Marcus Baird says his life started getting messed up when he was 12 years old. He started shoplifting and by 13 had stolen a car with a friend. By the time he was an adult, his habits had escalated to drug use and chronic burglary.
He spent lots of time in jail but didn’t hit rock bottom until a stint during solitary confinement. He uttered a prayer:
“Lord, it looks like my life is going to be a big zero. I don’t ask you to get me out of prison, just do something with me.”
Evidently, his prayers were answered. He turned his life around and started a prison ministry. One day, he saw an ad for something called the Colson Scholarship at Wheaton College, a program that offered scholarships to former convicts. He applied and was accepted. In 1994, Baird, now 35, graduated, he lives in Wheaton and is chaplain for the Good News Jail and Prison Ministry at Cook County Jail.
The Charles W. Colson Scholarship for Ex-Offenders is not a program that has been promoted widely, at least not to the general public. While relatively well known within prison ministry circles, it is possible that many students and parents do not even know that the program exists at the school.
“We haven’t had a lot of press on the program because we wanted to build up a track record,” said Don Smarto, director for the Institute for Prison Ministries for the Billy Graham Center and administrator of the Colson Scholarship.
“The program has not been a secret by any means,” said David Johnston, senior vice president at Wheaton College. “And as far as I know, we have not had any negative reaction by parents for having Colson scholars on the campus.”
Colson Scholarships were launched in 1988 by a friend of Charles Colson, who was a member of President Richard Nixon’s White House staff. Colson founded Prison Fellowship Ministries after spending time in jail for Watergate-related offenses committed during the Nixon administration.
The friend wanted to do something to honor Colson for the work he has done since getting out of prison, Smarto said. He thought of naming a building for him, but it was Colson who suggested the idea for a scholarship.
“Colson said that he wanted something that helps people coming out of prison,” Smarto said.
So the anonymous donor set up a generous endowment to fund full scholarships for ex-offenders who want to get a college education.
However, not just any offenders. The requirements for entrance into the program are rigid, and the applicants are screened thoroughly. The ex-convicts have to have been convicted of a serious crime, but they have to be out of prison one year before they can start the program.
“We want to see that they are successfully reintegrating into society,” Smarto said, “that they are going to a church, that they have a good work ethic and that they can get a good recommendation from a pastor.”
Also, offenders of certain crimes won’t be considered.
“We will not take a felony sex offender (rapist or child molester), no habitually violent offenders, arsonists or anyone under antipsychotic medications,” Smarto said.
Since the program was launched, there have been some changes. In the first year, 11 students were enrolled. Now typically only two to four scholarships are handed out a year to allow the college to better administer the program.
Nineteen students have entered as Colson scholars. Twelve of them have graduated (four with dual degrees). Seven left the program–some for personal reasons. For instance, one woman was pregnant and put her education on hold. Three were asked to leave.
“If success means some of them got a degree or are staying out of the prison system, we’re doing very good, but I couldn’t say we’re perfect, I can’t do that,” Smarto said. “I think that we’ve been successful and done a great job, but I’d like to do it even better.”
For Brian Hancock, 20, who will be a junior next year at Wheaton College, getting the Colson Scholarship means he has gone from being a gang banger convicted of manslaughter in his early teens to being on the road to fulfilling his dream of becoming a public defender and being able to work with troubled kids.
“I would not have been able to get this education otherwise,” said Hancock, who lives in Boston. “I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for this program, but I know I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
At the start of the program, Smarto thought the greatest difficulty Colson scholars would face would be the academic challenges at Wheaton College.
But while classes were a struggle for some, social adjustments were much more acute. Smarto said that fitting in was a challenge for many ex-prisoners, used to a rough life on the streets.
“One 18-year-old had seen his friends die in the streets,” Smarto said. “Some have come out of abject poverty, and some still have a little bit of street language left in them.”
Student response to him has been mixed, said Danny Croce, a Colson scholar convicted of vehicular homicide caused by drunk driving.
“Some kids are real excited,” said Croce, also from the Boston area. “They say, `Wow, you’ve been in jail, but God changed your life around. That’s great.’
“But there have been others who were kind of mad or upset, like they were more self-righteous, (implying) I didn’t belong in the Kingdom of God. But they were a lot fewer. Some may have had a bad experience, known someone who was hit by a drunk driver, and I have to be sensitive to that.”
Baird agreed that for him, too, there was an adjustment to college life.
“There was a little tension,” he said, “but I tried not to pay too much attention to it, tried to stay focused on my school work and on what the Lord was calling me to do. Everyone knew my background, and some students even went into the jails with me and got involved in prison ministry.”
Some students on campus don’t even know that the quiet program exists.
“You’re going to find a great number who don’t know. The ones who do know are the ones who are living in close proximity in a dorm or who are in a class,” Smarto said. “Maybe less than 20 percent of the class may know of them.”
In fact, Curt Packard of Rockford said Hancock was a student in one of his classes and he didn’t know he was a Colson scholar until another student pointed it out.
Later, though, Packard got to know Hancock.
“I think Brian has totally changed his life,” Packard said. “I don’t see any traces of the prisoner I hear he used to be.”
Although the scholars are not required to tell other students that they are an ex-offender, most do. Some give their testimonies in chapel or hand out religious tracts.
Alvaro Nieves, professor of sociology at Wheaton College, said he enjoys having the Colson scholars in his classes.
“They bring a dimension, a view, a perception of life that is very different from the norm for Wheaton students,” he said. “They confront me with reality and also challenge me to make the subjects that I teach relevant.”
Nieves is one of the 12 members who serve on a committee that screens applicants for the scholarship program.
“These people represent a good cross-section of the entire campus,” Smarto said, explaining that the committee is composed of members of the faculty and administration. “We make the decisions on who to admit together. At least half of the committee has to interview each person, and we always vote for admission unanimously, so that we have a consensus.”
Administrators for the program admit, of course, that there is risk involved in admitting former prisoners to the school. But they are quick to point out regular students are not screened as well as the Colson scholars are, and there is always a percentage of the regular school population that typically become trouble makers.
“We would not want to be admitting students where we would perceive there is a risk to other students, but it’s something we can never be totally sure of,” said Johnston, the senior vice president.
“If you think of it,” Smarto said, “most colleges take freshmen who are largely unknown to them, so things happen on any college campus. But these students have already been in the fishbowl, everybody’s watching them and knows this is a second chance for them, so they may even be safer because we know a lot more about them than we might know about the average freshman who comes in.”
Nieves praises Wheaton College for taking the risk.
“It speaks well for the college, the administration, the donors and Chuck Colson, who are saying, `Look, if we really believe that the power of the Gospel is sufficient to change people’s lives, then we ought to put our money where our mouth is and give them a chance.’ ” he said.
Colson, who runs his Prison Fellowship Ministry from Reston, Va., said, “I am humbled that my name is involved in such a wonderful program. I’ve seen ex-offenders who have become top scholars and glowing disciples for Christ. This program gives hope through all the prisons.”
Colson visits the scholars at the campus when he can.
“The students usually like to hear him speak,” Smarto said, “but a couple of years ago, he said he would like to hear their stories, and he was moved to tears and said it was one of the most inspirational evenings he had ever had.”
Baird has spent several evenings with Colson as a scholar and through his involvement with prison ministry.
“He appeared to be genuinely interested and concerned with what the scholars are doing,” he said. “He really encourages us on how important it is to make it through the program so that it can continue.”
Nieves dubs the program a success.
“That’s not to say that there have not been difficulties,” he said, “but we have dealt with problems as they arise. We have to have the strength of character that, even when things go wrong, we will continue.
“Because if a very conservative, fundamentalist environment like Wheaton can succeed, then society at large has to find ways to deal with offenders in more realistic ways.”
