Tag: degree

A glass building on the campus of the University of Essex

Imposter syndrome? Not a chance. I deserve to be here too

Author: | 1 Dec 2025

Our scholar Robert reflects on stepping into his new life as ‘a student by day and a prisoner by night’. As he says, ‘the process is slow, flawed, and full of setbacks, but education is the key, the only key many prisoners ever get to use.’ 

For nine months after being arrested and held on remand in prison, I would be knocking on the education manager’s door, eager to start a course, only to be told nothing can happen until I am sentenced. So, on the day the judge handed down my sentence, my new life finally began. My mind wasn’t only on how my wife and family would take the news, but also on sending the application to the Prisoners’ Education Trust for an Access Module with the Open University. Five years later, I am writing this blog from the common room at the University of Essex.

Starting university from an Open prison, as I am, is a messy and uncertain experience. I was  determined to complete my criminology degree, which I started in prison, by studying crime on the other side of the prison’s walls. But nothing about the transition was smooth: convincing staff; sorting paperwork. Simply getting access to my emails became a daily chore. It took a lot just to keep moving forward.

Prison to campus

Stepping onto campus, leaving behind years of locked doors and jangling keys, I entered a reception hall buzzing with activity. I was greeted with balloons, posters of smiling students, gifts I might one day use, and an ID card that had me smiling. It was a far cry from the receptions of old, where a grey tracksuit and a cold jacket potato awaited and the ID card bore the face of a broken man.

Entering the lecture hall for the first time was a strange and unsettling experience. I was  noticeably older than most other students, and I felt out of place. Despite the nerves, I focused on finding a seat and retrieving my laptop from my bag. As I settled into a routine, though, the freedom of university became both liberating and overwhelming. Socially, I had to find my footing, stop feeling like an outsider.

Criminology felt personal, and in many ways ironic. My sincerity in essays and seminars led me to confront not just the system but also my own choices. Lectures on drug trafficking, organised crime and the justice system brought back daunting experiences from my past.

A weight lifted

After the first few weeks, the initial loneliness began to fade. I was talking to more people and grew more confident about speaking up in seminars. Eventually, I shared my circumstances with fellow students and lecturers, admitting I was still a serving prisoner. The moment I did, a weight lifted. I could finally exist as a student by day and a prisoner by night. I was welcomed by the community.

As time went by, my peers began asking questions, and lecturers turned to me, wanting insider perspectives. At the end of one seminar about organised crime, a lecturer asked if what we had discussed was accurate. At first, I thought it was about my well-being, but later I realised they saw value in my insight. The exchanges became meaningful. We discussed high-profile news cases, daily prison life. Only today was I asked if we still have ‘lights out’ – thanks to watching too many episodes of Porridge. For them, sitting next to someone with lived experience was a rare opportunity for further understanding.

Living proof

The education manager at my prison who supported me going to campus was outstanding. Having walked a similar path as a mature student, they understood how crucial this journey was for both of us. Being allowed to collect my laptop and my phone, along with being able to drive myself  there, gave me a sense of independence.

The prison service needs to build stronger ties with local universities, offering prisoners a lifeline out of the revolving door of repeat offending. The process is slow, flawed, and full of setbacks, but education is the key, the only key many prisoners ever get to use. It is when rehabilitation becomes more than just a buzzword, more than a politician’s slogan, and finally gives people a chance to get a worthwhile job.

In my prison, many people ask me where I am going each day. When I tell them I am off to university to finish my degree, many comment that they wish they could do the same. They are not even aware it is possible. But I am living proof.

What’s next

My university education has opened doors. Completing my undergraduate degree is just the beginning. My goal is to continue my studies at postgraduate level, build my understanding of criminology and be in a position to support change within the criminal justice system. It will be about translating what I know into what I can do.

I’m not here by luck or because of who I am and what I have done. Being from a marginalised group does not grant you a free ticket. I deserve this; I have worked relentlessly, earning  distinctions every year. Am I an imposter? Not on your nelly.

If you are looking for support to start an Open University degree while in prison, read more about our Frank Awards, and our Longford Scholarships. Or email Clare, our Scholarship Manager.

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

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

Slot machines in an arcade

My journey back from gambling addiction

Author: | 17 Jul 2024

Our 2024 graduate Sian McLear was 26 and had a successful career in finance when a night out at the bingo catapulted her into gambling addiction so strong that it ultimately saw her jailed. As she starts her post-graduate career with the Beacon Charitable Trust, the charity she credits with saving her life, she reflects on how she embraced her second chance though higher education with our help.

I can’t really pin point how or why my gambling turned harmful. I just remember going to the bingo with colleagues and having to open an online account to be able to attend. That’s when the promotions / hounding started. I had a significant win and an offer of a free bet or a stake of no more than £1. I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to win big again I will, I will’.

Before I knew it, I was secretly staying up all night playing slots on my phone while my husband was in bed asleep. I was physically incapable of stopping until every last penny in my bank account had been spent. I would then lie awake worried sick about how I was going to get all the money back.

Secrets and lies

I couldn’t tell anyone what I was doing. Just the thought of it made me physically sick. I started getting pay-day-loans and credit cards, but instead of covering the money I’d lost, I believed I’d be able to make more. So, the cycle continued. I’d got myself in that much of a mess I couldn’t see a way out of the debt which is when I turned to what I believed was the only way out: I stole money from work.

To me, though, it wasn’t stealing. I was just borrowing it and had every intention of paying it back. But when I ‘won big’ this carried on for three years on a daily basis with my mental health drastically declining. I was living a lie and nobody knew. I was having to hide my gambling and the state of my mental health from everyone around me.

‘My world fell apart’

I didn’t even want to gamble anymore. I enjoyed nothing about it, but yet I couldn’t stop. I thought about getting a new job, hoping it might help stop the stealing. I did not want to be doing what I was doing any more. It was causing me to self-harm. I hated myself and everything about me. Something had to give: on the day I found out I was pregnant with my son, I was sacked from my job and my world fell apart.

The scariest time of my life was waiting to find out when I would be going to court/prison. By this time my beautiful son George had been born. The fear of being taken away from him was terrifying. There were a couple of times I contemplated suicide. One specific time I drank half a bottle of my dad’s liquid morphine, not because I wanted to die, but because I wanted to be able to sleep and make everything go away.

I needed help but the doctor prescribed antidepressants for my addiction. As (at the time) I was pregnant, I didn’t want to take them. Thankfully, through my own efforts, I came across the Beacon Counselling Trust, a charity offering free support to those suffering with gambling-related harm. The support I received greatly helped to quell my fears and prepare for prison.

One bad choice away from disaster

I made a promise to myself that I would turn my situation into a positive one. I realised that we are all only one bad choice/mistake away from turning our lives upside down, and that it’s not the end. It does not mean this has to be our path going forward. It can be a new the start of a new beginning.

Whilst in prison, there were certainly days I felt like giving up but I knew that, if not for me but for my son, I was going to make something out of it. I decided I wanted to study, to help other people like myself and be able to make a difference.  I decided on a university degree. I was put in touch with The Longford Trust who were invaluable in guiding me through the university application process whilst I was in prison.

In fact, throughout my studies the trust has not only provided me with financial help but peer support which, to be honest, was way more valuable than the money. Having one-to-one support with someone who knew and understood my situation gave me the courage to fight my anxieties and worries.

Second chances

Four years on, I have just graduated with a BA in criminology and psychology from Liverpool John Moores University and have successfully obtained a job as an Education and Brief Intervention Lead in none other than the charity that effectively saved my life, Beacon Counselling Trust. I am now helping those experiencing what I have been through, as well as fighting to prevent it happening.

Writing this is not about wishing to share my story. What I am hoping to do is inspire others to believe in themselves. A prison sentence is not the end. It can be used to learn and grow. With the help of organisations such as The Longford Trust, there’s no stopping us.

If you or anyone else you know might be suffering as a result of the issues raised in this article, do get in touch with Gambling Aware, a national network of organisations working together to provide free and confidential support for anyone impacted by gambling.