Students gain firsthand experience working with maximum security inmates
Presbyterian College’s Occupational Therapy Doctoral students walked through the gates of Perry Correctional Institution in Pelzer last summer expecting the uncertainty that comes with entering a maximum-security prison.
What they found instead was an uncommon classroom — one defined not by concrete and razor wire, but by dignity, empathy and the universal human desire for purpose.
The weekly visits, embedded in the PC OTD program’s mental health course, offered students firsthand experience in one of occupational therapy’s emerging practice areas: correctional rehabilitation. The partnership began as an experiment. It quickly became something far deeper for both the students and the men they served.
A chance encounter becomes a calling
Dr. Moni Keen, director of PC’s OTD program, had long been interested in exploring how occupational therapy could fit within the correctional system. Across the country, only a small number of OTs work in prisons, and many administrators remain unfamiliar with the profession’s role in mental health and rehabilitation.
Early tours of facilities in Columbia led nowhere. But when Keen visited Perry Correctional Institution — a maximum-security facility in the Upstate — she immediately sensed something different.
“As soon as I walked on that campus, I knew something was different,” Keen said. “The grass was pristine, the flowers were healthy, the inmates we passed spoke to us.”
Her tour guide seemed equally unsure what occupational therapy could offer. Keen offered her “elevator speech” and was soon ushered into the prison’s dementia unit — a program staffed by inmates who receive CNA training to care for aging men serving life sentences.
Keen watched one inmate tenderly care for a fellow prisoner living with dementia. She thanked him afterward for treating his peer “with such compassion and dignity and respect.” He welled up with tears.
“As I walked away, I wondered how many times that gentleman had ever been told he has a purpose,” Keen said. “They’re people — just as human as you and I are.”
The moment cemented her belief that PC needed to be there.
Breaking stereotypes, building connection
Once Perry approved a pilot visit, Keen brought 10 students to meet a group of inmates. The reception surprised everyone.
“It was so well received on both sides of the fence,” she said. “I knew then I wanted this to be part of our mental health class every summer.”
Students entered the prison with varying levels of uncertainty. Some worried the environment would feel tense or intimidating. Others were unsure whether inmates would be willing to engage in therapeutic activities.
Their expectations dissolved almost immediately.
“I expected the environment to feel rigid and the inmates to be guarded,” said OT student Gabrielle Fontenot. “Instead, the men were eager to participate, learn and connect. The experience completely shifted my expectations.”
Another student, Grace Ann Simpson, said she anticipated a sterile, impersonal atmosphere. What she discovered instead was humanity.
“The environment, while obviously secure, also had moments of calm and genuine connection,” she said. “People living in incarceration still carry the same desire for purpose, autonomy and meaningful engagement.”
Students quickly realized that meaningful conversation — simply listening, talking and being present — became one of the most impactful tools they brought into the facility.
Occupational therapy gives inmates a chance to rebuild identity. It helps them develop coping strategies, regulate emotions and engage in routines that support reintegration into the community.”
Grace Ann Simpson, Occupational Therapy Doctoral Student
Restoring identity through occupation
For the inmates, occupational therapy became more than an activity. It became a rare space centered on dignity, purpose, and self-development.
Many of the men come from traumatic backgrounds or disrupted lives. Meaningful occupation — structured routines, coping strategies, emotional regulation and skill-building — can become a lifeline in an environment where autonomy is severely limited.
“Occupational therapy gives inmates a chance to rebuild identity,” Simpson said. “It helps them develop coping strategies, regulate emotions and engage in routines that support reintegration into the community.”
Fontenot agreed.
“It showed me how powerful meaningful occupation can be in a place where autonomy and identity are heavily restricted,” she said. “OT becomes a means of empowerment and healing.”
For providers, working in a correctional environment pushes occupational therapy back to its foundational roots — using occupation to restore well-being, identity and hope.
‘Thank you for seeing us as people.’
After each weekly session, Keen gathered the men and asked them what they would take away from the experience.
Across the board, she heard the same responses:
“Thank you for seeing us as people.”
“Thank you for being kind.”
“Thank you for getting our minds off the yard for three hours.”
“You could have been anywhere today, and you chose to be with us.”
For some, it was the first time anyone had spoken to them as students, learners or contributors — not inmates.
The effect on PC’s students was equally profound. Many admitted they were intimidated at first. Prison protocols required pat-downs and searches. But by the time they left for the parking lot, the students often reached the same conclusion as their professor.
“Who’s more blessed — you or them?” Keen regularly asked.
Over time, the students answered: both.
A transformative educational experience
The visits have become one of the most meaningful components of the OTD program’s mental health curriculum. PC’s smaller cohort sizes make opportunities like this possible — something many larger programs cannot replicate.
“It expands their impact,” Keen said. “These are compassionate people already. They wouldn’t be in this program if they weren’t. But this experience deepens that compassion in ways a traditional classroom never could.”
Students say the experience broadened their understanding of the profession and prepared them to work with diverse, underserved populations.
“It made OT feel even more socially impactful,” Simpson said. “It showed me that our work matters in places where occupational deprivation is the norm.”
Looking ahea
Keen hopes the partnership with Perry Correctional Institution continues every summer.
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t want us back,” she said. “It has been a win-win all the way around.”
What began as a curiosity has become a calling — one that reshapes future therapists, restores dignity to forgotten men and demonstrates the extraordinary reach of occupational therapy.
In a place where freedom is limited, meaningful occupation offers something powerful: the chance to reclaim identity, purpose and hope. And sometimes, that begins simply with being seen.
