Parenting through this eco-crisis that we find ourselves in requires a hands-on approach now, not when our kids get older—time is of the essence.
On the way home from school, a newscaster on the car radio advised that wildfires are becoming more powerful. I chimed in, “And it’s going to get worse as global warming. . .” My eighth-grade son cut me off, “I already know, Mom. We talked about it in school. And we’re already depressed.” My heart broke. Words bottled up in my throat, but nothing coherent came out.
That moment stays with me, his plaintive words still reverberating in my heart. I wish I’d known what to say, instead of just weeping in my closet after we got home.
Back when I was parenting my very young children, I wanted to protect them from the worst news about humanity. I wanted to preserve their naïve belief in the basic goodness of people, for as long as I could. Not that they weren’t discovering some hard truths on their own—a friend who secretly stole one of their toys; a classmate who turned their back in a moment of need. . .
But I felt prepared to help navigate those small earthquakes—and utterly ill-equipped to explain random school shootings, targeted hate crimes, or the damage humans have done to Earth’s precious life support systems.
Some 10 years and a lot of learning later (hindsight being 20/20 and all) I have a lot more insights about how I could have better prepared them—on the issues that I have studied, lawyered, and prayed about over the decades anyway. I still can’t explain, however, the inexplicable appeal of trip-hazard Crocs shoes.
What follows are the elements of my too-late game plan. I’m sharing my thoughts, not as an expert in child psychology (which I am not) but as an Earth-loving mom looking in the rear-view mirror. Maybe you’ll find something in my random thoughts that will help you formulate your own game plan. Or maybe you’ll just write me in angry defence of Crocs.
NOTICING NATURE
First, we’d spend even more time noticing nature, not just “being in it.” Yes, we went to the zoo, hiked in the hills, and vacationed in the national parks. But now, I’d make a daily practice of noticing how nature surrounds us, delights us, and nourishes us. We’d pause to make the smallest of observations, mimicking the bird songs on our walk to school or searching for bugs when taking out the trash. We might even make it a game and see who could share the most interesting discovery at dinnertime.
Encouraging a daily awareness of nature demonstrates that it is something to be valued, and deserving of at least as much care as we give our toys and our family pets. Every encounter with a non-human species, be it a creepy crawly or a pesky raccoon, gives us all a greater understanding of what in the world deserves our care and attention. And it just might spark an internet search about that weird yellow thing clinging to the tree outside, which turns out to be a fungus that, wow, tastes like chicken.
Being mindful in nature, rather than just rushing through it, also offers a host of physical and emotional benefits, from lowering blood pressure to easing depression. Those benefits serve us well in times of upheaval—and, good news—they require no Wi-Fi signal, no equipment, and no monthly subscriptions. What’s more, being mindful in nature reawakens us to awe and wonder—the very qualities of childhood that so often get stifled when difficult times set in. When the going gets tough, I dream that my kids reach for the nearest dose of nature instead of a gaming device, booze, or vape.
TAKING ECO-ACTION
I would have also started talking to my kids about the ways our natural world is changing at a much younger age. Instead of waiting until I thought they were old enough to “handle it,” I’d normalise talking about eco-crises like any other problem to be solved. “When the milk gets spilled, we mop it up” might become, “We are having more hot days because people burn a lot of gasoline in our cars. Let’s walk to the park today instead of driving.” If nature isn’t your area of expertise, check out resources like NASA Climate Kids, Beyond a Book, or We the Children podcast.
I’d follow up, when it made sense, by suggesting ways to respond to a particular crisis. Taking action is the best antidote that I know of to the despair of what seems to be an unsolvable problem. Have your kids write a letter to a snack food company about orangutans losing their homes to palm oil farms; run a lemonade stand to raise money for a good cause; join the river cleanup event; or check out the Citizen Scientist programs to find one that matches their abilities and interests: counting butterflies, monitoring bird nests, or even playing a video game to help NASA classify coral reefs.
To boost their aspirations, we’d research what other young people are doing to effect real change to demonstrate that kids truly can make a difference. Yes, I’d tell them about Greta Thunberg’s demonstrations for climate, but I wouldn’t stop there. We’d look up Licypriya Kangujam, a 13-year-old in Manipur, India, who founded the Plastic Money Shop, where students can exchange plastic waste for essential items. We’d read about Sofia Molina, an 11-year-old from San Luis Potosí, Mexico, who started the “Cococu el Jaguar” project, which educates children about jaguar conservation. We’d learn about Jerome Foster II of Washington, D.C., the youngest-ever White House advisor on environmental justice in United States history. Jerome developed virtual reality experiences to educate people about ocean plastic and fossil fuel pollution when he was in high school. What if we celebrated these young people as much as we do popstars?
DEALING WITH ECO-SADNESS
Finally, I’d establish a ritual for loss, for those moments when there just isn’t an immediate solution. What can we do about a news report about another mountain lion being killed on a local freeway? Sure, it’s an opportunity to learn about the importance of mountain lions in the local biosphere, but what do we do with the sad feelings?
I’d design a ritual akin to one for, say, the death of a beloved family pet. Gather everyone to speak a few words about what we are feeling. Play or sing a specific song, read a certain poem, or make an art project in tribute. Honouring our difficult feelings is good practice at any age, and it’s time we normalise grieving the loss of frogs as we do any other bereavement. We need many, and I mean myriads, of species just to support human life as we know it. Let’s give them the dignity they deserve.
It’s still a heavy lift, I know. Being aware of the many threats to our survival as a species is not for the faint of heart at any age. Chewing it up and spitting it back into the open mouths of our nestlings takes time and energy that busy parents don’t always have. I don’t mean to add yet another task to anyone’s already-overloaded to-do list; however, I do hope to inspire ideas for the precious free moments, because this world we are handing off to our kids needs our urgent care and attention more than ever before.
I’d give anything to be able to wave a magic wand and make the world more nature-aware and environmentally respectful for my kids. But I also believe that we are all here on purpose, that there are no accidents, and that we each have our unique contributions to make—that’s my philosophy, anyway, and I don’t mean to push it on anyone else, but believing that my kids are here on Earth, at this moment, because they have their own essential discoveries and contributions to make—that helps me navigate these tough parenting times.
Like financial literacy and fostering emotional well-being, tending Earth’s life support systems is yet another adulting skill we don’t always prioritise in teaching. Let’s give them an owner’s manual of sorts to better prepare them for the environmental upheavals ahead. It’s what they came here to do.
Here’s an analogy I use when I’m most despairing. We’ve landed in the ultimate video game. We find ourselves in an uncharted new world with strange rules and constructs to decode, one where the foes are many and fierce. The odds are stacked against us, time is running out, and we’ve been supplied with just a few basic tools. But as we tackle the easier hurdles, we gain new tools to face the more serious ones. Step by step, we gain the experience we need, if only we keep playing. It’s the ultimate hero’s journey.
Most importantly, we’d celebrate all wins. We’d crank up the tunes and dance when that hummingbird we rescued flew away. We need all the dopamine hits we can get right now—kids included.
