We are living among our next generation’s unicorns. Across the world, children are increasingly growing up with tales of animals they will never meet. Not because these creatures are by any means imaginary in today’s world — rather, that they are actively disappearing, being chased away and killed because of anthropogenic causes. In books and classrooms, these soon-to-be fantastical creatures fly, swim, graze and prance freely across our Earth’s many lands; yet in the real world, their habitats continue to shrink and collapse, being driven into myth by extinction.
For decades, our planet’s many wild animals have been treated as a cornerstone of childhood literature. They have been used to teach counting, colors and basic science. So too have they been used to teach patience, transformation and friendship. Yet as global biodiversity declines at staggering rates, many of the creatures our children recognize the most are rapidly accelerating towards extinction. By the time of the next generation, assuming we allow these trends to continue, our children will inherit these creatures not as living beings, but as fairytales– fit alongside stories of dragons, knights, and royalty locked away in towers. Imagine trying to convince your kid elephants were real, once upon a time. You can show them an old photograph, but how are they to believe the strange, alien titan was at any point real? To these future children, you may as well be telling them unicorns really did exist.
Some of the most iconic creatures of children’s literature are already based on these ill-fated animals. “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” written by Eric Carle, introduces children to themes of metamorphosis through the image of a ravenous caterpillar, even as monarch butterflies are losing the habitat and weather that makes their great migrations possible. “The Rainbow Fish” depicts a colorful, thriving ocean community — a sharp juxtaposition against the current state of our over-acidified ocean, where salmon and other fish populations face a 12.7% extinction rate. “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?” asks children to identify various forest fauna, yet the bears they are asked to spot are slowly disappearing from our forests, being pushed out by human conflict and expanding land use.
Our children are sure to notice these changes, how are they not to? When the storybook denizens that swarm their pages are missing from the life outside of their windows, children are bound to ask questions. Where did the fish go? What happened to the brown bear? When the world their parents describe can’t be found to exist, they are sure to face confusion. I am sure many of us can remember similar conversations with our parents about the fate of the dinosaurs. It is our responsibility to respond to these questions– educating children on the nature of climate change, human impact and biodiversity.
Last semester, a fellow student argued that as parents, it would be our responsibility to shield children from the topic of climate change altogether. It was a well-meaning concern — in their eyes, confronting a child about environmental collapse would be too frightening, burdening them with anxiety they were ill-equipped to handle. The instinct is a common one in parents; few adults want to be responsible for the introduction of fear into their child’s life. However, if we avoid the topic, waiting for our children to discover the issue on their own in their later years, we breed stagnation. Imagine the unicorn: If we never taught a child they were never real, would that truly be to their benefit? Or would they instead be forced to go through life in naivety? Similarly, if we refuse to teach the passion for our planet that drives its protection, how can we expect our own generation’s work for Earth to carry over? A child would never know enough to consider our damaged world an issue. A successful environmental legacy is taught, not allowed to be discovered all over again.
Teaching the next generation empathy for our planet will not be hard — children learn best through action, and example. Working with the next generation to plant seeds, tend gardens and care for animals are formative experiences that serve to teach important lessons in stewardship. Positive reinforcement also plays an important role: as psychologist Robin Gurwitch notes, “when people important to us take notice of our action, we’re more likely to carry it forward.” Even the simple act of thanking a child for turning off a light switch is enough to spark forward change. By offering this educational support, we can actually assuage any feelings of anxiety about the fate of our planet. A sense of control over the issue can actually be empowering, with young environmentalists knowing they have to help the planet.
If luck has it, we will not have to teach about “unicorns.” We must stand ready to act as steady guides for the next generation, for the likely future in which we are unable to curb extinction rates. We have a choice for our children: We can raise them to inherit a world full of only the ghosts of storybook creatures, or we can raise a generation who understands loss, but also empathy, action and responsibility. As for us, we can continue to live in a world where entire species vanish on a daily basis or we can fight for the unicorns that still remain.