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So why isn’t it happening?

When I was in high school, I had to memorize the entire taxonomic hierarchy of the American moose. But I never learned about greenhouse gases.
This never struck me as odd until I read a recent op-ed in The Boston Globe by Anita Soracco, a professor of physics and environmental science at Massachusetts’ Quinsigamond Community College. “Over the past 13 years,” she wrote, “my students have consistently expressed disappointment and dismay that they hadn’t previously been taught about the climate crisis or the many environmental justice issues that plague their communities as a result.”
What’s perhaps even more dismaying is that most Americans want climate education in schools. A recent Heatmap News poll found that three-quarters of Americans (74%) believe that the government should encourage schools to incorporate climate change into their curriculum, including over half of Republicans (59%) and 75% of Independents. A full third of Americans (33%) said they strongly support such a proposal. In a separate question, 62% of Americans called it “important” for schools to incorporate climate change education, a number that is roughly on par with how many agree with the scientific consensus that climate change is a result of human activity (68%).
Patrick Belmonte, the co-founder of Change Is Simple — an organization that helps to bring hands-on environmental education programs to schools primarily in the Northeast — told me the poll results didn’t surprise him. “How could you not want to educate children who are going to inherit this planet to understand it?” he asked, adding: “I don’t even understand how you can be asked that question and say, ‘No, I don’t want them to know!’”
But when it comes to the state of climate education across the country, it can be — forgive the pun — all over the map. I asked Soracco, the author of the Boston Globe op-ed, what letter grade she’d give the nation for its climate education programs and she cringed and answered “probably a D.” While the Next Generation Science Standards — a framework adopted by 20 states so far and that covers a little over a third of all U.S. students — recommends teaching climate change in science classes beginning with grade five, “it’s not very specific,” Soracco went on. “And the standards are voluntary, and so even if we put them in the state standards, it can be very performative.”
Back in 2020, the National Center for Science Education and the Texas Freedom Network Education Fund looked at this problem more closely. According to their findings, “a bare majority — just 27 — of the 50 states and District of Columbia have standards that earned a B+ or better for how they address climate change” with “only six non-NGSS states [earning] a B+ or better for their science standards.”
While some of these results cut across partisan lines in a way that might be expected, that isn’t always the case. Wyoming, the country’s second-biggest oil and gas producer on federal lands, was the only state in the nation to earn an A grade in teaching climate change, leading the study’s authors to write that “education policymakers can do a reasonably good job of adopting science standards that reflect the scientific consensus” — even against politically or economically hostile backdrops.
Still, even the most motivated educators face an uphill battle, Belmonte said. “Not only do they have to teach to a designed curriculum and help their students achieve their goals, but they are also social workers and psychologists to all these kids in their classrooms. To ask them to figure out how to teach thoughtful and meaningful climate education, which is such a deep and profound existential thing that we’re all dealing with — it seems just far too much on their shoulders.”
Belmonte’s organization helps alleviate some of that pressure on teachers by traveling to classrooms to teach climate science programs to students. “But we can’t fulfill the needs that the schools have,” he confessed. “Schools all over the country are reaching out to us — and we have a scaling plan, but we’re still trying to get the funding.”
Critically, a K-12 climate education is about more than just preparing students for an Intro to Environmental Science course in college. According to a 2020 study by Eugene Cordero, college students who took a one-year course on global climate change at San Jose State University “reduced their individual carbon emissions by 2.86 tons of CO2 per year,” even five years after taking the class. As Soracco marvels in her op-ed, “Consider the impact if that education began in kindergarten instead.”
What’s more, kids love learning about the climate, Belmonte told me. “They can’t wait to help this planet. They can’t wait to help their home. They want to live healthy lives and help their communities.” And out of the 50,000 or so students his organization has helped to teach so far, “I’ve run into very few children who are resistant to this. I mean, we can count on two hands the kids that are like, ‘Meh, I don’t want to do this’ — and most of the time it has nothing to do with climate and has more to do with just their state of being, whatever they’re going through in their lives.”
There is, however, an obstacle that is perhaps even more worrying than climate denial or funding. When asked about the trustworthiness of various sources of information on climate change, just 21% of respondents told Heatmap they trust local teachers on the issue. By comparison, 45% said they trust climate scientists and 35% said they trust their friends and family for information.
Belmonte speculated the low response might be because of “a lack of confidence in the potential curriculum” in places like Florida, where climate curriculum has stirred up controversy, or Oklahoma and Ohio, where fossil fuel trade groups sponsor classroom teaching aids. When I looked at the crosstabs after our call, it was the Midwest that had the lowest confidence in teachers (15%) and, surprisingly, the South with the highest (24%).
I asked Soracco the same question and she circled back to the fact that teachers often feel underprepared to teach about climate change “because they haven’t had adequate training.” But any ignorance in our school systems is a luxury that comes from not being on the very front lines of this crisis, she stressed.
Students, however, are smart. Even if climate change isn’t in their classrooms yet, it’s certainly in the world they’re living in. They “look around now and they see it,” she told me. “They’re like, ‘Man, we don’t really have winter anymore.’”
The Heatmap Climate Poll of 1,000 American adults was conducted by Benenson Strategy Group via online panels from Nov. 6 to 13, 2023. The survey included interviews with Americans in all 50 states and Washington, D.C. The margin of sampling error is plus or minus 3.1 percentage points. You can read about our results here.
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Rob checks in with Commodity Context’s Rory Johnston as the Iran War (hopefully) draws to a close.
When Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz earlier this year, experts projected oil prices would go to $200 a barrel. But then… they didn’t. In fact, while gasoline prices rose in the United States, and Europe and Asia suffered higher costs, the resulting energy crisis wasn’t even as bad as what followed Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine.
Why? China. The country seems to have absorbed the costs of Trump’s war of choice by releasing hundreds of millions of barrels from its strategic stockpile. On this episode of Shift Key, Rob is joined by Rory Johnston, an oil markets researcher and the author of the Commodity Context newsletter. They discuss China’s massive (and quiet) intervention, why it’s “the most important thing we learned” from the Iran War, and what it means for the future of energy and geopolitics. Shift Key is hosted by Robinson Meyer, the founding executive editor of Heatmap News.
Subscribe to “Shift Key” and find this episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon, or wherever you get your podcasts.
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Mentioned:
China Oil Demand Doubts, Rory’s 2023 article about Chinese strategic stockbuilding
Previously on Shift Key: Why the Iran Ceasefire Hasn’t Ended the Energy Crisis, featuring Rory
This episode of Shift Key is sponsored by ...
Heatmap Pro brings all of our research, reporting, and insights down to the local level. The software platform tracks all local opposition to clean energy and data centers, forecasts community sentiment, and guides data-driven engagement campaigns. Book a demo today to see the premier intelligence platform for project permitting and community engagement.
Music for Shift Key is by Adam Kromelow.
We got a much better sense of the Trump administration’s nuclear buildout plans today.
The Energy Department announced its long-awaited loan program that will aim to build a new fleet of nuclear reactors across the country. The department’s in-house bank will provide low-interest loans of up to $17.5 billion to help utilities and power developers buy up to 10 Westinghouse AP1000s, the third-generation nuclear reactor that is that company’s flagship product.
I can’t say this program was entirely a surprise: If you read Heatmap, you’ll remember we reported on the existence of this program — and the discussions between the government, utilities, power developers, and Westinghouse — back in February. Gregory Beard, who leads the Energy Department’s in-house bank, also teased the program at a Houston conference in April.
The program looks roughly as anticipated: It will aim to construct up to 10 new reactors, with two AP1000 Westinghouse reactors across five sites. That could add up to 11 gigawatts of nearly around the clock zero-carbon electricity to the power grid. What’s new is that Westinghouse and the utility will jointly own the power plants.
According to The Wall Street Journal, utilities and Westinghouse will each own part of the plants once they’re built. Five loans will become available; the department is already in talks with seven utilities.
At the high level, it’s a cool program — or at least I think so. Nuclear support has become surprisingly bipartisan, at least at the elite level, in recent years. In New York, Governor Kathy Hochul is trying to develop new nuclear plants. As we’ve noted before, the countries with some of the cleanest power grids in the world, such as France and Sweden, achieved their low carbon emissions in part by undertaking large, state-led nuclear energy buildouts. France, in particular, harmonized its nuclear power plants to a single reactor design and then built them to spec across the landscape. China is engaged in a similar buildout now with a variant of the AP1000. By getting behind the AP1000 in the United States, the Trump administration is following a global best practice.
The idea of a mass buildout makes sense for other reasons, too. Recent nuclear projects in the United States have often faced delays because construction and manufacturing timelines don’t line up. AP1000s are manufactured partly off-site in Westinghouse facilities and then shipped in; when a part arrives late, an expensive construction crew has to sit idle while they wait for it to arrive. (These timing misalignments drove part of the Vogtle plant’s runaway costs in Georgia.) By placing what is in essence a bulk order for AP1000 parts, the new program aims to bring down the cost of production and even allows project sites to swap identical parts as they come available — if one site isn’t ready to receive a pressure vessel, for instance, it can go somewhere else.
I hesitate to praise the project's climate bonafides at the risk of discouraging the Trump administration, but it is worth noting that if this project were to succeed, it would be one of the largest state-assisted build-outs of zero-carbon electricity in recent American history. But it would still take some time to arrive: These reactors aren’t forecast to come online til 2035.
Let me note one more irony. For a long time, the country’s policymakers and nuclear industry (to the extent the latter exists) have dreamt of small modular reactors: petite fission plants that can be manufactured in a factory and would produce a few hundred megawatts. The AP1000, in both its American and Chinese iterations, is a very large reactor — but it has become, in a sense, modular and manufacturable.
Cameco, which owns about half of Westinghouse, saw its stock rise 1.8% in the day’s trading. Brookfield Renewable Partners, which owns the other half, was flat. It was otherwise a choppy day in the markets, with the S&P 500 falling 1.4% and some tech and AI-exposed companies continuing their slide.
There will be much more to say about this program, and we look forward to covering it at Heatmap.
Hyperscalers might be paying billions to avoid blame for rising electricity prices.
Here is a mystery for you: On Wednesday, the House Energy and Commerce Committee will take up the Ratepayer Protection Act, a bipartisan bill sponsored by Colorado Republican Gabe Evans and Florida Democrat Kathy Castor that seeks to enshrine Trump’s similarly named pledge into law.
Among the bill’s supporters is Kentucky Representative Brett Guthrie, a Republican and the chair of the committee. Guthrie is no opponent of artificial intelligence, saying in a statement praising the bill that “Winning the race to AI dominance is essential to securing America’s future global leadership, and that means expeditiously building the power infrastructure needed to support new technologies, while doing so in a responsible way.” Guthrie did not respond to a request for comment.
Microsoft, one of seven large technology companies that agreed to cover any additional grid infrastructure costs stemming from their data centers under Trump’s original Ratepayer Protection Pledge, supports the bill, describing it as an “important step to help ensure American families are protected from rising electricity costs.” Google, another signatory, generally backs the idea of specialized large load tariffs that allocate network costs back to the hyperscalers.
But … why? After all, these companies are voluntarily putting themselves on the hook for what could be billions of dollars in costs that would typically be socialized to all the customers on the grid.
The Data Center Coalition, a trade group including several hyperscalers, has been more circumspect about the bill. Cy McNeill, the group’s senior director of federal affairs, told me in a statement that the group “is reviewing the details of the Ratepayer Protection Act with our members and looks forward to engaging with policymakers on this important topic.”
Evans, Castor, Guthrie, and and the rest appear to be acting not out of hostility towards the AI industry, but rather from a desire to protect it from public backlash fed by rising electricity prices. Earlier this month, Guthrie co-signed a letter to FBI Director Kash Patel, among others, raising concerns that China had “engaged in a coordinated effort to slow U.S. growth in AI development and the building of infrastructure supporting AI data centers” by fomenting domestic opposition — hardly the interpretation of someone working against the industry.
The explanation, perhaps, lies in the answers to two big questions about the Ratepayer Protection Act:
1. Are data centers responsible for higher electricity prices now, or will they be in the future?
2. And would the approach taken in the law actually work to protect ratepayers?
As to the first question, analysts have come up with a nuanced answer. The electricity cost increases we’ve seen in the last five or so years have been largely driven by expenses associated with the distribution grid, including the poles and wires themselves. In some states, like California, the costs come back to wildfires; in others, like Maine, to storm remediation. Looking backwards to 2019, researchers have not been able to find a regular relationship between load growth and price hikes.
In fact, several states “absorbed large industrial and data center load additions while reducing inflation-adjusted retail prices,” according to researchers at Columbia University’s Center on Global Energy Policy. By contrast, some states with little load growth from industry or data centers, such as Maine or California, have seen prices rise substantially.
Many analysts expect electricity prices to continue rising nationally, and data centers could be a driver going forward as demand hits a grid whose capacity to generate and transmit electricity is increasingly strained. This is likely already happening in the country’s largest electricity market, PJM Interconnection, where the system’s independent market monitor has claimed that current and forecasted data center demand has cost customers over $23 billion from recent capacity auctions.
To get prices to actually fall — or at least grow more slowly —it would require that “low-cost supply is available, existing infrastructure is more fully utilized, and cost allocation ensures that new demand contributes to system efficiency,” the Columbia researchers write. Under business as usual however, prices will likely continue to rise.
On the second question, there is much more cynicism.
Critics of the original Ratepayer Protection Pledge, including Harvard Law School’s Ari Peskoe, pointed out that the actual parties to ratemaking — utilities and state regulators — were not involved in the pledge at all. Already, there are accusations that projects developed by pledge signatories could lead to higher prices. Meta's sprawling planned data center project in Louisiana is responsible for the utility’s plans to buy a Texas natural gas-fired power plant, according to documents filed by regulators reviewed by the Times-Picayune. The $1.8 billion deal could lead to $8 a month in additional costs for typical Louisiana ratepayers.
The Ratepayer Protection Act would go a bit further than the pledge, amending the Public Utility Regulatory Policies Act to “establish a Federal standard relating to the recovery of the full, incremental costs of upgrades that serve large-load customers.” Peskoe, however, described this to me in an email as “largely symbolic” and noted that “Congress may not force state regulators to do anything” under current Supreme Court jurisprudence. “This section of PURPA is basically Congress asking state regulators to please take a look at the ratemaking standard.”
That being said, Peskoe noted that “many states and non-regulated utilities do tend to consider PURPA ratemaking standards,” but that there’s “no enforcement mechanism,” depriving the law of any teeth. “States can reject the ratemaking standards or adopt them in a way that deviates from what Congress may have intended.”
Still, it is likely in the political interest of state regulators to come up with something on large load tariffs, the Cato Institute’s Travis Fisher told me. He recommended that the National Association of Regulatory Utility Commissioners “spearhead an initiative to get every state regulator to sign a ratepayer protection pledge,” if only to insulate themselves from political backlash and maintain their power over retail ratemaking.
But even if states do adopt the cost allocation principle, determining exactly which infrastructure is being installed due to a data center and what serves all users can be tricky.
“Any real-world example of this is going to be quite complicated, and the devil’s always in the details,” Ben Schifman, a senior technology fellow at the Institute for Progress and a former attorney at the Department of the Interior and the Department of Justice, told me. While it might be possible to conclude that “a given substation is simply only needed for that data center,” he said, “as soon as you start zooming out into the larger, big-ticket investments, it’s quite complicated to attribute the cost to one user or one group of users.”
In summary, the Ratepayer Protection Act will ask state regulators to consider an approach to data center cost allocation that may not capture all of their costs and will likely do little to arrest the fundamental drivers of higher electricity costs. Viewed through this lens, the logic of the coalition supporting both the original Ratepayer Protection Pledge and the beefed-up Ratepayer Protection Act comes into focus.
Electricity prices are likely to continue to rise, and data center construction has powerful interests behind it. The public’s attitude towards data centers is rapidly souring, and no matter how many nuanced PDFs are published on the topic, people continue to blame data centers for higher electricity costs.
And if prices continue to rise, the big data center developers may be able to point to the Ratepayer Protection Act and say “well, it wasn’t me.”