Friday, 25 Jan 2002

PROVIDENCE, R.I.

As Dr. Science would say, “I have a Master’s Degree — in Science!” I was the token liberal arts guy while working on a masters in resource economics at Oregon State University in the early 80s. To the extent I’m an academic at Brown, I feel like a token extension agent within the “new” curriculum (as it is still called 25 years later). Practice in the context of theory, or “eyes on the vision, feet on the ground” as we used to chime at the New Alchemy Institute.

When I read Jane Smiley’s Moo, I identified somewhat with Tim Monahan, a bit of a fish out of water who had a habit of arriving late on campus before his first class of the semester. Aficionados of sardonic wit — you are a Grist reader aren’t you? — should get a hoot out of the book’s insights into academia, particularly if you’ve ever done time at a land grant university.

ES41 Students getting clear on the concept of power on a plant tour.

Photo: Kurt Teichert.

The one course I offer at Brown each spring semester, ES41 Environmental Stewardship, is an applied, group-project-based course. The students are responsible for preparing a presentation and leading discussion on an environmental issue of their choosing. We take field trips to composting operations and power plants, and probe the inner mechanical workings of campus buildings.

The first class starts Monday, and in preparation I tuned up the documents and readings on the course web site. As a card-carrying ENTP in the Myers-Briggs club (that’s Extroverted/Intuitive/Thinking/Perceiving, for those of you who haven’t taken a personality test in a while), I tend to prepare for classes, presentations, toasts, childbirth, etc. at the last minute. Improvisation supplants most of those plans anyhow.

I tell the students right up front that in this course they’ll need to be self-motivated and willing to think outside of any boxes and “isms” they’ve been constrained to in the past. I also feel it is ethically correct, or at least entertaining, to clarify that I’m not really a professor and I am basically finding ways for them to help me do my job while they get course credit. “Think of yourselves as consultants to the university, with a schedule of billable deliverables — only we bill you!”

It’s great to figure out what my students are like by gauging their reactions. In addition to the obligatory who, where, why background, I like to have students introduce themselves by sharing their favorite environmental paradox. Some of my favorite examples of oxymoronic behavior: cars idling at the recycling center, dripping low-flow faucets, and recycled-content toilet paper flushed into a failed septic system. Our work is of the utmost importance, I urge, but it is best kept in perspective.

This is your brain on a halogen torchiere lamp.

Photo: Chris Calwell.

Following Harold Ward’s lead of service-learning courses and theses, the projects we do attempt to provide a solution for a particular campus environmental issue or opportunity. Students must identify a central question — what Professor Zappa would refer to as “the crux of the biscuit.” I have a particular interest in proposing projects related to electrical plug loads — computers, lamps, and appliances. A few years ago, we did a project on dorm electrical use that identified an emerging problem with the increased use of high-wattage halogen torchiere lamps. Even though these projects did not compel the university to take action on lamp choices, when the university decided to ban halogen torchieres because of serious safety concerns, the students were able to suggest efficient alternatives that were used by the administration. And the students were able to renew an old theme for a fun slogan: “This is your brain on a halogen torchiere.”

I like the fact that the students work on their projects for the sake of environmental impact reduction. In my work on building projects, I tend to get caught up in the economic analyses, as administrators need to hear the bottom line in financial terms. Students are more likely to be compelled by how projects affect the environment or their personal life. I loved the approach John Passacantando’s Ozone Action team took to increase awareness of global warming issues in New England schools: “Slush sucks.”

I consider it a fringe benefit of my job that I have the opportunity to work with sharp, active, and refreshingly irreverent Brown students interested in environmental issues. For me, the students are like a rewarding night of meteor showers — one great shooting star after another. Every once in a while, one named Becky, Saul, or Charlotte shoots across the horizon with a unique glow or particularly bright presence that really makes you stand up and take notice. I look forward to meeting a new class today and looking for that twinkle.