 volunteer mentors at present – either matched or about to be matched with scholars. Our sincere thanks to them for their commitment. Interested in becoming a mentor to someone in or leaving prison? Contact Veena at mentors@longfordtrust.org and watch our video about the value and impact of the mentoring relationship.

The barriers and the benefits of starting a degree in prison

Author: | 29 Sep 2024

Our new Longford Scholar Daniel Bracher, recently released from prison and completing his degree this academic year, reflects on what made him want to study, the challenges he faced, and why it has transformed his future. He urges others to give it a go!

Walking out of court and into custody is an experience that leaves an indelible mark. For many, it’s the start of a bleak chapter filled with negativity from all sides. For others, it can be a downward spiral, where circumstances continue to deteriorate.

I count myself as one of the fortunate few. Despite the challenges of custodial sentences, I was presented in prison with an opportunity to better myself and my prospects, and to transform the way I spent my time there. The cornerstone of that opportunity was education—more specifically, my decision to pursue a degree through The Open University.

At first, the decision to study was motivated by a simple desire to avoid wasting time. Prison offers little more than time, and I didn’t want to let it slip by without doing something productive. However, what started as a practical choice to fill the hours behind locked doors soon became a vital mental and emotional lifeline. Studying gave me a focus, a goal, and an incredibly effective way to distract myself from the often-harsh realities of life inside.

 What It Takes to Study Behind Bars

Studying in prison is far from straightforward. For one thing, there is no access to the internet. In an age when information is at everyone’s fingertips, trying to complete a degree without it feels like running a marathon in the dark. Library resources were scarce, and what little material was available was outdated. On top of that, navigating the interpersonal minefield that is our prison system presented its own challenges. It wasn’t uncommon to encounter delays in receiving course materials, difficulties in communicating with the university, and issues with organising my student loans.

There were also more subtle barriers. The prison environment isn’t exactly conducive to study, with frequent interruptions, limited quiet space and the overall atmosphere of confinement. Moreover, the inhumane COVID-19 lockdown measures within prisons meant that any chance to form study groups or connect meaningfully with fellow inmates who were students too was next to impossible. While I was fortunate enough to bond with a few others, the opportunities to fully collaborate or support each other were minimal.

Problem-Solving and Perseverance

Navigating these obstacles required ingenuity and perseverance. Every practical problem—from gaining access to essential resources to figuring out how to contact my university for support—was compounded by a system that often seemed indifferent, if not outright obstructive. I quickly learned that success wouldn’t come easy. There were times when it felt like the odds were stacked against me, and I had to get creative to find solutions.

Beyond the practical, there were also the political challenges within the prison system. Not every staff member was willing to support educational pursuits. In fact, finding staff who were both willing and able to help was rare. Many times, I had to advocate for myself, push through red tape, and take the initiative to overcome barriers that could have easily derailed my studies, and for many does. Without resilience and determination, I’m confident that my final degree classification would have been much lower.

Getting Help

Not all prison staff fit the negative description above. There is a select few who go above and beyond, offering invaluable support to inmates who want to better themselves. These individuals are rare gems, and they can make all the difference. However, the prison system is often a lottery—you don’t get to choose your establishment or the staff within it. For those lucky enough to encounter staff who genuinely care, the impact can be sentence-altering.

My own experience made me keen to share what I learned with fellow inmates. Every chance I got, I encouraged others to consider studying or pursuing something productive during their sentences. I wanted them to benefit from the hard-earned lessons I had learned, so they could avoid some of the pitfalls and obstacles that I faced.

How It Has Changed Me

Looking back, I realise that my decision to pursue education in prison was about much more than simply passing the time. It was about taking control of my future in a situation where so much fell out of my hands. Completing my degree now I am out will be a personal achievement that gives me a sense of purpose, structure, and hope. It has already showed me that in the worst of circumstances, opportunities for growth and improvement can still exist.

For others in similar situations, the road may not be easy, but education can be a powerful tool for transformation. It offers not just the possibility of a better future but a way to navigate the challenges of the present.

 If you are a Longford Scholar, past or present, and would like to write a blog for us, contact Clare Lewis