It’s coming up to the end of the summer term and the pupils in school have a selection of different activities they can take part in as a reward for good behaviour, from a full day adventure to a theme park about one hundred miles away to fun woodland craft activities in the school grounds. To be fair, good behaviour doesn’t seem to come into it as Pupil G was awful last year and she still was rewarded with a day out – maybe it’s because she didn’t actually light the fire she had set in the girl’s toilet block. Teachers aren’t quite so lucky and we usually get told which trip we’re going on. Last year I was at school at 06:45 to go on the tortuous coach journey to a theme park. Following delays on departing the park, as several children had gone AWOL, the day was well over fourteen hours long including travel sickness, banana split-scented vomit, irreversible friendship catastrophes, severe sunburn and lost mobile phones. It was enough to make a grown woman weep into her ultra expensive, soggy veggie burger.
Stress triggers
In teacher training, all those years ago, I don’t really remember having any sessions on how to deal with stress. I’ve done many different jobs in my time and teaching definitely has numerous triggers; noisy children crammed into the classroom, visits by Ofsted or regular scrutiny by the senior leadership team, demanding parents and the fear of being hit by a ball travelling at lightspeed from the other side of the yard to name but a few.
More recently, in the background, I also now have this gnawing concern that the effects of climate change are only just beginning to bite. This leads us to a growing issue amongst both adults and children called ‘eco-anxiety’. The climate crisis just adds to the emotional rollercoaster of teaching. Picture this: I’m in the classroom, passionately discussing climate change, deforestation, and the dire state of our oceans. The students’ eyes widen, their brows furrow, and suddenly, they’re contemplating the existential crisis of our planet. Meanwhile, I’m mentally calculating my carbon footprint and wondering if my reusable coffee cup is making any real difference.
Theme Park analogy
Without 200 children to look after I actually loved going to a theme park when I was younger. I’d giggle with delight when splashed on the water rapids, feel the thrill of being 100m in the air at the top of the ferris wheel or the disorientating dizziness on the rollercoaster. But sometimes teaching about climate change (or climate crisis) is analogous to a rollercoaster ride too. We step up learning in stages until we meet the Despair Drop; that’s me when I show my students images of melting glaciers and endangered species. We all collectively sigh, wondering if recycling that yoghurt cup is futile. But hey, at least they know we’re in this sinking ship together!
Then there is the Hope Hike; just as we’re submerged in eco-guilt, we climb the hill of hope. I whip out success stories: solar-powered villages, reforestation projects, and that one time someone invented a bonafide biodegradable glitter (yes, it’s a thing). Suddenly, we’re all wearing metaphorical capes, ready to save the planet one reusable straw at a time. We reach the Loop-de-Loop of Overwhelm; we discuss the 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), and my brain feels like it’s doing somersaults. How do we tackle poverty, inequality, and climate change simultaneously? Maybe we need an 18th goal: “Stop making teachers hyperventilate”.
We arrive at the Action Station: teaching sustainability means navigating emotions. I’ve seen it all: students tearing up over plastic pollution, heated debates about veganism, and that one time a PowerPoint slide triggered an existential crisis. But hey, emotions are part of the package deal. We’re not just teaching facts; we’re nurturing eco-warriors with feelings, who are ready to become activist changemakers. Finally we come to the Exit Ramp; as the class ends, we exit the rollercoaster. Some students leave with renewed determination, ready to compost their dreams into reality. Others shuffle out, muttering, “I just wanted an easy A.” And me? I’ll be sipping chamomile tea, pondering whether my eco-anxiety is carbon-neutral.
Goldilocks
We used to live on the ‘Goldilocks Planet’. Like the porridge in the fairy tale, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, it was just right. Burning trillions of barrels of fossil fuels has caused climate chaos with the last nine months breaking global temperature records and recently schools across countries in Africa, Central America and the Far East have been closed to protect children from the heat. The climate crisis is fast becoming an education crisis.
Even in relatively temperate England, hubster has been bemoaning the weather again. We’ve gone straight from a very wet winter into the summer with hardly a day of spring. He’s late on planting but the potatoes, lettuce and broad beans seem to be doing okay. Some crops such as chillies, tomatoes, courgettes and sweetcorn like it warmer so they are starting off later than we would like. Each and every day he monitors the first signs of growth, looks for mould, kills voracious, ubiquitous slugs. Nationally the farming news is even less rosy with the National Farmers Union stating that record-breaking rain over the past few months has left fields of crops under water and livestock’s health at risk, adding to pressures on food producers. Globally, smallholder farms produce 34% of our food supply and their diversity is essential for food resilience. Better not grumble about potatoes and broad beans again to hubster, cold porridge is far better than no porridge.
Ho hum, we’re all on this rollercoaster together yet no one seems capable of putting on the brakes. But, even when the ride gets bumpy, there’s always hope or joy—like finding a stray reusable bag at the bottom of my backpack.
Note to self: Maybe tell the SLT that, due to a ‘sensitive condition’, I can’t possibly go on the theme park visit again and I really need to be on the woodland craft session in the school grounds. There is no way that Mr K, the Deputy Head, would inquire further, he’d rather take 9S for a whole class, hour long detention than consider what my ‘sensitive condition’ might entail!
