By Benito Gutiérrez
I attribute my introduction to education to my older sister. Seven years my senior, she taught me the basics before I even set foot in a classroom. Things like how to write my name, recite the alphabet, and count to ten she accomplished by playing school with me at a very early age. I remember sitting on the bedroom floor with my fellow classmates 
(dolls and stuffed animals) while my sister conducted class. Her instruction paid off.
During the first few years of elementary school I was a star student. I was on the honor roll, got straight-A’s on my report cards, gold stars on every paper. My mom would often call me into the living room when she had company over. “This one,” she would say proudly, “He’s the smart one. He’s gonna’ go to college. Aren’t you, Mijo? Tell them what you want to be when you grow up.”
“A lawyer,” I’d say. “Or city planner.”
Obviously, things didn’t work out that way. With little supervision and no positive role models I turned to a life of crime and incarceration. From juvenile hall and group homes to the California Youth Authority and, ultimately, prison. It’s been a long and arduous journey, from then until now. But, I’m proud to say that I’ve finally turned my life around. One area in which I have made significant progress is education. I’ve rekindled that interest and curiosity I had as a child. Taking biology with professors Thompson and Petroelji was one of the most memorable experiences of my incarceration. Being able to handle ancient fossils, conduct experiments, and view samples under a microscope—there were times when I’d actually look around in amazement because these things weren’t typical of the prison experience … not the one I was used to.
I am currently working toward earning my associate degree and have Feather River College’s Incarcerated Student Program to thank for this amazing opportunity. I am determined to make my dear mother proud and prove her right.
Republished from “Perspectives from the Cell Block: An Anthology of Prisoner Writings” – edited by Joan Parkin in collaboration with incarcerated people from Mule Creek State Prison.
