By Betsye Violette (a.k.a. Ms. V)
“In order to write the book you want to write, in the end you have to become the person you need to become to write that book.”
—Junot Diaz The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
Richard Rivera mocks me all the time because I always say that every student is my favorite… which is totally true, but Jesse Johnston really is one of my faves—for realz. It’s probably because he’s not a Patriot’s fan (Miami Dolphins forever!), is a voracious reader– tho his taste is questionable, and he was the very first CPEP student I met. First impressions are forevs and despite the foibles of middle-age memory fails, I can still see Jesse that first day in Learning Lab– impeccably composed and put together in khakis and a yellow polo shirt amongst a sea of green. His greeting was out before I could even introduce myself: “First day in prison? How’s it feel to be trapped inside with a bunch of criminals?” which of course appealed to my snarky humor and somehow oddly—but aptly– assured me that I had found my place… and a friend. A brilliant student and flawsome mentor to other CPEP fellas, Jesse was one of the most reliable, inspiring students I worked with inside.
That was five years ago to date and for Jesse, much has changed. Since that summer in 2017, Jesse graduated, earning his AA with the first Five Points Cohort in 2018 as well as his Cornell Certificate. Upon his return home to Rochester in October of 2019 he reunited with his family and worked hard, eventually joining REJI’s Justice Scholar’s program at the University of Rochester. Just a few weeks ago, he graduated with his BA in Political Science and in the fall, he’ll begin his Master’s in Philosophy at U of R. To say that I am unbelievably thrilled and proud is an understatement. Nor am I surprised because Jesse is for sure one of the most steady-eddy fellas that I know—he makes a plan, executes it brilliantly, and succeeds. Period. His perseverance and dedication is beyond inspiring.
One of the pieces of writing I remember that Jesse shared that first year was a poem on the sounds of prison, in particular, the meaningful clack of the typewriter and its significance of hope:
“Typewriters: on reprint, sounds like tiny machine gun—on gallery, someone doing work, typing a letter home, doing schoolwork. In the law library sound of people fighting for cases, trying to go home.”
It’s for that reason that my text tone for Jesse is the typewriter, because every time he texts or calls, it’s an audible reminder of how he fought his way home and is writing his beautiful future.