Eric Burnham stood at a podium speaking to a partially filled gymnasium at Eastern Oregon Correctional Institution, in Pendleton. He wore a cap, a gown and a mask that covered his nose and mouth. An audience of students, teachers and administrators sat in folding chairs, spaced 6 feet apart.
It was Dec. 10, 2021. I was working for our prison’s newsletter, covering the return of graduation ceremonies, which had been halted for more than a year because of the pandemic. Burnham, who is serving a life sentence for murder, was speaking because he had just earned a doctorate in psychology and counseling from Liberty University.
I have seen people earn General Educational Development diplomas and the occasional associate degree, but Burnham was the first incarcerated person I’ve known to earn a Ph.D. during his time in prison. The Oregon Department of Corrections could not confirm that Burnham is the only person to earn a doctorate while incarcerated in Oregon, but did say in an email to a PJP editor that they do not know of anyone else who has earned a PhD while incarcerated in a state prison.
At the podium, Burnham reflected on who he was before he came to prison, and his 20-year journey through prison education. He spoke quickly, and later I would learn this was a quirk of his. Burnham is a fast talker, pausing only when his words seem to carry great meaning for him.
“I was a weed,” he said, describing himself in 2001, the year he was incarcerated. “I don’t know a better way to describe it. I had no purpose. No direction.”
Burnham started his transformation in prison by earning a GED diploma in 2003, participating in Narcotics Anonymous and attending church services in the chapel. He said education, sobriety and faith were tenets of change for him. Then, while pursuing his own college education, Burnham became a tutor with our prison’s education department because “nobody should stay lost in the weeds.”
Burnham’s graduation in 2021 was inspiring, but it was not the end of his journey. A few years later, in 2025, Burnham published a book, “Emotional Intelligence Awareness: New Ways of Interacting After Trauma & Incarceration,” which became the catalyst for a seven-week peer-led class on emotional intelligence at Eastern Oregon Correctional Institution.
‘Empathy is not a weakness’
He had been working for two years with prison administrators to get the emotional intelligence class approved as a pilot program, and publishing his book was the final push it needed. His class debuted in January 2026.
The classes were held once a week for about two hours in a small room on the fourth floor of the counselor’s building. I attended the last day of class. Burnham stood at the head of the table writing on a small whiteboard as he talked, quickly, about the importance of addressing past trauma. I was surprised to hear these men, many of them serving long sentences or life sentences, freely talk about their emotions and childhood trauma.
Up to 95% of incarcerated people have experienced at least one traumatic event in their lives, according to the International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies. Of those people, more than half reported childhood trauma, such as physical or sexual abuse.
Burnham said addressing trauma is a stepping stone toward developing empathy, which is a key component of emotional intelligence.
“I want to show people that empathy is not weakness,” he said. “You can’t be a better human unless you understand that other people are human, too.”
Collectively, Burnham’s first cohort of 11 students had served almost 150 years in prison.
Student Kenny Nance said a class created and facilitated by an incarcerated person is more relatable because they share lived experience.
Mychael Lee said the class taught him to find the space between processing and reacting to emotions, which allows him to think about his decisions before he makes them. Burnham is also Lee’s sponsor in Narcotics Anonymous.
“He has been part of my change since I got here” Lee said. “I took the class because he created it.”
Brian Hardegger said the class helped him better understand his emotions. Hardegger was sentenced to life in prison at age 17 and has been incarcerated for almost 25 years, about the same amount of time as Burnham.
Hardegger said when he feels angry or upset, he now likes to imagine his emotions as waves in the ocean, washing over him. This allows him to pause, process and then react to the situation.
“Impulsiveness is a big thing for me,” he said. “This class helped me sit back and ride the emotion. I pull out my surf board when I get emotional flooding; I ride it out before I do something I regret and wind up self-sabotaging.”
‘That’s my why’
Burnham’s accomplishments were not without internal struggle. He has carried guilt for his past mistakes. It was there the day he graduated. It was there when he facilitated his class. And, later, I saw it again when he spoke to me about his crime. There is recognition and regret for killing another person.
“I got in a fight and picked up a knife and I took a man’s life,” he said. “There is no getting around it. It’s not the DA. It’s not the cops. It’s not this guy or that guy. It’s not the rationalizations and the justifications that we tell ourselves,” he said, and paused. “No, man. I did that.”
He said he wants to make a positive impact on the people around him and put something good out into the world, after doing so much bad.
“We all get to decide the human being we want to be each day,” he said. “That’s my why. We have to learn to be better humans, and I want to be better.”

