By Christy Shaver
For some, it arrives gradually, through rising temperatures, changing seasons, or subtle shifts in the natural rhythms they have long known. For others, it comes all at once.
In Lāhainā, it came as fire.
Nearly three years later, the impacts are still unfolding. Not only in the landscape, but in the lives of those who continue to navigate what was lost, what remains, and what is still uncertain. What was lost is not only physical, but cultural, relational, and deeply personal.
In the time since, I have found myself sitting with questions that go beyond climate science or disaster response. There is no shortage of data. No shortage of reports, policies, or strategies. We understand more than ever before about the causes and consequences of climate change. And yet, even as awareness grows, something fundamental remains unchanged. We continue to make decisions, collectively and individually, that deepen the crisis.
This has led me to reflect more deeply on the nature of the problem itself.
Is climate change only an environmental crisis, or is it also a crisis of relationship?
From a Neohumanist perspective, climate change can be understood not only as a disruption of ecological systems, but as a reflection of how we see ourselves in relation to the world.
For generations, dominant systems have reinforced a way of thinking that separates humans from nature. The natural world becomes a resource. Land becomes property. Water becomes a commodity. Value is measured in extraction, efficiency, and growth. This way of seeing has shaped our institutions, our economies, and our everyday choices. It has also shaped our consciousness in ways that often go unexamined.
When we are disconnected from the living systems that sustain us, it becomes easier to overlook the consequences of our actions. Even when we know, intellectually, that something is wrong, that knowing does not always translate into change. There is a gap between awareness and action, and that gap is not simply informational. It is relational.
This is where education becomes essential.
Children today are growing up in a world shaped by uncertainty in ways that previous generations did not experience. Even when they are not directly impacted by disasters, they are aware. They hear conversations. They see images. They absorb the emotional tone of the world around them in ways that are often subtle but deeply felt.
For some children, this awareness shows up as anxiety or fear. For others, it is less visible, a quiet unease, a sense that something is not quite stable beneath the surface. And for those who have experienced climate-related events firsthand, whether fires, floods, or displacement, that awareness can be layered with grief, confusion, and loss.
As educators, we are not only supporting their understanding of the world, but also their ability to be in relationship with it. This includes helping them process what they feel, fostering resilience, and creating spaces where connection can counterbalance fear.
Neohumanism offers a powerful framework for this work.
It invites us to expand our sense of identity beyond the limited boundaries of self, community, or even species. It encourages us to recognize the inherent value of all beings and to cultivate a felt sense of interconnectedness with the world around us. This is not simply a philosophical idea to be explained. It is a way of experiencing life that can be nurtured from an early age.
In this context, education is not only about knowledge acquisition. It is about shaping perception.
Neohumanism asks us to move beyond an anthropocentric worldview and toward a relational one. A worldview in which the Earth is not something we manage, but something we are part of. A living system to which we belong. When this shift occurs, care for the environment is no longer framed as responsibility alone. It becomes a natural expression of connection.
If we focus only on facts, statistics, and outcomes, we may increase awareness without addressing the deeper disconnection that underlies the crisis. In some cases, this can contribute to feelings of overwhelm or helplessness, particularly for young people.
But when education includes opportunities for direct relationship with the natural world, something different becomes possible.
Time spent in nature, even in simple ways, allows children to experience connection rather than just learn about it. Storytelling can help them imagine their place within a larger web of life. Creative expression provides space for emotions to be processed and understood. Acts of care, whether for plants, animals, or community spaces, help translate values into lived experience.
These are not separate from academic learning. They are foundational to it.
As educators, we also teach through who we are. Children observe how we relate to the world, to each other, and to the challenges we face. They notice whether we approach difficult topics with fear, avoidance, curiosity, or care. They learn from the tone we set as much as from the content we deliver.
In this way, education becomes less about transmitting information and more about cultivating consciousness.
One of the challenges we face today is that awareness alone is not enough. Many people understand that climate change is happening. They understand the risks. They understand the urgency. And yet, meaningful change often feels slow or out of reach.
This is not simply a failure of knowledge. It reflects deeper patterns related to values, identity, and relationship. When individuals feel disconnected from the systems around them, it becomes difficult to sustain engagement or to see oneself as part of the solution.
Transformation requires something more.
It requires a shift in how we understand ourselves in relation to the world. It requires the development of empathy that extends beyond immediate circles. It requires the ability to hold complexity without becoming overwhelmed, and to act from a place of connection rather than fear.
Neohumanist education speaks to this deeper level. It supports the development of emotional awareness, ethical sensitivity, and a sense of universal responsibility. It creates the conditions for individuals to respond to challenges not only with knowledge, but with care, creativity, and resilience.
In the midst of urgency, it can be easy to feel that we must do more, faster. And there is truth in that. Action is needed.
But perhaps there is also space to ask a different question.
What are we teaching for?
If we are preparing young people to navigate a changing world, then we are also shaping the kind of world that will emerge. The values we nurture, the relationships we support, and the perspectives we encourage will influence how future generations respond to the challenges they inherit.
We have the opportunity to move beyond education that informs, toward education that transforms. Education that nurtures not only intelligence, but compassion. Not only awareness, but relationships. Not only individual success, but collective wellbeing.
In a time of ecological crisis, this may be one of the most meaningful contributions we can make.
Not only preparing students to respond to the world as it is, but supporting them in becoming the kind of people who can help create the world that is needed.
And perhaps, in doing so, we are also invited to deepen our own relationship with the world, to reflect on how we live, how we teach, and how we show up in a time that is asking so much of all of us.