By Claire Elise Thompson for Grist.
Broadcast version by Eric Galatas for Colorado News Connection reporting for the Solutions Journalism Network-Public News Service Collaboration

When Lois Brink’s kids were in elementary school, she remembers being struck by how uninviting their schoolyard was. She described it as “scorched earth” — little more than a dirt field coated in “I don’t know how many decades of weed retardant” and some aging play equipment. But Brink, a landscape architect and professor at the University of Colorado Denver, didn’t just see a problem. She saw fertile ground for a solution. Over the next dozen years, she helped lead a transformation of nearly 100 elementary school grounds across Denver into more vibrant, greener spaces, dubbed “Learning Landscapes.”

Public schools alone cover about 2 million acres of land in the U.S. Although comprehensive data is hard to come by, the “scorched earth” that Brink witnessed is the norm in many places — according to the Trust for Public Land, around 36 percent of the nation’s public school students attend school in what would be considered a heat island. And as with green spaces writ large, a dearth of schoolyard trees and other vegetation tends to be most common in lower-income areas and Black and brown neighborhoods.

“It really makes sense to think about how those spaces can serve well-being, development, learning, and social cohesion — and also environmental justice and resilience goals that can help a community thrive,” said Priya Cook, director of green schoolyards and communities at Children & Nature Network, one organization working to advance this goal. The org recently published a report looking at how the benefits of green schoolyards translate into economic value, focusing on Denver as a case study and using data from Brink’s work.

Incorporating factors such as school attendance and academic scores, carbon sequestration and rainwater retention, and overall community health and public safety, the report estimated that communities can reap a more than $3 return for every $1 invested in green schoolyards.

In Denver, Learning Landscapes schools saw increases in math and writing scores and overall school performance (a measure combining factors such as academic scores and graduation, dropout, and participation rates). And although this research is not definitive, the study stated that “if green schoolyards can improve student achievement in elementary school, they likely have a positive impact on high school graduation rates.” That in turn cascades into improved employment outcomes, and increased tax revenue. The study also concluded that benefits are amplified if green schoolyards are made available to the public. For instance, previous research has shown that property values increase by as much as 5 percent when the properties are within 500 feet of a park.

For Cook, translating the benefits of greening schoolyards into a monetary value is about more than helping schools think about how to spend their limited budgets – it’s about opening up new avenues of funding. “School districts are notoriously underfunded,” Cook noted. “And this is a strategy that benefits all of society. And so the financing needs to come from organizations in community development, economic development, public health — these sectors that are thinking about the whole child, whole community, society-level outcomes.”

After Brink’s aha moment at her own kids’ school, she decided to get her graduate students at the university involved in designing a better alternative. Realizing the school district didn’t have money to implement their vision, they raised the funds themselves to install a pilot at Bromwell Elementary, the school her kids attended. “Then we realized, when you raise the money for something, the district is much more willing to maybe do things nontraditional and rethink what a schoolyard could look like as a civic space,” Brink said.

That approach got the school district on board for expanding the initiative to other schools. In 2000, Brink formed the Learning Landscape alliance, a public-private partnership with support from the city, local nonprofits, and contractors that were willing to donate pro bono services to keep costs down. Over the next three years, they worked with communities to design and convert 22 schoolyards in Denver’s industrial crescent.

“What we were trying to convince the district of is that each schoolyard needs to be a total transformation,” Brink said. Each project was unique, both in its design and in the process it took to implement it. For instance, Brink recalls at one school, many of the parents happened to work in the landscape industry, so they volunteered their time alongside the contractors, laying irrigation and sod. At another school that primarily served Latino students, Brink said, the team designed raised planters that mimicked Aztec geometry.

In 2003, and then again in 2008, the Denver Public School Board proposed, and citywide voters passed, a ballot measure to set aside funding to expand the conversions throughout the city. “You had a city where 60 percent of the voters didn’t have children. And yet this passed overwhelmingly every time,” Brink said. “It was just really, really great to see that sort of level of engagement.”

All told, between 2000 and 2012, the Learning Landscapes initiative converted every single public elementary school campus in Denver to a green schoolyard, totaling 306 acres.

And all the while, Brink has been collecting data. In December of last year, she prepared a report for Children & Nature Network analyzing some of the key takeaways from Learning Landscapes (that formed the basis of its study on the economic benefits of green schoolyards more broadly). Among other impacts, the report noted a 7 percent reduction in student mobility (the rate at which students transfer in and out of a school), a $1.3 million boost in state funding thanks to increased student enrollment, and 1,284 tons of carbon sequestered each year across all the green schoolyards.

With all the benefits of green schoolyards, for students, communities, and the environment, it may seem like a no-brainer solution. Still, there are barriers to converting every single schoolyard into a green space — a vision that Children & Nature Network hopes to help realize by 2050, Priya Cook said.

Cost is one obvious one. But even more than the actual dollars, Cook said, it’s often the initiative it takes to bring together diverse stakeholders to make a project happen — what Brink and her students did when they scrapped together the resources to implement their vision in Denver, through a combination of volunteer labor, pro bono services, and public and nonprofit dollars.

Ironically, Cook noted, a significant barrier to finding the funding for green schoolyards lies in one of their greatest strengths: They’re a multifaceted solution. “Markets tend to underinvest in strategies that produce broad benefits to society,” she said. For instance, if a school, nonprofit, or other funder wanted to make changes to prioritize students’ mental health, it might invest its limited dollars in counseling programs or other targeted interventions, rather than thinking about something like nature access — even though nature access does improve mental health, in addition to other benefits.

“We have to think differently to pick multi-solving interventions,” Cook said.

Still, she’s hopeful that the growing body of research on green schoolyards will continue to bring more stakeholders to the fold.

“I think there’s absolutely more hunger for it,” she said, “and people do it in really ingenious ways. Some places have multimillion dollar investments in a single site, and some places find small grants and they do a lot of surface installations that change kids’ experience every day.”


Claire Elise Thompson wrote this article for Grist.


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An endangered bat species has been detected in southeastern Arizona.

Researchers say the discovery of the Mexican long-nosed bat in the Grand Canyon State expands the known range of these animals. They're important pollinators for desert plants such as columnar cactus and agave.

Kristen Lear, program director for Bat Conservation International's agave restoration program, said knowing that this endangered species has been found in Arizona opens up new avenues for research and conservation.

"Some of the work for the conservation of the species for the Mexican long-nosed bat are really two things," she said. "One is roost protection, finding the caves, the mines or wherever this bat is roosting along their migratory route and protecting those roosts. And then the second aspect is maintaining healthy foraging habitat."

Lear said the discovery of the tiny bat was made possible as project participants collected what's known as environmental DNA, or eDNA, by swabbing hummingbird feeders that bats also feed on. When bats feed, they leave traces of DNA behind through their saliva, which can then be analyzed.

As bats continue to struggle to survive because of disease and habitat loss, Lear said, it is important to study them using non-invasive methods.

Mexican long-nosed bats migrate annually from south-central Mexico to the southwestern United States, spending the summer months in southwest Texas and also in the bootheel of New Mexico. However, Lear said the bats' appearance in the Grand Canyon State could be a sign of the impacts climate change could be having on migratory practices.

"We're seeing more bat species using the edge of their ranges in areas that they aren't usually found," she said, "and so that could be what is happening here, is that climate change modeling with the agave plants, that are their food source, all of the modeling shows that that area is actually going to become more important for these bats in the future."

Lear said surveys have also increased in recent years, and it is possible the Mexican long-nosed bat has been in southeastern Arizona in low numbers but simply hadn't been detected yet. She said she wants to encourage Arizonans to plant native night-blooming plants, which attract insects for insectivorous bats to eat and agaves for nectar-feeding species, such as the Mexican long-nosed bat.


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California advocates for hunters and anglers are speaking out in favor of two public lands bills that were just reintroduced in the U.S. Senate. They're designed to maintain public access and conserve big-game migration corridors.

The Public Lands in Public Hands Act would require the Bureau of Land Management to get congressional approval in most cases to sell or transfer parcels to a non-federal entity, such as a state or private owner.

There's been a push in some parts of the West to hand control of large parcels of federal land over to the states, said Madeleine West, vice president for western conservation at the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership.

"Certain parcels, if you got rid of those, it would block off access to really pristine hunting grounds," she said. "It's those sort of worst-case scenarios that we just want to be able to safeguard against."

Utah has petitioned - unsuccessfully so far - to force the BLM to sell the state more than 18-million acres of federal land, and House Republicans recently passed a rules package that makes it easier to sell off federal lands. States, faced with the enormous cost of managing the lands and fighting wildfire, could then elect to sell them to private interests.

A second bill, the Wildlife Movement Through Partnerships Act, would codify programs to protect wildlife migration corridors. West noted that the programs were created during the first Trump administration and continued during President Joe Biden's time in office.

"These are programs that can have real, long-term benefit," she said, "and so, some certainty that they will exist into the long term, regardless of future political changes, is really valuable."

The programs, which are currently voluntary, provide funding for state wildlife agencies, landowners and nonprofits that do habitat restoration work and map out wildlife migration patterns.

Minnesotans have until next Tuesday to offer their thoughts on the state's next Climate Action Framework.

Those tasked with protecting a distinct type of wetland hope the public learns more about their fate before speaking up.

Only trailing Alaska, Minnesota has the largest amount of peatlands in the U.S. They are waterlogged areas covered with dead plant materials, such as decaying leaves. Almost like a big kitchen sink on the landscape, they absorb carbon emissions while acting as ecosystems for a number of species.

Meredith Cornett, peatland resilience project planner for the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, said drainage ditches for unused farmland have turned into a problem because water from peatlands flows into them.

"We are currently doing a demonstration project to identify the best candidates for locking these ditches," Cornett explained. "Filling them in some cases and trying to restore the natural hydrology."

If successful, they can prevent more peatlands from drying out and releasing stored emissions back into the atmosphere. A recent estimate found nearly 850,000 acres of peatland in Minnesota are partially drained. Cornett noted federal grants have helped with restoration work but she encouraged public comments through the updated Climate Action Framework to create more urgency.

In northeastern Minnesota, the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa is making a strong push to protect and restore peatlands.

Nancy Schuldt, water projects coordinator for the Fond du Lac Environmental Program, said beyond the emissions effects, the wetlands have a deep connection to tribal communities.

"It's important habitat for moose, an incredibly culturally significant species, which is in a population decline up in this region," Schuldt noted.

Habitat for other plant and animal species prioritized by Indigenous populations also benefit from having a diverse group of wetlands in place. In recent decades, the Fond du Lac Band has enhanced water management to overcome the drainage effects traced back to colonization.

Schuldt alluded to the broader threats, such as droughts made worse by climate change, while also calling for a greater political will to limit land development near peatlands.

Support for this reporting was provided by The Pew Charitable Trusts.


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