Teaching Nardagani to Prisoners
Nardagani has proudly been taught with great success in jails and prisons throughout the United States. Teaching adult students who struggle with learning English, as well English as a second language, is a tool that can not only support the success of a prisoner after they are released, but also helps effect positive change of prison life as a whole.
“When we first got involved with the Nardagani course, we didn’t realize that their was a problem in the United States—that illiteracy is a problem. It’s not something you even think about. I mean, this is the greatest country on Earth, and yet 25% of the people in this country are challenged by reading. Such a fundamental thing… reading a prescription, filling out a resume, reading a street sign or finding directions. The Nardagani course allows, in a very simplistic way, a solution and it allows people to better their lives with something that is very simple to understand and learn,” David Cleverdon, Boise, Idaho.
With this shared, it is easy to understand how someone’s reading challenges can also be the start of having issues with the law.
Jose shares how Nardagani is taught to prisoners, “Lately we have been teaching Nardagani in the jail facility in Hailey, Idaho. Personally, I have been teaching Spanish with this program and it’s very helpful. Nardagani is easier to teach people with the symbols that we use in this program, as you get the sounds exactly the way that it should be pronounced. I believe Nardagani is going to be huge because it is so simple to lean how to read. Once you read you are learning.”
Please enjoy this book excerpt from “Nardagani: A Memoir - Finding Light in the Shadow of a Brother's Disappearance,” by Narda Pitkethly, CEO of Nardagani, which chronicles the success of the program in the Oregon prison system:
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A few days after my return from Kuna Prison, I get a call.
It’s from Carol, the education director at the Snake River Correctional Center in Ontario, Oregon. “I’d like to conduct a Nardagani pilot program. We’ll purchase your program, go through the instructional materials you provide and let you know how it goes.”
Two months later Carol calls me.
“You need to get out here and see what’s happening.”
Driving into the Oregon prison feels similar to driving into the Idaho prison. Razor wire surrounds the facility. Approaching the main entrance, I see a tall woman holding a bunch of paperwork. She sees me and begins jumping up and down. One of the files falls to the ground. Before I can pick up the file, she’s hugging me, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s working! It’s working! Nothing has ever worked for us before. Come, the Nardagani tutors want to meet you.”
Carol takes me through all the formalities—visitor check-in, rights, obligations and warnings. We go through the many sally ports, and arrive in a large hallway at the center of the prison. This is the largest men’s prison in Oregon. Groups of male inmates walk by in denim shirts and jeans.
“Now I get why you told me not to wear denim,” I say wryly to Carol.
We enter a large classroom with a bank of desktop computers in one area, tables and chairs in another. We sit. “There are five Nardagani tutors. They should be here shortly. They’re very excited to meet you.”
The door opens and five men walk in, smiling.
“I’m happy to introduce our Nardagani tutors to you.” They stand there, saying “Hello, so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming.”
I’m startled and confused. “But you’re all in denim. I don’t understand.”
Carol responds, “Oh, you told me that inmates could probably teach each other to read. Yes?”
Holy moly! My breath catches, this is phenomenal. The tutors are inmates!
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