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By John F. Borowski
Teacher of environmental and marine science (North Salem High)
Philomath, Oregon
jenjill@proaxis.com
Florida's Orange County Convention Center is big. Big enough to hold
the
Sears Tower, if you laid it on its side. So big you could walk ten miles
and never leave the cement behemoth. Its electric bill is $325,000 per
month.
This hulking structure in Orlando seemed appropriate for the
carnival-like setting of the National Science Teachers Convention, the
largest gathering of educators in the nation: more than 14,000 science
teachers and hundreds of exhibitors passing out armloads of pamphlets,
packets, books, stickers, posters, and other educational goodies.
Though there were a handful of conservation groups at the event, those
of
us sitting at the Native Forest Council booth were clearly in the
minority.
When I started teaching 20 years ago, I could never have imagined such
a
perverse display: industries and their front groups trying to justify
everything from deforestation to extinction of species. Worse yet, they
were targeting America's teachers and, ultimately, our children.
Corporate America has dug its claws into one of the last refuges of
commercial-free space left in our society: public schools. One of
the pillars of our democracy, public education, is now for sale:
They were selling lies, and the teachers were buying – quickly
filling
their bags with curricula as corrosive as the pesticides that the Farm
Bureau promotes. Where were the largest environmental groups to counter
this frontal assault on environmental education? Where was the outcry
of
the educational community? Their deafening silence was tantamount to
complicit resignation.
Selling Out Our Schools
Most people consider our public schools to be hallowed ground, where
young Americans of various religions, races, and social strata
collectively learn the tools of citizenship. Yet multinational
corporations now view our children's schools as convenient locations
for
the dissemination of propaganda debunking environmental concerns, and
as
the tip of an unimaginably profitable marketing iceberg. The stakes
are
incredibly high.
Education about the environment is being assaulted on two fronts. First,
multinational corporations are designing and distributing environmental
curricula, that is, professionally produced, easy to use, often free
and
incredibly biased in favor of industry. Second, some of the most
prominent conservative think tanks in America are mounting a well-funded
attack on genuine environmental education.
Their objective is simple: protect industries that despoil the planet
and
prevent any emergence of citizen awareness. The spectrum of curricula
is
breathtaking and its shamelessness is overt. The American Nuclear Society
provides "Let's Color and Do Activities With the Atoms Family."
Materials
I received from Exxon portray the Prince William Sound cleanup as a
victory of technology, brushing over the cause of the disaster: the
Exxon
Valdez. But the most brazen campaign of miseducation is carried out
by
the timber industry.
Big timber spends millions on its thinly veiled national PR campaigns,
touting them as educational programs (which, of course, they generously
donate to public schools). They offer hikes, presentations, and paid
workshops for teachers. They distribute books, posters, videos, lesson
plans, and other materials. Through the looking glass of big timber,
old
growth forest become decadent biological deserts that require
clear-cutting in order to survive. Industry is not destroying the
forests, the propaganda explains, it is "managing" them, acting
as their
stewards – even saviors.
A timber company in my own community offers a hike in a small section
of
their forest. Activity one in their educational pamphlet resonates
strongly with the kids, and can shrewdly confuse the most earnest
educator. The activity begins when the largest child in the group plays
the big tree. The other children stand closely to the big tree and crowd
it. The guide asks them to choose three words that describe how they,
the
little trees, feel when you are crowded together under the big tree.
Then
all the little trees scatter out, providing more space. The purpose
of
the exercise is to help them visualize the benefits of thinning the
forest. (For full realism, perhaps some of the children should be asked
to visualize the feeling of being chopped down and processed into end
tables.)
Project Learning Tree
Often, the very organizations that preach the gospel of environmental
education are actually industry shills. They have earthy names but
clandestine roots. The American Forest Foundation (AFF) has a list of
co-sponsors, cooperators and partners that includes some of the most
egregious despoilers of our forests: Sierra Pacific, friend of clear-cuts
in California; Pacific Lumber, pillagers of the redwoods; MacMillian
Bloedel; Williamette Industries; Boise Cascade. But the real story is
found in one of AFF's core programs, called "Project Learning Tree"
(PLT).
I first encountered PLT several summers ago when I was asked to lead
a
tour of teachers through Opal Creek, a wilderness area in the Willamatte
National Forest. Opal Creek is perhaps the most intact, pristine
low-elevation watershed in the Pacific Northwest. Ironically, it has
been
preserved thanks to the efforts of the very activists that organizations
like PLT oppose.
At the time that I agreed to lead the tour, however, I knew nothing
about
PLT. I arrived early at our meeting place by the clear waters of the
Santiam River, with its giant trees provided the backdrop on this
sun-drenched day. I felt honored by the opportunity to hike with
teachers from across the globe and discuss the old-growth forest that
I
had defended in a presentation before a US Senate committee.
Kathy McGlauflin, vice president of PLT, accompanied us on our sojourn.
We walked two miles along some of Opal Creek's most spectacular riparian
zones. Much to my surprise, McGlauflin spoke more like a timber booster
than an environmental education expert. For every point I made about
the
destruction of national forests, McGlauflin revealed her true colors.
It
seemed inconceivable that the representative of a supposedly pro-forest
organization could be so misinformed.
I explained that the native forests have been overcut and replanted,
creating one-species tree farms instead of forest ecosystems. McGlauflin
responded that this was my own personal opinion, not the reality. She
mistakenly told the group that hemlock and cedars were replanted in
large
numbers after clear-cutting. Amazingly, she even claimed that apple
orchards could be considered forest ecosystems.
I later found out the PLT is an industry front group, backed by timber
dollars. The organization's website and printed materials look like
something produced by an environmental group. PLT boasts a network of
3,000 grassroots volunteers and more than 100 state coordinators. This
grassroots veneer is shrewd greenwash, and unfortunately, it is working.
Formed in 1970, PLT works to promote paper products, logging and
industrial management of our nation's forests. They offer this version
of
"environmental education" to students from pre-kindergarten
to twelfth
grade and claim to have reached more than 500,000 educators and 25
million students.
PLT's educational materials are damning enough. But, as the saying
goes,
if you want the truth, follow the money. The industries that bankroll
PLT
include some of the nation's most passionate clear-cutters.
Turning the Tide
Surreptitious public relations campaigns and deceptive advertising
are
battling today for the hearts and minds of our children. This battle
will
affect their health and their collective futures. Will we turn over
public learning centers to those who see our children as pawns in the
game of quarterly profits? Will we allowing them to create a generation
of apathetic and jaded young adults, disinterested in social issues
and
steeped in indoctrination which tells them that corporate technology
will
save the day and that activism is for someone else?
The environmental community must call corporate America on its sham.
I
can't imagine, for example, why the North America Association of
Environmental Education (the largest environmental education group in
the
world) has endorsed Project Learning Tree. We must refuse to ally
ourselves with those who try to manipulate our children. Organizations
that claim to speak for the environment must remove corporate polluters
from their board of directors.
At a recent conference, an environmental education activist told me,
we,
need to be more "centrist" in our approach to solving problems.
But I cannot
take the middle of the road on this one. My children are not
saleable property. Would good parents compromise on the welfare of their
child? Industry is not "centrist," and when environmentalists
try to
avoid conflict, we lose.
Parents must assume the role of front-line warriors in this winnable
war.
They must demand that any curricula provided by corporate sources be
reviewed, just like the process by which textbooks are reviewed prior
to
adoption. They must challenge their local boards of education to keep
their local schools free of commercial influences. They must ask their
children to share the materials they receive at school. Corporate
predators in education are no different that those who peddle tobacco
to
our children. They must bear the scorn of society and be stopped in
their
tracks.
Most importantly, we must highlight the wonders of true environmental
education. Thousands of incredible teachers are working every day to
enlighten their students. They need funding, and it is incumbent upon
society to see that schools don't have to go begging to industry.
And teachers must begin to comprehend what I call the "teachable
moment":
that indelible instance when data and caring and insight all merge as
one,
representing all that is good about ecological sciences in public
schools. This moment does not require a slick video, fancy equipment
or
corporate money with strings attached. All it takes is students and
teachers, exploring the natural world together.
I have seen children connect to their natural world through discussing
"A
Sand County Almanac" in the classroom, hiking in the giant cedars
of Opal
Creek, and identifying invertebrates in our majestic tidal pools. This
year alone, I have watched more than two dozen seniors choose
environmental topics for their senior projects. Three young men
are examining the possible breaching of the Snake River dams. Another
young
Hispanic man is painting a large mural on our school, which depicts
the
trees of Opal Creek.
Children care about the world and its beauty, which is our common
heritage. They expect adults to lead, to represent their best interests,
and to protect them from exploitative commercial influences. The battle
to make America safe for childhood is a battle worth fighting.
Posted September 3, 2003