By Caroline Preston for The Hechinger Report.
Broadcast version by Edwin J. Viera for New York News Connection reporting for The Hechinger Report-Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration
At the end of a semester that presaged one of the hottest summers on record, the students in Associate Professor Michael Sheridan’s business class were pitching proposals to cut waste and emissions on their campus and help turn it into a vehicle for fighting climate change.
Flanking a giant whiteboard at the front of the classroom, members of the team campaigning to build a solar canopy on a SUNY New Paltz parking lot delivered their pitch. The sunbaked lot near the athletic center was an ideal spot for a shaded solar panel structure, they said, a conduit for solar energy that could curb the campus’s reliance on natural gas.
The project would require $43,613 in startup money. It would be profitable within roughly five years, the students said. And over 50 years, it would save the university $787,130 in energy costs.
“Solar canopies have worked for other universities, including other SUNY schools,” said Ian Lominski, a graduating senior who said he hopes to one day work for the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. “It’s well within the realm of possibility for SUNY New Paltz.”
Sheridan’s course is an example of an approach known as “campus as a living lab,” which seeks to simultaneously educate students and reduce the carbon footprint of college campuses. Over the past decade, a growing number of professors in fields as diverse as business, English and the performing arts have integrated their teaching with efforts to minimize their campuses’ waste and emissions, at a time when human-created climate change is fueling dangerous weather and making life on Earth increasingly unstable.
Engineering students have helped retrofit buildings. Theater students have produced no-waste productions. Ecology students have restored campus wetlands. Architecture students have modeled campus buildings’ airflow and worked to improve their energy efficiency. The efforts are so diverse that it’s difficult to get a complete count of them, but they’ve popped up on hundreds of campuses around the country.
“I think it’s a very, very positive step,” said Bryan Alexander, a senior scholar at Georgetown University and author of the book “Universities on Fire: Higher Education in the Climate Crisis.” “You’ve got the campus materials, you’ve got the integration of teaching and research, which we claim to value, and it’s also really good for students in a few ways,” including by helping them take action on climate in ways that can improve mental health.
That said, the work faces difficulties, among them that courses typically last only a semester, making it hard to maintain projects. But academics and experts see promising results: Students learn practical skills in a real-world context, and their projects provide vivid examples to help educate entire campuses and communities about solutions to alleviate climate change.
From the food waste students and staff produce, to emissions from commuting to campus and flying to conferences, to the energy needed to power campus buildings, higher education has a significant climate footprint. In New York, buildings are among the single largest sources of carbon emissions — and the State University of New York system owns a whopping 40 percent of the state’s public buildings.
About 15 years ago, college leaders began adding “sustainability officers” to their payrolls and signing commitments to achieve carbon neutrality. But only a dozen of the 400 institutions that signed on have achieved net-zero emissions to date, according to Bridget Flynn, senior manager of climate programs with the nonprofit Second Nature, which runs the network of universities committed to decarbonizing. (The SUNY system has a goal of achieving net-zero emissions by 2045, per its chancellor, John B. King Jr.)
Campus sustainability efforts have faced hurdles including politics and declining enrollment and revenue, say experts. “Higher ed is in crisis and institutions are so concerned about keeping their doors open, and sustainability is seen as nice to have instead of essential,” said Meghan Fay Zahniser, who leads the Association for the Advancement of Sustainability in Higher Education.
But there’s change happening on some campuses, she and others noted. At Dickinson College, in Pennsylvania, a net-zero campus since 2020, students in statistics classes have run data analyses to assess why certain buildings are less efficient than others. Psychology students studying behavior change helped the campus dining hall adopt a practice of offering half, full and double portions to cut down on food waste. Physics students designed solar thermal boxes to boost renewable biogas production on an organic farm owned by the college.
Neil Leary, associate provost and director of the college’s Center for Sustainability Education, teaches classes in sustainability. Last fall’s students analyzed climate risks and resilience strategies for the campus and its surrounding county and then ran a workshop for community members. Among the recommendations emerging from the class: that athletic coaches and facilities staff receive training on heat-related health risks.
Similarly, at SUNY Binghamton, Pamela Mischen, chief sustainability officer and an environmental studies professor, teaches a course called Planning the Sustainable University. Her students, who come from majors including environmental studies, engineering and pre-law, have helped develop campus green purchasing systems, started a student-run community garden and improved reuse rates for classroom furniture.
And across the country, at Weber State University in Utah, students have joined the campus’s push toward renewable energy. Engineering students, for example, helped build a solar-powered charging station on a picnic table. A professor in the school’s construction and building sciences program led students in designing and building a net-zero house.
On the leafy SUNY New Paltz campus about 80 miles north of Manhattan, campus sustainability coordinator Lisa Mitten has spent more than a decade working to reduce the university’s environmental toll. Among the projects she runs is a sustainability faculty fellows program that helps professors incorporate climate action into their instruction.
One day this May, Andrea Varga, an associate professor of theatre design and a sustainability fellow, listened as the students in her honors Ethical Fashion class presented their final projects. Varga’s class covers the environmental harms of the global fashion industry (research suggests it is responsible for at least 4 percent of greenhouse emissions worldwide, or roughly the total emissions of Germany, France and the United Kingdom combined). For their presentations, her students had developed ideas for reducing fashion’s toll, on the campus and beyond, by promoting thrifting, starting “clothes repair cafes” and more.
Jazmyne Daily-Simpson, a student from Long Island scheduled to graduate in 2025, discussed expanding a project started a few years earlier by a former student, Roy Ludwig, to add microplastic filters to more campus washing machines. In a basement laundry room in Daily-Simpson’s dorm, two washers are rigged with the contraptions, which gradually accumulate a goopy film as they trap the microplastic particles and keep them from entering the water supply.
Ludwig, a 2022 graduate who now teaches Earth Science at Arlington High School about 20 miles from New Paltz, took Varga’s class and worked with her on an honors project to research and install the filters. A geology major, he’d been shocked that it took a fashion class to introduce him to the harms of microplastics, which are found in seafood, breast milk, semen and much more. “It’s an invisible problem that not everyone is thinking about,” he said. “You can notice a water bottle floating in a river. You can’t notice microplastics.”
Around campus, there are other signs of the living lab model. Students in an economics class filled the entryway of a library with posters on topics such as the lack of public walking paths and bike lanes in the surrounding county and inadequate waste disposal in New York State. A garden started by sculpture and printmaking professors serves as a space for students to learn about plants used to make natural dyes that don’t pollute the environment.
In the business school classroom, Sheridan, the associate professor, had kicked off the student presentations by explaining to an audience that included campus facilities managers and local green business leaders how the course, called Introduction to Managing Sustainability, originated when grad students pitched the idea in 2015. The projects are powered by a “green revolving fund,” which accumulates money from cost savings created by past projects, such as reusable to-go containers and LED lightbulbs in campus buildings. Currently the fund has about $30,000.
“This class has two overarching goals,” said Sheridan, who studied anthropology and sustainable development as an undergraduate before pursuing a doctorate in business. The first is to localize the United Nations global goals for advancing sustainability, he said, and the second is “to prove that sustainability initiatives can be a driver for economic growth.”
In addition to the solar canopy project, students presented proposals for developing a reusable water bottle program, creating a composter and garden, digitizing dining hall receipts and organizing a bikeshare. They gamely fielded questions from the audience, many of whom had served as mentors on their projects.
Jonathan Garcia, a third-year business management major on the composting team, said later that he’d learned an unexpected skill: how to deal with uncooperative colleagues. “We had an issue with one of our teammates who just never showed up, so I had to manage that, and then people elected me leader of the group,” he said later. “I learned a lot of team-management skills.”
The solar panel team had less drama. Its members interviewed representatives from the New York State Energy Research and Development Authority, Central Hudson Gas & Electric and a local company, Lighthouse Solar, along with Mitten and other campus officials. Often, they met three times a week to research and discuss their proposal, participants said.
Lominski, the senior, plans to enroll this fall in a graduate program at the SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry, in Syracuse. Before Sheridan’s class, he said, he had little specific knowledge of how solar panels worked. The course also helped him refine his project management and communication skills, he said.
His solar panel teammate Madeleine Biles, a senior majoring in management, transferred to New Paltz from SUNY Binghamton before her sophomore year because she wanted a school that felt more aligned with her desire to work for a smaller, environmentally minded business.
An avid rock climber whose parents were outdoor educators, she’d developed some financial skills in past business classes, she said, but the exercises had always felt theoretical. This class made those lessons about return on investment and internal rate of return feel concrete. “Before it was just a bunch of formulas where I didn’t know when or why I would ever use them,” she said.
This summer, Biles is interning with the Lake George Land Conservancy, and hopes to eventually carve out a career protecting the environment. While she said she feels fortunate that her hometown of Lake George, in New York’s Adirondack region, isn’t as vulnerable as some places to climate change, the crisis weighs on her.
“I think if I have a career in sustainability, that will be my way of channeling that frustration and sadness and turning it into a positive thing,” she said.
She recently got a taste of what that might feel like: In an email from Sheridan, she learned that her team’s canopy project was chosen to receive the startup funding. The school’s outgoing campus facilities chief signed off on it, and, pending approval from the department’s new leader, the university will begin the process of constructing it.
“It’s cool to know that something I worked on as a school project is actually going to happen,” said Biles. “A lot of students can’t really say that. A lot of projects are kind of like simulations. This one was real life.”
Caroline Preston wrote this article for The Hechinger Report.
Support for this reporting was provided by Lumina Foundation.
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In the aftermath of devastating hurricanes in other parts of the country, the Michigan city of Ferndale will soon unlock close to $370 billion in federal funds to combat the climate crisis closer to home. This support from the Inflation Reduction Act and Bipartisan Infrastructure Law will be used to help strengthen the city's clean energy plans.
Ferndale Mayor Raylon Leaks-May joined Michigan U.S. Rep. Haley Stevens, D-Rochester Hills, and local leaders at a Tuesday news conference to highlight Ferndale's leadership in clean energy and climate action.
"We are committed to reducing the city's emissions by 63% by 2030, and to become carbon neutral by 2050. An important piece of this is encouraging more residential solar use, as well as designing for more efficient and solar-ready government facilities," Leaks-May said.
The 2023 Clean Jobs America Report says Michigan's clean energy sector added over 5,400 new jobs in 2022.
Stevens has been a driving force behind key environmental legislation, including the Climate Action Now Act, and credits Ferndale's clean energy progress to a collaborative effort.
"And none of this legislation gets done without profound local relationships that we see here in Ferndale each and every day. Yes, this is in many respects a small community - but it is not a quiet community," Stevens said.
By May 2024, Michigan, with funding from the IRA, had launched 45 clean energy projects.
Quinn Zeagler, a member of the Ferndale Environmental Sustainability Commission, said local residents are key to driving these advancements.
"It's up to residents to learn more, to take advantage of the opportunities to make our homes more energy efficient, and more comfortable," Zeagler said.
Michigan has received $159 million in federal funding to help lower the cost of community and rooftop solar installations for thousands of low-income households.
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By Michaela Haas for Reasons to be Cheerful.
Broadcast version by Mark Moran for Big Sky Connection reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration
Curtis Shuck was inspecting wheat crops with farmers in rural Northern Montana in 2019 when he followed a rotten-egg stench and spotted corroded metal surrounding a borehole. The discovery he stumbled upon would change his life, and eventually the trajectory of carbon emissions in the US: He came across an abandoned oil well that spewed pollution, including methane, into the air and surrounding fields. Once he realized what he was looking at, he identified other wells across the surrounding landscape, left behind in the 1990s after the Gulf War tanked crude prices.
"I couldn't believe what I saw," Shuck says with his heavy Texan drawl. "I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or I was at the right place, depending on how you want to look at it."
The pollution left such a deep impression on the former oil and gas executive that he immediately wanted to take action. His plan: to plug as many oil wells as possible. Before the day was over, he had come up with a name for a nonprofit, Well Done, and registered the domain name TheWellDoneFoundation.org from his truck.
What started out as the epiphany of one hard-charging man has since led to the capping of 45 wells in 14 states. "We just capped our 45th well in Akron, Ohio," Shuck says by phone from the departures hall at the airport in Portland, Oregon, on his mission of crisscrossing the country to find the most urgent wells. "Through that, we have saved over one million tons of CO2e. That's what's so exciting about our work. It's literally gas on, gas off. The benefit is immediate."
This is the story of one man making a sizable difference, but also of the toxic legacy the oil and gas boom has left all over the US. Curtis Shuck is mitigating global warming one well at a time.
An unbelievable 3.7 million abandoned oil and gas wells litter the country and belch more than 300 kilotons of methane or 8.2 million metric tons of CO2e every year, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. More than half of these wells (58 percent) are unplugged and at least 126,000 wells are "orphaned," meaning regulators can no longer find a company or owner to hold accountable. Maybe the oil company went out of business or bankrupt - and landowners and communities are frequently left with the destruction after oil producers have moved on. Often records have gone missing, and nobody even knows where all the old wells are located. "That number just keeps increasing exponentially as oil companies go out of business," Shuck adds.
About 10 percent of the abandoned wells emit large amounts of methane, a greenhouse gas significantly more potent than carbon dioxide in the short term, because of its heat-trapping potential. Studies have found that swift actions to cut methane emissions could slow Earth's warming by 30 percent. The worst well Shuck plugged was emitting more than 10,000 grams of methane per hour. Some also leak other pollutants and brine into surrounding fields or waterways. "It is actually quite difficult to assess how much emission is really occurring," says Adam Peltz, a senior lawyer at the Environmental Defense Fund. "You could go measure on a Tuesday afternoon and again on Thursday morning and get two completely different results."
The oil graveyards have only recently begun to draw attention as major contributors to climate change that demand urgent action. Though Shuck had been working in the oil industry for decades, first as the president of Red River Oil Services in North Dakota, supplying drilling rigs, and then as a transportation and logistics expert for the Port of Vancouver, "I never knew that many wells were simply abandoned," Shuck says. "That was the industry's dirty little secret, and nobody wanted anything to do with it."
He plugged the first well in 2020 "out of our piggy bank, with my and my wife's savings." To this day, he does not draw a salary from Well Done. While still working as a consultant for transportation logistics, he says, "plugging oil wells is my side hustle that takes 90 percent of my time."
Among the dozens of requests he receives every month from landowners, regulatory agencies and communities, he prioritizes the "most urgent wells." Factors include not only the amount of methane and other carcinogens an orphaned well emits, but also how close the well is to a community and how severe the impacts of its pollution. "I've worked on abandoned wells that leak oil into the waterways," he gives as an urgent example. "That's so alarming you want to get to work right away."
Once Well Done "adopts" a well, the organization accepts full financial responsibility. "We have to be careful on the front end because these wells are so expensive. We don't want to load ourselves up too much with liabilities," he cautions. "We have more wells than cents."
Well Done's 10 employees, including Shuck's wife Stacey, work with landowners, local residents, stakeholders and regulatory agencies to raise the necessary funds, secure permits and hire a team on the ground. "Sometimes we get permits really quickly, sometimes it takes longer, but generally, we give ourselves a year to cap a well," Shuck says. He emphasizes that he works with local service companies and workers whenever possible, to build relationships with the community, but he also organizes "field camps," where even people with no prior experience in the industry can learn to measure methane output and help the nonprofit.
Each well is different, but capping most abandoned wells requires pouring thousands of pounds of cement down the hole to keep the gas down. While the average cost is around $75,000, the worst well, a "super-emitter," as Shuck put it, cost him more than $375,000 because he first had to clean out the failing old infrastructure before he could start capping.
But why is a nonprofit taking care of cleanups that should be the responsibility of the oil producers or the state?
Each state has different laws, but until recently, most state laws were rather lenient in allowing producers to let their oil wells sit idle, and oil producers were rarely held accountable for the destruction they left behind. Recognizing the urgency of the issue, the Biden administration restored Obama-era emission standards for the oil industry, and in 2021, it allocated $1.36 billion to measure and reduce methane emissions plus nearly $5 billion to plug orphaned wells, aiming for an 80 percent reduction in methane emissions from the oil and gas sector.
This sounds like a lot of money, but it is far from enough: In California alone, more than 41,000 wells sit idle, and the Sierra Club estimates that cleaning and plugging all wells in California will cost $23 billion.
"Well, you could wait around for federal money if you want to wait a long time," says Shuck, who has received no federal money for capping wells but has applied for some state grants. Well Done gets funding from private donors and some companies, including oil and gas companies. Sometimes locals and climate activists band together to fundraise for a problem well in their neighborhood. "The problem is so large and so urgent in terms of need, we're just in the getting-shit-done business," Shuck says. "We celebrate every well we finish. The problem is not going away anytime soon, and if you like immediate results, you just do the work."
As of April 2024, the Bureau of Land Management now requires oil and gas companies to set aside more funds for well-plugging before they receive a drilling permit, but even by the Bureau's own calculations, this recent initiative won't suffice and in any case, it doesn't cover the toxic wells from the past.
"There's been a tremendous amount of industry pushback against these reforms because their business model for decades has been to avoid plugging these wells, and the huge cost is currently being externalized to the public," says Adam Peltz, who helped draft the federal orphan well closure funding legislation. Nevertheless, he is convinced the problem can be solved, both by stringent policies and by putting pressure on the culprits. "There is no excuse to orphan a well. Exxon makes $40 billion a year in profit," Peltz points out. "Exxon alone could plug half the wells in the United States with its profits if it wanted. People often talk about small mom-and-pop-operators whose livelihood depends on their business, and I believe this is a problem that should be socialized among the industry and not socialized to the public."
He also sees the economic upside: plugging the most urgent wells, he notes, "creates thousands of well-paying blue-collar jobs. If we get this right, in addition to taking care of groundwater contamination, methane emissions and explosive risks, this is a huge economic opportunity." He mentions the Louisiana Chamber of Commerce Foundation that is connecting small businesses in the oil patch with federally funded orphan well closure opportunities.
Most states and some cities are now trying to negotiate with oil producers to get them to take responsibility for properly cleaning up abandoned wells. For instance, Culver City was the first city in California to pass an ordinance to close all oil wells by the end of this decade. Assistant City Manager Jesse Mays stresses that Culver City sought dialogue with the oil producers early on to make sure the companies would cap the wells rather than leaving the costs to taxpayers. "We decided that it would be better and more productive for us to come to an agreement with both of our best interests in mind," he says. "As opposed to just passing our ordinance, writing them a letter demanding they comply and leaving it at that." However, Mays was unable to provide crucial details about the extent of the capping, and admitted the city extended permits in exchange for the assurance of well capping. Versions of these negotiations currently play out all over the US.
Curtis Shuck stays clear of pointing blame: "Whether you are a climate crusader or a climate denier, a Republican or Democrat, capping these wells is simply the right thing to do, and I try to find common ground as the basis for our projects."
Shuck's flight is being called. He's off to Montana, to start working on capping his 46th well.
Michaela Haas wrote this article for Reasons to be Cheerful.
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By Sarah Derouin for Mongabay.
Broadcast version by Mark Moran for Iowa News Service reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration
American agroforestry initiatives got a big boost of funding in 2022 from the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), which allocated $60 million to help farmers transition toward this style of climate-friendlier farming, as part of the Partnership for Climate-Smart Commodities program.
The Nature Conservancy (TNC) is leading the multi-partner effort, allocating money to farmers across 30 states. Dubbed the Expanding Agroforestry Project, it will provide technical assistance and funding to farmers for planting new agroforestry acres on their land. The goal is to plant 12,140 new hectares (30,000 acres) of agroforestry across the U.S.
Recently, Mongabay checked in to see how agroforestry efforts were progressing and whether funds were making their way to farmers. After the first application cycle, farmers in 21 states submitted more than 200 applications to the program, representing about 20% of the agroforestry acreage goals.
Like agroforestry itself, the application, training and distribution of funds take some time to get off the ground — the first incentive payments are anticipated to be disbursed in the summer and fall of 2024.
Expanding Agroforestry Project
The Expanding Agroforestry Project is part of the USDA’s larger Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities program — a $3.1 billion effort to fund projects to fight climate change while supporting landowners. Agroforestry practices are effective at capturing carbon while providing additional commodities and land benefits to farmers.
Above and below ground, agroforestry systems typically capture 2–5 metric tons of CO2 per acre per year. Nate Lawrence, ecosystem scientist for the Savanna Institute, expanded on the science of measuring such figures during a recent podcast.
As the lead administrator of the grant, TNC is “processing $36 million … in incentive payments directly to enrolled producers,” Audrey Epp Schmidt, the agroforestry program manager at The Nature Conservancy, explained in an email.
The remaining $24 million will support the expansion of project partner organizations, including adding staff capacity for the agroforestry work. These funds will also bolster measurement, monitoring, reporting and verification activities and develop market opportunities for agroforestry commodities, she said.
With the influx of federal funding, TNC created a five-year program to provide growers with technical help and funding to support agroforestry efforts. To get the word out, the project partners launched a communication effort that included emails, social media posts and virtual presentations, along with in-person events on farms.
“Producers typically want to hear directly from other producers, so we encourage farmer-to-farmer networks to help drive adoption whenever possible,” Epp Schmidt said.
TNC’s goal is to attract at least 200 farmers to the program, with at least 50 of those being underserved producers, said Epp Schmidt. The USDA defines underserved producers as farmers who are new, have limited financial resources, are socially disadvantaged (either by race or gender) or are military veterans.
Epp Schmidt said the program includes the adoption of alley cropping, silvopasture and windbreak projects.
Alley cropping means planting rows of trees or shrubs within crops, while windbreaks are planted on the edges of fields (stopping or slowing wind erosion while adding biodiversity). Silvopasture is an agroforestry practice that integrates trees, pasture, forage plants and livestock into a single system. She noted the program is focused on adding new fruit, nut, timber and biodiversity-supporting trees that are ecologically suitable for the project site.
Agroforestry enhances biodiversity on farms by breaking up large expanses of the same crop, called monocropping. By planting trees, shrubs and understory plants, farmers can attract beneficial insects, fungi and wildlife to their land, bolstering pollinators and potentially reducing the need for insecticides.
After being accepted to the program, farmers are matched with a technical assistance staff member — each region has its own partner organization — to support developing an agroforestry plan for the farmers’ land.
The program subsidizes the cost of tree planting, providing $36 million in incentive payments directly to producers. Wendy Johnson, a farmer at Jóia Food & Fiber Farm and active agroforestry practitioner in Iowa, said she heard about the program in its early stages and thought it was an important step forward for agroforestry support.
Johnson, who has planted more than 6,000 trees on her farm, is not able to apply for funding from the project — her trees are already in the ground. But she said learning about the program was “really exciting because it’s finally providing a dollar amount that would help with maintenance costs, too.”
She knows that young trees need a lot of care in the early years before they are fully established. “Maintenance is huge, and I can’t stress that enough,” she said. “You can’t just plant a tree and let it go — it also needs shelter and it needs care for the first three years … otherwise that investment is lost.”
Johnson noted that on her own farm, the planted saplings coincided with record drought — and regular watering of the seedlings is a time- and labor-intensive endeavor. Such issues are only likely to amplify due to the worsening impacts of climate change.
Committing to years of maintenance and switching part of a farm to more diversified land use may take a leap of faith. It can also mean farmers have to accept a risk to their profitability, often lasting for years.
“These are complex, perennial systems, and that involves a temporal mindset,” said John Munsell, forest management extension specialist at Virginia Tech. He added that an adaptive management plan will help farmers adjust in the eight-plus years between planting and maturity of trees and shrubs.
Munsell said that a program like Expanding Agroforestry can get farmers to take a chance on planting. “This will tip the scale for many,” he said. And while farmers wait for their plantings to mature, Munsell said the agroforestry community can strengthen the market for forest products. “While your hazelnuts are maturing … you have eight years to move into a market space and set things up.”
Launching the program
The initial application cycle of the Expanding Agroforestry Project received 213 applications from producers in 21 states for the incentive payment program, noted Epp Schmidt. Of these, 93% self-reported as underserved farmers. She said these farmers potentially represent more than “6,300 acres of new agroforestry plantings.”
Farmers who are interested in the program can learn more on TNC’s website. There are two application cycles each year, and the next deadline will be in late summer.
Sarah Derouin wrote this article for Mongabay.
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