When I graduated from college, I was intent on saving the world from a climate disaster.
I’d taken classes on hydrology and fossil fuel use in my senior year that awakened me the impending doom on the horizon.
And despite the fact that I actually graduated with a degree in art history, I pestered my way into an internship at the Union of Concerned Scientists. There, we created and ran a nationwide symposium on global warming.
It was 1989.
Within a year, I was half a world away in Hong Kong, struggling to figure out how to continue doing environmental work when I lacked an engineering degree and my Cantonese was lousy.
Determined to make a “difference,” I began teaching.