Redeeming Earth Day
by Gail Collins-Ranadive
I was in a foul mood as I headed for the local Earth Day celebration, and it wasn’t because of the cold, raw, overcast weather. That itself is a cause for celebration in this drought-thirsty desert. But the outer gloom did reflect my inner mood. What has long been a special day for a community-wide celebration on a green open space, with booths set up by non-profit environmental and conservation groups to teach the public about protecting our desert tortoise cousins, preserving our dwindling water supply, and much more, had slowly, surely, finally been fully hijacked by profit-driven vendors showcasing their greenwashed wares. Now, this year’s event was restricted, accessible only by paying an entrance fee that granted access to a climbing wall and beer garden.
The only freely open to everyone event was a farmers market hosted by children selling produce from their school gardens. And sure enough, right in front of the restricted area, two long rows of tables stretched the entire length of the covered space in the corridor between the stores in the shopping area. Each table was laden with produce, mostly kale so early in the season, and bunches of early spring flowers. Behind each display stood eager-faced children, beaming with pride and pleasure at what they had done in their school gardens! Hovering in the background, teachers offered support and assistance as needed.
I purchased a bedraggled bunch of flowers, trusting they’d perk up in water later. They did. Back home, my spirits too perked up as each daisy-like blossom opened into its own subtle color in a mason jar of water placed in full light. I felt that not only had I participated in a meaningful Earth Day event, but that the day itself had been redeemed. After all, the original intent was a nationwide environmental teach-in. I spent the rest of the otherwise gloomy day educating myself on the amazing backstory of school gardens in Las Vegas.
In 2013, two documentary filmmakers working on a project in Las Vegas came up with the idea of creating a crowdfunding project for a nonprofit they would call “Green Our Planet.” The friend who built the platform suggested they try raising money for a local project as a starter.
Another friend suggested raising money for a local school garden project, as he knew a principal who wanted to create a school garden but had no funds to build it. Within a few months, the school had its garden.
But then other schools asked for help too. Five school gardens later, teachers began asking if there were a curriculum they could use. To take their students outside and teach in a garden, they explained, they needed a special curriculum that enabled them to adhere to classroom standards while outside. Without a suitable curriculum, the gardens would have to be used after school, not during class time.
A grant from a local food bank allowed Green Our Planet to hire a dozen teachers and four farmers, and create Nevada’s first PreK-5 STEM garden curriculum’s 800 pages.
Next came the question: “What should we do with our produce?”
Green Our Planet helped organize and then filmed the first student-run farmers market: it sold out in 20 minutes. Now, during a typical school year, fifth-grade students organize more than 200 farmers markets at their schools, many of which are in low-income neighborhoods with no fresh produce for miles.
What started out as an impulse to raise money for conservation projects has inadvertently created the largest outdoor school garden project in the U.S. As one of the founders puts it, “With a garden, kids learn a lot about where their food comes from, nutrition, health, and how to take care of something. Gardens are also a great way for kids to simply get outside, get some exercise, connect with the planet…and have fun.”
A schoolteacher friend of mine confirmed this: his third-grade classroom overlooks their school garden and the children clamor to get outside. Once there they sit still, observe the plants, study the bugs, listen to the birds, watch the butterflies…and then write about their experiences back in the classroom. Awareness of the fresher air and cooler temperatures in the garden area has them questioning why there is more air pollution and fewer green public spaces in their part of town. And because of already existing fruit trees, the children tasted the wonder of freshly picked, and began wondering why only packaged food is available in their neighborhood stores.
Every day is Earth Day out in the school garden, as each grade level studies a different topic: water, sunlight, soil, air. Students learn about the seasons by deciding which flower seeds need to be planted when if they want Mothers’ Day bouquets in May. The fifth and final grade learns about finances; this is why they were the representatives at the farmers markets.
Their enthusiasm was infectious, and affected my gloom-doom mood exponentially. I’d been fretting over a recent new dimension of the climate crisis’ effect upon young people: the world’s children are experiencing what’s being called “pre-traumatic stress.” For while current floods, storms, droughts, heat waves, wildfires, and pandemics related to climate change indeed traumatizes its victims, trauma can also arise from fears of future threats, and lead to depression and anxiety, extreme sadness, and anger. Consider the psychological stress and feelings of powerlessness, uncertainty, and abandonment being experienced by youth plaintiffs who have been suing our government over climate inaction for more than eight years.
Plus, other children, seeing no purpose in life and believing their world will soon be irreversibly damaged, are protesting in the streets, demanding climate action by the grownups in their lives.
Meanwhile, the world’s adults keep meeting in U.N. Conferences of the Parties, and reaffirming the 2015 Paris agreement to stay below 1.5 degrees Celsius of heating…while in actuality the world is on track to reach over 3 degrees. With the upcoming COP scheduled in oil-producing Egypt, the site is too hard to physically reach and economically out of reach for many would-be attendees from the rest of Africa. This exclusive, restrictive annual climate meeting would become a trade show for fossil fuel interests, with the polluting industry infiltrating the delegations as well as displaying its greenwashing promises in the exhibition pavilion. It would end without naming the underlying problem: the words “fossil fuels” would never make it into the final document. And by not naming the source of the problem, it is easier to stall action on solutions, and the chief perpetrators can keep profiting from the problem a while longer.
How are climate activists to hold onto hope and keep going in the face of this reality? I’ll savor the radiant faces of the children selling bedraggled flowers and wilted kale at the next Earth Day farmers market.
Here is my hope: that experiences in their school gardens long serve as memorable reservoirs of renewal and resilience for whatever lies ahead, especially when it’s their turn to take on the environmental injustices of food deserts, heat islands, and, ultimately, climate change itself…thereby fulfilling the promise and purpose of Earth Day after all.
Gail Collins-Ranadive, MA, MFA, MDIV, is the author of 9 published books including Chewing Sand, Nature’s Calling, A Fistful of Stars, Dinosaur Dreaming, Inner Canyon, Where Deep Time Meets Sacred Space and Light Year: A Seasonal Guide for Eco-Spiritual Growth. She also sponsors Homebound’s Prism Prize for Climate Literature.