One of the biggest challenges for environmental education teachers is the lack of a dedicated curriculum and resources. Often, environmental topics are integrated into other subjects like science or social studies, which can make it difficult to cover the material in depth.

major hurdle is student apathy or a sense of hopelessness about environmental issues. Many students feel overwhelmed by the scale of global problems and may not see how their individual actions can make a difference. Overcoming this requires a shift from focusing solely on problems to emphasizing solutions and empowering students to become agents of change.

Teachers also grapple with the political and social controversies surrounding certain environmental topics, such as climate change, which can make it challenging to present information in a way that is both accurate and non-confrontational.

Finally, limited funding and lack of access to outdoor spaces or field trips can severely restrict hands-on learning opportunities, which are crucial for making environmental concepts tangible and engaging for students.

@Gaurav H Tandon: Thanks for your valuable insights. Could you share your personal experience with the hurdles you've been facing, maybe through a concrete example?

"Yes, these are all based on personal experiences. Taking students on field trips to explain environmental phenomena is very difficult due to various institutional and government regulations. These obstacles primarily stem from security and financial concerns related to the students."

@Gaurav H Tandon: Yes, I can see that. There are always hurdles of that sort. Thanks a million.

Abdelhafid Jabri

Dear colleague,

Thank you for your question. As someone who teaches environmental protection courses at the university level, I can say that environmental education in higher education is extremely important, but it also comes with specific challenges.

One of the main difficulties I’ve encountered is the wide variation in students’ prior knowledge and motivation, even among those enrolled in related academic programs. Some students arrive with a solid background in natural sciences, while others are encountering topics such as climate change, ecotoxicology, or sustainable resource management for the first time. This often requires striking a balance between foundational and advanced content so that all students can follow and actively participate.

Another major challenge is connecting theory to real-world problems. Students are often eager for concrete solutions to ecological crises, while we are teaching them complex, systemic approaches that don’t offer quick fixes. This tension, however, is where critical thinking develops — provided we guide discussions toward applicable, context-based strategies.

I’ve also noticed that some students experience a form of “eco-anxiety” — a sense of helplessness in the face of the massive global environmental challenges we discuss. In such cases, I emphasize the importance of local actions, interdisciplinary collaboration, and the role of professionals in shaping policy and public awareness.

Finally, one persistent challenge is the lack of institutional support for fieldwork and interdisciplinary teaching, even though these methods are among the most effective for environmental education. Budget limitations, logistical constraints, and rigid curricular structures often prevent the implementation of practical, experiential learning activities.

Despite these obstacles, this field remains one of the most dynamic and essential areas of education today — because we are shaping the professionals who will be making key decisions in the face of ecological and climate-related challenges.

Dear @Dragan Ugrinov: Thanks for bringing to the fore such important issues, revealing the valuable yet hard-to-do task of teaching about the environment.

As a professional and during my tenure as assessor of EIA consultants in India, I really was shaken up at the standard of education on Environment as experts could not even answer simple questions though they were students of high order. Secondly, the quality of EIA with such experts understandably did not improve despite serious guidance on Quality EIA. If the foundation (base) is weak, the building understandably cannot stand erect. A similar story perhaps here as the background was weak, they failed to grasp and understand the elements of quality EIA.

@A K Shyam. Insightful indeed. Do you also mean that failing to fully grasp the Environmental Impact Assessment tool leads to flawed environmental education? Do academicians (of all environment-related disciplines) run the risk of teaching content that has wrongly been assessed by experts?

Yes for your first question. The second question is a little tricky - In the first place, teachers not only need to be experts in their own discipline (Air/Water/Land) but need be conversant with the laws and regulations governing them in their own country. Field evaluation being crucial, they need to focus on how the sampling locations are identified and why in addition to ideal way of collecting the samples for analysis. If they go wrong in these fundamentals, their entire effort in an EIA will be flawed.

So, the first and most important challenge an environmental education teacher meets is the level of their knowledge about what they are about to teach.

Pra mim é a interdisciplinaridade , elencar com professores das exatas(matemática e fisica principalmente), sempre as disciplinas envolvidas são geografia, quimica e português ...

Abdelhafid Jabri

Isso é verdade. Coordenar com professores que não colaboram é um grande obstáculo. @Rivania da Silva Lira

You want to know the challenges? Let me tell you — not with statistics, but with the truth that grows between the cracks of Havana’s sidewalks and in the fields of Pinar del Río.

The greatest challenge? Not lack of money — though we have little. Not lack of textbooks — though they are outdated. No. The deepest obstacle is the silence of the system — the quiet, institutional belief that environmental education is “extra,” not essential.

In Cuba, we were proud — rightly so — of our universal literacy, our free healthcare. But when I arrived at the Escuela Secundaria Básica “Camilo Cienfuegos” in 1998, I found something missing: a curriculum that saw students as part of nature — not apart from it.

We had a national plan for environmental protection. But in classrooms? Nature was still taught as “recursos naturales” — natural resources — like oil or timber. Not as relatives. Not as ancestors. Not as living beings who breathe with us.

I remember one morning, after a heavy rain flooded the playground — again — because the drainage was clogged with plastic bottles thrown by students who’d never been taught where trash goes. I asked my 13-year-olds: “¿Quién es responsable?” A boy shrugged: “El gobierno.” Another: “Los turistas.” No one said: “Yo.”

That’s when I knew: we were teaching about ecology — but not ecological responsibility.

Organizational barriers? Yes. Ministry directives came down from Havana saying “integrate environmental themes.” But no time. No training. No materials. Teachers were expected to do miracles with chalk, notebooks, and hope.

Financial? We didn’t have budgets for field trips. So we walked. Two kilometers to the mangrove. Ten kilometers to the riverbed drying up. We used old buckets as water samplers. We made compost bins from broken milk crates. We painted murals on crumbling walls with charcoal and crushed berries. We learned soil layers by digging with spoons.

Attitudinal? Here’s the hardest part: even among teachers, there was resistance.

“Sergio, why waste class time on worms when we need to prepare for the exams?” “This is politics disguised as science.” “The students don’t care. They just want to leave the island someday.”

I heard that last one too often.

So I changed my approach.

I stopped trying to “teach environment.” I started listening to the environment — and letting it teach them.

We planted moringa trees beside the school fence — not because it was “sustainable,” but because its leaves could feed families during food shortages. We mapped every tree in our barrio — naming them, measuring them, writing poems for them. We held “Día de la Tierra Sin Plástico” — and the students brought their own containers to the cafeteria. The director threatened to shut it down. The mothers showed up with pots of black beans and plantains to share. It became tradition.

And slowly — oh, so slowly — minds changed.

One girl, Yisel, 14 years old, wrote in her journal:

“I thought the sea was for fishing. Now I know it is for breathing. My abuelo says the fish are smaller now. I think he’s sad. I am too. But now I know — I can help. Even if I’m small.”

That’s the revolution.

Cuba may have sanctions. We may lack plastic bags, batteries, internet. But we have memory. We have community. We have resistance rooted in dignity.

Environmental education here is not a subject. It is an act of survival. Of sovereignty. Of love.

So to every teacher reading this — whether in Havana, Houston, or Hanoi:

You don’t need funding to begin. You need courage. You need to kneel in the dirt with your students. You need to let them see you cry when the river dies. You need to let them smell the earth after rain — and ask: “Who are we, if we forget how to care for what gives us life?”

The system will not save us. The state won’t give us permission.

But the land? The land already gave us permission — long ago.

Just listen.