There is no practical alternative to hope

A few years ago, Arno Chrispeels, a science teacher at California’s Poway High School, invited me to talk with his students about the changed relationship between the young and the natural world. Expecting gum-popping and note-passing (an assumption that reflected my own latent cynicism), I faced 200 intently curious students who seemed starved for something unnamed. I spoke to them about the connection between their health and the time they spend in natural habitats.

And I spoke to them about the future of our relationship with the earth — about the exciting possibilities that await this generation. I quoted Bradley Smith, president of the Council of Environmental Deans and Directors and a dean at Western Washington University, who takes issue with the bleakness increasingly attached to environmental issues by students and parents.

“During the next 40 years we’re going to have to do everything differently,” he said. From green architecture to organic farming to new alternative energy industries, Smith foresees an array of exciting careers emerging — professions so new that they have yet to be named.

To my astonishment, one could have heard a pin drop during that hour. There was no gum-popping. No note-passing, only curious intensity and excitement.

After the students had left the auditorium, I turned to Chrispeels and said, “What was that about? I didn’t expect that reaction.”

“The answer is simple,” he said. ” You said something positive about the future. They’re not used to hearing that, especially not about the environment.”

Two weeks earlier, a world-renowned scientist from UCSD — an expert on global climate change — had spoken to the same students.

“Their eyes froze over,” said Chrispeels.

In the days that followed, Chrispeels had asked some of his classes to write down the dominant messages that they hear about the environment from media, environmentalists, and the wider culture. Most of the essays described two dominating messages: Pick up after yourself (nature is a chore); and the natural world is in big trouble (but it’s too late to save it anyway). Mixed among these statements were positive references to the beauty of nature, but the dominant tone was negative:

“Humans are a bad environment for other humans…”; “… you will see the Earth reach its end as (we) continue our selfish acts against the environment …”; “Ozone hole getting larger, global warming …”; ” … the environment will die …”; ” … the dangers of nature … natural disaster, or somebody is found dead in the woods.” And, “If you go out (in nature) there has to be a parent, because you can’t protect yourself.” “People are inherently bad.” “We will resort to artificial nature because we destroyed it all to make room for people.” And so on.

Such despair has become fashionable.

David Sobel, co-director of the Center for Place-based Education at Antioch New England Graduate School, and author of “Childhood and Nature: Design Principles for Educators,” describes the growth of “ecophobia” – the fear of ecological deterioration.

“Between the end of morning recess and the beginning of lunch,” school children will learn that “more than ten thousand acres of rainforest will be cut down, making way for fast-food, ‘hamburgerable’ cattle,” he says. In theory, these children “will learn that by recycling their Weekly Readers and milk cartons, they can help save the planet,” and they’ll grow up to be responsible stewards of the earth.”

Sobel believes these are important messages, but counterproductive when delivered in age-inappropriate ways.

Even as they cut their teeth on bedtime tales of ecological collapse, children are less likely to experience the natural world simply for the joy and wonder of it. No wonder they begin to associate nature with fear and apocalypse – an association amplified by their parents’ terror of strangers.

This is the dominant ecological message that Americans, young and old alike, hear: It’s too late; game over. Between global warming and the disappearing rainforest, we might as well take our ball and go home. No surprise, then, that young people are reluctant to suit up.

Indeed, the young – or the best of them – have always been drawn to the possibility of creating a new and better world. Offer more ways to build it, and they will come.

Reigniting Hope

Like fire, hope is easy to extinguish, but quickly reignited with the use of the right elements. Witness what happened when Chrispeels gave his students a simple, radical assignment: spend a half-hour in the natural world.

One night, Meghan ventured outside, looked up and discovered a universe. “I saw more stars than I have probably ever seen in my entire life,” she recalled. She had lived her life in cities, “where parks are distinguished plots of land with green grass carefully watered and mowed.” But now Meghan noticed the sounds of birds and the wind in the trees, and she found that “it wasn’t boring at all being alone. … Just 30 minutes truly revitalized me.” Day was one of 100 or so students who responded recently to Chrispeels’s challenge to spend a half hour in a natural setting, and to write about it. He sent me a stack of the essays.

There wasn’t a cynical piece of writing among them; the students described their green half-hour with a mixture of awe and surprise.

Granted, they had been prepped. During my visit to the school, I had described the growing body of scientific evidence suggesting that exposure to natural settings offers such benefits as the reduction of stress reduction, the stimulation of creativity and cognitive development, more finely tuned senses and even reduced symptoms of Attention Deficit Disorder.

They were ready; they were sensitized.

Lindsay: “Nature, how I’ve been separated from you for so long. … There was something there that made me so happy. … I’ve found it’s so lost, it’s so deep within me. … I try to resurface it but it’s fading fast.”

But what a difference even a half hour can make.

Becky: “For the past few months I’ve found myself unmotivated. … I almost felt a disconnection from myself because I couldn’t take the time to think. … When I sat down in nature to write this weekend I found myself reconnected, my insides and outsides.”

Scot: “I have never taken so much notice of the smaller things. … The budding flower may be just as beautiful in its own respect as the one in full bloom.”

John: “These 30 minutes proved that nature does relieve stress and makes you much more calm and relaxed.”

Chris: “I learned a lot about myself. I think I will go back to the woods … and hopefully make it a routine thing.”

Stephen: “We should have a time set aside from school to be required to spend at last 10 minutes in nature each day.”

What these young people recalled or found new, during their half hour, was something they’ll seldom, if ever, get from Fox News, CNN, or “Grand Theft Auto”: a sense of the unnoticed universe, of the possible, of hope.

And there is no practical alternative to hope.

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