What National Parks Taught Me About Climate, Communication, and Connection

As I was finishing my final semester of my undergrad in 2021, my professor, Jes Thompson, began hinting at the possibility of launching phase two of a survey that was conducted over a decade ago.  A survey that has since influenced signage, education, and programming in national parks and wildlife refuges across the country. She warned me that while this would become the opportunity of a lifetime, the process would be long—and patience would be key. Before stepping into this work, I hadn’t realized just how much goes into research behind the scenes: the effort required to secure funding, the careful navigation of IRB approval, and the long hours spent shaping each detail of a project. One of the most valuable lessons I learned was how survey design and implementation directly shape participation, conversations, and ultimately, our findings. What once seemed like minor details regarding survey design became essential, such as verbage, structure, and our individual approach to conducting research. Those realizations deepened my appreciation for this work and made me prouder than ever to be a social scientist. I often felt a sense of purpose knowing that this work could be both impactful and accessible.

What began as a research project soon evolved into something much more: a personal journey into the intersection of science, public engagement, and leadership. Comparing results became only one part of the work. Continuing this research—especially at a time when climate education is increasingly contested—felt urgent. It became our responsibility to stand up for our public lands, to stand with our peers, and to speak confidently with thousands of visitors about an issue that has become deeply polarized. This work taught me just how crucial national parks and refuges are in shaping public understanding and dialogue around environmental issues—and how deeply people care when given the space to share. Meaningful outreach isn’t just about sharing facts—it’s about listening. It’s about meeting people where they are, inviting reflection, and honoring the emotional and personal dimensions of environmental change. Every visitor had a story. Some told stories of decades-old family traditions they shared in “these very mountains.” Others spoke of creating new memories with their own families, hoping to share the experience before it was “too late.”

That connection between place and perception was one of the most profound takeaways of the project. Immersed in natural beauty, people are often more willing to engage deeply with the changes they’re witnessing. I learned the importance of flexibility, empathy, and respect in every interaction. That part came naturally to me—connecting with visitors, explaining the significance of their voice, and showing how their participation helps shape the future of our parks. Most of all, this project reminded me—through every approach and introduction—that you never truly know someone’s story until you ask. You don’t know what they care about, what they’ve experienced, or what brings them to a place until you open the door for conversation. Again and again, I was surprised by the depth of people’s passions, memories, and hopes. That simple truth—you never know until you ask—has stayed with me, and it continues to shape how I think about research, communication, and community.

This project also marked an important step in my growth as a leader. Coordinating a research team across different park environments came with its fair share of logistical puzzles. Each park had its own rhythm, staff dynamic, and challenges—but through open communication, and support, we made it happen. I learned to lean into the strengths of my teammates, encouraging their input, and creating room for everyone to lead in their own way. It pushed me to be more decisive, more communicative, and more accountable. And while I gained confidence, I also recognized areas for improvement—especially when it comes to delegation and time management in complex, multi-site projects. This experience affirmed what I’ve long believed: science, when shared with care and intention, has the power to inspire action. It also showed me that environmental engagment should not be confined to the four walls in our classrooms or double- spaced in policy papers—it can happen at trailheads, outside the restrooms, and a steep hike up a mountain. Moving forward, I’m excited to apply what I’ve learned about research, leadership, and public engagement in future roles in environmental education, nonprofit work, or public policy. Most of all, I carry with me a renewed belief that addressing climate change requires all of us—and that informed, collaborative action is both necessary and possible. While the conversation for climate education is on going, and the process of research is long, this was definitely the opportunity of a lifetime!