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A summer school program in Roanoke, Virginia, could change the way people think about heat.
According to legend, the ghost of Lucy Addison still roams the halls of her namesake middle school in Roanoke, Virginia. She’s particularly fond of the basement, where the art and technology rooms are.
So when Brian Kreppeneck got a few thermal cameras for a summer program he was running this year, he knew exactly how he was going to teach his students how to use them: with a ghost hunt. He took them downstairs to the auditorium, shut off the lights, and had them train the cameras on things like the air-conditioning vents, a digital clock blinking in one corner, and the empty auditorium stage.
“And wouldn't you know it, as we're looking at the auditorium stage, a little mouse ran across the auditorium,” Kreppeneck, a science teacher at the school, told me. “They screamed and ran out, and that’s how they learned to use the thermal cameras.”
The cameras had a use beyond ghost-hunting and scaring schoolchildren (and mice): The students were going to use them to measure temperatures in and around their school. Over the course of a week, they pointed the cameras at all kinds of things in the world around them, from basketball courts baking in the sun to the shady ground underneath trees. They also clipped sensors to their shoes, which measured ambient temperatures as the kids went about their days. But that was just the beginning.
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“We wanted to develop a curriculum where students learn both about the problem of urban heat, and then also are able to connect that with potential solutions that come from urban planning,” said Theodore Lim, assistant professor of urban affairs and planning at Virginia Tech and the designer of the summer program. “We want them to feel like there are things that [they] could do in [their] own neighborhoods to help mitigate some of those temperatures.”
Urban heat is a longstanding, intractable problem. Study after study has shown that cities are noticeably hotter than surrounding rural areas; this is called the Urban Heat Island effect. Many studies have also shown that the hottest parts of most cities tend to be the areas that house lower-income communities and communities of color, thanks to a dearth of vegetation, tightly packed buildings, and an overabundance of construction materials that radiate heat like concrete. Richer neighborhoods, meanwhile, tend to be lusher, with more space between buildings and, often, building materials like wood or brick that do a better job of dissipating heat.
But understanding just how the built environment affects heat is pretty hard. Meteorologists and weather apps tend to draw data from sensors at airports, which can’t give us any insight into the contours of heat within specific neighborhoods. The numbers we see on our phones often don’t reflect the temperatures we feel; a neighborhood by a river or a park, for example, would be much cooler than a neighborhood with high concentrations of concrete and asphalt, yet residents in both places would see the same temperature in their apps or on TV.
After a week of collecting data with another teacher, the middle-schoolers came back to Kreppeneck’s classroom to figure out what all the numbers had to say. Put together, the data from the thermal cameras and the shoe sensors created something few of us get to see: a personalized look at how the built world around them shaped the way heat worked in their lives. As Lim and Kreppeneck expected, the temperatures the kids experienced were often higher than the temperatures measured by the sensors at a nearby airport, sometimes by as much as 30 degrees Fahrenheit:
Temperatures collected by sensors on students’ sneakers compared to temperature recorded at a nearby weather station. Courtesy Theodore Lim
Each colored line represents the data from a student at one of the five schools that participated, while the black line represents the temperature reported by the weather station at a nearby airport. If we follow a few of the blue lines, which represent students from Addison middle school — the one with the ghost — we see some of their personal temperatures spiking high above the black line. This could be for a few reasons: maybe they’re playing basketball on a concrete court, or eating lunch outside, or walking around a neighborhood with few trees.
But on each day, when the black line is at its peak, we see almost all of the students’ temperatures dip far below it. That was when the kids were cooling off indoors, often in air-conditioned buildings. As day turns to night, we see temperatures at the weather station dip below what some of the kids experienced indoors. By the next morning, as the kids start going about their days, their lines spike above the weather station again.
“Before they did this activity, if you asked one of these middle school kids if humans can control the temperature outside, they’d say no way,” Lim said. “But then they start to make these correlations: Humans make decisions about where to plant trees, or where to build parking lots, or what color different surfaces should be. And so we kind of do control the outdoor temperature.”
This kind of realization also shifts heat away from being a personal issue that can be solved by, say, drinking water or cranking the air conditioner, to a systemic one. There’s something kind of freeing about this: Lim said that instead of being ashamed that their families might not be able to afford air conditioning, the students came to recognize that their neighborhoods were historically hotter because of decisions made by other people. Northeast and Southeast Roanoke, for example, both saw higher temperatures than the Northwest and Southwest quadrants, and the entire city was significantly hotter than the rest of Roanoke County:
Temperatures recorded in each quadrant over the course of the summer program. The bars show the range, while the boxes are the average. Courtesy Theodore Lim.
Armed with their temperature data, the students spent the second week of their summer program in Kreppeneck’s class learning about urban planning and mapping out ways their own neighborhoods could be redesigned to mitigate heat.
“As science teachers, we’ve always struggled to make the connection between science in the classroom and home,” Kreppeneck told me. “There’s always been some sort of a wall there, where the kids just think science takes place in the classroom. But giving them a real-world project made these concepts transcend the classroom.”
Kreppeneck also talked to his students about activism and advocating for change. This was the idea of Virginia Tech’s Lim; activism gives the kids a sense of agency over their built environment, and it also encourages them to start conversations with the adults in their lives who previously might not have paid much attention to climate change, whether due to a lack of information or the impression that it didn’t impact them. But climate change continues to push global temperatures higher — this September was the hottest on record — and the effect of climate change on heat is becoming increasingly harder to ignore. Creating policy to deal with those changes, however, is a difficult task.
“In Roanoke, as is probably the case in many cities, there's kind of a lot of contention between the government and some of these more vulnerable communities because of the history of urban renewal,” Lim said.
As Martha Park writes in a beautiful illustrated history for Bloomberg, northeast Roanoke was a thriving home for black and immigrant residents prior to urban renewal, a policy James Baldwin once called “negro removal.” Then, in 1955, the city declared the area “blighted,” seized the entire neighborhood through eminent domain, burned the buildings to the ground, and even exhumed nearly a thousand bodies from the local cemetery, dumping them in a mass grave outside town. Today, the area is mostly pavement and industrial parks.
“There’s a lot of mistrust on both sides,” Lim told me. “I’ve found that using youth-based community science is a relatively uncontroversial way of getting at some issues that actually do have very deep systemic causes.”
This was the third year Lim ran his program in Roanoke. In earlier years, Lim ran the program by himself at just one of the schools; this summer’s group, consisting of 130 students from all five Roanoke middle schools over the course of six weeks, was by far the largest, and Kreppeneck and another teacher took over most of the day-to-day. Going forward, Lim hopes it’ll turn into something more than a middle-school summer program; community leaders are talking about putting together a climate action plan for the city, and he’s exploring the possibility of creating programs at local high schools and churches that build on the middle school curriculum. The idea is to get the message about heat, and the solutions for it, out into the community in as many ways as possible.
Kreppeneck’s already planning on incorporating urban heat into his syllabus for the spring semester, expanding the two-week summer program into something that the students can engage with on a deeper level.
“My hope is that the kids will start talking about it, and start taking ownership,” Kreppeneck said. “Watching the looks on their faces, watching how the wheels started turning as to how they would change their neighborhood, it was very rewarding. If they believe in something, they can make change. It starts with them.”
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The Loan Programs Office is good for more than just nuclear funding.
That China has a whip hand over the rare earths mining and refining industry is one of the few things Washington can agree on.
That’s why Alex Jacquez, who worked on industrial policy for Joe Biden’s National Economic Council, found it “astounding”when he read in the Washington Post this week that the White House was trying to figure out on the fly what to do about China restricting exports of rare earth metals in response to President Trump’s massive tariffs on the country’s imports.
Rare earth metals have a wide variety of applications, including for magnets in medical technology, defense, and energy productssuch as wind turbines and electric motors.
Jacquez told me there has been “years of work, including by the first Trump administration, that has pointed to this exact case as the worst-case scenario that could happen in an escalation with China.” It stands to reason, then, that experienced policymakers in the Trump administration might have been mindful of forestalling this when developing their tariff plan. But apparently not.
“The lines of attack here are numerous,” Jacquez said. “The fact that the National Economic Council and others are apparently just thinking about this for the first time is pretty shocking.”
And that’s not the only thing the Trump administration is doing that could hamper American access to rare earths and critical minerals.
Though China still effectively controls the global pipeline for most critical minerals (a broader category that includes rare earths as well as more commonly known metals and minerals such as lithium and cobalt), the U.S. has been at work for at least the past five years developing its own domestic supply chain. Much of that work has fallen to the Department of Energy, whose Loan Programs Office has funded mining and processing facilities, and whose Office of Manufacturing and Energy Supply Chains hasfunded and overseen demonstration projects for rare earths and critical minerals mining and refining.
The LPO is in line for dramatic cuts, as Heatmap has reported. So, too, are other departments working on rare earths, including the Office of Manufacturing and Energy Supply Chains. In its zeal to slash the federal government, the Trump administration may have to start from scratch in its efforts to build up a rare earths supply chain.
The Department of Energy did not reply to a request for comment.
This vulnerability to China has been well known in Washington for years, including by the first Trump administration.
“Our dependence on one country, the People's Republic of China (China), for multiple critical minerals is particularly concerning,” then-President Trump said in a 2020 executive order declaring a “national emergency” to deal with “our Nation's undue reliance on critical minerals.” At around the same time, the Loan Programs Office issued guidance “stating a preference for projects related to critical mineral” for applicants for the office’s funding, noting that “80 percent of its rare earth elements directly from China.” Using the Defense Production Act, the Trump administration also issued a grant to the company operating America's sole rare earth mine, MP Materials, to help fund a processing facility at the site of its California mine.
The Biden administration’s work on rare earths and critical minerals was almost entirely consistent with its predecessor’s, just at a greater scale and more focused on energy. About a month after taking office, President Bidenissued an executive order calling for, among other things, a Defense Department report “identifying risks in the supply chain for critical minerals and other identified strategic materials, including rare earth elements.”
Then as part of the Inflation Reduction Act in 2022, the Biden administration increased funding for LPO, which supported a number of critical minerals projects. It also funneled more money into MP Materials — including a $35 million contract from the Department of Defense in 2022 for the California project. In 2024, it awarded the company a competitive tax credit worth $58.5 million to help finance construction of its neodymium-iron-boron magnet factory in Texas. That facilitybegan commercial operation earlier this year.
The finished magnets will be bought by General Motors for its electric vehicles. But even operating at full capacity, it won’t be able to do much to replace China’s production. The MP Metals facility is projected to produce 1,000 tons of the magnets per year.China produced 138,000 tons of NdFeB magnets in 2018.
The Trump administration is not averse to direct financial support for mining and minerals projects, but they seem to want to do it a different way. Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum has proposed using a sovereign wealth fund to invest in critical mineral mines. There is one big problem with that plan, however: the U.S. doesn’t have one (for the moment, at least).
“LPO can invest in mining projects now,” Jacquez told me. “Cutting 60% of their staff and the experts who work on this is not going to give certainty to the business community if they’re looking to invest in a mine that needs some government backstop.”
And while the fate of the Inflation Reduction Act remains very much in doubt, the subsidies it provided for electric vehicles, solar, and wind, along with domestic content requirements have been a major source of demand for critical minerals mining and refining projects in the United States.
“It’s not something we’re going to solve overnight,” Jacquez said. “But in the midst of a maximalist trade with China, it is something we will have to deal with on an overnight basis, unless and until there’s some kind of de-escalation or agreement.”
A conversation with VDE Americas CEO Brian Grenko.
This week’s Q&A is about hail. Last week, we explained how and why hail storm damage in Texas may have helped galvanize opposition to renewable energy there. So I decided to reach out to Brian Grenko, CEO of renewables engineering advisory firm VDE Americas, to talk about how developers can make sure their projects are not only resistant to hail but also prevent that sort of pushback.
The following conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
Hiya Brian. So why’d you get into the hail issue?
Obviously solar panels are made with glass that can allow the sunlight to come through. People have to remember that when you install a project, you’re financing it for 35 to 40 years. While the odds of you getting significant hail in California or Arizona are low, it happens a lot throughout the country. And if you think about some of these large projects, they may be in the middle of nowhere, but they are taking hundreds if not thousands of acres of land in some cases. So the chances of them encountering large hail over that lifespan is pretty significant.
We partnered with one of the country’s foremost experts on hail and developed a really interesting technology that can digest radar data and tell folks if they’re developing a project what the [likelihood] will be if there’s significant hail.
Solar panels can withstand one-inch hail – a golfball size – but once you get over two inches, that’s when hail starts breaking solar panels. So it’s important to understand, first and foremost, if you’re developing a project, you need to know the frequency of those events. Once you know that, you need to start thinking about how to design a system to mitigate that risk.
The government agencies that look over land use, how do they handle this particular issue? Are there regulations in place to deal with hail risk?
The regulatory aspects still to consider are about land use. There are authorities with jurisdiction at the federal, state, and local level. Usually, it starts with the local level and with a use permit – a conditional use permit. The developer goes in front of the township or the city or the county, whoever has jurisdiction of wherever the property is going to go. That’s where it gets political.
To answer your question about hail, I don’t know if any of the [authority having jurisdictions] really care about hail. There are folks out there that don’t like solar because it’s an eyesore. I respect that – I don’t agree with that, per se, but I understand and appreciate it. There’s folks with an agenda that just don’t want solar.
So okay, how can developers approach hail risk in a way that makes communities more comfortable?
The bad news is that solar panels use a lot of glass. They take up a lot of land. If you have hail dropping from the sky, that’s a risk.
The good news is that you can design a system to be resilient to that. Even in places like Texas, where you get large hail, preparing can mean the difference between a project that is destroyed and a project that isn’t. We did a case study about a project in the East Texas area called Fighting Jays that had catastrophic damage. We’re very familiar with the area, we work with a lot of clients, and we found three other projects within a five-mile radius that all had minimal damage. That simple decision [to be ready for when storms hit] can make the complete difference.
And more of the week’s big fights around renewable energy.
1. Long Island, New York – We saw the face of the resistance to the war on renewable energy in the Big Apple this week, as protestors rallied in support of offshore wind for a change.
2. Elsewhere on Long Island – The city of Glen Cove is on the verge of being the next New York City-area community with a battery storage ban, discussing this week whether to ban BESS for at least one year amid fire fears.
3. Garrett County, Maryland – Fight readers tell me they’d like to hear a piece of good news for once, so here’s this: A 300-megawatt solar project proposed by REV Solar in rural Maryland appears to be moving forward without a hitch.
4. Stark County, Ohio – The Ohio Public Siting Board rejected Samsung C&T’s Stark Solar project, citing “consistent opposition to the project from each of the local government entities and their impacted constituents.”
5. Ingham County, Michigan – GOP lawmakers in the Michigan State Capitol are advancing legislation to undo the state’s permitting primacy law, which allows developers to evade municipalities that deny projects on unreasonable grounds. It’s unlikely the legislation will become law.
6. Churchill County, Nevada – Commissioners have upheld the special use permit for the Redwood Materials battery storage project we told you about last week.