Human Services alum grateful for education
possible through Second Chance program
What’s My Why?
“For 21 years, I’ve walked between barbed wired fences, unsure of who I was or who I’d be once released from prison. In 2016, the Second Chance program gave me a chance to be more than incarcerated. It gave me a second chance to be free.”
Before dressing in his cap and gown for commencement, Donte Hayes donned the ceremonial garb for a more personal acknowledgment.
He returned to Edmondson Avenue for one last look at the home where he grew up. It’s vacant now and slated for demolition, but Hayes could imagine the history there, from fonder memories of his mother inside, to the harder ones on the street corner where he nearly derailed his future.
His graduation from The University of Baltimore on May 22 with a B.A. in Human Services Administration is an academic achievement he never thought he would reach. But standing outside his old home, he realized he was also graduating from a past life it took him too long to leave behind.
“If I just taken education seriously early on, then I would be grateful at 20 years old, the way that I’m grateful now at 43, for even having it.”
Struggling With His Voice
Hayes started his journey with UBalt in 2016 while he was still serving a sentence at Jessup Correctional Institution. He was accepted into the University’s Second Chance College Program.
Second Chance, led by Andrea Cantora, associate professor of criminal justice, is a partnership between UBalt and Jessup Correctional that allows incarcerated men there to take courses for credit in the Human Services Administration program.
As soon as he knew about the opportunity to learn, he went for it.
“I wanted to do something with my life, and I knew that education was going to be the way to do that,” Hayes said.
His city’s response to the 2015 death of Freddie Gray—protests, fires, violence and devastation—fueled Hayes’ passion for education. The conversations never ended, from what he saw on the news, to what his family discussed, but he felt their perspectives were off.
“When they say it’s stupid to burn down your own community, and in a way, it is, I just remember saying, ‘But they’ll never have the deed to those properties. They’ll never own any of those properties. So, it’s not really their community,’” he said. “So, what those kids are doing is articulating themselves the best way that they can. And while it’s not the best behavior, that’s the only way they know how to articulate themselves. They are screaming for something; what are they screaming for?”
He asked himself the same question. What was he screaming for?
His answer led him to UBalt.
“When the University of Baltimore came in, and they provided the curriculum and provided the books, it started to give me the words that I needed to say what was inside of me, that fire that I had,” Hayes said. “Education just has been that outlet that’s going to actually get me away from that prison cell that I feel like I’ve been in my entire life.”
Hayes started taking classes at Jessup. The learning spaces were small and packed with the students, he recalled, but it felt too good to be true that he was allowed to join.
‘Just Be You’
Hayes was one of the first Second Chance students to come to UBalt, possible through a work-release opportunity. He got a job at the Career and Internship Center and was able to work and continue classes before his official release in May 2023, 21 years and seven months after he first went in.
The transition back into society was difficult for Hayes. He felt overwhelmed re-entering a world that was vastly different than the last one he knew.
Hayes recalled a chance run-in on campus with Roger Hartley, dean of the College of Public Affairs, and the advice the dean had for him.
“He said, ‘Donte, I just was speaking about you with Professor Cantora, and she said that you always had a heart, that you want to help everybody, and you want to do it for everybody.’ He said, ‘Just be a student. You don’t have to be in college for everybody that’s in prison. Just be you, just be a student.’ Those encouraging words helped.”
A first-generation college student with a second chance, Hayes made the most of his time at UBalt. He pursued opportunities both inside and out of the classroom.
As an intern with the Druid Heights Community Development Corporation, he learned about revitalization efforts and volunteered with their men’s re-entry program. The program offers resources for a variety of needs such employment, mental health, legal issues, GEDs and computer literacy.
Hayes needed to log 100 hours and surpassed that. He plans to remain connected in the future.
He’s also working on building a business venture designed to clean up the city’s neighborhoods. The idea for Another Man’s Trash, LLC, came to him when he was still at Jessup Correctional.
“A few years back, I think it was in my sociology class, we talked about African Americans and the health issues that we already have struggled with. And when you live in areas that are inundated with trash, it compounds those issues in a negative way,” he said. … “Not everybody has the opportunity or the ability to move out of these areas that they live in, but they absolutely should be afforded a clean environment.”
Since even before his release, Hayes hasn’t stopped moving. But his experiences have taught him the value of standing still, of thinking before acting, of taking time to appreciate what you have.
It’s this lesson that brought him back to Edmondson Avenue shortly before his commencement ceremony. He stood still on the sidewalk and leaned into the last connection he had with his mom and the other family members he lost while he was locked away.
“We all have agency of our own lives, but we all are attached to something bigger than ourselves,” he said. “I just want to just sit there and listen to my mom, and all the good advice that she was trying to give me.”
From Chasing Hope, to a College Degree
Hayes wanted an education when he came to the University of Baltimore. He also found faculty, staff and fellow students willing to listen when he had grown accustomed to staying silent.
One moment stands out. He was sitting on a bench outside the Student Center waiting for the bus that would take him back to prison after he finished his work-release shift. He was writing—a hobby that’s flourished over time—when a passerby asked what he was working on.
“I said, ‘I’m currently incarcerated, and I’m coming out here for a few hours out of my day, and I’m free.”
After thinking on that, the man asked Hayes what advice he had for someone in a similar situation. “Don’t ever give up hope,” was Hayes’ response.
He still believes it now.
“There are so many people that have never walked across the University of Baltimore, I was one of them,” Hayes said, snapping back from the memory. “I remember, looking out that glass window in the Student Center, reflecting about how I just came from the Lafayette projects to stand in that building, to do good things in that building. …
"I just want to tell people my story, and my story is, you can be more than a street corner. There’s more to life than what we see around us, and just being around those people who encourage us to be who we are, when we are at that moment, help us to be more at the same time.”