Forest Fest: Reflections on An Environmental Education

Ever since my initial viewing, in first grade, I just could not wait to be a big fifth grader and participate in that culminating experience of Lower School: Forest Fest. Today, here I am, living on the edge of the rainforest, in many ways a dream that I thought would never come true. I’m here to admit it, Forest Fest got me. I took very deeply to heart all the information about the incredibly diverse rainforests with their species, as well as the incredibly rapid rates of logging. I even still remember some of the songs, whether written by students (its too bad there are no pictures or performances up here, only the lyrics), or sung every year like “Yanamamo”, the integral traditional opening based on an Amazonian tribe and complete with accompaniment by xylophone and glockenspiel; “Subsidized Stumps,” the popular stand-by with matching hand-motions (sample lyrics: "I said don’t cut down that tree, its part of a higher plan and if you do you’ll have to deal with meeee, I said don’t cut down that tree…"); and, of course, the deeply moving “Tree of Life”:

I am a very old tree I grow in brazil,
I have stood for a thousand years and I am standing still
Friendly delicate epiphytes find lodging on my bark,
their swinging ways do me now harm and they escape the dark

(chorus)
We are part of the tree of life and we cannot live without it,
We are part of the tree of life and we’ll perish if we doubt it

All of us need someone else, can anyone deny it?
None of us can live alone, its suicide to try it

Etc. (It’s better if you know the tune)

The level of detail I can remember from this seminal event 12 years ago is amazing, considering the fact that I can barely remember what I learned last year in college (just kidding Mom and Dad, well, sort-of). Additionally, I can very distinctly pin-point my cognizance of the environment in peril and the need of my active participation to help “save” it from this 5th grade Spring curriculum. It should perhaps be noted Forest Fest was no small undertaking; it was instead the culminating musical extravaganza of an entire spring semester dedicated to an integrated learning experience focused on the rainforests, both tropical and temperate.

Returning to the larger question, however, how many members of our 5th grade class are out now, actively participating in a campaign to “save the rainforest,” as cliché as that sounds? Perhaps just me. But even if I am alone in this endeavor, 1 out of 90, those are still pretty good odds. What’s more, I’m sure that this type of environmental education did not fall on deaf ears. How many from our class of over-privileged Philadelphia suburbs have an “environmental conscience” (whatever that is) of some sort? A good number, I would venture to say.

Unfortunately, “environmentalism” seems to have long been the strong-hold of the same subset of people that went to my K-12 private day school. Even at Harvard, the EAC or “Environmental Action Committee,” a group of which I was a proud member, was undeniably under-diverse. The lack of diversity in environment-related causes seems to be generally accepted and expected, but I don’t see why. Granted, I can think of a few arguments for why this is: minority groups or those from less-fortunate backgrounds have other, more pressing issues to worry about than the environment, so they want to take care of those first; only once they have eliminated these other problems of social-equality will they be able to fully participate. I also think that a strong sense of environmental responsibility is often highly related to a personal love of being outside and spending time in nature, which makes perfect intuitive sense. For those from the inner-cities, experience with nature is often harder to come-by, especially during formative early years.

Despite all this, however, I think it's time for a serious change. The problems of the environment run deeper than being a “crunchy granola tree hugger,” and the traditional perception of having the luxury to care about the environment. The environment is intimately linked with health and poverty, and an examination of those problems really cannot be taken out of their larger context. Furthermore, given current climate projections, I really have to wonder what issue is more pressing than the environment? Will it matter if we fix all the other problems if we no longer have a habitable world to live in? You may think I’m being an over-reactionary alarmist, but as anyone who has taken a good hard look at the climate data knows, the numbers are scary.

Finally, in the world of climate change models, one of the only things agreed upon is that the world’s poor will share the greatest burden of the changes to come. This is for a number of reasons. Geographically many of these poor countries are simply located in areas that already suffer somewhat more volatile weather events, and as extreme weather events rise those countries will be disproportionally affected. Additionally, for people already living on the edge, a change in weather patterns, creating say, a devastating drought or flood, will cause much more harm than in those countries with healthier populations and more developed infrastructure. Although this disproportionate burden is widely acknowledged, not nearly enough seems to be done, in my opinion, to mobilize social activists outside of the traditional category of “tree hugger.”

I don’t know where this long ramble really brings me. As with most interesting questions, there is no easy answer. A small part of the solution, however, may lie in the lesson of Forest Fest; the implementation of environmental education curriculum in schools across the country to capture the hearts and minds of children from all walks of life, the way mine was captured.

This is Indonesia

“This is Indonesia,” the man next to me told me somewhat smugly as I looked up vaguely appalled at the prospect of cramming a fourth person into our already snug row of three. I already had a box jammed next to me, the corner digging into my thigh, my knees crammed against the row in front of me, and my bag on my lap. I was on a short trip (one day there, next day back) to Pontianak, the capital of West Kalimantan in order to renew my visa. Luckily I had Samuel, ASRI's "fixer" to help me out with the process. Exciting business, really. I was just thankful it all went smoothly; when some of the Indonesian doctors from ASRI went to Pontianak last week to get new passports, they had to stay the week. So, this is Indonesia: a land where a 5 seater car fits 10 and where the bureaucracy is enough of a nightmare to require organizations to have a “fixer” whose sole job is to navigate it. This brings back some thoughts from Weber's classic On Bureaucracy, but those are probably best left alone for now.

And again, the man told me, “This is Indonesia,” in response to my renewed look of dismay when our boat broke down and drifted listlessly into some mangroves on the side of the river. As if a 5 hour boat trip isn’t enough? I wish I had a picture of the situation, but alas, we were crammed in so tight there was no way for me to get out my camera, never mind attempt to use it. Instead, I have a lovely sunburn on the left half of my face and body as a souvenir.

Indonesia is also a place where much is cheap; quality NOT guaranteed. Example: As I was leaving at 6 am to go to Pontianak the other morning, our almost-new front door-handle literally self-destructed in my hand. It was the most expensive one available in town. Furthermore, our lovely little house has the unfortunate problem that the cement was laid directly on the ground and thus water is constantly soaking through via capillary action and causing our beautiful, hand-woven bamboo mats to mold.

My biggest pet peeve here, however, is exemplified as I sit here writing this post, worrying that I’m causing my future self lung cancer. My house is currently full of smoke from nearby trash burning. Yes, I wrote an earlier post deriding the way that people still burned trash on the side of the street in Yoyga. Here, there is no waste system to speak of and everyone (including ASRI) burns their trash out of necessity. Including plastic. What makes the plastic problem worse is that everything here seems to be individually wrapped. Granted, what is not individually wrapped often goes stale almost immediately (e.g. Oreos put out on a plate to eat during a meeting are crisp and crunchy at the beginning, and already a bit soggy within half an hour; it’s really quite astounding).

I’m not sure just how bad this burning is for the environment (and our lungs!), but I’m pretty sure it’s not good. The other option is just as appalling to me: to litter. There is trash everywhere: in people’s yards, on the beach, in the rivers, etc. What is to be done with it? Yesterday on the boat, I watched, appalled, as the people all around me casually tossed their wrappers and other plastic bags into the river, as if it were a giant trash can. I guess it is.

This trash problem continues to irk me every time I’m presented with its intractable nature (so, everyday). To me, this trash problem is symptomatic of a much larger problem, namely that of global consumerism. Admittedly, I am very much a part of the problem. But, when I think with longing of the nice, organized US where the trash man comes along once a week to take away those large bags of unwanteds, I’m forced to ask myself: is it so much better to pile mounds and mounds of trash into giant land-fills that create noxious gas than it is to burn it? I think the answer is yes, but it’s still not good. Just because we often don’t see where I trash ultimate ends up, doesn’t mean that it magically disappears. What is good about the system here is that people are generally less wasteful. Anything that can be re-used, will, a natural recycling system of sorts. Unfortunately, plastic wrappers appear to have limited re-use value.

This post started due to my reflections on that statement uttered to me, somewhat laughingly, no less than three times, as I was faced with various frustrations on my journey yesterday. I have meandered a bit from my original thread, but I want to return to it to balance the tally a bit. This is also Indonesia: a beautiful land full of warm, friendly people. A fascinating collection of islands with very different religious and cultural backgrounds; Kalimantan (Indonesian Borneo) alone is reputed to have over 300 different languages. This is Indonesia: a place where communities come together and work together, and where children are revered and loved by all, but where life is very hard for many. A place of spectacular rainforests (though disappearing at an alarming rate), beautiful coral reefs, magnificent rice paddies (and all the rice you can eat!), and so many things more. Despite all the frustrations, this is clearly special place, and I feel fortunate to be here.

Picture: the public beach in Sukadana at Sunset