California has built more than 20 prisons since 1980 — in that same time, the state has built only one additional UC campus, in Merced.

Statistics such as this abound. When it comes to funding, they capture a troubling comparison: According to university data, nine percent of California’s general funds are allocated to the state’s prison system, while the UC and CSU systems receive only 5.2 percent.

These statistics present a clear imperative — the state should be spending more money on education than it does on incarceration. There is an unmistakable correlation between an underfunded education system and a prison system that is bursting at its seams: A stunted academic life creates a greater likelihood of being sent to prison. Building more prisons will not fix the root of this problem, but neither will simply building more universities.

According to an Atlantic article on this issue, 68 percent of the state prison population has not received a high school diploma. And while establishing more UC campuses would better support the Californians who are on track to pursue a college degree, it would do little to solve the problem of why we have spent the past 36 years building prisons instead.

Consider the makeup of this 68 percent: for many, primary education is the very system that leads to imprisonment. In what is frequently referred to as the “school-to-prison pipeline,” K-12 schools often implement zero-tolerance policies that discipline students for minor infractions, such as being late to school or violating dress codes. These policies are intended to teach accountability and curb violence in dangerous schools. Unsurprisingly, though, they have proven to be racially discriminatory and frequently lead at-risk students to suspension and expulsion. This effectively removes them from exactly the educational system that could lead toward college or a career instead of the penal system.

It isn’t the sheer possession of a high school diploma that keeps students out of prison. Education’s power to prevent incarceration seems to have as much to do with the growth that can occur in tolerant school systems as it does with the diploma itself.

I grew up in San Francisco, where I was privileged enough to attend a private high school. My school was small — I graduated with a class of 66 — and as a result, everybody was aware of each other. I learned to be accountable because I always had to be accounted for — an experience that allowed me to feel as though my presence carried weight.

When I was a senior, I presented a speech at a school assembly. It was almost May and the weather was starting to turn, so I wore a skirt made of fabric that looked more like tissue paper than cotton. Later, a female teacher pulled me aside to tell me that the skirt was in violation of our dress code, adding that it is already difficult to be taken seriously in academia as a woman. “That skirt won’t help,” she said. “I would recommend wearing tights next time.”

It was embarrassing for me to confront my violation of the dress code, but that’s where my punishment ended. And while the risk that I would be suspended or expelled was low, I was allowed a holistic understanding of why the rule existed in the first place, instead of being isolated from the environment that was meant to help me learn.

Zero-tolerance policies do exactly the opposite by removing students from school all together. In this alienation, these schools mime correctional facilities, punishing for the sake of punishing and often failing to prevent the violent crime that the policies are intended to target.

Systems of primary and secondary education should be a space set aside for problem solving, which requires more nuance than implementing standardized punishments.

Ironically, this space only becomes available to some when they get to prison. In 2011, a report by the Correction Association of New York found that college programs in prisons incentivised maturity and leadership. For those of us who are lucky enough to receive a high school diploma, these are qualities that we generally garner from K-12 education. Such maturity and leadership are often the qualities that earn us admission into the world of postsecondary education.

As California considers its overcrowded and overfunded prisons, the state must focus its energy on K-12 education. This shift has the power to prevent crime, save money and help foster a proactive criminal justice system.

Alastair Boone and Libby Rainey write the Thursday column on bits and pieces of the UC Berkeley experience. Contact Alastair at [email protected].