I love to hear them laugh. Strictly speaking, academic work should not be fun, and certainly not amusing. Still, there is joy in their laughter. How can this be wrong?
I love to sit with them in mindful silence. Strictly speaking, meditation should not be part of academic work. Still, there is joy in feeling linked together with each other and the garden and sky where we sit. How can this be wrong?
In late July 2018, the Master of Arts in Environmental Education and Communication (MAEEC) program office welcomed a new cohort of students to the campus and what we witnessed was a unique blend of curiosity, keen interest and some apprehension. It was a new experience – a possibly daunting experience for many who were ‘diving into’ the unfamiliar landscape of a masters program.
I admit I resist much of what passes for education today with its performativity agendas and overt objectivism. Instead, I subscribe to what I consider vital, the kind of curricular practices that linger in an interdisciplinary bog in between human habitat and the wildness of the world, between feeling and thinking, where the domesticated and the wild intermingle and exchange themselves freely and radically. This type of informal, ‘lived’ learning doesn’t come from textbooks and it does not live on the Internet (although instructions on how to experience this more, may).
Hilary’s poetic post about the magical diversity of edges and David’s “mainstreaming biodiversity and ecosystems into policy and business as a design process” highlight a key human imperative. A dear friend and one of this country’s foremost experts in biodiversity (soil), Dr.