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Former prisoners are helping former prisoners break in to college courses.  The Urban Scholars Union is a relatively new organization created by ex-cons for ex-cons looking to better themselves through education. USU’s President Cesar Garcia said they started 18 months ago at San Diego City College to help “justice impacted” students succeed. “[We want to] empower them and motivate them to be productive members of society,” said Garcia. “We’re not monsters that they make us out to feel and make us out to be,” said San Diego City College student Ryan Rising. “We’re humans that made poor choices.” Rising spent 15 years behind bars for carjacking and attempted extortion but will matriculate to Cal Berkley on a scholarship after earning his Associate’s at City.“I’m super proud of myself,” he said. Garcia, who served seven years for a list of crimes, said the USU provides a space for former prisoners to get help, guidance, and support. The organization recently expanded to Southwestern College and is working on helping students at Mesa and Grossmont Colleges. USU also recently received its largest donation to date.  Current prisoners at Donovan Correctional in Otay Mesa donated ,000 to USU for scholarships and grants for former prisoners. “It just goes to show you how we do look out for each other,” said Garcia. “We just need go out and advocate to erase all these stigmas,” said Rising. 1470

ly injury to a public safety officer, authorities said, citing a criminal complaint, which is sealed. 1307

Four Toledo, Ohio, teenagers who pleaded guilty to killing a man when they dropped a sandbag from a highway overpass have been ordered to a youth treatment facility, a court official said."The youth treatment center is a lockdown facility in Toledo. The program runs six months, but there is no set time to release. The average youth spends eight months there," Lori Olender, juvenile division deputy chief for the Lucas County Prosecutor's Office, said in an email.Besides being ordered to the youth treatment facility, the teenagers were given four-year suspended sentences, placed on probation and ordered to perform 30 hours of community service, Olender said.One was charged with murder and felonious assault and three were charged with involuntary manslaughter and vehicular vandalism, she said. All four pleaded guilty.The youths were charged after a sandbag dropped from an interstate overpass crashed through the window of a vehicle below and hit Marquise Byrd, 22, on December 19, 2017. He died later at a hospital.Three of the teens were 14 when the incident happened and one was 13, authorities said. CNN has not identified them by name because they are minors.Lillian Diallo, an attorney for the Byrd family, told CNN Saturday that she found the sentence to be "extremely light.""It was light on steroids," Diallo said, adding that "the sentence was a heck of a message to send.""You can't tell me at 13 you didn't know it was wrong to throw things on the freeway," Diallo said.Byrd had been preparing to propose to his girlfriend and the mother of his 2-year-old son, Diallo said."This is tragic all the way around," Diallo said. "The fiancée didn't even know she was going to be a fiancée. To steal that from somebody is just horrific."The boys had been walking to a store to purchase candy before they crossed the overpass and began throwing rocks, the Blade reported.During previous court hearings, two boys admitted to throwing two different sandbags, the Blade reported. A sandbag landed on the side of the road and another one on Byrd's vehicle. 2073

For so many Americans, 2020 has been one of the most challenging years of their lifetimes. From an unprecedented pandemic, to the fight for racial justice, there are scars that still show as we prepare to usher in the new year. But amid the struggle, there have been signs of hope for a better future.The working manTens of millions of Americans have felt the devastating blows the year has brought with it, particularly Chad Whitenmeyer.“Some of [the conversations we had this year] were very scary,” he said. “We had the ‘what are we going to do for money?’”Whitenmeyer, 39, worked for a factory where he relied on the 12-hour days to feed his family of six. But when COVID-19 hit, he was one of the first people he knew to contract the virus.“When I took a breath, it felt like I wasn’t taking a full breath,” he said inside of his mobile home in Loveland, Colorado. “I thought I was in the process of dying.”Chad first lost some motor function as he stayed quarantined at home. Then, he lost his job and along with it, his family’s insurance.“You go down this black hole that you can’t get out of,” he said.After four months of short-term disability, Whitenmeyer applied for unemployment, but because he contracted COVID-19 so early in the pandemic, he was not able to get a test, meaning he had no proof he was actually diagnosed.It forced his wife to find temporary employment while Chad, a man who had prided himself on being the family’s breadwinner for two decades, to stay at home and provide for their kids in a different way.“It’s one of the worst feelings I’ve had about myself in my entire life,” he said. “It feels as though you can’t provide any worth to anyone around you.”The transplant patientOn June 26, 52-year-old Carl Werden was like so many other Americans: trying to stay healthy, while leading a modest life as a contractor.But on June 27, everything changed when Werden, a man with no underlying conditions, contracted the virus when he went to visit his daughter in Massachusetts.In only a matter of days, Werden’s condition deteriorated and he was sent to the hospital, a place he would remain for the next six months.“I think a lot of people think if they get sick with COVID, they’ll just be in the hospital for a few days and then they can go home, but that’s not how it works,” he said from his hospital bed over a Zoom call.For four months, Werden slipped in and out of consciousness as he battled the virus, but in October, his lungs had finally given up. Doctors said if he did not get a double lung transplant, it would only be a matter of days until he died.“Because of the COVID, there was a lot of fibrosis in my lungs and it just kept getting worse,” said Werden. “They cut me open, then they cut my rib cage in half.”Much like COVID-19, Werden does not know where those donated lungs came from. But, no longer paralyzed by fear, he is thankful to still be here.“I want people to realize there are people who are perfectly healthy, like I was, that go from being perfectly healthy to having a double lung transplant,” he said.The pastorIn San Diego, while still grappling with the effects of the pandemic, Pastor Miles McPherson, 60, was dealing with the fallout of a different virus that had taken control of the country in May.“The symbolism of how [Derek Chauvin] killed George Floyd, how I received it was, you are nothing, there’s nothing you can do about it,” said McPherson.After watching the 8 minute and 43 second video of George Floyd’s death in Minneapolis, McPherson saw the country come to grips with an outspoken racial reckoning that took hold of his community, as it did so many others across the country.“This was protracted, lengthened out murder,” he said. “It was as cold-hearted as I’ve seen.”McPherson, a Black man, grew up watching his father serve as a police officer, a path his son is now following as well.“There are a lot more people saying we have to do something, what that is, a lot of people don’t know, but that’s something,” he said. “And that’s the beginning of change.”McPherson is working to be a part of that change through a program called The Third Option Similarity Training. He developed it after publishing his book "The Third Option," recognizing the need for a racial reconciliation training program based on honor.The program is being used by schools, churches, and businesses, teaching people how to honor the similarities between us and use those similarities to establish connection and mutual understanding. The training provides actionable steps and creates space for conversations aimed at creating real change.The resolutionAs we come to the final chapter of 2020, it is easy to look at the negatives, but that’s not where the sights of Whitenmeyer, Werden, and McPherson lie. They are focused on a brighter future.As a stay-at-home dad, Whitenmeyer has invested in a camera where he shoots and edits videos of the daily adventures he has with his kids and posts them on YouTube.“Even though this year, for my body, physically speaking, has been the worst year of my life, I’ve gotten to do what I’ve wanted to do, which is to be a dad,” he said.Carl Werden, while still in the hospital, has not only regained the function of his new lungs, but has started walking as he progresses through rehab.“I’m thankful every day,” he said.Pastor Miles McPherson, along with many of his congregants, feel that in the face of extreme racial tension, our country is well on its way to becoming more unified.“I am always hopeful there’s going to be a victory in the end, not only for Black people, but us as a people, because we’re all one race,” he said.In a year that has left us all paralyzed in so many different ways, there are still reasons to keep moving forward, to put one foot in front of the other and work towards a better tomorrow. 5833

For teachers and other educators, it has been a bumpy summer full of unknowns.Used to delivering answers to students, they are now asking questions about what they can expect during the fall semester.“It’s a lot of uncertainty,” said Jo Pustizzi, a high school teacher in Colorado Springs, Colorado.The one thing Jo and her husband, Jim, who is also a public school teacher in Colorado Springs, can rely on is the source of income they have been generating from their Airbnb.Seven years ago, the couple converted their cabin in the Rocky Mountains into a place to stay for out-of-towners looking to escape.“Jo had to really convince me to do an Airbnb, because we had put so much work into the cabin that I didn’t want someone to abuse it,” Jim said.Jo and Jim are far from the only ones as well. Airbnb says it has seen more teachers turn to the service as a way to supplement their income.In 2019, Airbnb says teachers raked in 0 million through rentals. About million of that came during the months of June, July and August, when they were not teaching.It is a big jump from 2017, when teachers brought in 0 million, million coming during the summer months.“It’s kind of like our own little business, too, so it is fun,” said Jo. "It’s fun just reading reviews or talking to people on the phone.”It gives the Pustizzis a way to live their lives a little more loosely as they near retirement age and worry about their pensions amid the pandemic.It also gives them a chance to look back on reviews knowing they did what they do best: share information and experiences."People enjoy the same things that we enjoy and it’s cool,” said Jim.“It feels good knowing other people are feeling good,” added Jo.For a couple whose profession and passion is in flux, what more could you ask for? 1806