The science education programme partnering with people in prison
When Phil Heron returned home to the north-east of England after completing a PhD in Canada, he knew that he wanted to share his love for geoscience with new audiences. Heron – now an assistant professor in environmental geophysics back at his doctoral alma mater, the University of Toronto – had been awarded a Marie Skłodowska-Curie postdoctoral fellowship at Durham University that included a remit to demonstrate impact through public engagement.
‘I really like to work in my local community,’ explains Heron. ‘As I looked at Durham, I was like, okay, there’s a lot of coffee shops and one massive cathedral, but there’s also four prisons in the nearby areas; three in the town then one a little bit further out.’
Heron set his mind on partnering with local prisons to teach a geoscience course, but when the project was funded he knew he first needed to understand how best to share science in prison settings.
‘I spent two years going in and out of prisons in Durham and trying to figure out what education is like there, how people teach and how people learn,’ he shares.
Over this period, Heron talked to the students in the prisons he was visiting, discussing geoscience, science and life more generally – building a picture of how he could increase the appeal of a science programme for people in prison.
‘Most of the people I spoke to in prison said something along the lines of: “Oh I love nature documentaries” or “I love looking at the solar system” or “most of the books I get at the library are sci-fi”,’ says Heron. ‘Then you’d push them a little and say: “Would you take a science class?” And they’d say: “Nope, I wouldn’t, not for me.”’
The apparent disconnect was stark for Heron, particularly when in conversation with people who had a clear interest and often a deep knowledge of scientific topics. Heron realised the need to build a classroom that felt welcoming to people in prison, one they could enter and feel like they belonged in.
‘After these realisations and talking to a lot of wonderful people who work in and around prison education … [I wanted people in prison to] feel like science could help them in some way,’ says Heron. ‘To know that you can learn from science and science can learn from you.’
Heron’s original plans for the programme didn’t land as well as he had envisaged, and conversations with people in prison led to a redesign that focused on the interests of participants and allowed space for discussion.
‘Allowing people to be heard seemed to be the most important thing … to give people a seat at the table and allow them to feel empowered to be students,’ says Heron. He was also attentive to the way that participants learn.
‘You’ve got a lot of people who learn in different ways in prison,’ he explains. ‘There’s a lot of people under the neurodivergent umbrella, whether that be ADHD, autism, dyslexia.’
In 2019, two years on from Heron’s first prison visits, Think Like a Scientist, a course centred on ‘allowing students the space to think rather than to be told what to learn’ was born.
The first iteration was a seven-week programme at a women’s facility followed by a similar roll-out at a young offender’s institute and subsequently at a maximum security men’s prison.
On rejoining the University of Toronto a few years later, Heron took Think Like a Scientist to Canada. A partnership with Curtin University in Western Australia brought the programme to a third continent earlier this year, with each iteration differing in content and delivered by people local to the partner prisons.
The impacts of Think Like a Scientist are different for every participant, with some feedback really sticking with Heron.
‘One of the students wrote: ”This course has given something to talk about with my son”,’ he shares. ‘It really gets me that someone’s like: “Oh yeah, my son rang and asked me what I’m learning about today!” It’s just a nice thing for families to be part of from the outside and to see the positive things happening.’
At least one alumnus of the programme, Dalton Harrison, has gone on to complete an undergraduate degree and enrol in postgraduate studies, with almost all participants coming to view education differently.
‘The best students I’ve ever had have been students in prison because they’re interested, they’re excited, they want to learn new things and a lot of people want to change,’ says Heron. ‘Being able to see science in a different light and then see education in a different light is very, very important and it’s been really positive.’
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