Mom, did you know the climate is changing?
I heard the worried tone in Mía’s voice when she said, “This feels a little like a movie.”
I was cooking us dinner while she watched a cartoon that I was only half listening to, before I keyed in and realized the show was about climate change. Hearing my five-year-old’s fear, I said, “Is it a little scary? Do you want to turn it off? Do you want a hug?” Three yeses and three nods.
As we hugged, I exhaled, knowing this was a moment I had been preparing for and fearing all at once ― the day my daughter asked me about climate change. I’ve been doing my best to raise an environmentally aware city kid without directly talking about the climate crisis until it felt age-appropriate to do so, but with her bringing it up ― now was the time.
Her first reaction was alarm: “Mom, did you know the climate is changing? And it’s happening right NOW?” I could hear the palpable concern. I steadied myself because I wanted to recognize and acknowledge the seriousness of what she was learning about without amplifying the anxiety. I focused on having a calm and even voice: “Yes, I do know. It’s a big problem, and there are a lot of people working really hard to fix it.”
The pace and scale of a changing climate are hard for adults to fathom, let alone a five-year-old. I explained that the changing climate was not like flipping a switch or turning on the oven ― that yes, it is happening now, but it is not instantaneous, and there are still things we can and must do to address it.
As we spoke, I realized that many disparate components of our lives, work, values, and practices could all be braided together in an explanation of what we can do and why. She wanted to know what SHE can do about climate change ― and we talked about all the things she already does ― from composting, to recycling, to conserving water and energy. I flashed to memories of myself at age 9, obsessively reading “50 Simple Things You Can Do to Save the Earth” with both fear and hope. We talked about why I don’t eat beef or pork, and how every food choice makes a difference. We talked about the thanks we offer before our meals (that she helped create with me) that acknowledge other people, animals, and the planet before we eat to remind us to consider them in our choices. We talked about all the things that her school does ― clothing drives, composting, old crayon recycling, a school garden club ― sustainability is wonderfully threaded in her curriculum. It definitely felt most tangible to talk about things in our personal lives and spheres, but we didn’t stop there.
Climate change is connected to all our life support systems, and we could pull on any thread and talk about the need for action in all of these domains. My husband had just purchased a used e-bike that evening. We talked about extending the useful life of objects by buying used things and passing on our old things, rather than wasting what we have or buying new. We talked about swapping car rides for e-bike rides, or bike rides, or walks ― and how her dad works for the city’s Department of Transportation to try and make biking and walking safer for everyone. We talked about planting trees and taking care of them, and how this is a focus of my research at the Forest Service. We talked about the need to elect leaders to our government who believe that climate change is important to address. We talked about the need for technologies like solar and wind energy and electric cars. We talked about the role that activists play, that writers play, that artists play in drawing our attention to the issue and motivating people to action. I said, “this problem is so big that it needs all kinds of people with all kinds of minds doing all kinds of jobs to help address it.”
While we focused on positive steps, we also acknowledged grief. I could offer little comfort to her concerns over biodiversity loss. “Yes, many animals have gone extinct, and it is really sad.” We sat with that feeling for a bit.
And there are many things I *didn’t* say. I didn’t talk about the terrible storm last week that shut down half the subways in NYC and flooded her school’s cafeteria, and how these will become more common. I didn’t talk about the bad air quality from Canadian wildfires that kept us indoors for weeks this summer ― and how all of this, too, is connected to climate change. I didn’t talk about the billions of people living in precarity on the frontlines of climate change all around the world. I didn’t talk about injustice or inequality or privilege. We didn’t talk about how all these small acts pale in comparison to the corporate and government action that is required to decarbonize. I needed to start with the positive and concrete in the face of her shock, to not frighten her, and to empower her. How will we have these many more and much harder conversations? I’m not sure, but I know it will involve lifelong learning for us both.
After talking all dinner about these facets—and with so much still left unsaid—we decided to take a pause to go outside and try the new e-bike. The sun was beginning to set, and the air felt cool on my skin; I felt vividly alive in that moment, almost hyperreal. Afterward, our neighbor was coming into the building at the same time, and Mía whispered to me, “Mom, tell him!!” ― “About climate change?” I asked. “YES! You have to tell him it’s happening right now!” I explained as we walked up the stairs to put her to bed that we didn’t have time to discuss it with our neighbor right now, but that we would keep talking about it and working on it ― for the rest of our lives.
It was overwhelming, terrifying, and affirming all at once. At three years old, during the depths of the pandemic, she taught me about reciprocity, slowing down, and connecting to the non-human world. At five, she taught me with renewed clarity about the urgency and magnitude of this climate crisis and is holding me accountable to living our values.
My daughter is now on the cusp of turning 8, and I wrote these reflections a few years ago ― but they still ring true.
Thank you for being a powerful teacher, Mía.
Lindsay K. Campbell
New York City
