Climate change curriculum

The need to implement climate change education at MVHS is more important now than ever BY SARAH LIU

Climate change is part of the core curriculum of three MVHS courses: freshman Biology, AP Biology and AP Environmental Science. Yet, only one of these courses is required for graduation.

In a world where our generation will shoulder the burden of mitigating the effects of a rapidly warming climate, it is crucial that we are educated on climate issues. We will have to be knowledgeable about actions we should take in order to combat the consequences of a global temperature that is expected to rise 14% in the next nine years, according to the COP26 discussions. This reinforces the need to implement climate change education into more curricula at MVHS.

Climate change education should not be limited to our science courses — rather, we should provide resources in various courses to equip students with the broad scope of knowledge they will need in the future. For example, we can spend time researching organizations and companies with sustainable practices in Economics. In history classes, we can explore the varying impacts that historical events had on the surrounding environment as well as the history of environmental racism. In English classes, we can use our rhetorical analysis skills to deconstruct non-fiction

texts about climate science and write from greenhouse gases caused by persuasive essays about next steps to human activities are responsible for combat the issue. Equipping students the 1.1 degree Celsius increase in with not just the scientific aspect of an global heating since the early 1900s, a issue, but also real ways in which to number that is expected to rise another address that issue as both a consumer 2.4 degrees Celsius at least. The and voter, will better consequences of allow us to catalyze real climate change change. are being felt on The need to every continent. implement this much While we may new climate material not yet feel the into MVHS curricula direct impacts may sound extreme, because we have but it isn’t rash –– it’s the privilege necessary. Recently at of living in this the 26th UN Climate area, we have Conference, a meeting already been for delegates representing countries affected by related phenomena like around the world to discuss climate increased droughts and wildfires. strategies for the future, the countries Although fluctuating weather patterns agreed on the need to “phase down may not impact our day to day lives, a unabated coal” — a watered-down chain of cause-and-effect events can variation of trigger longer lasting — and deadlier — 76% of MVHS students believe current climate change education is insufficient. a previous agreement that called for the need to “phase out” these fossil fuels. Decisions like these, although disappointing, consequences. We need to provide as many resources as possible to ensure students are educated on crucial climate issues and prepare them to live sustainably. Consider this: before a Biology test, a student needs to know all the material to pass. And the biggest test of our generation is coming — a test that threatens the well-being of people around the globe if we fail. *According to a survey of 145 people are not surprising. We are running out of time, and while world leaders have the luxury to make deals they won’t revisit until years later, we don’t. According to the latest IPCC report, emissions

EQUIPPING STUDENTS WITH REAL WAYS IN WHICH TO ADDRESS THAT ISSUE AS BOTH A CONSUMER AND VOTER, WILL BETTER ALLOW US TO CATALYZE CHANGE.

AM I INDIAN ENOUGH?

Processing my relationship with Indian culture BY SHIVANI VERMA

When I was in daycare, my teachers were scared I would never speak English.

Whenever I’d say doodh, the Hindi word for milk, they would laugh, thinking I was saying “doo-doo” instead. But my mom never worried, assured that once I started talking, I wouldn’t stop.

She was right. But when I did pick up English, my brain refused to hold more than one language at a time. So while one chubby toddler hand clutched English in its fist, my other hand’s fingers unfurled and let Hindi fall.

Over the next few years, my parents tried everything from speaking to me solely in Hindi at home to putting me in Hindi classes, but no matter what they did, speaking Hindi stayed stubbornly out of my grasp.

Maybe it isn’t that big of a deal — after all, I can still understand the language when people speak to me. But as much as I hate to admit it, ever since I lost what measly grip I had on my culture, it’s been a downward slope.

Because after the language classes ended, I was never forced to interact with Indian culture again. So I just … didn’t. I didn’t watch Bollywood movies — other than “Jab We Met” over and over — or listen to Indian music. I didn’t pick up any books on Hindu mythology, and I had no interest in traditional Indian styles. And as Indian culture started to fade from my life, so did my connections with my Indian identity.

I know I don’t “look Indian” — many people have told me they assumed I was white or biracial. When I’m out in public in Indian grocery stores BLOOM and temples, I elicit curious glances, and SHIVANI VERMA strangers in parking lots randomly speak to me in Spanish more than they do in Hindi. But I don’t blame them for not recognizing me as who I am. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see an Indian girl. So why would anyone else?

Because I know what being Indian is — it’s complaining about bharatanatyam teachers and bringing roti in metal tins to school. And I know because we’re everywhere.

Indians aren’t a minority in Cupertino like they are in other parts of the world, yet instead of feeling safe and secure, I can’t help but feel ashamed of not being Indian enough for my environment. So when I came across a TikTok on someone’s Instagram story last month where a group of girls were all dressed up for a Navratri party in sequined lehengas and colorful dupattas, shame and resentment bubbled up without warning. Wow, I thought as I watched them through the screen. I’m a bad Indian. I told myself that maybe if I cared more about Bollywood movies or tried harder to speak Hindi, I wouldn’t feel this way now. But truthfully, it was a lot more than that. Throughout my life, these emotions had been culminating into white-hot embarrassment GRAPHIC | KR I P A MAYUR E S H W A R ARTS AND ENT | DECEMBER 2021 19

and guilt. It was a self-perpetuating cycle: I didn’t feel “Indian enough,” so I avoided my culture to save myself from discomfort, which made me feel even less Indian than before, which led me to feel like I didn’t have a right to claim Indian culture as mine. But the other day, something switched. Just as I walked into the living room where a Bollywood movie was playing, a song began — only, it wasn’t a song. It was a Sanskrit mantra that the main character was repeating as he prayed, and I caught myself mouthing the words.

Suddenly, I was transported back to quiet mornings before elementary school, when I used to sit with my mom and say the mantras with her, not knowing what they meant but enjoying the cadence of the words on my tongue.

All at once, things I’d forgotten or never truly thought about came back: memories of watching the “Ramayana” mythology over and over on my mom’s DVD player, discovering queer Indian social media influencers and feeling that rush of fulfillment at finally seeing real representation of myself and texting long rants to my non-Indian friends about why “Jab We Met” is the best Bollywood movie of all time.

They’re little things, and yet each one holds immeasurable weight. They all reminded me that I am Indian in my own way. And maybe that way is different than others’ but it’s no less valid. All this time, by constantly telling myself that I’m not enough, I’ve been the one invalidating my own identity. It may take a while longer to fully feel secure in who I am, but this is the start.

I am Indian. And from now on, I’m not going to let anyone — even myself — tell me otherwise.