Exercise 2 Family Environmental History

February 28, 2026 By: Kaia Golab

Exercise #2: Family Environmental History

Dr. Norman Fennema

HIST 3991: Environmental History

Kaia Golab

Feb. 28th, 2026

Personal Environmental History

When I think about my “family environmental history,” I don’t just think about landscapes. I think about how each generation related to the land through what they needed, what they feared, what they valued, and what felt possible at the time. My grandparents immigrated to Canada from the Philippines and Europe during the war, my parents grew up in Thunder Bay, Ontario, in the 1980s–1990s, and I am now living in Pitt Meadows, BC, near Katzie territory. The environments changed a lot across these generations—so did the assumptions about consumption, convenience, and what “a good life” looks like.

My grandparents: survival, displacement, and practical relationships with place.

Since my grandparents immigrated during wartime or in its aftermath, my starting point is that the environment was closely tied to survival and instability. Even when I don’t know every detail of what their days looked like, a “wartime environment” suggests scarcity, uncertainty, and rapid change. For immigrants coming from conflict, the natural world can be refuge and threat: forests and rural areas might provide safety, however, they can also be places of hardship. Material scarcity often forces a less wasteful relationship with resources—repairing items, stretching food, and making careful use of fuel and household goods.

When they immigrated to Canada, the environment also changed: place became something to learn about. Climate, seasons, food, and work were all different. Immigrant settlement tends to reshape environments too—clearing land, building homes, growing plants, and adapting diets. Even without perfect details, I can still reflect honestly on the pattern: my grandparents’ relationship to the environment was likely defined by making a life—and that often meant resourcefulness instead of consumer choice.

My parents in Thunder Bay (1980s–1990s): nature nearby, modern life accelerating

Thunder Bay is known for being close to Lake Superior and surrounded by forested landscapes, so “nature” likely felt present in everyday life—whether through weather, winter travel, fishing, or outdoor recreation. However, the 80s–90s were also decades when consumer culture and convenience expanded rapidly through big-box stores, more packaged foods, more reliance on cars, and a stronger expectation that life should be efficient and comfortable.

In that era, environmental awareness existed; however, it wasn’t as mainstream or urgent as it is now. Recycling programs and school “environment days” were becoming more common, but climate change wasn’t a daily headline for most families. So, my parents’ environmental relationship (as a generation) can be read as a blend: strong exposure to natural landscapes but also growing in modern patterns of consumption and convenience. The environment could be something to enjoy on weekends, while day-to-day life relied more on fossil-fuel-based systems and mass production.

My generation in Pitt Meadows: living inside land-use conflict

I live in a place where the environment is visibly political: floodplains, dikes, wetlands, farmland protection, and housing growth pressures all collide in Pitt Meadows. The city is protected by key diking infrastructure, which is a reminder that settlement here depends on managing water (City of Pitt Meadows, n.d.). At the same time, this region is within Katzie territory, and my own learning has shifted because I have taken multiple courses focused on Indigenous cultures, histories, and worldviews.

Reading Katzie descriptions of their territory—rivers, sloughs, creeks, and wetlands at the heart of the land—pushes me to see that what I call “my neighborhood” exists within a much older, and deeper relationship to place (Katzie First Nation, n.d.). I have also learned that reconciliation isn’t just a feeling; it should show up in practice: how we listen, what we teach, and how we treat land and water as more than “resources.”

This learning has made me more aware of my own position and privilege. I can walk on dike trails without being forced to confront why that land looks the way it does—unless I choose to look deeper. I can also afford to make sustainable choices, which are not equally available to everyone. Part of my environmental history is becoming aware that “green living” is not just individual virtue—it is connected to systems, inequality, and whose laws and knowledge are respected.

Consumption and where I want to go next

The biggest change I want in my own environmental relationship is less consumption and more sustainability. That means being honest that convenience culture has shaped me: buying new things instead of repairing, defaulting to packaged items, and treating nature as a place to visit instead of as a relationship to maintain. I do not want my environmental identity to be performative or based on guilt. I want it to be practical and steady: buying less, wasting less, learning local seasons, supporting stewardship work, and building habits that reduce my footprint over time.

My future career as an elementary school teacher

This is where I feel I can make the most meaningful long-term impact. As an elementary school teacher, my influence won’t be making one perfect choice—it will be building a classroom culture that values care, curiosity, and responsibility toward land and community. I want to integrate what I have learned from Indigenous-focused coursework in respectful ways, not as a “unit” I teach once, but as a relationship-based approach: local place-based learning, emphasizing that we live on Katzie territory, and teaching students to notice the land (and how it has been changed) with humility (Katzie First Nation, n.d.).

Additionally, I want to normalize small, doable sustainability habits for kids: litter-less lunches, classroom composting, learning about water systems and salmon, and community stewardship activities. I think children can hold complex ideas if we give them language: that land has history, that people have responsibilities to place, and that we can make choices that reduce harm. Even simple projects such as observing seasonal changes, learning about native plants, or inviting local knowledge-keepers when appropriate can shift how kids understand their relationship to the environment.

In a way, my family’s environmental history is a movement from survival and settlement toward awareness and responsibility. My goal is not to romanticize the past or shame the present, but to choose a future that is less consumption-driven, more sustainable, and more grounded in respect for the land and the Indigenous peoples who have stewarded it since time immemorial.

References:

City of Pitt Meadows, “Dikes”:https://www.pittmeadows.ca/city-services/transportation-infrastructure/infrastructure/dikes

Katzie First Nation, “Katzie Territory”: https://katzie.ca/who-we-are/katzie-territory/