“Schooling for Me Was the Door to Incarceration”: Exploring Formerly Incarcerated Students’ Experiences and Freedom Dreams to Radically Reimagine School

Abstract

Endemic racism, operationalized through exclusionary discipline practices contributes to the “spirit murdering” of youth of color in schools. While the school-to-prison pipeline frames the funneling of students into the (in)justice system, the school-to-prison nexus expands this understanding by interrogating the reality that schools are prison for many. Thus, education abolitionists call for a systemic account of “schooling” to embrace creative risk and radical possibility in the pursuit of liberation. However, existing literature has not substantively centered the voices of youth directly involved in these carceral systems, nor invited them to dream. This study asks: based on formerly incarcerated students’ experiences in school and prison, what must educational systems do to disrupt the school-to-prison pipeline? Guided by qualitative methods, we conducted semi-structured interviews with formerly incarcerated college students (four women, two men; majority Latinx/Hispanic) and conducted member checking. Our reflexive thematic analysis uncovered a troubling truth: schools frequently ignored and misinterpreted trauma, grief, and internalized pain among high school students. Participants described internal battles (i.e., mental health challenges) that often showed up externally as “behaviors” (e.g., fighting, skipping school, substance use) that resulted in exclusionary discipline. Equally important, participants re-imagined schools as homeplaces—sites of care, belonging, and agency. These narratives illuminate the need to dismantle punitive systems, center insights from those at the center of the experiences, and build just, loving, and equitable schools.

1. Introduction

“I feel like school for me was the door to incarceration. They say, you know, school is the key to the world, or the door to the world, or whatever. … When [you’re] supposed to be in a safe space where this is about your education and learning and growing.”

—Study Participant

What does it mean for our educational system when its doors to school open onto punishment, instead of possibility? When schools are not safe spaces, but instead, sites of pain and trauma? For too many youth, schools have long served as carceral sites. They have functioned—not as places of learning and growing—but as grounds for exclusion, surveillance, and punishment. Where harm replicates the architecture of another unequal system: prisons. However, in order to truly disrupt and dismantle the school-to-prison pipeline, which we define in the next section, we must center the experiences of those who have been forced to navigate both systems—those students who were once incarcerated, who reflect on how their schooling experiences shaped, and were shaped by systems of control. Their narratives can expose the everyday harms of discipline and disposability embedded in schooling, as they invite us to (re)imagine what education could be with liberation, not containment, as its organizing principle.

Thus, in this study we ask: based on formerly incarcerated students’ experiences in school and prison, what must educational systems do to disrupt the school-to-prison pipeline? First, we begin with an overview of relevant literature, then explore the empirical methods and findings. We conclude with a discussion and implications for enacting real change in schools and scholarship.

2. Review of Relevant Literature

2.1. Racism as a Foundational Tenet of the U.S. Public School System

In 1933, Carter Woodson wrote that education in the United States was a tool used to maintain racial hierarchy; the “socializing force” he described that upheld racial power structures has shaped, and continues to shape, U.S. public schooling. The “tragic legacy” (Bartz & Kritsonis, 2019, p. 6) of white power and racism has remained the catalyst for how we school the nation’s children. Recent research has illuminated a post-Brown v. Board of Education era of “new racism” marked by a predominantly white teaching force, white-centric curriculum, unequal school resources (Kohli et al., 2017) as well as tracking, racist interactions between students and staff, and, as relevant to the present study, disproportionate school discipline policies and practices (Stewart et al., 2021).

2.2. Racial Disparities in School Discipline

Exclusionary discipline practices are defined as actions schools can take to remove a child (e.g., suspension, expulsion, etc.) from learning opportunities due to behavioral misconduct (Noltemeyer & McLoughlin, 2010). Current research indicates that exclusionary discipline practices do the opposite of their intended results, rather than preventing student misbehavior, they increase the likelihood of delinquency and later incarceration and negatively impact academic and mental health outcomes (Gerlinger et al., 2021; Fisher & Widdowson, 2023; Bottiani et al., 2017).

Research has found that harsh discipline policies disproportionately affect a multiple of historically disenfranchised and targeted student populations, including students in special educational needs, those with mental health challenges such as depression and anxiety, students who identify as male or non-binary, students of color, and those from lower socioeconomic status (So et al., 2023). More specifically, Kim et al. (2021) illuminates how students with disabilities, such as ADHD or Autism, have higher probabilities of experiencing exclusionary discipline and being disproportionately pushed into the criminal justice system. When looking specifically at race, U.S. Department of Education data revealed that during the 2017–2018 school year, 15.1% of total public school students identified as Black/African American, but represented 31.4% of in-school suspensions, 32.9% of out-of-school suspensions, 38.8% of expulsions, and 31.6% of school arrests (U.S. Department of Education, 2021). Furthermore, Cribb Fabersunne et al. (2023) found that Black students were 10 times more likely to experience exclusionary disciplinary consequences than their white counterparts, and Latine students being three times more likely. The study found that this exclusion also resulted in a difference of −0.56 GPA points for Black students and −0.51 GPA points for Latine students. Drawing from this literature, we argue that criminalizing disability, educational needs, and mental health challenges can leave students without proper support systems and reinforce the need for school discipline policies and practices, creating the school-to-prison pipeline/Nexus.

2.3. The School-to-Prison Pipeline/Nexus

Disparate disciplinary approaches have contributed to the increased criminalization of communities disenfranchised by long-term disinvestment and punitive compliance policies and fueled both the school-to-prison pipeline and the school-to-prison nexus. Wald and Losen (2003) define the school-to-prison pipeline (STPP) as a journey through school that becomes “increasingly punitive and isolating for its travelers” where children will:

be taught by unqualified teachers, tested on material they never reviewed, held back in grade, placed in restrictive special education programs, repeatedly suspended, and banished to alternative outplacements before dropping or getting pushed out of school altogether. Without a safety net, the likelihood that these same youths will wind up arrested and incarcerated increases sharply (p. 11).

Extant research has identified that when students are subjected to harsh discipline (e.g., expulsions, suspensions), there is an increased likelihood that those same youth will become involved in the justice system (Skiba et al., 2014; E. R. Meiners & Winn, 2010; Cuellar & Markowitz, 2015; Hicks et al., 2024). Literature has connected these discipline disparities to disparities within the education system; when schools are overburdened and underfinanced, they resort to punitive discipline as “quick fixes” for behavior and conduct challenges (Mallett, 2015). Stovall (2016) argues that the true problem with these practices is not that they enable travel from one place to another, but rather, that they remind children daily that schools are prisons. The school-to-prison nexus, he writes, is not a means to prepare children for jail, but rather, a reckoning with the harsh reality that schools can be jails for many. For example, Stern (2023) describes school practices mirroring prison practices when “metal detectors mark school entrances, surveillance cameras monitor student activities, lock-down drills, and police and school resource officers” (p. 964). Wun (2017) argues that referrals, constant observation, and using the language of the criminal justice system contribute to punitive carcerality in schools. Similarly, E. Meiners (2013) explores how many young people have their first interaction with policing and arrest in schools; she goes on to name how discipline, segregation via special education, and criminalization of youth “misconduct” solidifies the interlocking relationship between schools and prisons.

2.4. Abolition and Freedom Dreaming

Acknowledging the STPP and school-to-prison nexus, education abolitionists call for a systemic account of “schooling” (Stovall, 2018) that acknowledges educators’ complicity in the current state of schools. Like prison abolition, school abolition readily acknowledges that schools are not a “just, efficient, or moral solution to problems” (E. R. Meiners & Winn, 2010) in the community. The central goal of abolition is to “dismantle, change, and build (Stovall, 2018), to transform the entire landscape of how we live, yielding entities that divide (e.g., native/settler, citizen/non-citizen) to work toward collective access to life sources (Mei-Singh, 2021). Abolitionists also strive to see the “necessity of the impossible and embrace the creative danger inherent in liberationist futures” (Rodríguez, 2010, p. 12) while reconstructing the structures and traditions, as well as the systems that visibly punish and oppress, that safeguard power and privilege (Stovall, 2018). As Love (2019) writes, abolition is a “radical disruption” made possible by abolitionists and co-conspirators who are willing to use their power, positions, and privilege to end oppression and create new spaces, schools, cities, nations, and worlds of possibilities of liberation and freedom (Love, 2019).

Kelley (2002) writes that freedom dreams are “emancipatory visions” that challenge, reshape, and push movements in new directions (p. 6). Previous studies have investigated freedom dreaming among youth. For example, Duane and Mims (2022) invited Black elementary students to “wave a magic wand” and imagine if schools were spaces of love and safety. Children dreamt about schools that centered their families and communities, that were free of homework and harm, and more infrastructure and resources to facilitate learning. Kaler-Jones (2022) invited Black girls to freedom dream through artistic explorations of storytelling and social justice. Her co-researchers used art to dream about new worlds “worthy of Black girl brilliance—futures where joy, creativity, equity, and love were at the center” (p. 1). However, to our knowledge, no studies have partnered with formerly incarcerated college students to explore their dreams of what schools could be. The absence of this inquiry is especially pressing, given the growing youth mental health crisis, which so often intersects with school discipline.

2.5. The Youth Mental Health Crisis

While interrogating the unjust systems that cause and perpetuate harm, we simultaneously cannot ignore the rising crisis of childhood mental health and its interconnection with the school-to-prison pipeline. Research demonstrates that communities disenfranchised by racialized and classed systems have a higher risk of developing mental health challenges, as these communities often experience heightened stress levels, which directly influences the onset of symptoms (Turner, 2010). Youth of color today, in particular, report high rates of mental health challenges, with 42% of American Indian or Alaska Native students, 26% of Hispanic students, and 27% of Black students being affected (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2023).

In fact, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have studied student mental health since 2013, where the findings consistently demonstrate the high prevalence of poor mental health outcomes among students, as shown in their emotional and behavioral scores on the survey (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2023). Over the past decade of research, student mental health has drastically risen from 30% of students reporting experiencing persistent feelings of sadness and hopelessness in 2013 to 40% in 2023. Additionally, the percentage of students seriously considering attempting suicide rose from 17% to 22% and those who made a plan rose from 14% to 16% (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2023). Ethier et al. (2024) extends the literature with data revealing that LGBTQ+ students of color are significantly more vulnerable to poor mental health outcomes as they reported higher rates of anxiety and depression compared to their heterosexual peers.

Additionally, research has found that experiencing poor mental health can significantly contribute to a higher likelihood of exhibiting “disruptive” classroom behaviors (e.g., inappropriate language, fighting, property destruction, etc.) (Demanchick et al., 2006). Furthermore, research indicates that children with significant mental health challenges are disproportionately at risk of incarceration, with estimates suggesting that 20-30% of these children may end up in prison (Stuart & Dennison, 2021). Indeed, the Bureau of Justice Statistics reports that today’s state prisons have been found to house 43% of individuals with mental health challenges, while federal prisons house 23%, suggesting that mental health may mediate the relationship between disproportionate discipline and the school-to-prison pipeline (Maruschak et al., 2021). Thus, it is incumbent upon researchers and practitioners to consider the role of mental health challenges when investigating how to dismantle the pipeline.

Building on this research, the ever-growing youth mental health crisis calls for a fundamental reimagining of school policies and practices that support whole-child development instead of punitive discipline and dehumanization. One such approach, transformative social and emotional learning (tSEL) (Jagers et al., 2019) has been conceptualized as “a process whereby students and teachers build strong, respectful relationships founded on an appreciation of similarities and differences, learn to critically examine root causes of inequity, and develop collaborative solutions to community and societal problems” (Jagers et al., 2019, p. 2). Although, to our knowledge, extant scholarship has not yet made connections between tSEL and reductions in disparate discipline outcomes, we see potential in tSEL’s overarching framework that invites educators to prioritize identity, agency, and belonging in ways that center humanity over control and create conditions for education to serve as an act of liberation.

2.6. Theoretical Frame

In the present study, we draw on the tenets of Critical Race Theory, which names racism that permeates every system in the U.S. (Bell, 1995)—including schooling. These tenets guide our study as they pave the way for an investigation that critically considers the role of racism in how these youth experienced school. For we know that racism is ordinary, as CRT teaches us. It is embedded in everyday social structures, and is not exceptional (Delgado & Stefancic, 2001). Race is also socially constructed (Bell, 1995), yet materially constructed, shaping the lived experience and opportunities for people of color, and racial progress only occurs when it aligns with the interests of those in power (Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995). Intersectionality, particularly in our study, also reveals how systems of oppression interact and assign shifting meanings (Crenshaw, 1989). And finally, we draw from the power of counter-storytelling, which values and prioritizes the experiences and brilliance of people of color to help transform racial inequities (Solórzano & Yosso, 2002).

3. Methods

3.1. Recruitment

This study was approved by the [deleted to maintain the integrity of the review process] Institutional Review Board. We distributed study invitations through relevant community networks, college programs, and advocacy groups that support FIC students in a large western state. Study inclusion criteria included: (1) being formerly incarcerated while in high school and with any legal charge(s), and (2) current or previous enrollment in college. With respect to college enrollment, we elected to require this given that the broader study from which this data was drawn also investigated how the STPP can interrupt and re-route students’ life path. Participants with these particular lived experiences were able to provide retrospective reflections on their high school experiences, disciplinary practices, and carceral involvement, as well as insights into what changes they would like to see within the system. Interested individuals voluntarily responded to the call for participation, and Zoom interviews were scheduled with the first five respondents who met study criteria. We obtained informed consent from all participants at the beginning of the study, and participants were compensated with $20 for their time and contribution.

3.2. Participants

Without the participants, this work would not have been possible.

Table 1. Participant demographics.

Pseudonym	Age	Gender	Ethnicity	Additional Information
Carmen	36	Female	Mexican	B.A. in Sociology; Master’s of Social Work; Ed.D. in Educational Leadership; McNair Scholar, mother, wife.
Diana	42	Female	Spanish	Pursuing B.A. in Human Development, Minor in Education; Advocate, daughter, wife.
Joel	42	Male	White	B.A. in Social Studies; M.Ed. in Inclusive Leadership; Father. husband.
Roberto	27	Male	Honduran	Pursuing B.A. in Collaborative Health and Human Services, Minor in Public Administration and Nonprofit Management; McNair Scholar, Youth Law Center Scholar
Ronnie	38	Female	Guatemalan	Pursuing B.S. in Philosophy, Minors in Humanities in Law and African American Studies; Survivor, mother, advocate

provides demographic information as well as information about participant backgrounds and experiences, as relevant to this study. To maintain confidentiality, pseudonyms have been assigned to each participant. Importantly, we note here that our sample consists of four hispanic-identifying and one white participant. We name their racial identities explicitly, consistent with Critical Race Theory’s emphasis on viewing race as a social construct, and we must center the lived experiences of individuals in order to understand and improve educational contexts. Participants also represented intersecting identities related to gender, years of experience in education, and professional roles—all of which shaped how they experienced and contributed to the study.

3.3. Procedures

We conducted one 60 min interview with each participant via university-licensed Zoom 6.7.5 software. We utilized a semi-structured interview protocol that included broad, open-ended questions about their demographics, mental health during high school, exclusionary discipline experiences, and their dreams about improving schools. With the consent of the participants, we audio and video recorded interviews, and then cleaned and transcribed using Otter.ai and checked by hand. The first author conducted all the interviews, as well as the member checking process during the data analysis stage.

3.4. Data Analysis

We employed reflexive thematic analysis outlined by Braun and Clarke (2006) to analyze the qualitative data from interviews with formerly incarcerated college (FIC) students. We systematically followed the six-phase to ensure a rigorous and reflective analytic process. First, we familiarized ourselves with the data by cleaning, transcribing, reading, and re-reading interview transcripts to gain an in-depth understanding of the data. During this phase, our initial thoughts were documented through analytic memos, which helped identify recurring ideas and patterns. The first author took notes on significant observations, including emotional tone, repeated phrases, and underlying meanings in the participants’ narratives.

We manually coded using an inductive approach. Each transcript was examined line by line to identify meaningful units of text that captured essential aspects of participants’ experiences. After initial rounds of coding, we generated themes that represented significant patterns within the coded data. This phase involved identifying overarching ideas that linked participants’ experiences with our research questions. The themes were reviewed through multiple rounds of analysis to ensure they accurately reflected the data. The first author also conducted member checking by sharing initial findings with the participants via email and obtaining their insights on the findings and interpretations. All participants reported that themes aligned with their experiences. Final themes were defined clearly to capture their essence. Subthemes were created to further specify nuanced aspects of each major theme.

3.5. Positionality

Here we introduce our positionality to explore how we come to this study. Based on Milner’s (2007) and Boveda and Annamma’s (2023) frameworks, the first author identifies as a German, French, and African American, cisgender woman, whose professional and personal experiences influence how she approaches research and what is considered “valid knowledge”. She has seen how the lack of guidance, support, and opportunity in childhood—compounded by race, culture, and systemic inequities—affects the trajectory of someone’s life path, which was present in her interpretation of the participants’ narratives about schooling and incarceration. As a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist, she uses multiple trauma-informed theories as a guide but relies on the participants’ lived experiences to validate and expand what is considered “knowledge” and “valid evidence”. Across her roles in the community, higher education, and private practice, she prioritizes working alongside others by intentionally centering their voices and drawing on her biracial identity to build trust and rapport. The second author identifies as a white, cisgender woman, former elementary teacher, and current university professor. In her roles across K-12 and higher education, she has worked to advance anti-racist scholarship and practice to actively disrupt the structural racism embedded within the system of education. As a classroom teacher, she saw firsthand how punitive discipline policies impacted her students mentally and physically, and partnered with staff, students, and community members to reduce disparities in her own classroom and in schools. However, as a white woman, she is at a distance from the racial trauma and disciplinary disparities that she studies. Thus, she partners in community-based ways to center those closest to these experiences.

4. Findings

In the present study, we sought to explore how formerly incarcerated college students experienced schooling and center their insights for what the system of schooling could do to dismantle the STPP. Here we elaborate the themes generated from our thematic analysis.

4.1. Theme 1—Misunderstood Pain: Trauma Mislabeled as Trouble

We first uncovered a troubling truth: trauma, hardship, and internalized pain among these participants frequently went unrecognized and misinterpreted as “trouble-making.” They described their pain in myriad ways while simultaneously shining a light on the rigid, impersonal, and punitive nature of schools. For example, Ronnie described how her pain was misread:

“I was misunderstood … [it was like] oh, you did this. You’re in trouble. Saturday school here, make your mom sign this. Go. Boom. Oh, Nope, you were truant this many times. Okay, you gotta go to summer school, and it’s just like, it was so systematic.”

She traced this neglect to institutional failures of the school, naming how “I was just a number. And also [a] statistic.” Ronnie described how “the keep going and keep working, and just suck it up type of mentality… that did not work for me at all. … I lived with so much anger and resentment.” Roberto reflected on his high school experience stating: “I would definitely say that my mental health as a youth was unstable. … I think I was lost. There was lack of guidance… I needed help. I didn’t receive it.” This demonstrates how these youth were hurting and in need of assistance, and yet the school chose to punish rather than support them.

Many participants already struggling with their mental health found that being punished only deepened their distress, reinforcing feelings of shame and isolation. Diana reflected on how the punishments were the opposite of motivation to change as she mentions, “We were already seen as bad. So why even try? Their reactions made you feel less than, though. They made you feel like there’s something wrong with you.” Joel also highlighted the feeling of isolation pre- and post-punishment while also limiting his access to safe spaces, stating, “They already made you feel like you’re not of that world, so it definitely reinforced the idea of you’re not, you’re not excellent.” Roberto emphasized the devastating core messages his school discipline measures gave him of being faulty, mentioning, “You constantly felt like you don’t belong in these spaces. They were saying ‘you don’t know how to act like a normal kid, like a good kid, like a native kid or whatever my counterparts were’.” When he was expelled from school for fighting, Roberto also recalled thinking,

“I go to school from 8 to 12 now. It’s like, damn. You don’t care about me. I’m not even worth the full days or in a way not worth helping and, you know, it made me feel like the black sheep, which I eventually became.”

Across participants, wounds were pathologized as disobedience, without care or concern—or any humanization at all. For example, Diana recalled how “the way you were treated was just sit down, shut up, do the work. That you’re not good for nothing. You just need to do what you’re told, right?” Participants also described internal battles (i.e., mental health challenges) that often showed up externally as “misbehaviors” that resulted in exclusionary discipline. Diana explained how the root of her “misbehaviors” were unaddressed trauma:

“Most of the fights I got into were [because] I was bullied. I was fed up. I wasn’t defending myself. I was fed up, you know, and I had even cried to my PE teachers about the bullying that I was having, and it didn’t help.”

Carmen recalled how disengagement, or what some may label as “defiance” from overly controlling policies such as dress code became its own form of resistance:

“I was very like you’re not going to tell me what to wear. And I wanted to come to school in sweats and slippers. And so there were lots of days that I would get sent home or they’d be like, you just have to sit in the office and I would be like, fuck you guys, I guess I’m sitting in the office because I want to wear my pajamas.”

Her resistance was coupled with a hopelessness she felt from the lack of concern and support from school, rather than being counseled and supported. In fact, when she did seek counseling, the counselor merely advised her to drop out:

“I had never met with my school counselor or anything like that. And when I did, it wasn’t useful… the only kind of support that I got [was] like, ‘yeah, you should totally just drop out of high school’… I ended up dropping out.”

Each of these stories reveal a system that punished suffering, anger, defiance, and withdrawal, rather than addressing their roots and unmet needs.

4.2. Theme 2—Replace Punishment with Understanding

When asked what they wished schools did differently, participants dreamt about spaces that replace exclusionary discipline and punishment with understanding and compassion. We identified how, time and time again, participants wanted educators to ask one simple question: why? Ronnie described how “nobody took a second to ask me anything ever, like hey? What’s going on?” while Diana reflected on how “when I was suspended, nobody asked why. They just said, ‘go home’.” Some wanted to be asked about what was happening at school, like an opportunity to report bullying, while others, like Roberto, said, “why suspend us for fighting when you could ask what’s going on at home?” After reporting, in hindsight, his home life was significantly contributing to his school behaviors.

Participants repeatedly named how asking this question could have shifted so much for them. Diana described how transformative it would have been if someone, anyone, at school had “got to know me as a person… helped me find myself… sit down and talk with you… help you figure out life.” She continued, “if they would actually sit down and talk with you, get to know you… there’s no telling where I’d be now” and “if someone had helped me find myself instead of punishing me, I’d be somewhere else now,” pointing to dreams of a possible pathway that didn’t lead to incarceration, but rather, education. Echoing the need for care over exclusion, Roberto explained his hopes for what school staff could have done, “I wish they would have cared more, that would have really made me feel like there was nothing wrong with me.”

4.3. Theme 3—Centering School Belonging, Agency, and Identity

Finally, we identified a common pattern: participants wanted schools to create opportunities for students to belong to the general school community, where agency and identity were readily cultivated. First, participants emphasized that identity development in schools would be central to both learning and liberation. Diana reflected, “without knowing who you are, I mean, how do you even go about life, how do you even do anything? So, being a student and maybe starting out with the freedom to explore who you are as a student.” Roberto spoke about how identity development connects to cultural and emotional healing, stating,

“Identity is very important. I often tell myself like, man, there’s so many kids right here still going through an identity crisis and they don’t even know it yet. I’m a huge believer of this philosophical theory of La Cultura Cura, right? The culture cures and I’m a strong believer in you need to know who you are, where you come from.”

He added,

“When I think of identity, I think of cultural healing. And if our youth, oh man, I just think of the possibilities of instilling a strong sense of identity in our Black and brown youth at such an early level.”

That is, if schools took the time to foster positive identity development, for all cultures and races, it could contribute to healing—rather than harm. Carmen reflected on the power of identity exploration in shaping students’ futures, and how having those opportunities herself could have helped:

“Identity is so important to develop during high school. It’s what makes or breaks your future in most cases. In high school I didn’t get to explore what I thought it meant to be a Chicana so I think if my identity could have been explored differently, my sense of self would have been more developed, but like in a positive way.”

Ronnie echoed the missed opportunity for identity exploration in school, sharing, “I wasn’t able to formulate my identity at a young age, and hence I felt repressed.” This emphasizes how by allowing students to explore who they truly are, we can guide them in recognizing and embracing their distinct abilities, ultimately helping them navigate the adolescent identity crisis and fostering a stronger, more confident sense of self.

Participants also dreamt about opportunities for youth to cultivate a sense of agency. They connected agency (i.e., being empowered to make choices and take action) to motivation, engagement, and authentic learning. Ronnie expressed frustration with institutional structures that prioritize conformity over individuality, sharing, “If this whole hierarchy, this whole institutionalized groups of power just allowed us to be individuals rather than working robots, the world would be a different place.” This suggests that when students are not seen as individuals with unique needs and potential, they are reduced to mere “working robots,” stifling their personal growth and expression. Diana similarly emphasized the critical role of agency in personal development, asking, “If there is no autonomy, how do you even… how do you even carry on? How do you actualize your goals?” Roberto also connected the development of agency and self-confidence in school with a broader societal impact, suggesting that when students feel empowered and in control of their own futures, they are more likely to avoid negative outcomes, such as entering the school-to-prison pipeline:

In the K-12 system we can start by creating a strong sense of agency, right? Self-agency in our students. [Schools] may not like that because now you’re going to have fourth and fifth graders like, ‘hey, y’all, why don’t we have this in the bathroom?’ You’re going to have young advocates. …And maybe that’s what they fear. … I think it would help them and it can also prevent them from joining or being a part of the carceral system.

His caution that schools may be reluctant to foster agency is also a poignant observation; it is possible that systems focused on control and exclusion may not want to develop “young advocates.” Joel echoed this sentiment, having interacted with the darker sides of the education system, stating, “I can see folks [in schools], for example, taking agency and blaming young people for suffering systemic things.”

Finally, participants discussed how schools should cultivate a sense of belonging among students. Participants identified that when students feel valued and included, they are more likely to engage in their education. Diana described how important a sense of belonging is, particularly among those formerly incarcerated: “Sense of belonging is big too… especially formerly incarcerated, that feeling that we do not belong. And so when we find that group… that sense of belonging is so comforting. It’s huge.” Carmen highlighted how feeling like she belonged to her school culture could have made a significant difference for her educational career, stating,

“If I were connected with a younger student as a junior or if I was a freshman connected with a middle school-age student, and we did a lot of the culture-building piece, the inclusivity and belonging aspects of school culture would have been a game changer for me.”

Joel and Roberto both emphasize the importance of a sense of belonging in fostering student success. Joel explained how cultivating belonging could have strengthened his sense of connection and engagement, reporting, “I think if I had a sense of belonging to that school, I would have done better, right? Or, I would have at least given a shit when these teachers were like, he could do better.” Alongside this quote, we also acknowledge that Joel’s whiteness may have implications for where and how he experiences belonging, which will undoubtedly differ in comparison to other participants such as Roberto. Still, these reflections suggest that schools can do much more in the way of centering identity, agency, and belonging, which could serve as a foundation for learning, healing, and perhaps, thriving.

5. Discussion

This study explored formerly incarcerated college students’ perceptions and dreams about necessary institutional transformations. Findings from our study contribute to existing literature that seeks to disrupt and dismantle carceral schooling. Here we put our themes in conversation with extant literature. First, our participants made an important connection that aligns with the literature on the school-to-prison nexus. These participants did not see schools as a pathway to prison. They experienced schools as prisons. Schools that already reminded them they were “not of that world.” Narratives did not reflect a pipeline, but rather, illuminated daily experiences characterized by surveillance, exclusion, and punishment, where students were “numbers,” in a system of control that already positioned these youth as deviant or disposable. These accounts align with E. Meiners’ (2017) and Stovall’s (2016) arguments that the disciplinary architecture of U.S. schools, such as detention, suspension, and expulsion, function as forms of control. Just as schools punish rather than support students struggling with mental health challenges, the criminal justice system confines people rather than help them. Both institutions prioritize control over care, discipline over intervention, and exclusion over inclusion, creating cycles of recidivism and alienation. The over-policing of students, specifically those from communities disenfranchised by structural inequities in education and carceral systems, reflects the same racialized surveillance and punitive structures that define mass incarceration. These findings deepen the literature on the school-to-prison nexus by demonstrating that carcerality is not only the endpoint of disproportionate discipline, but also an ever-present feature of schooling itself. These experiences of dehumanization, such as being pathologized and punished for trauma, connect to what Love (2019) describes as the “spirit murdering” of youth of color in schools, where students’ identities, humanity, and potential are systematically diminished. Participants’ statements that educators “never asked why” illustrate the absence of care and compassion, and shine a light on the reality that, too often, the institutional responses to student pain are to punish and exclude.

Findings also highlight the urgent need for equity-centered and systemically trauma-informed educational practices that center compassion and understanding. For example, rather than labeling students’ pain as “defiance” or “trouble making”, schools and those working inside of them must be equipped with the knowledge, skills, and practices to respond to and redress trauma, rather than reproduce it. Trauma-informed practices have been found to be effective in reducing trauma symptoms and supporting student achievement and well-being (Herrenkohl et al., 2019). Importantly, equity-centered and systemically trauma-informed practices begin by interrogating the unequal structures that create and sustain conditions of harm (e.g., racism, sexism, poverty, exclusionary discipline; Goldin et al., 2025b; Venet, 2021; Alvarez & Farinde-Wu, 2022). These approaches equip educators with the awareness of trauma and skills to transform schools into ecosystems of care and healing, while also working to “disentangle the reproductive from the liberatory” (Goldin et al., 2025a, p. 663). Alongside trauma-informed practices, restorative practices, too, should be implemented in ways that prioritize restoration and repair.

Finally, our findings connect deeply to the work of transformative social and emotional learning (tSEL). Jagers et al. (2019) build on popularized social and emotional learning frameworks with the inclusion of five additional equity elaborations—three of which our participants explicitly identified: identity, agency, and belonging. Participants overwhelmingly supported focusing on nurturing identity exploration, empowering student voice, and fostering inclusive community, believing that such an approach could have prevented them from the criminal justice system. These freedom dreams also resonate strongly with the tSEL literature, suggesting an opportunity for the tSEL literature to engage in more dreaming. Their reflections illustrate the need for schools to embed these practices—perhaps through tSEL—into schools in ways that challenge structural inequities and humanize relationships. In this way, our findings affirm that tSEL supports the necessary reimagining of schooling; a reimagining that centers critical consciousness, lived experiences, cultural knowledge, and the dreams of youth themselves to create educational spaces that are trauma-informed and racially just. However, we also echo the calls of critical scholars who caution that SEL, and the transformative elaborations, can reinforce a perhaps “hidden agenda” of assimilation and compliance that maintains unequal power structures and perpetuates inequities when they do not also explicitly embed practices that address systemic injustices (Cipollone et al., 2022; Camangian & Cariaga, 2022). Thus, in the work of enacting tSEL, we must attend to power, structural inequity, and ensure that tSEL efforts move beyond individual skill-building towards dismantling racialized and harm-inducing systems.

5.1. Limitations

This study employed a qualitative methodology to explore the experiences of formerly incarcerated college students with adolescent mental health and the school-to-prison pipeline. As with any qualitative research, we are unable to generalize the findings and instead focus on the transferability of the knowledge generated. The most significant limitation of this study was the difficulty in recruiting participants. Despite sending over 100 invitations to community colleges, private and public universities, related organizations, and individuals, the response rate was extremely low (n = 6). Many educational institutions declined to support the study, citing concerns about the sensitivity of the population and negative past experiences with research studies. While this protective stance is understandable, it ultimately restricted access to a broader participant pool. Those who did agree to participate may have had different perspectives or experiences compared to those who were unreachable. Future research should consider expanding recruitment to reach a more diverse participant pool (e.g., social media, local community organizations) to further prioritize learning with and from diverse racial groups. Given funding constraints, we were also unable to compensate participants to the extent we would have wanted. Future research with more robust funding and a larger and more diverse participant group would strengthen the study’s applicability and offer a more comprehensive understanding of this issue. Additionally, while the study was rooted in CBPR principles, time and funding constraints did not allow us to engage in the entirety of the CBPR process—from study inception to dissemination. Future research could benefit from deeper collaboration with community stakeholders at the outset to ensure that the research process is more participatory and mutually beneficial.

5.2. Implications

Current school discipline policies have increasingly been criticized for their over-reliance on punitive measures, often exacerbating mental health challenges and pushing students out of the public school system and into the criminal justice system. Findings from this study highlight that when students’ mental health go undernourished and schools respond with exclusionary discipline, the path from school to prison may be concretized. Thus, to push against a prophecy that need not be self-fulfilling, we offer the following implications, grounded in our findings and existing literature.

5.3. Shift from Punitive, Exclusionary Discipline to Restorative Practices

Participants’ narratives illustrated how exclusionary discipline often worsened their feelings of isolation, anger, and depression, whereas the few that received holistic care experienced moments of reflection and connection. To redress this disparity, schools must move away from exclusionary discipline such as suspensions and expulsions and instead adopt restorative approaches that emphasize repairing harm, restoring relationships, and addressing the root causes of conflict. Restorative practices, such as mediation, conflict resolution, and harm repair conversations, can help individuals take responsibility for their actions while fostering belonging, accountability, and growth. These practices can reduce the likelihood of criminalization, student “misbehavior”, and disengagement that feed the school-to-prison pipeline (Lodi et al., 2021; Darling-Hammond et al., 2020).

Participants constantly emphasized the absence of safe spaces in their schools, highlighting our educational system’s focus on punishment rather than support. Thus, local and state education policies should also mandate the creation of designated restorative spaces within schools where students can regulate emotions, access counseling, and receive restorative support (e.g., peer support groups, meditation rooms, a sufficient number of rooms for therapy sessions, restorative circles, etc.). However, these spaces may have limitations if staff are undertrained, resources are insufficient, or spaces are implemented inconsistently. Careful planning, professional development, and ongoing evaluation are necessary to ensure these spaces effectively promote restoration and repair rather than unintentionally reinforce inequities.

However, we also note that research highlights important limitations of restorative justice in current practice. As Samimi (2025) notes, when restorative justice practices are used as a buzz-word, lack a clear definition, leave roles and responsibilities ambiguous, and are implemented by educators who lack anti-racist training, they risk reproducing the very disparities they are intended to address. Therefore, schools must not only adopt restorative practices coupled with robust anti-racist training and support but also ensure that all staff are equipped with knowledge, skills, tools, funding, resources, and systemic structures needed for sustainable and long-term implementation.

5.4. Implement Equity-Centered and Systemically Trauma-Informed Practices

Our findings emphasize that when trauma is misinterpreted as “defiance,” exclusionary discipline can cause further harm. Instead, schools can adopt trauma-informed practices that problematize the root causes of trauma while attending to trauma’s impacts. Training, tools, and systemic supports should focus on equipping adults with the skills to recognize trauma’s impacts and respond with supportive interventions. We can look to several equity-centered trauma-informed frameworks for a roadmap of what schools can do. First, Venet’s (2021) equity-centered trauma-informed education encourages the entire system of education to prioritize (1) cultivating predictable environments and interactions; (2) focusing on flexibility over uniformity; (3) cultivating strong, trusting connections rooted in care and equity; and (4) sharing power by honoring student voice, agency, and decision-making. Similarly, Goldin et al. (2025b) elaborate how Systemically Trauma-Informed Practice (SysTIP) can be integrated into schools and classrooms when we (a) understand individuals as operating inside of (unequal) systems; (b) use asset—not deficit—frames; (c) speak to and about race and racism; and (d) navigate whiteness that permeates all structures of schooling. Each of these frames place the onus for change on the system, not individual teachers, which is an important distinction in attempting to dismantle the inequitable discipline policies that have engendered the existence of the school-to-prison pipeline. Trauma-informed practices can and do happen inside individual classrooms. However, if we want real change enacted on a broad scale, we must move beyond classroom-level interventions and one-off teacher training to invest in coordinated, system-level transformations that reshape school culture, policies, and accountability structures in ways that center humanity, equity, and collective responsibility.

6. Conclusions

“I was fed up”

—Study Participant

Fed up. Misunderstood. Punished. Our participants remind us that the school-to-prison nexus is not a distant outcome. It is a daily experience of being treated as disposable. Their stories lay bare the reality that exclusionary discipline is not merely a policy choice. It’s a message. And when schools respond to trauma with removal, to bullying with suspension, to mental health challenges with silence, they do interrupt harm; they authorize it.

And still yet, there are dreams. Not small dreams about reform as usual. Freedom dreaming that radically reimagines what is possible in U.S. public schools. Where there is room for culture, for care, for healing, where belonging is not accidental but designed.

As we look toward the future, rooted in our participants’ visions, we can refuse to normalize what has been made ordinary. If school has been a door to incarceration, then our charge is clear: let us close the door—and build a new one.