“Using business-as-usual models, calculate when the world might end.”
This was a real assignment for an environmentally focused undergraduate course at a prestigious U.S. university. The students came to class, discussed their findings, and agreed on a timeline for the world’s demise. Then, class dismissed. The professor, a top research scientist in their field, held no space to discuss the emotional ramifications of their apocalyptic exercise.
When they left class, students reported feelings of fear, unease, and shock by the lack of care the professor demonstrated for student well-being under the perception of an existentially threatening subject. Experiences like these are not uncommon. As a postdoctoral fellow, I research the intersection of climate change and mental health. I have witnessed numerous effects of learning about the climate crisis while also living through it.
When I interviewed one of the students from the aforementioned course for my dissertation, it was roughly 15 years after my own brush with undergraduate burnout. I selected an environmental studies major fueled by a strong sense of purpose, backed by an interest in advocating for the health of all living beings and their ecosystems. Like many who are drawn to environmental fields, I wanted to help save the world. Yet, after three years spent studying our environmental impacts, I was left with one conclusion: we were doomed.
Both the interviewed student and I became dysregulated by the subject matter, which painted a very bleak picture. Yet to complete our studies, we were required to continue engaging with it. This is a familiar situation for students and educators alike. Broadly, education about the environment lacks a roadmap for navigating the mental and emotional needs that arise from learning about existential threats.
The purpose of these anecdotes is not to blame educators who are already overburdened, underpaid, and grappling with their own emotional responses to existential crises. Rather, it is to highlight a very real problem that must be handled with care.
Learning about environmental phenomena that threaten our very existence is unlike most other educational endeavors. Language or math courses do not typically lead to doom spirals in ways learning about climate change might. While it is important that environmental education presents content accurately, the approach must adapt to foster resiliency and better support the mental and emotional health of learners, in both formal and informal contexts.
So, how can we approach environmental education from an emotionally informed lens, and how can we prevent burnout among environmentalists? We must first recognize how the facts about ecological crises affect our feelings.
The physical effects of climate change are inescapable, with visible impacts to ecosystems and communities alike. What we can’t see is the emotional toll these effects take on our mental health and general well-being. As we live through and learn about the climate crisis, we experience complex emotional responses to the uncertainty of future ecological health and what survival might look like.
Distressing emotions such as eco-anxiety, grief, fear, and guilt make it hard to address the problems at hand, and they can be difficult to identify. So to protect ourselves, many of us disengage or even burn out. This presents a paradox of environmental action — we ask people to engage with the very thing that causes disengagement.
Learning how to productively attend to emotions could help individuals build resilience, sustaining their inner fire to fight for planetary health. The theory of emotion regulation suggests that individuals can navigate the generation, response, and expression of their emotions, which offers hope for those who experience climate distress, particularly in educational contexts.
Regulation mechanisms, like cognitive reframing or movement, vary based on individual needs and preferences; there is no one-size-fits-all approach. These techniques are not simply damage control to prevent the fire from going out; they can also be used to amplify positive feelings, acting as bellows to flames.
One example of self-regulation, yoga, is rooted in a rich history that runs far beyond exercise. As a yoga practitioner and teacher, I have witnessed the physiological and psychological benefits of both asana (movement) and pranayama (breath) practices. Research supports the notion that such practices can reduce stress and anxiety by modulating the autonomic nervous system. Additionally, increases in emotional, social, and spiritual well-being have been demonstrated with yoga practices.
If you do not identify as a yogi, other contemplative practices, such as meditation and mindfulness, might be options to try. These methods have gained traction in Western culture as viable interventions to help individuals with a variety of outcomes, including stress reduction, depression management, and increased sense of well-being, among other physiological effects. Practices that focus awareness on the present moment by observing emotional and physical states can help to draw the mind out of doom spirals.
Practices such as body scans, focused breathing, or even gentle movements are all tools that can and should be added to the toolboxes of environmental educators. Teachers could lead short practices in the classroom or empower learners to implement them internally if they start feeling overwhelmed by course content. Additionally, carving out space in the classroom to discuss emotional responses to ecological crises can serve students by offering social support, normalizing their experience, and helping them name and feel the emotions that come up for them.
If professors do not feel equipped to assist students with mental health needs, they can arrange a classroom visit from a mental health provider or include resources for students in course materials.
No one is exempt from a changing climate. We live in uncertain times, when ecological precarity is just one of many existential threats. Emotional responses are warranted, and it is important that both educators and students hold space for whatever feelings arise. However, we must also equip our educators with healthy mechanisms to help students sort through and name their feelings, to navigate the emotions that may be difficult to be present with, and to seek help in community with others.
It is imperative that we find ways to sustain our passion to fight for planetary health. By taking an emotionally informed approach to education about the environment, we can keep the fire burning even through the most adverse climate conditions.
