Practicing environmental mindfulness: Climate Education in schools and academia

Klaudia Węgrzyn: You are a Doctor of Humanities, but your research and activities go far beyond standard academic work. Given your involvement in educational initiatives—which at times verge on activism—we see a very inspiring kaleidoscope of actions.

Your base is the university—in this case, the University of Silesia—but your latest project is heavily based on implementing climate education in schools. How do you combine these two worlds? Are they actually still two separate worlds?

Magdalena Ochwat: Thank you for noticing this "being between" two worlds. On one hand, I do indeed function within the academic space; on the other, I very consciously and consistently try to implement scientific findings into real educational actions, especially those related to humanistic climate and environmental education. I am interested in how humanistic knowledge can resonate in everyday life—how it can act, not just be an object of analysis and interpretation, but possess agency.

I manage to combine these two spheres precisely because I professionally deal with Polish language didactics, which cannot be purely theoretical. It should be rooted in practice: in conversations with teachers, in the classroom experience, and in response to students' needs. Therefore, although we speak of two worlds—the university and the school—for me, it is more of a symbiotic relationship. Coexistence and mutual completion. A university cannot effectively train future teachers without knowing school realities. A school cannot develop without cooperation with academic centers. Real change is possible through dialogue.

I must admit, however, that the field of literary didactics does not always enjoy high esteem within the scientific community. It still happens that it is treated as something peripheral, less scholarly, perhaps even "suspiciously practical." In the eyes of some scholars, Polish didactics is not science sensu stricto—it has a shaky status and often arouses distrust because it "leaves" the terrain of pure theory and moves toward the school, practice, and implementation. Yet, that is precisely where the everyday life of the humanities takes place: in conversations with students, in lessons, in asked questions, and in reading literature. And although the Polish language remains a key subject in schools, research on its teaching still remains in the shadow of mainstream academic Polish studies.

Klaudia Węgrzyn: In practice, does climate education still arouse extreme emotions depending on when and where it is addressed? You are the author of reports on the attitudes of students, teachers, and parents toward climate change—what do these results look like currently?

Magdalena Ochwat: Yes, climate education still arouses strong emotions—and I see very clearly that they depend on the local context: the place, the history of a given region, and its socio-economic problems. For example, in Upper Silesia, conversations about a just transition almost always touch upon the issue of coal—a topic that remains very vivid and relevant for many people.

Interestingly, regardless of which secondary school I visit, the first question that arises concerns "The Last Generation" (Ostatnie Pokolenie). This shows that young people are intensely following the public debate, while simultaneously feeling the need for conversation—they want to express their opinions, comment, and often protest, but above all: they want to be heard.

Our reports clearly show that the topic of climate is no longer a marginal one—and the way it is presented can be crucial. What we currently consider one of the greatest challenges is finding the right language for climate and environmental communication. A language that does not antagonize or reinforce divisions—within families, local communities, or between generations—but rather builds bridges. Climate education should not be confrontational education. It cannot be partisan, though it is, of course, political in the deepest sense: it concerns the community, the future, and decisions about how we want to live. Today, more than ever, we need education that does not divide, but unites through care for the Earth and all its inhabitants.

Klaudia Węgrzyn: Your latest book, Więcej-niż-tylko-ludzkie lekcje języka polskiego. Edukacja polonistyczna w czasach kryzysu klimatycznego (Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Śląskiego, 2025) [More-Than-Human Polish Lessons: Polish Language Education in Times of Climate Crisis], was published in two formats. Its PDF is available in Open Access, and its printed version uses eco-friendly paper that meets FSC and EMAS certifications. This is a great and balanced idea that should become a standard, not only in the humanities. Did you visualize this project this way from the very beginning? What does its accessibility mean to you? I have the impression that this book should become a mandatory manual for all teachers in the country.

Magdalena Ochwat: Yes, from the very beginning, I cared about two fundamental issues: that the book have the smallest possible environmental footprint and that it be available in Open Access. These were not later additions—these decisions were written into the project from its first draft.

On one hand, I approached ecological issues very consciously. I paid attention to everything: from the type of paper and the binding method to the printing process. I wanted the whole thing to be created in the most sustainable way possible. Hence the FSC and EMAS certificates, and the discussions about production technology I had with the editors at the University of Silesia Press. Today, when writing about education in times of climate crisis, one cannot ignore the material presence of the book as an object. Its form must be consistent with its content—otherwise, it loses credibility.

On the other hand, the issue of accessibility was equally important to me. I am aware of how difficult the situation in education is today and how limited the budgets of teachers are. The cost of a book—about 60 PLN—is a real barrier, especially for those working in schools. Therefore, I wanted the publication to be available in Open Access as well. So that no one would have to give up reading it for financial reasons—especially since the book is addressed specifically to Polish language teachers.

For some time now, I have been increasingly interested not only in what is said, but also how it is said—including materially. I started looking at the environmental, water, and energy costs of publications. Whether they are sent in plastic film. It seems to me that nowadays one cannot speak about education responsibly without also taking seriously the way knowledge is produced. Authenticity—understood also as consistency between the message and its physical form—becomes essential.

Klaudia Węgrzyn: Do you include—in the book, but also in your own practice—a section "for the resistant"? How can you "sell" the need for educational reform in a nutshell? When we start talking about a new humanistic paradigm, or use keywords like the Anthropocene and post-humanism, we might quickly lose our audience. So, how should we talk about ecology and our place in it so that people listen?

Magdalena Ochwat: I do not believe in the effectiveness of education based solely on technocratic communication or distinctively scientific language. In a situation where so many people—both students and adult activists or educators—experience cognitive fatigue regarding the climate crisis, we primarily need a change in the way we tell stories about the world we live in. Thus, we need a language that is moving and inclusive.

As Jonathan Safran Foer notes in the book We Are the Weather: Saving the Planet Begins at Breakfast, we know more and more, but feel less and less. We experience a split between awareness and emotional engagement. We have knowledge about melting glaciers, mass species extinction, or desertification, but it is difficult for us to feel that this concerns us directly. In the social imagination, the climate crisis functions as something abstract—"out there"—rather than a concrete experience of our bodies, health, homes, or children. Although in some places, this is already beginning to happen. Filip Springer writes about this in the series Zmiana klimatu już tu jest [Climate Change is Already Here] published in "Pismo".

That is why I believe that if the humanities want to be relevant today, they must create an affective model of communication—one that not only informs but engages the senses, emotions, and imagination. Polish language education has a special task here: it can create a space for stories that embody the problem of climate change—making it an experience, not just data.
So, it is not about abandoning terms like "Anthropocene" or "posthumanism"—these are important, precise, and necessary words. But we must embed them in narratives that have the power to resonate. There will be no new humanistic paradigm without a new language—a language of empathy, mindfulness, and care.
We need stories that show agency and provide examples of action—not just threats. Education should be a process that not only warns but also provides the "non-naive hope" called for by Solnit, Macy, or Tsing.
For those who are skeptical or resistant, the key is not just understanding, but feeling that this change affects their lives—their work, health, safety, and social relations. And that they have an impact. I believe that precisely through such "good stories"—rooted in locality, in everyday life, and in real choices—we can change ways of thinking.

Klaudia Węgrzyn: On the cover and on the section pages, you used drawings by Jaśmina Wójcik—a visual artist, director, and educator. Where did this idea and the choice of the author come from?

Magdalena Ochwat: I first encountered Jaśmina Wójcik during the exhibition Widoki z bliska – relacje – narzędzia – wiedza [Close-up Views – Relations – Tools – Knowledge] at the BWA Contemporary Art Gallery in Katowice, where she presented her works on empathetic education. I was particularly moved by her Manifesto of Empathetic Education—extremely consistent with my thinking about the role of the humanities and Polish studies in the era of the climate crisis. I immediately felt that this was not just an artistic proposal, but a deeply thought-out concept—one that speaks the language of care, tenderness, and commitment.

I was lucky enough to meet Jaśmina (with her whole family and dog) in person—it was during the opening of the mentioned exhibition. In a short conversation, she told me about her approach to education and how she perceives the role of art in building a more mindful world. I then proposed a collaboration—specifically, including selected works in my book. She agreed. She read the text of the book and decided she wanted to take part. This decision was very important to me—it not only enriched the visual layer of the book but, above all, gave it an additional emotional and reflective dimension.

Our cooperation did not end there. Together, we wrote a project regarding a Manifesto of Symbiotic Education—although we did not manage to secure funding, I sincerely hope that this initiative will still have a continuation.

Today, I see that Jaśmina’s illustrations have a life of their own—not just as the graphic design of the book, but as a starting point for educational work. Recently, I received a message from Dr. Michał Paluch from the Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński University, who used these illustrations during workshops he conducted. Based on them, he created a space for conversation.

Klaudia Węgrzyn: We started the conversation with your involvement in numerous educational and activist activities. You also collaborate with the city of Katowice and the Silesian Superintendent of Education; what other projects have you participated in? Is your interest mainly focused on Upper Silesia? The rich post-industrial history of this region probably requires a slightly different approach than workshops or meetings conducted, say, in the Capital. Does Silesian locality strongly shape your attitude?

Magdalena Ochwat: Indeed, my educational and activist activities grew out of being rooted in Upper Silesia—and that is no accident. Climate and environmental education cannot ignore locality. On the contrary—it should be embedded in a specific geographical, social, and cultural context. On the other hand, it cannot stop solely at that level. That is why the glocal perspective is important to me—operating spirally and simultaneously on two scales: both local experience and global reflection on the future of the world.

Upper Silesia, with its industrial history, but also its contemporary urban and social challenges, constitutes an extremely sensitive laboratory for environmental education. I am interested here, among other things, in the processes of fourth-nature succession, the concreting of cities, urban heat islands, and narratives about rivers—especially those related to the Rawa. Together with Małgosia Wójcik-Dudek, we developed workshops that we conduct for schools dedicated to the multi-sensory experience of the Rawa.

I also collaborate with local scholars—the meeting with Professor Piotr Skubała has been of particular significance to me; he opened up the perspective of biology as a source of language, metaphors, and a way of knowing the world, as well as new practices of knowledge production. For me, biology is not exclusively a laboratory science—it is also a humanistic tool for understanding reality. Much like in the work of Donna Haraway, by whom I am strongly inspired.

In addition, together with Ania Kopaczewska from the Academy of Fine Arts (ASP), we are designing symbiotic education cards to facilitate conversations with non-human entities—a river, a tree, a place. These are educational tools that encourage transcending the anthropocentric perspective and developing interspecies empathy.

Beyond local activities, I am also active at the national and European levels. I collaborate with the Ministry of National Education, where I participate in a team working on the reform of the core curriculum. Simultaneously, I serve on a team at the Ministry of Climate and Environment developing a strategic document on ecological education, linked to key national and European documents.

I am also a member of the Team Europe Direct—an expert network established by the European Commission, bringing together individuals working to disseminate knowledge about EU policies, including climate policies.

I believe that working at the intersection of the local and the global allows for the creation of transformative education—the kind that not only reacts to the crisis but also proposes new attitudes and relationships with the world.

Klaudia Węgrzyn: Being so closely and environmentally immersed in this subject is likely demanding, simply from a human perspective. How do you cope with crises or professional burnout?

Magdalena Ochwat: Fortunately, the subject I deal with still does not overwhelm me—on the contrary, I constantly feel a strong emotional commitment to it and a conviction of its deep meaning. The scientific work I do provides me not only with intellectual satisfaction but also a sense of agency. I am aware that through it, I can realistically influence the reality around me, initiate changes, and introduce new ways of thinking and acting in the area of climate education.

Of course, I am not free from moments of doubt or strain—especially in the face of the scale of environmental challenges and the slow pace of systemic change. In such moments, community is of immense importance to me—people with whom I can share not only knowledge but also emotions. I am fortunate to collaborate with individuals who are not only competent but also deeply mindful and committed. My relationship with Professor Piotr Skubała is of particular significance to me—for years, he has brought both vast knowledge and an ethical stance to the debate on environmental education. Our cooperation is a source of strength for me, but also a space for continuous learning and mutual support. I think it is precisely this interdisciplinary alliance—built around shared values and goals—that allows me to maintain balance and avoid burnout. I feel enormous gratitude to my colleagues with whom I cooperate for the shared development of ideas and inspiration, rather than "patho-competition."

Klaudia Węgrzyn: We are speaking within the framework of the project Polish Studies in the Face of the Challenges of the Modern World. Your book fits perfectly as one of the possible responses to the crisis. What is your recipe for entering the "new ecological era"?

Magdalena Ochwat: For an eco-logical transformation to occur, we need a change of imagination. My recipe for entering the "new ecological era" involves changes for future education. The transformation of education in an ecological spirit requires a shift in imagination—from the structure of a silo toward the imagination of a network, from man as the center toward the Earth/soil as a shared home. The education of the future will either be relational, tender, and rooted in the natural world—or it will not exist at all. Here are 10 thoughts drawn from the natural world for a new era. Perhaps for the Symbiocene?:

1. Let’s think of education like a natural forest
   School should not be a plantation of identical units—evenly planted and carefully pruned. It should function like a natural forest: full of diversity, tangled paths, varied rhythms, and unpredictable directions of growth.

2. Build networks of interdependence, not hierarchies
   Like in a mycelium—students, teachers, parents, and local communities learn from each other, creating horizontal, non-hierarchical networks of relationships.

3. Recognize knowledge as a gift, not a commodity
   Knowledge in education is primarily a gift—a selfless sharing that connects people and builds community.

4. Create spaces for improvisation and accidental discoveries
   Not everything in education must be predictable, planned, and measurable.

5. Cultivate a multiplicity and polyphony of perspectives
   Education should be a space for diverse voices, ways of thinking, and seeing the world. Let’s encourage the exploration of many paths, including those that lead beyond the horizon of human experience.

6. Calibrate the senses and practice "arts of mindfulness"
   Let’s learn to notice what is hidden—inconspicuous details, quiet movements, micro-changes.

7. Teach (and learn) cooperation, not competition
   Just as trees share nutrients through an underground mycelium network, so people can share knowledge. Instead of promoting a race and individual success, let’s create learning communities based on reciprocity and symbiosis.

8. Design learning environments as open ecosystems. Re-naturalize education
   The classroom is not a closed silo or a sterile laboratory—it is a living ecosystem in which thoughts, emotions, and relationships circulate.

9. Be interdisciplinary, create non-obvious collectives—including interspecies ones
   Do not let the boundaries between disciplines limit your thinking. Combine fields and ways of seeing. Create communities of knowledge—not only with humans but also with other inhabitants of the Earth: plants, animals, fungi, minerals.

10. Go mushrooming—practice "fungal activism"
    Fungi can be the answer to many problems of the modern world. They provide food, support medical treatment, regenerate degraded environments, and help rebuild human bonds.

Klaudia Węgrzyn: All these points are eminently necessary—I hereby announce a postulate to print them out and hang them over the desks of everyone—educators, teachers, pupils, students, humanists, Polonists—and "ordinary mortals" not associated with academia or the humanities in any way. We are all in this together, and it is for everyone.

The matter of fungi, in particular, has become increasingly popular in the humanities recently. This is, of course, the aftermath of reflections by Anna Tsing, Glenn A. Albrecht, Donna Haraway, Timothy Morton, Andrzej Marzec, and many other researchers. In pop culture, a manifestation of these interests is, for example, the series The Last of Us. In the academic world, let the conference recently organized by the ASP (which you co-organized on behalf of the University of Silesia) serve as an example: Grzyby i inni. Ku symbiocenowi [Fungi and Others. Toward the Symbiocene]. The discussions concerned new models of coexistence and education, manifestations of new thinking and acting in contemporary art. Speaking of the ASP and Katowice itself, I am also reminded of the project Postindustrialny słownik roślinno-ludzki [Post-industrial Plant-Human Dictionary], which concerns post-industrial relationships between people and plants. One of its outcomes was the exhibition Fitoglosje [Phytoglossia], about the life of species growing on post-industrial sites, but also about field practices: literary and artistic.

I therefore sign off on your postulates and add my own at the end: let’s practice environmental mindfulness at every step.

Publication created as part of the project „Polonistyka wobec wyzwań współczesnego świata” ["Polish Studies in the face of the challenges of the contemporary world"], co-financed by the state budget under the program of the Minister of Science and Higher Education called "Science for Society II" (project number: NdS-II/SP/0264/2024/01).