“Just Look Outside” — Teaching Climate Change in Alaska

By Soren Wuerth


This story is part of Covering Climate Now, a global collaboration of more than 250 news outlets to strengthen coverage of the climate story.

The first week of school in Anchorage, Alaska, was held amid an amber haze of smoke from forest fires south and north of the city.

School buildings, choked with lung-tingling micro-particles of ash, had inhabitants consigned to air quality deemed to be a health risk. Teachers and students complained of headaches.

Anchorage, meanwhile, has seen a mere trickle of rain all summer, less than an inch total. This summer will be southcentral Alaska’s driest ever. The federal Drought Monitor classified the area as being in “extreme drought.”

“This is rare event,” an Alaska climate scientist told the Anchorage Daily News. “It will be less rare in the future.”

The school curriculum hardly mentions the gloomy, suffocating conditions outside, just more evidence of a climate catastrophe. That topic, the big one visible outside our windows and the underlying cause for the sooty air everyone was breathing, is relegated to a few pages in dated science textbooks.

How our educational system has ignored the climate crisis for so long says more about its fixture in antiquity than even that row of “classics,” force-fed to students, in the English Department’s book room.

In our narrative of schooling, teaching about climate, especially outside of one’s so-called “content area,” is subversive for anyone but a science teacher.

Years ago, shortly upon returning from a pivotal climate summit in Paris, I received a call from the principal’s office.

“Apparently, you’ve been teaching about global warming in your classroom and we are getting complaints from parents.”

Despite the fact that Alaska is warming at twice the rate of the Lower 48, that Barack Obama visited the state to dramatize the issue, that I had recently returned from the Paris Climate Summit, the topic was still sacrilege in Anchorage’s school-industrial-complex.

Besides, Heaven forbid, I was an English teacher!

“Thanks for taking time to meet with this parent,” the administrator told me after our meeting, “but you need to stick with the curriculum.”

The message was clear:  I had to be as careful as one might be with a political controversy.

This summer’s record-smashing heat and drought, abrupt to our collective senses, dissipated the cloud of ambivalence I had over whether to prioritize climate study in my classes.

I distributed a copy of an article from the local paper connecting this summer’s heat wave, drought, and fires to climate change. I treated the story as an object of interest and did not present my own perspective. I invited students to discuss. Current events has little place in our academic plans (even social studies does not make room in its crowded curricula), but I wanted nonfiction texts that are both relevant and engaging. Let’s talk about what’s out the window.

The mood in the room was somber, and I feared unease about these seniors’ future would result in apathy. So I brought up Greta Thunberg, the 16-year-old Swedish activist who sat with a sign outside the Swedish parliament, becoming a global celebrity for action on the climate crisis. “What stands in the way of more people taking this action?” I asked the class.

Of four discussions we held in the first two weeks of school, more in the class directed their reflection toward this topic. They wanted more information. They wanted to know what they can do.

Throughout the remainder of the school year, I’ll mix topical ecological issues with a climate unit. I will teleconference with Alaska Natives, with a friend who lives in the disappearing Solomon Islands, with a past foreign exchange student from Tunisia, and, importantly, bring in students their own age who are organizing events. I call the unit “My Climate Story.” It’s a unit for teaching climate chaos I’ve worked on, with the help of colleagues across the globe, since the Paris summit.

I hope to inspire action, because regardless of our penchant to closet the environment and to hold an antiquated education system sacrosanct, something has got to change.

Soren Wuerth is a writer, activist and secondary language arts teacher working in Anchorage, Alaska.

Teach the Fossil Fuel Industry — Our Students’ Enemy

By Bill Bigelow

Photo: Joe Brusky

This story is part of Covering Climate Now, a global collaboration of more than 250 news outlets to strengthen coverage of the climate story.

A while back, I was invited to lead a workshop on teaching the climate crisis at a teacher education program at a Portland-area college. I chose an activity I wrote called “The Mystery of the Three Scary Numbers” — included in the Rethinking Schools book, A People’s Curriculum for the Earth and at the Zinn Education Project’s Teach Climate Justice site. It’s based on a famous Bill McKibben article in Rolling Stone, “Global Warming’s Terrifying New Math.” The terrifying math that McKibben lays out is simple: In order to keep the climate from warming more than two degrees Celsius over pre-industrial temperatures, the world’s “carbon budget” is 565 gigatons — carbon of all sources that, collectively, the world can emit and have a reasonable hope of staying under two degrees. The terrifying number is how much carbon is stored in the known reserves of fossil fuel companies and countries that act like fossil fuel companies, like Saudi Arabia: 2,795 gigatons — five times the amount of the world’s carbon budget. Yes, I know, there are lots of problems with this formulation. For example, two degrees is a horribly inadequate target, one that will condemn much of the world to climate catastrophe. And the 2,795 number grows every day, as profit-driven fossil fuel companies, and the governments they purchase, drill and dig and scrape the Earth for still more fossil fuels. But the core lesson remains: We cannot burn a substantial portion of known fossil fuel reserves and hope to survive.

In the activity, students receive short clues on strips of paper about different aspects of the three scary numbers — 565 gigatons, 2,795 gigatons, 2 degrees Celsius — and circulate in the classroom, finding people with other clues that connect with theirs. Following the activity, students write on the three numbers, what makes them scary, and the implications: What should we do?

The future teachers had lots of thoughts on this, but one was especially passionate: “We have to convince the fossil fuel companies to keep all these fossil fuels in the ground — it’s crazy to continue to explore for more and more when we already have too much.”

This was a well-meaning comment. But think about this for a moment. The climate crisis puts at risk the future of life on Earth. It is lunacy that humanity and nature should be held hostage by the fossil fuel industry, that we should have to — or even could — plead with them to exercise restraint. These corporations cannot be reasoned with; they cannot be talked into committing suicide as fossil fuel producers. An article in the Aug. 9, 2019 edition of the New York Times (“With Saudi Aramco Set to Disclose Earnings, Could an I.P.O. Be Next?”) underscored what’s at stake for these companies. Aramco, the world’s largest oil producer, had 2018 profits of $111 billion, making it by far the most profitable corporation in the world. Said another way: The more this industry ignores the climate crisis, the richer it gets.

And yet, the threat the fossil fuel industry poses to the future of life on Earth makes almost no appearance in mainstream curriculum. Here in Oregon, where I taught social studies for almost 30 years, the state K–12 social studies standards, approved in May of 2018, include not a single mention of “fossil fuels,” “oil,” “coal,” or “gas” in the standards’ 27 pages.

The Next Generation Science Standards acknowledge that “Human activities, such as the release of greenhouse gases from burning fossil fuels, are major factors in the current rise in Earth’s mean surface temperature (global warming).” But the standards fail to acknowledge the fundamental contradiction between continued fossil fuel use and planetary survival. Instead, a middle school NGSS standard offers this meek (and convoluted) suggestion: “Reducing the level of climate change and reducing human vulnerability to whatever climate changes do occur depend on the understanding of climate science, engineering capabilities, and other kinds of knowledge, such as understanding human behavior and on applying that knowledge wisely in decisions and activities.”

No doubt, teachers can use this standard to teach critically, but this obfuscating language fails to acknowledge the obvious: We are in a climate emergency; our house is burning down and it’s urgent that we stop those people who are pouring fuel on the fire.

We need a curricular conversation about how we can teach about fossil fuels from the earliest grades through teacher education, and in multiple disciplines. At the Zinn Education Project, we feature simulations and role plays that can help students recognize how the fossil fuel industry jeopardizes life everywhere:

These lessons tell the truth about the deadly impact of fossil fuels, so as to engage students in the vital work of exploring alternatives — through organizing and activism. And teaching against fossil fuels is not just for older students. In a forthcoming Rethinking Schools article, Portland, Oregon, 2nd-grade teacher Rachel Hanes describes a Storyline project she taught with her students, in which citizens in their imaginary community of Happy Town receive a letter from the president of the Carson Environmental Oil Co., proposing a pipeline that will come through a part of their town and “bring many new high paying jobs to your area.” Student-citizens joined a town hall meeting to discuss the proposal, wrote persuasive letters to the mayor, and defeated the proposal in a community-wide vote. Rachel followed up by introducing her students to other young activists at Standing Rock and in the Our Children’s Trust lawsuit.

 “Climate justice” education means a lot of things. But one key aspect is that we involve students in probing the social and economic roots of this crisis. The climate crisis is inexplicable without looking at the intersection of fossil fuels and the capitalist system. Students everywhere need to understand the role that the fossil fuel industry plays in jeopardizing their futures — and learn how to resist. Today, these should be basic skills.

A People's Curriculum for the Earth

Bill Bigelow ( is curriculum editor of Rethinking Schools magazine, and co-edited A People’s Curriculum for the Earth: Teaching Climate Change and the Environmental Crisis.