Category Archives: Policy Advocacy

A Reflection on the Whys and Hows

“There’s no such thing as a morality project, or an ethics project; everything is supposed to be moral and ethical.

Same thing with sustainability; everything is supposed to be sustainable.”

I want to highlight a workshop example chosen by students in Dryden, a rural town in Ontario best known for its Domtar paper and pulp mill.

The girl’s bathrooms and changeroom have mirrors that are warped, and it “makes them look ugly.” The students have always wanted to change them, and have even looked into how much it would cost: $250 per mirror. With a dozen mirrors replaced, it would be $250 x 12 = $3,000.

If they assume they can fundraise at 33% efficiency, they need to raise $9,000 at having a $6,000 cost of fundraiser activities, leaving $3,000 for the mirrors. From their perspective, $9,000 for mirrors to do their makeup seems to be too expensive. In my head, I agreed. But I kept following the community-organizing model. “What would need to happen for this project to be a wild success?” “12 mirror installed, maintain the mirrors well, upcycle the old mirrors, and get positive feedback from happy people,” they concluded.

“Why? Why do you want the mirrors installed?” I always ask them to ask themselves why they’re doing this project, and to keep asking ‘why’, until they get to a philosophical answer that is no longer a means to an end, but rather an end in and of itself. The final ‘why’ should be “because that’s what we want. That’s the future we want.”

“It’s to improve the morale of the girls. When you do your makeup and look in the warped mirror, it ruins your entire day.” “It’s about self-confidence and self-image.”

The vice principal chipped in: “Some get pride from academic success, some from body image, and some from athletic success. If your self-confidence and self-image improves, the chances of recreational drug use goes down and learning outcomes improve.”  I was shocked. I had no idea that a warped mirror would have that much impact.

“Is $3,000 worth improving self-confidence and self-image of more than 200 girls every school day for at least the next 10 years?” The answer was a resounding and excited “yes!”

This is why it’s important to ask ourselves ‘why’ and how we measure success. The mirror installation project is not about building maintenance; it’s about empowerment of girls. What they measure should be different. For a building maintenance project, you measure the number of mirrors installed, and how well they are installed. For an empowerment of girls project, you measure improved self-confidence and self-image of the girls. Same activity, different objective, different measurement, different outcome.

There’s no such thing as a morality project, or an ethics project; everything is supposed to be moral and ethical. Same thing with sustainability; everything is supposed to be sustainable. We need sustainability integrated into the decision-making framework of every young person used both at work and at home. By identifying, analyzing, and developing sustainability-integrated solutions to their community’s challenge, students are exercising the muscle for sustainability problem-solving skills to make it a core competency of our generation.

A House Divided Against Itself Cannot Stand

“Do you have a community that stands behind what you stand for?

And if you do, you’ll have more power. And if you don’t, you won’t.” – Barack Obama

Disclaimer: This reflection is a little different. I’m not going to name the school because it teaches a greater lesson about divided communities and the power of collective action. In some sense, it is about any and every school in Canada.

When we booked the school, the teacher warned us that the students are pretty loud. They were pretty loud. Although the teachers strategically sat with the students throughout the gym, the echo in the gym and unruly students were difficult to manage.

After the assembly, the leaders in student council apologized on behalf of the school. But, what was interesting was their smugness. Students said that they were “embarrassed” by the other students, reassuring me that “we’re not like them and we were paying attention,” that they were “lazy” and “dumb”. This is a similar pattern I see particularly in mining communities in Canada: a divided community of holier-than-thous versus I-don’t-care-what-you-thinks.

“I’d like to try a risky experiment here. Who would agree that the other students are lazy and dumb? That they don’t care about anything?” As I said this, they nodded along and said in agreement: “That’s exactly what we have to deal with.”

So, I asked: “Does any of your family work in a mine?” Not a single person raised their hand.

This is a trend. Mining communities are divided between miners and ‘the rest’. Miners don’t relatively value education and school, as they know exactly what they’re going to do with their lives: work in the mine, live my life, and retire.

Say I’m 15 or 16, and I have the physical strength to work in the mine. I’m stronger than my dad. But, the only reason I’m financially dependent on my parents, living by their rules, not being treated like an adult, is because the government is making me go to school. In school, I won’t learn things that will help me in life. Which I know exactly what it will be: work in a mine, live my life, and retire. So, why would I value education?

But say I’m 15 or 16, and come from a non-miner family. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life. I grew up elsewhere, and my parents moved to the mine a few years ago. My parents plan on retiring and moving elsewhere, so I don’t plan on living here. The world is my oyster; I could do anything. So, I’m curious about my options, want a good grade to keep my options open, and my parents reward me for doing well in school. So, why wouldn’t I value education?

But each group looks down on the other group, without talking to each other. Democracy functions when ‘we the people’ move together. It may be slow, but it’s steadfast progress together, one step at a time. Over the years, we’ve been taking the easy road. Like-minded people with power, money, and education move first, leaving many behind. The chasm becomes wider and wider, and eventually, someone will have to pay its price. That may be us or the next generation, but someone will pay.

“If you take your high school community organizing experience seriously, you’ll get much out of it. You bringing together the high school community is as difficult as Trudeau bringing Canada together or anything else. The skills and dynamics don’t change. So, don’t just brush these off; take it seriously and try to understand how to bring the community together.”

This is a common theme I’m encountering on this tour: a divided community cannot solve climate change. If my generation can build an ‘imagined community’ that brings all segments of society together, we’ll not only solve climate change, but work towards changing the very nature of future global and systematic challenges.

A True Canadian Hero: The Educator

“Once I came back and saw the situation and the students, I could not leave them and go back. My bones will be buried here in Nelson House raising the next generation.”

Nelson House is an Indigenous reserve belonging to 2,500 Nisichawayasihk Cree people located nine hours north of Winnipeg.

After my usual assembly, a teacher named Angela approached me and introduced herself. A Nisichawayasihk Cree native, Angela was born and raised in Nelson House. Her parents moved to Winnipeg for her high school education. She ended up getting two Masters degrees; conducted nine-year research on the Canadian residential school history and system; and became a vice principal at a high school in Winnipeg. Nelson House school had a staffing shortage, so she was asked to be the principal of Nelson House school for six months.

“Once I came back and saw the situation and the students, I could not leave them and go back. My bones will be buried here in Nelson House raising the next generation.”

In 2012, Nelson House was without running water for 17 consecutive days. Nelson House doesn’t have a grocery store, and most people don’t own cars, so they have to pay $150 to hire someone else to do grocery shopping in Thompson. The hour-long gravel road between Thompson and Nelson House is in abject disrepair with so many holes and missing parts that many people die on the road, and choose not to travel. I had to constantly control the steering wheel on a straight road driving at 60km per hour. It is very dangerous. Just in March, 11 people were murdered in a town of only 2,500. A shooting, a car accident, a hit and run. They have so many funerals that they keep delaying community festivals.

Education is not a priority when parents don’t have the luxury of time, or peace of mind to parent the children. The secondary school sees a 55% attendance rate and the elementary school sees 30 students per class at the beginning of the semester, but towards the middle of the semester, only 5-6 come out.

When the workshop started, students did not respond to me. So I asked Angela to lead the conversation. It was like seeing the students come to life. They paid attention. They started sharing. They started listening. This is common. My experience from visiting a couple dozen schools on Indigenous reserves across the country is that when there is an Indigenous role model as a teacher, the students have a significantly higher chance of believing in themselves and working towards a better future.

Nelson House was yet another heartbreaking example of an Indigenous community like Ahousat Island in BC, Foothills No. 31 in AB, Duck Lake in SK, and Hay River in NT. Systematic and historical oppression and injustice continues to abuse and crush Indigenous communities. But their spirit lives on through teachers like Angela, serving as a role model and a lighthouse to create the kind of future we want. For ourselves and for future generations.

Boycotting Participation Trophies

Why feel-good, low-impact ‘gold star’ student projects will result in a more cynical, jaded, indifferent generation.

In a rural town in Manitoba, I discussed a student-led volleyball tournament fundraiser for the local children’s hospital with students in my workshop. Four student leaders told me they spent an hour per week of class time to plan the fundraiser. We did an audit of total time and money. Four students collectively spent 100 hours to plan the tournament and additional volunteers would collectively put in another 500 hours, totalling 600 hours.

My equation for a fundraiser?

Total hours spent on fundraiser x minimum wage of province = minimum viable product

600 hours x $11.35 = $6,810

At least $6,810 would need to be raised for it to ‘break even’. Otherwise, they should get a part-time job, provide valuable service for the community through their labour, and donate all the money. The larger point is clear: time has value.

We have a culture in high schools where we celebrate anything students do as long as it is well-intended regardless of its results. In fact, we don’t even measure the results. How can we know what we have achieved if we don’t even measure our results? We overinflate impact; we think we’re making a lot of difference; we continue doing it for years because it ‘feels good’, but here’s the result: The problems in the community don’t go away. They’re still there, even though we think we’re doing so much.

We conclude everyone else must be the problem, or these problems are unfixable. We become jaded, indifferent, cynical. We don’t realize: we are part of the problem.

The solution? Develop tangible and employable skills in students. Identify their passion. Identify their community’s passion. Conduct a cost-benefit analysis of the options. Make scalable projections of potential impact of those options. Implement the most cost-effective, impactful solutions. Measure and evaluate impact.

We expect this of any other field, but for the ‘do-gooders’, no one wants to apply sensible critical thinking, because it’s so mean to provide uninvited analysis and evaluation of the hard work of well-meaning young people.

This needs to change. If we took the time of young people seriously, analysis and evaluation of impact would not be considered personal attacks, but an act of love to collectively achieve our generation’s mission to create the kind of future we want.

The students looked at the number of hours going into the fundraiser, and they were quite surprised. They started to rethink whether this was really the best way to improve the welfare of families who are struggling as their children are in the hospital. They started asking: Can we get more people to come out? Can we do something else at the fundraiser to increase impact? Can we do this in more schools to scale the impact?

These are the kind of questions that will empower, engage, and equip a generation that will, in turn, create the kind of future we want.

The Canadian Farmer’s Story

“What’s the life of a farmer like?” I asked.

“How much time have you got?” he replied, taking a deep breath.

A conversation with two elderly farmers from a rural town in Saskatchewan.

“When you’re a farmer, you’re at the mercy of everything. Everything. The government changes their trade policies all the time, and we’re left to deal with the bullshit. Weather dictates everything. We can’t control the weather.”

When they started farming in 1975, a bushel of durum wheat was $6.50. Today, it’s exactly the same price: $6.50. “My first truck cost me 1,000 bushels [of wheat]. Now, it would cost over 20,000 bushels [of wheat].” And your bills keep adding up. “When my grandparents came here and started the farm in 1908, there were no bills to pay. Every farm had their own garden and animals, and you ate what you grew. Now, you have electricity bills, phone bills, cell phone bills, television bills, natural gas bills, internet bills, and equipment lease bills. You profit around $20 per acre and we have a 1,000-acre farm. And you sell only once a year.”

He continued, “You could have a family on $20,000, but not anymore. That’s why most farmers have a job, as well. I worked at a food processing factory for 26 years, retired a few years ago, and now, I only farm. Some farmers have doubled down on farming and got bigger and bigger farms. But it’s a very risky business. If you get a bad year or drought or flood, you’re screwed. Some people lose their farms on that.”

His wife interrupted and said, “You wanna hear what’s really upsetting? Farmers’ got a thumb pushing down on them, all the time. In 2010, when the big flood happened, the government gave the farms $5,000 and increased the buying price by 20%. Literally, the next day, chemical companies, equipment leasing companies, all the suppliers increased their prices exactly by 20%. You just cannot catch a break. You just cannot catch a break.”

“You either need another job, or you just need to have a bigger and bigger farm. So, as the farms get bigger, fewer people live in the town, and with fewer people in the community, it’s hard to get anything done. Fundraisers, community stuff, potlucks and get-togethers, we still do all of them, but with fewer people, so it’s much harder to do them. When I was in school, the school bus would be full. Every mile or two, there would be a family. Not anymore. At some point, giant companies will buy out all the farms and they’ll control all the food.”

“Farming isn’t valued. People are too removed from where their food comes from. We feed the world. I mean, you make twice more money farming seeds for birds. Farming for pet birds has more value than farming for people.”

At this point, they asked me why I was in their town. I told them I taught environmental sustainability, technology, and problem-solving skills to students. I told them about 3% Project, and how I’m going from coast to coast talking to students about sustainability.

“What’s the one thing you want to say to high school students in the big cities? We always hear that we need to thank farmers, but no one knows what that really means.”

“That’s a lot of pressure!” they said, laughing.

We kept tossing ideas back and forth. In the end, a message emerged: “Capitalism doesn’t work for the little guys anymore.” They still agree that capitalism is the best way to efficiently allocate resources, but it’s unfair to those who work as farmers and miners and fishermen. The simple fact that crops are not properly paid implies that their work is unvalued.

They told me they enjoyed their conversation with “someone who’s interested in the life of a farmer and listening to us.” We shook hands and said goodbye.

Canada is really such a big and diverse place. So many different types of people. Just in Alberta, you have oil and gas in Lethbridge. Financial workers for oil and gas in Calgary and Edmonton. Oil and gas mines in northern Alberta. You have Indigenous peoples scattered across the country who hunt. Diamond and mineral mines in the Northwest Territories. Children from a long line of European settlers. Children of immigrants born and raised here.

The farmer’s story is a reminder that climate change isn’t the only problem that our generation needs to solve. But, I believe that by equipping our generation with the necessary tools to solve climate change, it will create a master blueprint to help solve all the others.

A Conversation I’ll Remember For the Rest of My Life

“What is our community, and how might that community be reconciled with our freedom? How far do our obligations reach? How do we transform mere power into justice, mere sentiment into love?”

– Barack Obama, Dreams from My Father

Duck Lake in Saskatchewan is famous for two things: The Battle of Duck Lake of 1885 and St. Michael’s Indian Residential School, the last operating residential school in Canada. (It closed in 1996.) It has a population of 600 people.

Three students, Christine, Sarah, and Richard approached me after my usual assembly asking whether we could do a workshop together. I agreed. As usual, I asked: “How do you want to make an impact in your local community?”

Christine replied, “I want to see an event that brings the community together.”

This is a very common answer, so I was about to ask her to elaborate when she said something that caught me off guard.

“We haven’t had a community-wide event without people having-” She paused.

“Yes?” I asked.


“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, there are always clashes in the community because a lot of people deny that residential schools existed.”

I could not wrap my mind around this. Of all places, Duck Lake denies residential schools? A town with St. Michael’s Indian Residential School that closed only 23 years ago? When the majority of the Indigenous population who lives here, has witnessed its existence, who lived through the abuse, and where the school is still standing right in the town?

I kept asking questions to try to understand. It turns out, half of Duck Lake’s population are now non-Indigenous people, as more newcomers come to live here. Some believe St. Michael’s school was a normal school, because there were two programs in the school: St. Michael’s Day School, a standard school that non-Indigenous students attended and went back home, and St. Michael’s Indian Residential School, a school where students were forcibly removed from the parents, went to the school, didn’t get to go back home, and lived in the school.

Sarah said that her father went to that school, and was sexually and physically abused by the teacher and it closed when he was in fourth grade.

Christine said that the community is growing apart, and that they haven’t seen a community-wide event in over a decade. “I’ve always wanted to see the whole community come together. We have an annual powwow in July, and we always make an effort to invite the local non-Indigenous to come. They don’t show up and if they do, they take pictures of us and leave. We want them to participate. The powwow is for everybody.”

We applied the powwow to the community-organizing model that I usually explain in the workshop. I explained, “As I said in the assembly, climate change is not the only thing going on in this world. A divided community can’t come together to solve climate change either. Reconciliation and combatting residential school denial is much more relevant here.” We designed a sustainable powwow and created an action plan forward.

When we finished the workshop, Christine said, “I would love to see the community come together before I graduate. I’ve always wanted to see the community come together.” I promised to do everything in my power to help make it a reality.

I went to the bathroom and cried. It was a mix of overwhelming emotions. The blatant display of systematic racism and oppression in Duck Lake. The audacity of newcomers to tell survivors of residential schools that they’re lying. The continued invitation to those deniers to join the powwow and celebrate together. Above all, the pure and genuine desire of the students who just want to see the community come together: “Because the powwow is for everybody.”

This was a conversation I will remember for the rest of my life.

This is the clearest and loudest expression of “Truth and Reconciliation” I have experienced. I really hope the wishes of the students come true. I am so honoured and fulfilled that 3% Project can play a part in that.



(Note: The names of the students and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.)

Why Altruism is (Mostly) Overrated

166 residents live in Lomond, a farming town: one of the smallest towns I’ve visited.

So, moment of truth: What were the students like? Well, they were beyond my wildest dreams. The depth of their discussions were more innovative, more thoughtful, and more forward-looking than most schools I’ve visited on the tour. For example, while I was talking about the Fourth Industrial Revolution, a core part of my assembly presentation, one student responded by noting, “What worries me is that as bionic parts are being used more and more for the body, discrimination against ‘less human-looking’ people will be an issue.”

Students recently participated in a competition by the University of Lethbridge to build a big construction project built solely out of donated food cans called, ‘CANstruction’. This is currently displayed at the Center Village Mall in Lethbridge.

We used this as an example for the workshop.

I asked students, “What would need to happen for you to say that this was a wild success?” Students answered, citing the number of views, the number of people receiving the message, the lower rates of hunger within the population, the visual appeal of the display, and number of people who relate to the message. Solid answers. But, when I pressed on them to distill this project down to a mission statement, they said: “To donate cans to a local food bank to reduce local hunger.”

None of them said it was to win the competition. Why?

Well, it’s because they didn’t want to admit that they would benefit from doing good. I asked students: “If you donated thousands of cans of food, and the local hunger went down by 10% but lost the competition, would you still say that this was a massive success?” I further pressed them: “Then, why bother entering the competition? Why bother taking the 4,600 cans all the way to Lethbridge?” (Yes, 40 students in a town of 166 collected 4,600 cans!) “Why bother fulfilling competition requirements to assemble the cans into the shape of a tractor?”

Students acknowledged, first sheepishly and then proudly, that they did it to win. I asked them: “Well, then, Is reducing hunger the primary objective, or is it community building?” Last year, Lomond Community School’s CANstruction had raised over 8,000 cans, when the entire Lethbridge competition raised 11,000 cans. All the other schools combined was only 3,000. Lomond had their local businesses, parents, and school – everyone – participate. It was a huge deal, and they take great pride in it. And they’re known for it.

But, shouldn’t students be working towards the ‘greater good’ at the expense of their own personal gain? Isn’t this what we’re taught?

I disagree.

We’re afraid to claim that we’re doing good, to benefit from doing that good. You can do good things for others, while doing good things for you. In fact, that’s the way it should be. Always. Why would you do things for yourself that hurt others? You should always do things for yourself that do good for others, as well. And, that’s okay.



Visiting Canada’s True North, Strong and Free: Part 2

Diamond Jenness is a rural school located in Hay River, a town of three thousand residents whose main industries are hunting and diamond mining. Despite being a small school, the principal and vice principal care a great deal about the success of their students. The school is known for its academic success, and focus on technology as a means of expanding educational opportunities for students. For example, the school recently obtained increased internet bandwidth from the province, so they could use video conferencing platforms to expand and diversify educational sources for their students.

“Hay River is caught in between the Indigenous world and the others,” said the vice principal.

Curious about the town’s Indigenous past, I asked an elder at the school why the lakes in the Northwest Territories are called, “Slave Lakes”. This is what he told me: When the Scottish explorer, Alexander Mackenzie arrived in the Northwest Territories, his company enslaved the Indigenous peoples living in the area. He named their language “Slavey”, which is what it’s still called today. To this day, the main river and highway in the Northwest Territories are still named after Mackenzie. So, while Canada seems to have moved on from her past, it’s clear the legacy of our own confederate flags and statues remain. Hidden, yes. But, they remain.

The Indigenous influence is large at Diamond Jenness. Students learn how to play the drum and play common Indigenous hand games. Students also learn how to trap, hunt, snare, and cook hunted animals, lynx and beavers being the two prize animals. From time to time, an elder would take the students on a moose hunt and come back when they’ve caught one; that’s the entire school day. Trees are chopped down to make fire, and snow is boiled for water while hunting. Ice fishing is a common life skill.

During the workshop, I asked the students my standard question: “What are three skills you would need to develop or practice to create the future we want?” One student answered: “Survival skills.” It was, again, an answer I’d never heard before.

One student stayed behind after the workshop. She explained her passion for sustainability and the environment, but she doesn’t think there’s anything that can be done in Hay River. For example, she wants to become a vegetarian, but her father’s a hunter. He brings food home that she refuses to eat, and they fight. They fight often on this subject. But, more generally, it’s hard to get people to change when there’s no alternative. Wood pellets in stoves are the most common way to heat homes in Hay River, and they don’t get natural gas. So, wood pellets and diesel are the most common options.

What can this student do?

This is where we come in.

I connected her with one of our full-time sustainability project consultants (mentors) who provides mentorship for every school, to empower students to take action in their local communities today. As soon as they’re connected, they will identify a local sustainability challenge, analyze it, and develop a solution to the challenge.

3% Project is made for youth, by youth. Youth identify problems. Youth design solutions. Youth lead the implementation. This is true sustainability.



Visiting Canada’s True North, Strong and Free: Part 1

At four in the morning, I started driving from Fort River, Alberta to Yellowknife, Northwest Territories. An hour before arriving in Yellowknife, my car slipped on ice and fell into a snowbank. I stopped my car and shovelled the snow around the car for over half an hour, but I couldn’t get the car out. With the assembly time closeby, I started to worry. Thankfully, at the last minute, a gentleman stopped by, tied a rope to his truck, and pulled the car out. If he had shown up a mere ten minutes later, I would have been late.

Yellowknife is a rocky area with lots of mining activity. According to locals, St. Patrick’s burnt down and was rebuilt in 1991. During their rebuilding, they decided to build around the local Rockies to showcase nature. The stairs in the main hall includes a huge section of rocks.

Due to a local diamond mine, children from miners from around the world come to Yellowknife and attend high school, so it was a quite diverse group.

Around twenty five students came to the workshop after the assembly, evenly distributed across higher grades. Most of them were from the school’s Green Club or the Interac Club. Students had a very active discussion. I asked them, “What are the skills most necessary to create an impact?” They responded: “Creative thinking, cooperation, originality, wisdom and ethics, listening especially with people you disagree, compromise, and self-improvement.”

A student asked me, “I want to make an impact, but I don’t know where to start. What are other Canadian students doing to make an impact?”

This is why we do the tour. This is why I write these blog posts.

I write about youth-led solutions and projects from across Canada, so a miner’s child in Yellowknife can feel inspired to do the same. As I go from town to town, I’m physically mobile. But, 3% Project offers students a different kind of mobility: the mobility to think beyond their local context and yet, simultaneously, be mobilized to act in their local context.

Dear young person, whether from Smithers, British Columbia or Yellowknife, Northwest Territories: If you’re reading this, know that there are thousands of students across Canada that care; that are taking action; and that are fighting the good fight.



What’s in a Teacher?


First, meet Warren Lake.

He’s an environmental science educator at the school. He’s received international awards, given TED talks on pedagogical approaches to nature education, and published articles and studies on environmental education. Mr. Lake shared that students who graduated his class still talk about our assembly, and a few students chose their university majors inspired by the assembly. Since then, he told me that students have pushed for climate change to be included in the curriculum, and climate change became the main theme for projects for a grade ten science course in Calgary!

Two school-wide initiatives came out of the assembly in Oct 2017.

One. Students created Meatless Mondays in the school cafeteria! They qualified for a $1,000 grant and purchased a grow tower where they cultivate herbs for use in the cafeteria.

Two. Students created a project mapping ice movements from 17th-century whaling logs, which was a finalist for the Governor General’s Award.

During lunchtime, I was treated to a Meatless Monday pasta from the cafeteria and was given a tour of Mr. Lake’s classroom with vertical gardens, rainbow trout aquarium, tortoise house, gecko terrarium, over a hundred plants, microgreen garden, vermicomposting bins, tomato, potato, and various edible plant garden. Mr. Lake took IKEA’s open source design to make a circular garden house that students could sit and read in. He recently won $7,500 from the Alberta Ecotrust Foundation to create a solar park on the school roof. 8 solar panels will function as sunshades and underneath it, students will eat lunch, read, take naps on hammocks, so that they can directly witness the benefits of solar panels.

Mr. Lake takes students on a number of nature trips. They go to mountains, lakes, the Arctic, ocean, islands – as many places as they can, so students can develop memories and appreciation for nature. His TED talk on this is available here.

I have an incredible amount of respect for Mr. Lake, who is one of the most active and effective environmental educators across Canada that I have ever met. His dedication and passion not only transforms the students’ appreciation for nature but their entire lives. His pedagogical approach deserves to be studied and emulated for the upcoming generation of educators.

What’s in a teacher? Whatever you make it to be. You could change a student. A school. A town. A province. A country. The world.



1 2