Joel Nicholson. Photos / Mike Scott
A Tokoroa man who survived state care abuse, gang life and prison is now running a programme for the town’s youth who have been excluded from mainstream education. But in a community gutted by mill closures, demand for the course outstrips what two men can do alone.
Standing in his prison cell, Joel Nicholson caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
He began touching his sallow face thinking, “I’m better than this”.
“I couldn’t believe how out of control my life had become.”
Behind that reflection, a path weaved its way back through drugs and gangs, crime, violence and state care abuse.
Nicholson was tired. That night, in his cell, he cried.
By the morning he made a decision.
Reconex was founded by Joel Nicholson, pictured right, after he saw a need to help teens disengaged from mainstream education in Tokoroa. Photo / Mike Scott
Up the spiral stairs of the Tokoroa Club, past the function room where older women play mahjong, there’s a small room where six teens sit.
Normally these students would be in school, but they are either excluded from either of the two secondaries in town, or just don’t want to be there.
Like Keion Henderson, 15.
He was barely attending school in Year 9 – something like a 4% attendance rate – so he left in Year 10. “I just didn’t like school.”
Henderson’s parents weren’t happy but then a mate told him about Reconex – an alternative education programme for teens like him, started by Tokoroa locals Joel Nicholson and Richard Heke.
Over three days a week, the Rangitahi course has helped get him on a better track. It includes managing routines, cooking to a budget and goal setting.
Today is a follow-up for the six in attendance. The focus is on their futures and each student has created their own vision boards.
Reconex was founded by Joel Nicholson, pictured right, after he saw a need to help teens disengaged from mainstream education in Tokoroa.
Some are bold, some are more humble. It is obvious from the cows, motorbikes and country house that Henderson wants to be a dairy farm worker and maybe even a farmer.
Other boards show hairstyling, a clothing brand, moving to Australia.
“If I wasn’t here, to be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d end up in jail ... if I wasn’t here,” Henderson remarks.
Sitting behind the class, Nicholson has a smile on his face because of what he’s hearing – the Rangitahi programme in action.
“It’s like ‘prehabilitation’ – rather than going through the system and needing rehabilitation,” he said.
Nicholson and Heke started Reconex because they saw a need. The pair met through their own rehabilitation programme and realised they each wanted to help the young people struggling in Tokoroa.
They were once those kids themselves.
At one point they knew of more than 100 local youngsters under 16 who were out of school and had few options.
But at Reconex they could only take eight at a time, mostly because Nicholson and Heke run the programme from their own pockets.
“Being a small town, we don’t have access to as much funding as the large cities but we still have all the same problems and the same issues,” Nicholson said.
Tokoroa has done it tough in recent years with progressive closures of the Kinleith Mill.
In 2025, closures of some operations at Kinleith Mill resulted in the loss of 100s of jobs.
Last October the plywood plant closed with the loss of 119 jobs.
In June paper machine six halted production with the loss of more than 150 workers.
“There’s still people that own businesses but it’s a massive hit for the economy,” Nicholson said.
“With the kids that we work with, a lot of their parents are pushing drugs, a lot of their parents are gang members, a lot of their parents are addicts.
“We see first-hand what’s going on in our community every day.
“It can be frustrating because they’re only with us for about four to five hours a day and then they have to go and survive the other 19 hours. And I know what that was like because it was like that for me growing up.
“And I’ll share my story as long as it helps the kids.”
Joel Nicholson co-founded Reconex after his own experience with gangs, drugs and prison. Now he uses that story to steer at-risk youth toward a different path.
Whanganui. Poor. Domestic violence. A mum under pressure and an alcoholic dad who left when he was 5.
“And it hurt, bro, I felt rejected,” Nicholson said.
“I wanted to feel acceptance and I guess when you’re young and you’re going through that sort of stuff, you tend to make friends with like-minded people that are going through the same sort of stuff.
“And the friends that I made were bad people.”
It was a time of survival. Often there was no food in the cupboard. He was drinking and smoking dope.
“Me and my mates were out there shoplifting, robbing cars, stealing cars, committing burglaries, robbing shops and eventually I got caught and I got taken from my mum’s custody.”
First, he was sent to Christchurch, at 15, and then to Moerangi Treks in Te Urewera.
South Waikato town Tokoroa, with a population of 14,500, has two high schools.
This is where Nicholson stutters and his gaze steels, looking straight through you.
“If I could picture hell on earth, that was it.
“I’ve done heaps of jail. None of it was as hard as it was in those bush camps, eh.”
Nicholson recounts being beaten by the instructors, by other boys under direction of the “brutal, brutal men” running the bush camp.
He had lumps covering his head, lying with his injuries for days.
He remembers broken noses and eye sockets. They were served rotten meat with maggots.
Evidence about Moerangi Treks was later given to the Royal Commission into Abuse in Care.
“We were in the middle of nowhere and they were literally torturing us in those places.
“And it changed me, how I saw authorities and that included police and others, because they were the ones who sent me there.”
When he did get out, it was with embarrassment and shame.
“But I couldn’t talk about it and the only time I felt at peace was when I was stoned.
“I just leaned into drugs to cope. And of course when you’re using a lot of drugs every day to cope, your tolerance gets more and more and so you start having to support that addiction.”
From this point, Nicholson’s life was a spiral into drug use, dealing and violence.
He would eventually get a seven-year sentence for aggravated robbery.
“I spent my entire 20s in prison.
“I was meeting, like, high ranking gangsters and people like that, that would give me their contact details and tell me to look them up when I got out.
“And when I got out, I contacted the right people – or people that I thought were the right people – and I just started selling meth.”
Nicholson was recruited into a well-known gang because he could sell drugs and make money for them.
“And so me and a good mate of mine, we pretty much controlled the meth game around here in South Waikato for a long time – for about four or five years.”
Tokoroa has done it tough since the progressive closure of the Kinleith Mill, with the loss of hundreds of jobs in a town of 14,500.
During yet another jail term, Nicholson’s wife, who’d stuck by him through turbulent times, laid it on the line – if he was to continue his life of crime, he would lose her and his family.
“I just caught a glimpse of myself one night in the mirror and I didn’t like the man that I saw looking back at me. I looked like a skeleton, I looked deformed.”
After a night of contemplation, he knew what he had to do.
He went to a prison yard in front of his fellow gang members and told them he wanted to get out – he was choosing his family.
“It was one of the most intense things I’ve ever done. I could’ve got wiped in the yard there and then.”
Nicholson’s mind was made up and the gang could see it and they let him leave.
Later that day he got bail and went home.
“That’s when my new journey started and I haven’t looked back.”
Tokoroa High School principal Willie Ford watches a girls' rugby game. Ford left school at 16 to work at Kinleith – a path no longer available to young people in the town.
On a chilly Wednesday late afternoon Tokoroa High School principal Willie Ford watched the girls’ under-15 team make a comeback against a visiting Hamilton side.
Low cloud greyed the town. A few homes across the school fence puffed lazy smoke to beat the chill.
In the final minute, a Tokoroa player broke through the defences to score the winning try.
Ford turns with a gentle smile. “Her uncle is Kevin Mealamu.”
In front of a small but loud crowd, the team won 34-33.
In his office, turning on the heat, Ford explained how school wasn’t for him as a youngster.
“I came to school to play sport, I didn’t come to learn.
“I had two and a half years here and then I got a job. That was 1972 and they were crying out for workers.”
The job was at Kinleith – the pulp and paper mill, south of town. Back then it employed 5500, Ford said, and to get the work he told them he was 18, when he was really 16 but looked 14.
“When I left school they were crying out for employment, there was employment everywhere. You could just walk out of here and get a job straight away.
“But the situation has changed now. You can’t get a job so you’ve got to stay at school as long as you can to get a qualification to become employable – that’s the difference now with Tokoroa.”
So, expelling or excluding a student from the school was almost always the final act of a long attempt to rectify a situation, he said.
For Forest View High School principal Andrew Bramston, excluding a student is always a last resort.
It’s the same across town at Forest View, the other high school in Tokoroa, where Andrew Bramston has been principal for six months.
“We try everything first. So for them to actually get excluded from the school, they’ve had to have done something quite serious here at kura.
“There’s often lots of other background things going on, whether it’s poverty, whether it’s anxiety, stress, low confidence, those sort of things.”
Before exclusion, the school will link to support programmes, counselling services and access mentors.
“Do we have enough support services? Well, the obvious answer is probably not – it’s a resourcing thing obviously.
“Our challenge always is balancing accountability with safety for everyone. And that’s sort of what we do. But we’re definitely not a school that’ll just, ‘Oh well, you’ve done this, you’re out’.”
Once a student is gone from mainstream education before 16, they are not lost. They still need to be accounted for and have other options provided.
In Tokoroa, the YMCA Youth Academy is the main provider schools refer to because it offers an education programme for young people who have been removed from mainstream before 16 years.
The Reconex Rangatahi programme covers goal-setting, budgeting, cooking, fitness, anger management, tikanga Māori and mental wellbeing.
Reconex is now another option – albeit a small one.
Ana Ngatai has three children who used to be at Forest View High School, but are now excluded.
The reason was chronic absenteeism, she said.
Ngatai would get the kids to school but they wouldn’t go to class. Their attendance rate was under 30%, she reckoned.
“They really regret it now because they really wish they were still at school but they can’t, they’re not allowed back up there.”
Sending them to Tokoroa High School wasn’t on the cards because of issues or conflicts with other students.
When Ngatai’s niece was enrolled in the first Reconex, she saw it as a choice for her children.
“They go, so that’s a difference from school to Reconex.
“I always ask them what they’ve done today and for my son Kydash, he’s quiet but he came home the other day with his goals and what he wants to do. That is something I’ve not seen of him.”
Ngatai’s niece hadn’t attended school since finishing primary, yet enrolling with Reconex had given her direction.
“The tutors, they’ve helped me like get a clear mind. They’ve helped me in a lot of things . . like going to the gym and just get out of my bad habits.
“I would like to go back to school but I don’t think I’d be able to ... I’ve been out of school for a long time.”
Asked if knowing about Nicholson’s own experiences with drugs, gangs and violence had an impact, she replied it was like her own backstory.
“My father’s been in jail my whole life, I wouldn’t want to go down that path. I’m not looking to go down that kind of path.
Richard Heke co-founded Reconex with Joel Richardson. Physical fitness and training is part of the programme but funding constraints mean gym access is no longer possible.
Many applications to the Rangitahi course come from parents, so Nicholson and Heke hui with the whānau.
“We want to know what’s going on and figure out if they – the young person – are suitable for the programme.
“If they are forced they won’t want to come.”
They expect equal effort in return – “it’s 50/50”, Heke said.
Reconex was built on their own time and money, plus goodwill within the community, but they don’t want to exploit that generosity indefinitely.
Last year they managed to secure funding through applications to sources like the Tindall Foundation and Community Organisation Grants Scheme.
It allowed them to run out of more modern rooms and pay for resources like fuel and cooking ingredients. Nicholson and Heke still worked for free.
However, in 2026 all funding applications have been unsuccessful.
To run the course, Nicholson and Heke pay about $5000 a term from their own pockets.
They also give three days a week of their time and are constantly upskilling to improve their teaching.
Reconex is now a registered charity with a Givealittle page to help with fundraising.
Ideally, they want Ministry of Education recognition and sustainable funding.
Marcus Freke, Director of Education for Waikato, said the ministry was aware of the Reconex programme.
“We have not undertaken any work with or had any formal collaboration with them.”
Despite the setback, the two men are on a mission.
“Hope with direction is better than just hope,” Heke said.
Upstairs at the Tokoroa Club, the session is wrapping up. The kai has been eaten and the wash-up done.
The group gathers, hats removed, and a karakia is said.
Nicholson watches and smiles as he receives goodbye fist bumps and hugs.
“I guess my story can go to dark places,” he said.
“But it actually has a happy ending.”
